by Willow Rose
Chapter 28
I knew something was wrong from the moment I turned onto the street leading up to the high school. I had been at my daughter’s school and given the shirt to the lady at the front office so Josie could grab it between classes. I had thought I was making good time, that I was doing well when I saw the blinking lights.
What is going on?
They had set up a perimeter all around the school, and I had to park down the road and walk the rest of the way up. A crowd had gathered, women mostly, and I guessed they were mothers who lived close by, and who heard the rumors first.
I found my way through and went up to the officer guarding the entrance. He saw me and recognized me, then let me through.
A sensation of anxiety rumbled in my stomach as I walked in through the doors, nodding politely at the colleagues I met on the way. I grabbed my phone and looked at the display, then realized Fowler had called five times.
This can’t be good.
I barely made it inside the hallway before I heard his voice, growling my name. I turned my head and saw him come running toward me.
“Hunter!”
Fowler was a big guy like me, not quite as tall, so I could still look down on him when he spoke, but he was pretty sizable in stature and pretty intimidating, especially with his scowling look. The very same look he was giving me right now.
“Where have you been?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but he had no time to wait for me to find the words before he continued.
“Weren’t you supposed to be here? Because I vividly remember telling you to stay with William Covington all day, didn’t I?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. I had an emergency at home.”
He huffed. “What else is new, right?”
“I have a sick wife; you know this, Fowler.”
He paused, then rubbed his forehead. “I know. I know. I am sorry. It’s just…well, I can’t trust you anymore. You’re always running around, and I never know where you are these days. How could this happen on your watch?”
I took in a deep breath. I hated to use Camille as an excuse, but right now, I had to. I couldn’t afford to lose my job. Fowler was trying hard not to let his frustration run away with him. I could tell by the way he clenched his fists.
“Well, I’m here now. What happened?” I asked.
Fowler exhaled. “Come with me.”
I followed him down the hallway and to the girls’ bathroom. The door was open, and I looked inside just in time to see a young girl being pulled onto a stretcher and rushed out of there by paramedics.
“That’s a lot of blood,” I said, feeling sick. This was awful.
“He cut her throat,” Fowler said.
“Knife?”
“We found this,” Fowler said and lifted an evidence bag with a bloody fishing knife inside of it.
I walked closer to the area, then knelt next to the pool of blood. “Same type of knife as on the boat, huh? I almost don’t dare to ask…”
Fowler nodded. He pulled out another bag and showed it to me. It contained a small black chess piece, a knight.
“We found it in her hand. He must have placed it there before he took off.”
I stared at the chess piece, then wondered if William Covington was a chess player. I would bet my right arm he was.
Fowler escorted me out and down the hallway, then stopped. “Listen, Hunter. You know I love you, man; we’ve known each other for what feels like forever. But I can’t keep covering for you. This happened on your watch, and you weren’t here. You’ve got to step up. Now, it wasn’t William Covington who was hurt…this time, so I’ll let this one slide, but this is your last chance. Do you hear me? Any more slip-ups and you’re out. William’s dad is a very important contributor to Mayor Simon’s campaign. He’s a big deal around here, and if anything happens to his son, we’ll all lose our jobs; do you understand?”
“Listen, Fowler; I might have found some important information in the case…”
Fowler raised his finger. He puffed himself up while looking at me, a vein popping out in his forehead.
“There is no case for you; do you hear me? Morales and his team are on it. You focus on keeping the boy safe. That is all. Understood?”
I nodded. “Understood.”
“Good,” Fowler said and left me. As I watched him walk down the hallway, I spotted someone rushing by me and recognized his face immediately.
“Mr. James?”
I hurried up next to him. He seemed in a rush to get away, but I stopped him. “Please, I need to talk to you. Here’s my card. Call me, and we’ll talk.”
He stopped, then looked around to see if anyone saw us together, taking the card from my hand.
“You’re a teacher here, aren’t you?” I asked.
He nodded. “Yes. What is it you want?”
“That thing yesterday. What was it about?”
His eyes avoided mine. “Please, Detective, I don’t want any trouble. Just leave me alone; will you?”
He began to walk toward the exit, and I followed him out into the parking lot. “I told the police everything I knew. They said I could go,” he said. “I don’t know why you keep following me.”
“I want to talk about last night. Why was William Covington at your home? What did he want, and why was he hurting you?”
James shook his head and crossed the parking lot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was with my family last night. We had dinner; we watched SpongeBob.”
“Come on, Mr. James. I was there. I saw him. I saw what happened, what he did to you. Why don’t you report him?”
James stopped in his tracks. He turned around to confront me, his face strained with anger, cheeks blushing, and eyes ablaze.
“You listen to me, Detective. You leave this alone, or I’ll report you for misconduct. All I want is for you to leave me alone; do you think you can do that?”
And with that, he turned back around and walked up to his car and got in. He roared it to life, then drove past me, giving me an angry glare through the window. As the car disappeared, I turned around to go back when I spotted William standing by the wall of the school, leaning against it, his eyes lingering on me, a sly smile on his lips. The rage in his eyes made my blood run cold.
