Her Last Day (Jessie Cole Book 1)

by T. R. Ragan

  EIGHTEEN In the morning Jessie called the hospital to check on Parker Koontz. According to a nurse on the fifth floor, his condition had not changed. Although she wouldn’t elaborate further, she was adamant that his current condition would have prevented him from making a phone call. Next on the list was a visit to the coffee shop on Sixteenth Street where Adelind Rain had said she’d met a barista by the name of Fiona Hampton. According to Adelind, Fiona had also been stalked by Parker Koontz. Jessie hopped into the car and started the engine, hoping Fiona would be willing to talk to her. So far her research had proven everything David Roche had said about Parker Koontz was true. He was a well-respected, hardworking attorney who volunteered his free time to worthy causes. So why the hell had the man shot blanks at her? He had a clean record, and nothing she could find so far indicated he might be suicidal. After finding a parking spot on the street, Jessie got out and walked a half blo

  NINETEEN Erin’s eyes snapped open at the sound of heavy footsteps against the ground. Her space inside the box was so cramped she could hardly move. Her claustrophobia was real, making her heart race. Breathe. Calm down. Pressing her lips together, she forced herself to remain quiet. If the footsteps continued on, she would scream. Because that could mean there were other people, hired help who came by to feed the animals. Even now she could hear pigs grunting and ducks quacking. The rooster would crow at sunrise. But if the footsteps stopped, that would mean it could be him. In that case, she would stay quiet. If he opened the lid, she could use the splinters of wood she’d collected to gouge his eyes out. Being confined did strange things to her mind. She had no idea how long she’d been in the box. She’d been drifting in and out of sleep, hot during the day and cold at night. Two nights or three? If she thought about it for too long, she could convince herself she’d been trapped in th

  TWENTY After spending the afternoon going door-to-door talking to Arlo’s neighbors, Jessie wasn’t any closer to finding his daughter. Arlo had been right. His neighbors didn’t like him. More than a few of his neighbors had talked about the Gatleys as if they were a disgrace to humanity and deserved to be carted off and locked behind bars. Their reasoning had boiled down to the simple fact that Arlo and Zee looked and acted different than most “normal” people did. Zee wore dark lipstick, dark nail polish, and apparently a long dark coat that one of the neighbors described as “Goth,” and the other called “witchy.” Others had refused to answer the door at all, peeking through their curtains or telling her through the door to go away. Back at the office, Jessie sat at her desk, staring at a long list of things to get done. There were subpoenas to serve and a deadbeat dad who needed to be hunted down. It had taken her years to acquire the skills needed to find her niche in the investigative

  TWENTY-ONE Jessie and Ben exited the car and then walked side by side toward the entrance of the Wild West. The place was well hidden, not far from trails for hiking and horseback riding amid foothills and waterfalls. The building looked like an old Western saloon with a wide boardwalk that flanked the dusty, unpaved parking area. A couple of hitching posts completed the look. The Wild West was known for its whiskey and loud music. The regulars wore cowboy boots and wide-brim hats. It was past four when they pushed through the swing doors and walked inside. The wood floors creaked under their feet. Chairs were made from wine barrels, and the tables were mostly warped and scarred. There were a few customers scattered about, since they served hot soup and sandwiches during the day. Ben introduced himself to the bartender and asked if Leanne Baxter was around. The bartender disappeared inside the back room, and a minute later Leanne appeared. Leanne looked the same—round face, sky-blue ey

  TWENTY-TWO I’m going to kill him. You’re not going to kill him because when I’m done with him, he’s going to be blood and guts, splattered to bits like a bug on a windshield. “Shut up,” Zee told the voices in her head as she looked around. She was inside an ugly, straw-covered, stench-filled cell, and through a shared wall of metal bars, she saw a naked woman curled into a ball, lying on the ground in the cell next to her. “Hey, you!” Zee shouted. No response. “Are you dead?” Who cares? You’re going to be dead if you don’t find a way out of here! I told you not to try to find that weirdo, but you wouldn’t listen. You never listen. Zee rubbed the knot on the back of her head. It hurt like hell. The voices weren’t the only ones who wanted blood. A minute later she heard footsteps coming down the narrow wooden stairs at the far end of what looked to her like a shitty basement. When she’d first met the socially awkward man at Rainbow Park six months ago, he’d told her his name was Scar, wh

