by Karen Rose
He had, of course. Everyone in the city’s medical community did. But that wasn’t important now. He could use Dr Novak to get to Davenport. Things were looking up.
‘She has been since she finished her residency,’ JJ said with a sneer. ‘God only knows how she picked it up.’
‘Well, that’s not my biggest concern right now,’ he said honestly. ‘I’m more interested in finding Griffin Davenport. Do you have any idea where they took him?’
‘Not a clue.’ She took a larger sip, tilting her head, puzzled. Then frowned, her eyes going wide with alarm as she realized what was happening. ‘You sonofabish,’ she slurred.
He snagged her glass so that she didn’t spill red wine all over his upholstery. ‘Yep. That’s me.’ He dumped both glasses of wine down the sink and hefted her to her feet. She wasn’t that large, but she was sturdy, and moving her was harder than he’d thought it would be. He led her staggering body to the guest room on the first floor, lowered her to the bed and removed her shoes. Those he’d take with him. It was harder to run in bare feet.
He tied her hands behind her, then bound her feet and hogtied the rope. Into her mouth he shoved a handkerchief to keep her quiet. He pulled the cover over her, arranging her so that she merely appeared asleep to anyone glancing in the room.
‘I’ll be back,’ he promised, in case she was still conscious. ‘We have things to discuss.’
He locked the door from the outside. He didn’t want JJ waking up and making enough noise to draw Mallory’s attention. This was regrettable. JJ had been an amazing asset while she’d lasted. It was starting to look like he’d have to take a small hiatus and rebuild his networks. He was losing operatives all over the damn place.
‘Droppin’ like fuckin’ flies,’ he muttered as he returned to the kitchen, where Mallory had the mixer going. She was whipping cream for his strawberry shortcake, but there was a frown on her face as she stared into the bowl. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘It’s not whipping. It’s just . . . flat.’
He leaned over her shoulder to look. Then he sniffed it and grimaced. ‘It’s spoiled.’
‘I just bought it.’ She looked up, fear in her eyes, as if she was afraid he’d strike her. A legitimate fear, because he had hit her for making mistakes in the kitchen. ‘I swear.’
He checked the carton. ‘It’s curdled. But you’re right, it’s new. It shouldn’t be spoiled.’ He watched her shoulders sag, relief replacing the fear. ‘Do you have more?’
‘No. I’m sorry.’
‘Well, we’re not having strawberry shortcake tonight,’ he said grumpily. ‘It’s not the same without the whipped cream.’
‘I can go to the store and get some more,’ she offered.
He sighed again, feeling petulant. ‘No, don’t bother. I have things to do tonight and I don’t have time to wait around. Go get it tomorrow. Is the steak ready, at least?’
‘It is. I put it in the warmer. The table is set. Where is Miss JJ?’
‘She had to take a nap,’ he said. ‘She had a little too much wine and got tipsy. Leave her alone and let her sleep it off.’
‘Should I wrap up her dinner for her to eat later?’
‘Nah. Eat it yourself.’
‘What should I do with the food she brought?’
He checked out the grocery bags on the countertop. They held a rotisserie chicken and deli containers filled with potato salad and the like. So much for cooking dinner, he thought, rolling his eyes. He pried the lid off one of the packages of potato salad, noticing the deli tape was torn. Someone had already opened the package.
Someone had already opened all of the packages.
He looked at Mallory sharply. ‘Did you touch any of this stuff?’
She shook her head warily. ‘I put the bags on the counter after I caught her trying to get into the basement and she wouldn’t leave. She yelled at me when I tried to put the cartons away in the refrigerator. She didn’t want me touching her stuff. That’s when I told her that if she didn’t leave, I’d call you.’ She pressed her fingertips to her swollen face tentatively. ‘That’s when she hit me.’
‘I see.’ He was afraid that he did. He opened one of the packages and gave it a sniff, but smelled nothing. Which meant nothing. ‘I’ll need to test this. Don’t eat any of it.’
