The night grew quiet. Crickets chirped. An owl hooted. It was a long time before either of them moved.
“So,” said Devlin with a soft laugh as Jake withdrew from her and zipped his jeans, “I guess that qualifies as foreplay.”
Jake began to chuckle. He lifted Devlin’s chin and kissed her lips. “I hope I lived up to your expectations.”
“Yes,” she replied, leaning her forehead against his. “Oh, yes.” After a moment she added, “Why am I always the naked one?”
Jake’s laughter rumbled from his chest. He picked Devlin up off the car and helped her to dress. He pulled the keys out of the ignition. Despite Devlin’s shrieks of protest, he swung her over his shoulder and stumbled with her through the dark yard toward the house. He laughed all the way to the door.
* * * *
Just before dawn, Jake dozed off. Devlin rose from their bed. Trying hard not to wake him, she tugged on an old pair of boxers and a cutoff tee shirt. She padded through the house on bare feet, drawing the curtains closed in every room but the kitchen, hoping to keep the August sun out long enough to let them sleep in. After all, she and Jake had nowhere to be, and they’d just spent the night making love. Dev smiled to herself. Her little house didn’t have that many rooms, but they’d made good use of them all, including the clawfoot tub in her bathroom. As she passed the front door, she noticed that neither of them had thought to lock it. Out of habit, she flipped the bolt into place. She doubted her neighbor would come in the house when he saw her car in the drive, but she knew how embarrassed he’d be if he inadvertently walked in on the two of them. Devlin returned to the bedroom and pulled the sheet over Jake’s naked body before she snuggled against him. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever known. And he was all hers.
* * * *
Janice woke up early. The motel bed was terribly uncomfortable, but she wouldn’t have slept well in any case. Not after yesterday. She’d left Trevor with her dad and Cindy and driven to Canon City last night. Sometimes, a girl just needed her mom, even if her mom was a felon. Janice snorted. What a couple of losers they were. At least she had Trevor. Her mom had nobody except for her, and their relationship could be described as strained at best. It didn’t matter. Janice wanted to see her mom. After what happened yesterday with Jake and Devlin, Janice decided to take a mental health day. She needed to finalize the details for her mom’s release anyway. Janice showered and headed to the nearest diner for some breakfast. She grabbed a newspaper and lingered over her coffee. She had an hour to kill before the prison opened for visitors.
Janice had fixed up her spare bedroom for her mother, and she’d been in contact with her mother’s probation officer. For some odd reason, her mother had recently become vague and noncommittal about their plans. Maybe she was simply afraid to come out.
That must be it, Janice thought. Her mother must be afraid to rejoin the world. Her life would be so different. Rebecca “Bitsy” Matheson, a paroled felon in her early fifties, would have to begin all over again. Janice sighed. When she visited two weeks ago, her mother looked very thin. Her mother was worried about her release—that must be it.
Janice drove to the prison, parked in the designated lot, stuck the identifying number on her windshield, and waded patiently through the check-in process. It was a nice morning, and the guard offered to bring her mother out to the courtyard. Janice waited at a picnic table in the shade. She’d brought her mother several chocolate bars and a new toothbrush, the two items she’d asked for at Janice’s last visit, brands they didn’t sell in the small prison store.
When her mother appeared in the gateway, Janice was struck by how frail she looked, how much she’d aged in four years. Bitsy had been a striking woman before this happened, similar in appearance to Janice. People often mistook them for sisters. Not anymore. Nobody would mistake them for sisters. Janice sighed as she got up to meet her.
“Where’s Trevor?” were the first words out of her mother’s mouth.
“He’s with a sitter for the day.” Janice hedged. She didn’t want to bring up her father and his new, young wife.
“Oh,” Bitsy replied, lapsing into silence.
“Here, Mom, I brought you the things you asked for.” Janice pushed the chocolate bars and the toothbrush in her direction. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, fine.” She pulled the items toward her. “Thank you, dear.”
“Mom, we need to discuss your release next week. I’ll be here to pick you up. In fact, I’ll be here early. I’ve got the bedroom all ready for you. I’ve unpacked most of your clothes, and we can go shopping for anything else you need.”
