by S J Sargent
“Doctor Wood! Room seventeen is awake. The missing girl...”
Then she rushed in and put a hand on Christine’s shoulder.
“Hey there. Do you remember…your name?”
The question frightened Christine. Through her version-of-a-speaking-voice, she pushed out an answer. “Christine.”
The nurse smiled. She held Christine’s hand as she caught her up on a few of the details that had transpired while she was out. When Christine heard she had been unconscious for two days, she shot up. The nurse gently lowered her back down, explaining that her vital signs were stable and that she was lucky to be alive. That didn’t make her feel lucky.
The doctor hopped in and began to do a bunch of routine tests, speaking to her as if she had just walked in off the street. He spoke rapidly. Too rapidly. Christine was still trying to mentally catch up. She was desperate to remember what happened. It was coming back, but in fragments. Puzzle pieces falling from the sky. She’d remembered the banging. Lots of struggling. Darkness.
“Well, I think you’re going to be okay, Christine,” the doctor said as he stood at the feet of her bed. “He tried his best, but you’re a fighter. All your levels look great. It will take a few weeks for your vocal cords to completely heal, but we have some exercises and treatments that may speed that up.” He put his hands on his hips. “All in all, I think you’ll walk away from all this with nothing more than a few souvenir scars!”
The doctor smiled and left. The nurse instructed her to rest and drink lots of water. Then, she was gone too. And Christine was left alone again. She rubbed her head to feel the short hair for a third time. Tears developed as she finally had time to let it all out. Crying turned into weeping. The healing kind of weeping. She recited the doctor’s words over and over again in her mind.
You’re going to be okay.
You’re going to be okay.
You’re going to be okay.
And that’s what triggered it. That line. Her repeating that over and over brought her back to the incident with new memories that she hadn’t been able to recall before. The room was dark. The face was masked. The voice was muffled. But whoever it was said the exact same thing to her while she was being dragged across her floor.
You’re going to be okay.
Even as she was being strangled and tossed around the apartment like a bean bag, the person kept saying that with a soft, unsettling voice. Disguised in some way so that it sounded muffled. As the abductor’s hands gripped her throat and squeezed harder and harder, the only sound in the apartment was a gentle, out-of-place whisper.
A whisper that said, “you’re going to be okay.”
Christine woke from her daze to see Detective Bolin at the door. “Well, it looks like he failed this time.” He leaned against the frame with a smile of relief on his face. She looked up at him and smiled back. A rare moment of peace for both of them. The detective had forgotten what it felt like for someone to be relieved to see him.
“I wasn’t sure you’d pull through.” Bolin walked over to her bed and sat on the end. “You were in bad shape when I found you in Jonathan’s office. Do you remember being taken there?”
Christine shook her head.
“Are you able to speak?”
“A little,” Christine whispered.
“A little goes a long way,” Bolin said as he pulled out his notepad, wasting no time. “The doc said you should be fine. No permanent internal damage. That’s great news, right? Congratulations. What you’ve survived puts you in a very unique minority.”
Christine didn’t know how to respond. Was this supposed to make her feel relieved that she should be dead right now? She half nodded, hoping he had solved the case while she had been unconscious the past few days. Hoping he had come to answer all her questions.
“Unfortunately, I’m not as optimistic as the doc.” Bolin’s resting smile turned to a solemn look. “You see, we did an autopsy on Amy Powers after she died. The initial forensics couldn’t figure out her cause of death. She had all types of bruises and scratches all over her, but none that were fatal. It wasn’t until the autopsy that we learned how she died.”
“What was it?” Christine asked.
Bolin now stood up, hands in his pockets. “I couldn’t imagine having that job. Being the person that has to cut open a dead corpse and comb through it for any traces of…chemicals or…substances or damage. I couldn’t do it. Could you imagine having that job?”
Christine stared.
“Anyway. We learned a few things on Friday afternoon. First off, we estimate she had been unconscious for just under forty-eight hours before she died. It’s amazing how they can figure this stuff out after the fact in a lab. Had something to do with her heartbeat.” Bolin shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not a forensics expert. You know how she ultimately died though? Her official cause of death?”
“What?”
“Poison.” Bolin nodded. “A special kind of lead-based pill called Infederal. I’d never heard of it but that doesn’t mean much. You see, the genius of this cause of death is that it can take up to two days for it to take effect. That’s what happened with Amy. She’d been knocked out and probably left to die in those bushes since Tuesday night. It wasn’t until Thursday that she actually died.” He came over to the foot of her bed and leaned forward. “Here’s the crazy part. They estimate that she died just minutes before we found her. Had we found her a half hour earlier, we might have been able to save her.”
Christine looked at Bolin, clutching her bedsheets. She wondered why he was jumping into such a horror story just moments after she had woken up. Her head was throbbing. Her heart was panicked. He continued.