Chapter 29
Jean drove toward the hospital, thinking about Harry. It wasn’t that unusual for her to do that since he was constantly on her mind. She was always thinking about him, but today, a little more than usual. Today, she didn’t want to think about him; she wanted to forget he even existed. She was so angry at herself for kissing him like that. It was something she had promised herself never to let happen, yet she had done it anyway. Out of the blue? It made no sense.
Have you no self-control?
Jean felt so ashamed of herself that she, for a moment, considered running away, moving away from town, or at least from the neighborhood, so she wouldn’t have to face him again. Could she ever look into his eyes again?
She wasn’t sure.
But the kiss had been wonderful. She had to admit it had been better than she had ever imagined it would be, and she had thought about kissing him a lot. She had tried hard not to for years, trying to push the thought away, but it had been on her mind a lot anyway, what it would be like to kiss Harry.
Why couldn’t he have been an awful kisser? Why did he have to have such wonderfully soft lips?
Jean wasn’t happy to admit it but kissing Harry had been on her mind even before Camille overdosed. That was the worst part of it all. Jean had always liked Harry, and she had always felt there was a connection between them, one she had never had with anyone else in the world. But he had belonged to Camille, and he still did, even if she was foolish enough to take those drugs. Thinking about it made Jean so angry.
Didn’t she know she had it all?
“What could you possibly have been sad about? What could you possibly have wanted to escape from, huh?” she said into the car as i
f Camille were still there. “You weren’t lonely like me. You weren’t scared of never finding anyone who would love you. You had someone who adored your every step. You had everything…the most wonderful man in the world, the sweetest kid. Why would you do this to yourself? You had everything, literally everything I ever wanted.”
Jean slammed her hand into the steering wheel as she drove into the parking lot of South Miami Hospital and stopped the car. She grabbed her purse, then looked in the mirror, correcting her hair and makeup.
“You’re such a fool, Jean. You’ve ruined everything,” she told herself with a deep sigh, then left the car and rushed inside.
She had just started her shift when they needed her right away. Jean had barely put her bag down when she had to rush into the ER. A young girl was coming in, someone said.
Jean ran down the hallway and was ready as they rolled her inside.
“Girl, eighteen, someone slit her throat with a knife,” the paramedics said as they ran down the hallway. “Luckily, a girl found her right after it happened and tried to stop the bleeding with her shirt. She’s lost a lot of blood. I’m not sure she’s gonna make it.”
Chapter 30
I knew I was jeopardizing everything, but I had to follow my instincts, and that was to find Lucy Lockwood as soon as possible. So, I took off, not caring what happened to William Covington, or what he was up to. I knew I had just promised my boss something else, but I’d have to deal with that later.
Instead, I drove downtown, growling in anger, Al’s folder lying on the passenger seat beside me. Here, another girl had been attacked, and my boss wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say.
I drove over the bridge and north onto the beach, then stopped in front of a condominium where I parked the car. I looked at the building in front of me, then at the folder, and the transcripts from her Snapchat.
I walked out and up to the front entrance, then spotted someone coming out and went to hide around the corner.
The woman didn’t see me. She walked past me on her high heels, tapping along on the asphalt, seemingly in a rush.
I turned the corner and approached her.
“Mrs. Lockwood?”
She turned to look at me with a gasp. Then she forced a smile.
“Detective Hunter. W-what are you doing here?”
I smiled back, mirroring her fake smile. “Well, I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d stop by and say hello to Lucy.”
“L-Lucy?”
Valentina Lockwood was many things, but an actress wasn’t one of them.
“Let’s cut the crap, shall we?” I said. “I know that she’s up there in your apartment that is in your maiden name, Valentina Gómez. I read about it all in those Snapchats you thought had been deleted…the ones between you and Lucy planning this. Your husband doesn’t know about it; does he? When did you buy it?”
She stared at me, the mask coming off. Her nostrils were flaring angrily, yet I could tell she knew she was defeated.
“He doesn’t know, no. I bought it when I decided to leave him two years ago after he…”
I reached over and pulled the edge of her shirt to the side, revealing a huge purple bruise on her chest.
“How long has this been going on?”
She pulled back. “For as long as I can remember. He’s always been like this, but it’s getting worse. I thought I could leave him, but I don’t know how…I bought the condo with my own money that my mother sent me and kept it just in case I finally managed to gain the courage.”
“And she’s up there? She’s been there the entire time?” I asked. “Let me guess; Mr. Lockwood isn’t very happy about what happened to her, and he blames her?”
Mrs. Lockwood looked down, then nodded like she was the one who was the bad guy. I had seen so many women like her in my line of work. They were trapped. There was nowhere for them to go, completely dependent on their husbands who treated them like dirt. I couldn’t stand it.
“And the baby? William’s child?”
Valentina bit her lip. “Robert wanted to kill it. He wanted her to get an abortion. I couldn’t let him.”