“Oh,” answered Bitsy, looking off in the distance, “that won’t be necessary, dear.”
“Of course it’s necessary, Mom. I can take a couple days off, and we can shop for whatever you want. You’re going to need some new things.”
“Oh, no, I won’t need to stay with you.”
“Mom,” said Janice, “Mom, you’re staying with me. It’s all set. I’ve already spoken with your parole officer.”
“Who?” asked Bitsy, confused.
Janice was very disconcerted. Her mother appeared so disoriented.
“Your parole officer, remember? You’ll be on probation for four years. It’s one of the conditions of your early release,” prompted Janice.
“Oh, no, dear, that won’t be necessary,” she repeated. “I won’t be here.”
Janice felt like pulling her hair out. “Mom, you’ll be here. You have to stay here and report to your parole officer on a regular basis. Mom, you have to stay with me. You don’t have anywhere else to live.”
“Yes, I do, dear. I’ll be living with Bill in the Caribbean.”
Janice sat back on the bench. She could not believe what she was hearing. She had to speak with the psychiatrist today.
“Bill?” she asked. “Mom, what on earth are you talking about? Bill who?”
“Why, Bill, dear.” Bitsy leaned her head close to Janice’s as she whispered, “You know, Bill. Bill Franz.”
Oh my God, Janice thought. Her mom had totally lost it. She took her hand.
“Mom,” Janice said, “listen to me. You will not be living with Bill Franz. William Franz is not here. He’s in Asia somewhere. Nobody knows where he is. And if they did know, he’d be in prison.” Or dead, Janice thought to herself.
Janice’s mother smiled. It was the first time Janice had seen her smile in months. She patted Janice’s hand and then leaned close. She whispered conspiratorially, “I know where he is, dear. He’s right here.”
Janice felt sick. She looked around, but all she saw were other families and the guards.
“No, dear, he’s not here.” Her mother giggled like a schoolgirl. “He’s in Colorado. He came to see me two weeks ago. He told me he’ll be waiting for me when I get out. He picked up the money we put away.”
“Mom, this is a joke, right?” asked Janice, hoping against hope that her mother was still sane.
“I wouldn’t joke about something like this,” said Bitsy, indignant now. “Bill came to see me two weeks ago. We had a wonderful talk. I’ll be leaving with him when I get out, and that’s all there is to it.”
“Be reasonable, Mother,” insisted Janice. “This is a prison. How could William Franz get in here to see you?”
Janice watched, incredulous, as Bitsy erupted in giggles again.
“Your father,” she whispered. “He pretended to be your father.”
Janice’s heart began to pound in her chest. Her father, Ben Matheson, had never been to see her mother, not once, though he’d been cleared and was on her visitors’ list.
Janice stood up. “Mom…Mom, can I leave you here for a minute? Will you be okay on your own?”
“Of course, dear, it’s a lovely day.” Bitsy crossed her legs. Folding her hands, she stared off though the fence.
Janice hurried to the guard who had escorted her mother to the courtyard.
“I need to talk to the
warden,” she insisted, her voice strained. “It’s an emergency. I need to talk to the warden.”
“About?” asked the guard.
“My mother,” Janice answered. “A visitor she claims she had two weeks ago. This is extremely important. Please understand. I have to speak to the warden. It’s urgent.”
* * * *
Warden Bruce Jenkins stared at a pile of paperwork. He’d just returned from two weeks’ bereavement leave. His father had died suddenly. It took over a week to go through his papers, complete the insurance forms and get his mother moved into his sister’s home in St. Louis. Finding it hard to concentrate, he almost felt relieved when he heard a knock at his door.
“Yes?”
“Excuse me, Warden.” It was one of the guards, one of the new men. What was his name? Cotter. Evan Cotter.
“What is it, Evan?”
“I have a visitor here. Rebecca Matheson’s daughter. She says she needs to speak with you, that it’s an emergency.”
“Direct her to the unit supervisor,” Warden Jenkins instructed him. “I’m sure she can handle it.”