  TWENTY-THREE It was late that same night when Jessie heard a knock at the door. She crept down the stairs and peeked through the peephole. It was Colin. She opened the door. He looked like hell. “What’s going on?” “Did I wake you?” “No.” She’d been reading through old files on her sister’s case. “Come inside.” She led the way up the stairs and then followed him around the house as he checked the locks on windows and doors. “What are you doing? What’s going on?” “It’s happening again,” he said. “The Heartless Killer has struck again.” “Are you sure?” He turned to face her. Dark shadows appeared as half-moons beneath his eyes. “The mayor isn’t convinced. He doesn’t want to panic the public, but we’re seeing the same pattern as last time. A group of people goes missing, and dead bodies from his last hunt begin to emerge. Last year it was a married couple, Garrett and Robin Ramsey, taken while picnicking in a wooded area. Two days later, a teenage boy disappeared after leaving a party—” “A

  TWENTY-FOUR When Colin walked into the crime lab, Evelyn Klein, longtime friend and forensic pathologist, was waiting for him. They both wore blue, ankle-length, long-sleeve surgical gowns, shoe covers, and latex gloves. On the steel table in front of Evelyn was Garrett Ramsey, his pale, ashy flesh stretched tautly over bone. His feet were swollen, blackening; his eyes were bulging, marked by severe trauma; and his throat stretched and circled with a reddish-purple welt. “His expression says it all,” Evelyn said. Colin nodded as he continued his own examination. The burn marks on Garrett Ramsey’s legs were easy to identify, same with the markings made from a whip or belt across his abdomen. He pointed to the bloody holes in the man’s hands. “Any idea what caused those?” “Looks like nails.” She picked up a hand to show him that the hole went clear through. “This man was tortured in every way imaginable. These stab wounds,” she said, her gloved finger following the path along the length

  TWENTY-FIVE Jessie parked in front of Arlo’s house, but before she or Olivia could climb out of the car, she saw the front door open. “Stay here,” she told Olivia as she reached for the picture, “while I talk to Zee’s dad.” Arlo stepped out of the house and shut the door behind him. “What are you doing here?” he asked, seemingly put out by her visit. Ignoring his bluster, she handed him the eight-by-ten photo she’d had blown up and pointed at the man in the reflection of Zee’s sunglasses. “Look at that man,” she said. “He’s holding a Polaroid camera and taking Zee’s picture. Have you ever seen him before?” He looked at it for a long while, his trembling hands causing the photo to shake. A light sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and for the life of her, she had no idea what was going through his mind. Afraid to ask him if he was okay, since that hadn’t gone well the first time she’d met him, she simply waited for him to talk. A solid two minutes passed before he looked back at Jessie

  TWENTY-SIX The most important part of Ben’s job as a crime reporter was spending time on the crime beat. He hung around police stations, firehouses, and medical technicians. He’d gone on countless ride-alongs and had been walked through unsolved cases with a number of homicide detectives. He knew the judicial process because of long hours spent in the courthouse. He knew what police officers and detectives dealt with on a daily basis. Too often reporters merely wrote accounts of a crime as it occurred, using little background or depth. A good reporter needed to do his homework, which is why Ben had spent enough time with these guys
to earn their respect. They knew he cared about trends and the impact crimes had on a community. And for that reason, he was granted access to things many reporters were not. Today Ben was at the Auburn Police Department, waiting to talk to Police Lieutenant Anne Garcia. He liked Anne. She was professional and seemed to see things many people didn’t. She’d a

  TWENTY-SEVEN Natalie Bailey couldn’t stop thinking about Mike. Was her husband okay? She prayed he was okay. And if he was okay, that would mean he’d be frantic. And yet there was nothing she could do to help either one of them. She was trapped. Locked in an ancient-looking handcrafted cell that had been welded together with rebar that was bent and rusting in places. She had no idea how she’d ended up in this place with its cracked, uneven cement walls and moldy smell. Beneath the fresh straw, she could smell a hint of bleach. How many people had been locked up before her? And who was in the enclosed cell nearby? Every once in a while she’d hear a long, mournful cry. At first she’d thought it was a wolf. Now she wasn’t so sure. The last thing she remembered before waking up in her own personal hell was being home in her warm bed. Sometime well after midnight, she’d felt the weight of a hand clamped tightly over her mouth. Her eyes had shot open, and she’d seen a shadowy figure hovering