“So, you faked her disappearance?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes. Please, don’t tell him. Please, I beg of you.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “I won’t. But I’ll probably need to talk to her.”
Chapter 31
She survived the surgery. How that was even possible with the condition she was in when she got to the hospital was beyond Jean, but she had. Sophia Fisher was in the ICU now on life-support and in critical condition, but alive.
We saved one of your girls, Harry.
It wasn’t hard for Jean to figure out that this girl had to do with Harry’s case. She didn’t know the details of it, but Harry had told her about the girls who were killed on the boat and the one that was found in the dumpster. This incident had happened at the same school that all the others went to and where Harry spent his day protecting the kid that they believed had raped the girl that disappeared.
“We’re gonna get you up and running in no time,” Jean said as she checked Sophia’s vitals.
Jean worked the ICU from time to time, and since there was a lack of nurses in the ICU today with the many patients that had come in, she had volunteered to help. They had assigned her to Sophia.
Now, she stared at the girl who lay in the bed, her eyes closed, fighting for her life. It was an awful sight, yet Jean found it to be hopeful. The girl had made it this far, and she would do her very best to make sure she made it all the way.
“You and me, we’re tough girls,” she said to her, “Nothing gets us down.”
Except Harry.
Jean sighed when thinking about him again and looked out the window. The sun was setting on the Intracoastal waters, creating a gorgeous light.
“Why can’t it be us?” she mumbled as though Sophia could hear or even cared. “She had her chance, and she blew it. Now, she’s gone; she just lays up there, a vegetable, and meanwhile, we walk around each other, wanting it to be more, but unable to do anything about it. It’s not fair, you know? I know; I know what you’ll say…life’s not fair and all that. I know, I know. I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself, yet sometimes I really do. I take care of that woman day and night. I change her catheter; I wash her in parts only her husband should see. I make sure she’s kept alive and that she can stay in the house with him. Why? Because I love him. Because I want to do this for him, I want to help him. And maybe because I feel awful for not being able to help her, for not seeing that she was back on the drugs. But does that mean I should just stop living my own life? Don’t I have a right to be loved too?”
Jean felt tears pile up in her eyes and then let the tears roll down her cheeks. She wasn’t usually one to feel sorry for herself, but today, she was. Today, she felt like everything had exploded in her face and that there was no turning back. She had kissed him, and that opened up a whole can of worms. There was no taking it back. All she wanted was to be happy. Was that so terrible?
Jean wiped her eyes on her sleeve with a sniffle, then shook her head. “I’m sorry to be telling you all this. It’s not really your problem anyway. And, frankly, I’m being a baby. I could just go out and find some other guy, right? I could find someone who is actually available instead of wasting all my time and energy on someone who never will be. You’re right.”
Jean turned to look at Sophia, then smiled when the girl suddenly moved in her bed and groaned. Jean’s eyes grew wide open, and she approached her.
“Sophia?”
The girl moved her head from side to side, moaning loudly like she was having a bad dream. Was she waking up?
“Sophia?”
The girl opened her mouth and mumbled something. It was impossible for Jean to make out what it was, so she moved closer, so close she could hear her even when she whispered.
And what she heard made her heart race in her chest so violently it hurt.
Chapter 32
The two-bedroom apartment on the seventeenth floor had gorgeous views over the glistening Atlantic Ocean. It was nicely decorated in blue and white, making it seem like a truly relaxing beach retreat. A lamp made of shells dangled calmly from the ceiling. A huge painting of a sea turtle brought the ocean inside.
On the floor of the living room was a young girl and a young child, both sitting on the carpet.
“Did you forget something?” she yelled without turning to look at us.
“Lucy?” I said and stepped forward. She turned her head and looked up at me, her eyes confused. I recognized her from the many pictures I had seen in the police reports and in the articles I had read about the rape and her disappearance.
Lucy looked at her mother, who was standing right behind me. “W-what…who is he, Mom?”
“It’s okay, Lucy,” Valentina said. “He knows. He’s not gonna harm either of you or take the child. He just wants to talk to you. It’s okay, Lucy; trust me.”
Lucy eased up slightly. She still looked at me suspiciously.
I stepped forward. “My name is Detective Harry Hunter. I’ve been looking for you, Lucy.”
Lucy scoffed and turned to look at the baby as she fussed. Lucy helped her get the small wooden toy she couldn’t reach. I was suddenly taken back to when Josie had been the same age and remembered her dependence on her surroundings, especially on her mother. It was truly magical that such a small helpless creature could grow into what Josie was today. And, frankly, I hadn’t done much but keep her alive.
“Precious,” I said and squatted next to Lucy, nodding toward the baby. “What’s her name?”
“Isabella, like my grandmother,” Lucy said, smiling in that way only a mother could when looking at her child. It was obvious she was tired from lack of sleep and constantly being on watch, but she still had that peace over her that only a new mother had.
“Beautiful,” I said. “She’s big and sitting by herself, huh? I remember that as being a relief for my wife when our daughter started sitting up on her own. That meant you didn’t have to hold her constantly anymore.”