He didn’t want Mallory dying. Not until he was finished with her, anyway. Her little sister still had a little more growing up to do before she could be a viable replacement.
Mallory’s eyes widened. ‘What should I do with it? Is it safe to put down the disposal?’
‘I’ll handle it.’ He took the food JJ had brought and reached for the carton of cream at the same time that Mallory did. The carton tipped over, spilling curdled cream all over the cabinets and the floor. He glared at Mallory, who backed up a step, looking suitably frightened.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I was trying to help.’
‘Well don’t,’ he snapped. ‘Clean this mess up. I’ll be downstairs.’
She nodded. ‘What about your dinner?’
‘I’ve lost my appetite right now. I’ll eat while I’m out.’
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Thursday 13 August, 7.50 P.M.
Mallory watched him go, gripping the countertop for support when her knees threatened to buckle. Oh God. That was close. She drew a breath through her nose, trying to slow her racing heart. I did it. He believed me.
The black eye she’d surely sport tomorrow was worth it. So worth it. She’d been racking her brain all afternoon, trying to figure out how to get out of the house tomorrow, needing an excuse to go back to the grocery store so that she could call that lady from the police and get the name of the cop who’d helped her.
She sank to her knees and cleaned the mess with paper towels. Paper towels could be ground up in the garbage disposal, all the evidence of her lie washed down the drain.
It wouldn’t take him long to realize that the curdled cream was only the result of added lemon juice. She hadn’t thought far enough ahead to consider that he’d want to test the cream along with JJ’s food, so spilling it had been a reflex action. Hurry. Get rid of the mess, before he figures it out.
She’d come up with the idea of intentionally spoiling the cream as she’d driven back from the store, but fear had her dismissing it before she’d pulled into the driveway. If he caught her, he’d kill her. Then he’d take Macy and . . .
No. Not going to think about that. She was going to think positively. She’d contact that lady cop and somebody would believe her this time. Please let someone believe me this time.
She’d thought about her options all afternoon while doing her chores and taking care of Roxy, who really needed to be in the hospital. Roxy’s usefulness as a prop wife was over. She’d never go to another party. Never lie for him again. Soon she would be found dead in her bed, or she’d simply disappear. And only I’ll know who really killed her.
He’d find someone else to take to parties. To smile at the parents of his teenaged victims so that they believed this was a normal house with a normal, childless couple who just wanted to help poor, disadvantaged kids. He’d find someone else to lie for him when the need arose. Maybe even me. The thought made her want to throw up. She’d become used to being his sexual outlet over the years, but lying for him . . . luring other kids into this hell . . . I can’t.
Don’t think about that now. She made herself think instead about JJ, who was in for some serious torture. Because JJ really had broken in and really had been trying to get into the basement. Mallory had discovered her while coming down the stairs with a basket full of Roxy’s soiled bedding. JJ had been trying to unlock the basement door with a key that didn’t fit, much to her ire. Then the woman had pulled out a set of lock-picking tools.
Mallory had made hers
elf as still as a mouse, backing up on the landing to stay unseen. JJ had known what was in the basement. Mallory had never liked the woman and the feeling was intensely mutual. She’d known JJ was an addict, but hadn’t thought her desperate enough – or stupid enough – to risk breaking into his stash.
Finally JJ had given up and gone into the kitchen. Mallory had sneaked down the stairs and peeked around the corner, stunned to see JJ adding white powder to all the deli containers and stirring them well.
Poison? Or maybe drugs. JJ was a nurse, after all. She’d have the same access to drugs that he did. Maybe more, because she was a nurse in a hospital.
He’s going to find out and then blame me had been Mallory’s first terrified thought. And then she realized she could use this. Make it work for her. If she spoiled the whipping cream, maybe he’d believe JJ had done it all. But only if she could find a way to pin it on JJ.
Then JJ had turned around, seen her spying, and hit her so hard that she’d gone down like a rock, dropping the basket of soiled sheets. It had hurt like hell, but it had been the break she’d been looking for. Sitting on the floor, covered by Roxy’s vomit-and-pee-soaked sheets, Mallory had figured out how she could use this to hide her own actions.