  TWENTY-EIGHT After driving to the Wild West in Auburn and being told that Leanne Baxter had the day off, Ben drove to the apartment building where he knew she lived, since he’d talked to her landlord a few days ago. Calling it a shithole was being kind. Trash, piles of it, littered the parking lot and the edges of the property. Windows were covered with sheets, and more than one rat scurried past him before he made it to the stairs. A shouting match between a man and a woman was taking place inside one of the apartments. He stopped in front of 5B and knocked. The curtain moved. A few seconds later the door opened, but only an inch. He recognized Leanne as the one peeking through the crack. A TV blared in the background. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did you get my home address? That bitch at the bar, the one who—” “I found you on my own,” Ben said, cutting her off. “I talked to your landlord, remember?” “Oh.” “I want to show you something, and then I’ll leave. I promise.”

  TWENTY-NINE “I’m going to take Higgins for a walk,” Jessie told Olivia. She needed to get out, get some air. She didn’t want Olivia to know she was still wound up after thinking she’d lost her. Olivia waved a hand above her head to let Jessie know she’d heard. She was watching TV and eating a grilled cheese sandwich. “Maybe you should work on your report.” Another wave of the hand. Jessie sighed, grabbed the leash, and called Higgins’s name. The dog lifted his head and scurried around, his cast slipping on the floor before he finally got to his feet. Less than a week, and the dog already responded to his new name. He didn’t seem to know he had a broken leg, either. “You’re starting to like me—aren’t you, Higgins?” Higgins ignored her. He was halfway down the stairs, eager to get to the dog park. Overall, he was a good dog. He never made trouble with other dogs, and as long as she and Olivia kept things put away in the house, he mostly chewed on his rubber toys and bones she’d bought hi

  THIRTY Zee stood motionless at the door of her cell. She had given up trying to break the weakened rebar for now. Her arms still hurt from the effort. The voices in her head had finally calmed, but the howling in the enclosed cell next to her had started up again. She looked at Natalie. She was sitting on the ground, her back and shoulders leaning against the wall, her head tilted forward so that her chin rested on her chest. Zee wasn’t sure if the woman was awake, but she talked loud enough to be heard over the din. “Do you think that’s man or beast making all that noise?” “Man,” Natalie said without looking up. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” After a short pause, Zee said, “We need to find a way out of here.” The woman lifted her head. “Agreed.” “Sorry if I went a little crazy earlier. Without my medication, it’s not easy being me.” “Do you have an illness?” “I have schizophrenia,” Zee said. “A disease of the brain. The doctor told me there are abnormalities in my brain’s structure an

  THIRTY-ONE Jessie had returned from the hospital fifteen minutes ago. After being interrogated by Olivia about what had happened during the attack, Jessie had escaped to the bathroom. As she washed her hands, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her right eye was puffy and shaded with a half-moon of grayish black. She’d needed nine stitches under the left side of her chin. Gauze and tape covered her wound. The doctor had told her she’d been lucky. If the cut had been any deeper, she could have suffered nerve damage, or worse. Before she’d run into Colin, she’d been in shock. Seeing all that blood had made her dizzy, barely able to walk. If she closed her eyes, she could see her attacker. Average height and build. No identifying tattoos or marks. He had expressive eyes. Angry eyes. When she walked out of the bathroom, Colin was exiting the kitchen carrying a bowl of soup that he’d warmed up in the microwave. He set it next to the hot tea waiting for her on the table in front of t