“That’s why I’m still not as optimistic as your doctor. Sure. He’s the expert. But I’ve already asked them if they can pump your stomach and do anything to clean you out. Make sure we do get everything out. They should be coming in real soon for that. Just in case, right?”
Christine nodded.
“Don’t want to scare you or anything.” Bolin paused. “Well, I guess it’s too late to hope for that. I’m just letting you know the urgency. I’m more of a straight shooter with these things. I’m sure you’re just glad to be awake. I know I am.” Bolin paced toward the window, staring out. The snow was slowly turning to rain again as the outside temperatures were rising into the high thirties. “Let me ask you. Did you get a good look at her?”
“…at who?” She whispered back.
“The lady who put you here.”
“The lady? Do you know it was a girl?”
He spun around. “Was it?”
Christine hesitated to answer. “I don’t know. I didn’t see him. Or…her. I don’t know how much help I am.” She thought back for a minute. “The room was dark. And it all happened in two minutes. I was so scared.”
“Of course. Well, tell you what. What if I just throw out some theories and see what you think? Seeing as you have some vested interest in this now. I mean, if you’re not too busy right now?” He looked around the dark, empty room for theatrics sake.
Christine nodded.
“I’m starting to wonder if two people were involved,” he began as he looked out the window again. Talking it out helped him to connect the dots. “I do think your abduction was connected with Amy. But I’m not sure it was the same person that actually did it. I’m thinking it was a tag team. Two people working together. Similar motives, but still different. Different enough so that each had an alibi to get out of the other one. Are you following?”
Bolin looked back at Christine. She stared back at him.
“You see…” Bolin put his hands behind his back. “I think your two neighbors were working together on this thing.”
“Neighbors?”
Bolin nodded. “It was a Strangers on a Train type situation. Did you ever see that movie? Two guys meet on a train. Both have someone they want killed, but neither wants to do it because they’re afraid they’d be a suspect. So what do th
ey do? They swap murders. Both agree to kill complete strangers so it never ties back to either of them.”
“My neighbors?”
“Jonathan and Sofia.” He smiled. She frowned.
“Do you think they wanted to kill me?”
Bolin turned back around toward her.
“I do.” He made eye contact with her, empathetic towards her sad, vulnerable state. And compassionate towards the pain he was about to cause her with his final theory.
“And to be completely honest, I’m not sure if they failed.” He stopped himself, but then let it slip out anyway. “Or if…they just haven’t succeeded yet.”
37
Country Getaway
Monday, December 20 – 9:23 P.M.
Alex’s car sliced through the rain toward his mystery getaway spot. Molly stared out the window, missing the winter snow. In her hand was her silenced phone. It already had four missed calls. From the backseat, Peter watched their location closely on his GPS.
“So how much further?” He asked.
“Not much longer. Maybe ten minutes,” Alex said. “My cousin’s not home until next week so he’s fine with us staying at his house for as long as we need. It’s a good setup.”
“Next week?” Molly repeated. “What about Christmas?”
“I’m just saying it’s an option.” Alex turned off the highway and continued his route toward their spot. “Where we are going is safer than anywhere else in Pecos. We can wait it out there. Witness protection style.” His joke didn’t land. Or maybe it just wasn’t funny. “Our best-case scenario is that Bolin finds the actual suspect soon so we are off his radar.”
“…so now you trust Bolin?” Molly asked. Alex didn’t respond to this. The three had been in the car for about thirty minutes already and were now in an area outside of the curfew zone. More and more cars passed by them the further they got from Pecos. Eventually, Alex turned into a long, windy and unpaved driveway off the road. There were no streetlights or house lights. As they finally made their way up to the end of the driveway, the headlights shone on a small, old country home in the middle of a huge yard. It looked a little smaller than the hunting trailer Molly’s dad used to take her to when she was a kid. She’d forgotten about that until now.
“Wait here.” Alex turned off the car and hopped out. He picked up the hideaway key from the side of the front door and unlocked the door. Giving them a nod, Peter and Molly followed his lead and exited the car. The rain had let up, giving them the chance to take in the remote countryside. It was so far removed from civilzation that all she could see for miles was stars. The sky was even darker than it was in rural Pecos. She took a moment to enjoy the landscape and the newfound safety that came with being in the middle of nowhere.
“It’s not much,” Alex said as he flipped on the lights. “But it’s warm. And no one knows about it. Hopefully, we only have to stick around for a night or two. He said there’s stuff in the fridge we can eat. Frozen pizzas and all.”
The house had the bare minimum amenities to even be considered a home. The den’s furniture looked older than all of them. The dated couch and noisy recliner belonged in an old church basement. The TV was one of those old heavy big screens that barely existed outside of Goodwill anymore. The kitchen, right off the den was just big enough for two people to stand in at the same time. Country living at its finest.