And it had worked. She lifted her eyes skyward. If you can hear me, thank you.
She grabbed a bottle of bleach, dropping to her knees to scrub the kitchen floor, to clean everywhere the cream had spilled, ensuring that there was nothing left of her deception.
She’d go to the store again tomorrow for more cream. She’d call the police. She’d get the name of the lady cop and tell her everything. Including the name of the man he wanted to kill.
Griffin Davenport. She’d heard him say the name to JJ.
The police could protect Davenport and the lady who was taking care of him – Dani Novak. Surely the fact that she knew the names would be enough to make them believe her. She lifted her eyes skyward once more. Please let them believe me this time. And don’t let him hurt Macy. Please keep Macy safe.
And please let Macy love me? Just a little. But even if Macy thought she was a monster forever, Mallory could accept it if only her sister was safe.
Cincinnati, Ohio,
Thursday 13 August, 8.00 P.M.
Meredith had just put the kettle on to boil when her doorbell rang. Kendra stood on the stoop, looking like she wanted to run away. ‘Are you coming or going?’ Meredith asked.
Kendra grimaced. ‘I hate talking about my feelings.’
Meredith opened the door wider. ‘Then come in for tea. I just put on the kettle.’
Kendra held out two bags, one from Skyline and one from Kroger. ‘I brought dinner and dessert. Ice cream.’
Meredith took the bags, opened the one from Skyline and sniffed appreciatively. ‘Five-ways? My favorite.’ She peeked in the grocery bag. ‘Ooh. Graeter’s. Ah. Black Raspberry Chip. Have you been talking to Faith?’
‘Yep. She said that you two hit the Skyline once a week.’
‘And we keep the freezer in the office stocked with this exact ice cream for the days when we’ve listened to too many victims telling us brutal stories that make us homicidal. Then we hit the treadmill hard for a week after,’ she added ruefully. ‘Come on in. Stay a while.’
Kendra followed her in, looking around her living room with a small smile. ‘Your house is always so cozy. And quiet.’
‘Right now. This time tomorrow, I’ll be up to my eyeballs in nine-year-olds. Bailey’s bringing Hope because Ryan’s got some man’s night thing going on. They’re going to play poker and watch baseball, so the girls are coming over here for pizza and a Princess Diaries marathon.’
‘How does one nine-year-old equate to “up to your eyeballs”?’
‘Because Hope asked if she could invite a friend. One friend became two. Then six. And then it became a slumber party. So I stocked up on glitter nail polish and junk food.’
Kendra snorted. ‘You just can’t say no. That’s your problem.’
Meredith sighed, but it was largely for show. She loved having company in her little house. Because sometimes quiet was overrated. The kettle began to whistle, underscoring the thought. She used a teakettle to heat water instead of the microwave – she loved the cheerful little whistle. ‘Have a seat. I’ll bring the tea. We can eat after we’ve talked.’
When she came back with the tea tray, she found Kendra standing at her bookshelves, stooping over to examine the bottles of nail polish she’d bought that day and arranged on the shelf at nine-year-old level, salon-style, because choosing the right color was half the fun.
Meredith set the tray on the coffee table and poured her own cup before curling up in the corner of the sofa. ‘If you want, we can paint each other’s nails instead of talking.’
Straightening to her full impressive height, Kendra turned with a grin that didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. ‘The Cherry Pop is real pretty. Too bad my nails are wrecked.’
‘Because you bite them,’ Meredith said. ‘Why?’
‘Nerves. Habit.’ Kendra shrugged and sat stiffly in the other corner of the sofa. Then smiled a little when she saw that Meredith had put a peppermint tea bag next to her cup. ‘You always remember what I like.’
‘Only because you told me why you drink it.’
Kendra dropped the bag in the cup and poured water with hands that trembled. ‘Because you can’t over-steep it. I always forget. I’m not allowed to make microwave popcorn either because I get distracted and it burns.’