  THIRTY-TWO Ben’s first stop after watching his oldest kid play soccer was John Hardcastle’s house off Gunn Road in Carmichael. John, a tech writer, had retired from the Tribune eleven months ago. It was his HTML skills, not stringing words together, that had landed him a job with his first tech publication back in the day. But along the way, John had fallen in love with journalism. Before he retired, he’d often entertained Ben with stories about how serious and socially inept Ben had been when he’d first come to work for the newspaper. Although Ben couldn’t say whether the stories were true or not, the two men had become fast friends after Ben’s accident. Although Ben tended to be an introvert, he honestly missed having John around. Ben had to knock on the door quite a few times before he heard movement inside the house. The door came open. “Hey there, pal. Long time no see.” “Mind if I come in?” John scratched the salt-and-pepper scruff covering his chin before gesturing inside. “Come

  THIRTY-THREE With raw, bloodied fingers, Erin removed the last of the rotted wood from around the lock. Her shoulders relaxed, and she took a breath before she lifted the lid. It was dark, which meant it was time to make her escape. Too weak from lack of food and water to push the lid all the way to the other side, she twisted her body in such a way that she could reach both arms out of the box, grab clumps of grass and weeds, and pull herself free. Wood scraped against her head and then her back as she pulled and pushed, grunted and groaned. She ignored the sharp pain pressing against her skull as her fingers dug into hard clumps of dirt. All her energy was focused on holding tight to the prickly weeds and grass. Finally, she was able to use her legs to push herself from the box. She lay there for a moment, her chest heaving. The night air was cold. Goose bumps covered her body. Her gaze darted about, then followed a dirt path to a barn. Staying low, she crawled on her belly in the op

  THIRTY-FOUR Ten o’clock the next day, Jessie was getting ready to head to the office when a knock at the door prompted Higgins to jump to his feet. The dog was filling out, had some meat on his ribs, and his patchy fur was looking better. “It’s okay,” Jessie told Higgins as she made her way to the window. Ben Morrison stood at the front door. He looked up, saw her standing there, and waved. “It’s Ben,” she told the dog. “You’ve met him before.” But Higgins didn’t care who it was. He stayed close to her heels, growling all the way down the stairs. Holding tight to his collar, she opened the door. It took Ben only a moment to calm Higgins down. When he finally straightened, he looked at her and frowned. “What happened to you?” “I was attacked yesterday. Nine stitches. I look worse than I feel.” She gave the dog a pat on the head. “Thanks to Higgins, I was able to use my pepper spray and get away.” “Good dog.” He stroked the animal’s back. “Where did it happen?” “A few blocks from here.”

  THIRTY-FIVE Nothing was working out as planned. He’d enjoyed having someone to talk to, but Zee had ruined everything. The fact that she was certifiably crazy had made her interesting to be around. But he’d never once thought of bringing her here. He�
��d had so many ideas about what to do with Natalie, but having Zee in the cell next to her made it difficult to concentrate. He thought about throwing Zee in the box for a few days, but she was a big girl, and the box would never fit her. He could kill her, but last night he’d had an epiphany. All he had to do was build the perfect place to keep Zee. If he could do that, he would always have someone to talk to. She wouldn’t die without her meds, and although she might be angry with him now, she would come around eventually. Anyone with two eyes could see she was infatuated with him. The notion amused him. Only a schizo could fall in love with the man dubbed the Heartless Killer. They were meant to be. The stacks of cement bags piled in the

  THIRTY-SIX Jessie walked Ben Morrison outside to his car just as Colin was crossing the street. She made quick introductions. “Colin Grayson, homicide detective with the Sacramento Police Department, I’d like you to meet Ben Morrison, crime reporter with the Sacramento Tribune.” “I’ve heard of you,” Colin said, “but I don’t believe we’ve ever met in person.” Ben nodded as they shook hands. “So, what’s going on?” Colin asked, turning toward Jessie. “Ben is doing his own investigation on Sophie’s disappearance.” “I thought you had decided to move on?” Her chin came up a notch. “I changed my mind.” “I should get going,” Ben said. “Good to finally meet you.” “Yeah, you, too.” Colin looked at Jessie. “You should be resting.” “I took some ibuprofen. I’ll be fine.” Jessie stepped around Colin so she could thank Ben for coming. After he drove off, she looked at Colin for a long moment. “Are you okay?” She hooked her thumbs in the front pockets of her jeans and smiled at him. “I am now that you