“Sorry, Warden, I don’t mean to disagree, but she discussed it with me on the way up, and I think you need to hear this.”
“All right.” He pushed the paperwork aside. “Show her in.”
Evan escorted in a lovely, tall, dark-haired woman. She was absolutely breathtaking. The warden rose to his feet. He stuck out a hand.
“I’m Bruce Jenkins,” he said, shaking hers. “And you are?”
“Janice Matheson,” she replied.
“Have a seat, Miss Matheson.” He directed her to a chair. “What can I do for you?”
“Warden Jenkins, do you know why my mother’s here?”
He almost laughed. He knew why all his inmates were here, but he kept a straight face.
“Yes,” he replied, “I know why your mother is here. She was involved with William Franz. He’s suspected in the murder of six people. He raped his own niece, and he stole several hundred thousand dollars from his clients. Your mother helped him hide his money.”
Janice spoke without hesitation. “My mother claims she had a visitor two weeks ago. She claims it was William Franz.”
“That’s impossible.” Warden Jenkins laughed out loud now. “William Franz could not get into this prison to see your mother.”
“She claims,” Janice began, “she claims he signed in as my father.”
“He would need to show a photo ID. A driver’s license,” replied the warden.
“Could you please check?” asked Janice. “Because either my mother’s crazy or he’s back, and there are people he’ll go after. One in particular.”
The warden motioned to Officer Cotter. “Could you please pull up all the visitor logs for the past three weeks? Bring them up here as quickly as you can.”
* * * *
Janice sat, her mind racing, trying to figure out where Jake and Devlin might be. She wondered if it would be possible to reach Mike, but then she remembered that it looked like he was leaving on his honeymoon yesterday. Mary would know where to find them, but Mary hated her, especially now. Janice didn’t know if Mary would even take a call from her.
Officer Cotter returned with the logs. He and the warden began a systematic search, starting with the logs dated three weeks before.
“Here.” Officer Cotter pointed. “Right here, two weeks ago yesterday.”
Warden Jenkins held up the book. “Would you come over here, Miss Matheson?”
He showed her a signature. It read: Benjamin Matheson.
“That’s not my father’s signature,” Janice said without hesitation. “It’s close, but it’s not my father’s. Warden, not only is he my father, I’m a nurse, and I see his signature every single day on charts at the hospital. This is not his signature. Can we call him? Can we call him right now and ask him if he was here? It’s his golf day. If we call right now, we can catch him at home. Please.”
Warden Jenkins pushed the phone toward her. Janice dialed the number, putting the phone on speaker.
“Hello?” It was Cindy.
“Cindy, it’s Janice. I—”
“Oh, hi, Janice. I thought you were going to see your mother.”
“I am. Listen, Cindy, this is an emergency. Is my dad still there?”
“Yeah, he’s loading up his golf gear. You want me to get him?”
“Yes, please.”
Janice heard her dad’s voice. It sounded like he was coming in from the garage.
“Hello?”
“Dad, it’s Janice. I’m at the prison. The warden wants to speak with you.” Janice looked toward the warden.
“Dr. Matheson? This is Warden Bruce Jenkins. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
Her father’s voice boomed over the speaker, “What’s this all about?”
“Dr. Matheson, were you here to visit your ex-wife two weeks ago?”
“No, of course not. I’ve never been there. I haven’t seen her since she was taken out of the courtroom four and a half years ago.”
“But you’re on her list of approved visitors.”
“Only because my attorney told me it would be a good idea in case we had any difficulties with the divorce. I’ve never been there.” He was shouting now.
“Dad,” Janice interrupted, “Dad, listen to me. This is important. Where’s your driver’s license?”
“My what?”
“Your driver’s license.”
He hesitated. “I-I lost it. I don’t know when, maybe two, three weeks ago. And a credit card too. An American Express. Must have fallen out of my wallet or something. I don’t know where.”
“Did you report it missing?” asked the Warden. “Have you gotten a new driver’s license or called the credit card company to cancel it?”
“Cindy!” They heard her father yell. “Did you cancel that credit card?”