Meredith sipped her tea. ‘Me too. Seems like I always overestimate what I can do in the two minutes I’m waiting for the kernels to stop popping.’
Kendra shot her a grateful look. ‘You’re letting me ramble.’
Meredith’s lips curved. ‘But I’m withholding dinner until you get to the point. I’ll get you started. You said you’re having violent fantasies with respect to perpetrators of sexual crimes.’
Kendra nodded. ‘Yeah. But I’m not sure where to start.’
‘How about with how long you’ve had these fantasies?’
‘Years. I just never did anything about them until now.’
Meredith lifted her brows, concerned. ‘What have you done now?’ she asked carefully.
Kendra stared into her cup. ‘I stopped a potential assault on Saturday.’
Meredith frowned. ‘But that’s good, right?’
‘Yeah, but the intended vic has been on my mind for days. I was on my break, actually, and had run into Kroger on Glenway for a salad. I saw this girl, maybe eighteen, shopping with a really scared expression. She was trying to go for adult and blasé, but she wasn’t cuttin’ it. A man followed her all the way through the store and out to the parking lot. He was late twenties, former football jock type. He kind of trapped her between himself and the back of her car – he was talking to a pal on FaceTime and held up his phone so that the other guy could see this girl.’
‘So you broke it up? Sent him packing?’
‘Yeah, but when I gave her the opportunity to tell me what had happened, she denied that anything had. Then she got in her car and drove away like a bat outta hell. I tried to follow her, but by the time I got to my cruiser, she was long gone. I’d snapped a pic of her license plates, so I ran them. They came up as stolen and not matching the car she was driving.’
Meredith’s frown deepened. ‘Okay, that’s bad. All of that sounds bad, actually. But how can I help, Kenny? So far everything you’ve said has been cop stuff, not therapist stuff.’
‘I’m trying to get there. The guy called her Sunshine Suzie. I looked it up after my shift.’ Kendra closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘The hits that came up . . .’ She swallowed hard. ‘She was an Internet porn sensation up until about three years ago. Meredith . . . she was abused on camera for years.’ Her voice broke. �
��I gave the information to ICAC. They said they’d follow up, but that they’re overloaded and she’s not a minor anymore. They’ve got a list of kids they have to focus on first. Fucking budget cuts.’
‘Frustrating, but true,’ Meredith murmured, her mind already racing. The Internet Crimes Against Children task force faced a never-ending challenge, and the problem was huge. There simply were not enough resources. But now there was a task force focusing on finding a local pornographer. And this girl shopped at a local supermarket.
This could be important. This girl could be important for reasons bigger than herself. But for now, Meredith’s focus was on Kendra, who was crying quietly and without drama.
Kendra quickly swiped her knuckles under her eyes. ‘I mean, I know lots of girls who’ve been abused, who’ve been forced to be prostitutes. Hell, Wendi and I have a house full of them.’
Meredith passed her a box of tissues. ‘But?’
‘I can’t get this girl’s face out of my head. I can’t forget any of their faces, but this girl . . . There was something about her. Something about seeing her pursued like that. In a grocery store. In the middle of the day. In public. It made me sick.’ She dried her eyes. ‘Of course Wendi said that if we find her, she’ll be welcome at the house.’
‘If you find her.’
Closing her eyes, Kendra nodded miserably. ‘Big fucking “if”. But that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. See, when I realized she was long gone out of the parking lot, I waited at the exit for the asshole ex-jock to drive by and snapped a photo of his plates too. So I’d have an ID just in case he harassed her again.’ When she opened her eyes, they were tortured. ‘I know his address now and his name. And . . . I’m so goddamn angry, Mer,’ she whispered.
‘You should be,’ Meredith said quietly.
Kendra shook her head. ‘No. Not like this. I kept thinking of what that bastard boyfriend of Wendi’s mama did to Wendi when she was a kid. I kept remembering the nightmares she used to have when we were fosters. We shared a room, y’know.’