“No,” came Cindy’s voice, “I forgot. Do you want me to cancel it right now?”
“No,” said the warden, “don’t cancel it. Tell her not to cancel it. Do you have a copy of the credit card number? Do you have receipts?”
“No,” her dad yelled at Cindy, “don’t cancel the card.” He turned his mouth back to the receiver. “That’s Cindy’s department. She’d have the number and receipts. What’s going on?”
“Dad,” Janice said, “I think William Franz is back. I think he’s got your driver’s license, and he used it to visit mom here, two weeks ago. I bet he’s got your credit card too.”
“That fucking bastard!” her father yelled into the phone. “Goddamn son of a bitch has the nerve to show his face around here? After everything he did! Nearly destroyed my life, ruined my practice.”
“Dad,” Janice called to him, “Dad, calm down. There are people he hurt worse. People he can still hurt.”
“What do you want me to do?” her father asked. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you catch that bastard.”
“Dr. Matheson, I want you to stay put,” instructed Warden Jenkins. “Get that credit card number. I’m going to get in touch with the investigating officer and have her give you a call as soon as possible. If he’s using your credit card, she can trace him through those transactions. Sit tight. Someone will get back to you.”
“Thank you, Dad,” said Janice as the warden hung up. If her father replied, she couldn’t hear it.
Warden Jenkins opened a file cabinet and began to search for her mother’s file.
“It’s Detective Shauna Burke,” said Janice, “with the Denver police department. She was the investigating officer.”
Janice wrote down her father’s phone number and handed it to Officer Cotter.
“Go back to your mother, Miss Matheson,” advised the warden. “See if she’ll give you any more information. Anything she says might help us.”
* * * *
Shauna’s phone rang. She looked up from the report she was writing.
“Detective Burke.” Listening for a
few seconds, she reached for a notepad. She nodded, mumbled something unintelligible, and after a moment, began snapping her fingers in Scott’s direction. She pointed to her notepad. Scott took one look at the pad, strode to the file cabinet, and pulled the files from the William Franz case.
Photos, Shauna mouthed. Scott thumbed through the file and pulled all the photos. Shauna continued to write and nod. Within five minutes, she’d finished her conversation and hung up the phone.
“Damn,” she said to Scott. “He’s back, and he’s been to see Rebecca Matheson at the prison, using her own ex-husband’s doctored driver’s license for ID. According to Warden Jenkins in Canon City, he was there two weeks ago yesterday. He’s got Ben Matheson’s credit card too. Lucky for us it hasn’t been cancelled yet.” She handed Scott the sheet with Dr. Matheson’s phone number written on it.
“I’m on it.” Grabbing the paper, Scott headed over to his desk.
“I’ve got to get out a photo and a description. According to the daughter, her mom says he’s thinner and graying, but we’re talking basically the same guy. Apparently, he took two hundred and fifty thousand dollars out of a safety deposit box at FirstBank in Colorado Springs last week. He and Bitsy stashed it away five years ago. Call the sheriff’s department down there. Have them send a car. They can see if anyone at the bank remembers anything.”
“What about Devlin Barre?” Scott asked. “Is she still in town?”
“As far as I know. I’ll send a couple of officers over to the hotel. I think she’s still staying there. They can pick her up and bring her here. I don’t want her on the street until he’s caught.” Shauna reached for the phone. “After you get moving on that credit card, touch base with the sheriff’s department in Pottawattamie County. Clue them in.”
An hour later, they had an up-to-date description of William Franz from the bank employee who’d assisted him. He’d flirted with her. Apparently, he’d lost weight. Dropped from one hundred and ninety pounds to about one seventy-five. According to the employee, a young woman, he was good-looking for a man in his early fifties. His thick, graying hair was cut short and brushed back. He was clean-shaven. The day she saw him, he wore a white button-down shirt and khaki trousers. No tie and no socks. She noticed that he wore brown slip-on loafers. She said his nails were neat, almost as if he’d had a manicure, and he wore a large ruby ring on the ring finger of his right hand. When asked about a vehicle, she stated she had no idea.
Barrett, Julia Rachel - Anytime Darlin' (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 23