Molly took a quick tour of the place. She peeked in the backyard to look at the endless view. It was woods for acres, aside from a small utility shed on the edge of the tree line. She looked at its rotting wood, wondering the last time a human had actually gone inside the thing.
Molly came back to the small den and sank into the couch. Her backpack was on the floor next to her, full of textbooks. She knew it was pointless to bring them, considering she was skipping the rest of her finals anyway. But it made her feel a little less guilty having them with her.
“Let’s just try our best to relax,” Peter said as he plopped down in the chair and turned on football highlights on the TV. “I just want to get my mind off of everything for now.”
“Anyone want a drink?” Alex yelled from the other room.
“Yes,” both Molly and Peter said at the same time.
Moments later, Alex came in with three sodas and sat down next to Molly. Silently and effortlessly, all three sat and let their minds waste away on clips from football games they didn’t care about. That’s about all they had energy for. The rain had started coming down again and was so loud that Peter had to crank up the volume.
Molly’s phone rang again. Mom. For the fifth time. Alex nodded at her to answer. “Just let her know you’re okay…” he advised. “You owe that to her. No need for her to worry.”
“Hi, Mom,” she answered. After a few moments of back and forth heated exchange, Molly’s mom finally calmed down.
“I’m just glad you’re safe. When are you coming home?”
“I’m staying here. Until everything is…finished. Until the case is closed” Molly gave a smile at Alex, who slipped his hand over hers. “It shouldn’t take more than a day or two. I just need some distance from everything.”
A long pause.
“I’m just glad you’re doing fine right now. Especially after all that happened again tonight. I still can’t believe it.”
“I’m okay, Mom. It was just an argument. I don’t want to get back into all of that right now. Please. I’m too tired for all of that again.”
“I’m not talking about the argument.”
“Oh. You mean about Christine waking up? We heard about that an hour ago. I’m glad she’s awake.” Molly looked over at Peter, who smiled at her. “I’m eager to hear how she is doing with everything. I have a feeling it’s all wrapping up here soon. Alex said that Bolin has the suspect in custody and is just waiting to announce it in the morning.”
“Honey, I’m not talking about Christine. I didn’t know even about that. That is wonderful news.”
“Wait. Then what are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the breaking news that just came out a little bit ago. I was sure you’d heard about it.”
“Oh. Did they make an announcement about the suspect? We’ve been in the car so we haven’t been in the loop.” Molly motioned for Peter to flip channels to a news station. As he did, she kept talking. “Mom, you’ll never believe it but we actually helped Detective Bolin solve the case. We found some evidence that pointed to it being that Italian lady that owns Bruno’s by Movie Madness. Sofia. I think they brought her in earlier tonight. I bet Christine confirmed it for them when she woke up at the hospital.”
“I hope so,” Peter said as he channel surfed. “Then we can all go home in the morning.”
“And your name will be cleared.” Alex gave Peter a thumbs-up. “All of ours will be.”
“What are you talking about, Molly?” her mom said with genuine concern. “Turn on the news. Please.”
Peter finally found the news station. The headline at the bottom was bold, yelling at all three of them from across the room. It was in all caps with a red box around it. They each read it in silence, then stayed frozen. Afraid to move. Terrified at what it said. Trying to comprehend the headline.
SOFIA RUSSO FOUND DEAD EARLIER TONIGHT.
38
Sofia’s Death
Monday, December 20 – 9:43 P.M.
In his sloppiest move yet, Bolin’s eagerness to get information out of Christine left the police station understaffed and vulnerable. Both deputies were there, for each of the potential suspects – Ken, Sofia, and Jonathan. That wasn’t enough.
Everything in Jonathan’s responses pointed to guilty. The motive was there. And his lies made it worse. He had tried to cover his tracks, but the footage proved differently. If Bolin could prove Jonathan’s guilt with Christine, it would be significantly easier to get a jury to tie Amy’s death to him as well. All he needed was Christine placing him at the scene of the crime.
Her testim
ony could close the case. Both cases.
Bolin sat at the foot of her bed, phone recording in his pocket. She had no idea, but she could tell from his aggressive tone that he was fishing for more than she was capable of recalling. After thirty minutes of asking questions and catching her up on everything, he had gotten nowhere. Christine remembered almost nothing from the night. Flashes and glimpses. Nothing more.
Bolin’s phone buzzed with a text from the station.
Power’s out again. Trying to fix it. Please report back to station ASAP. All hands on deck.
This should’ve triggered him to pack up the interview and head back to the station. Protocol was that every on-duty police officer should immediately report back to the station in the unusual case of a power outage in order to offer extra hands. Plus, with the incredibly rare circumstance of having three individuals behind bars, it was even more urgent. Bolin knew that. But he decided to keep on with the interview.
“I could tell he liked me,” Christine said in a hoarse whisper. “I mean, who else checks in with you when you get home from work every night?” She grinned. “I didn’t mind it. The attention’s nice. And he’s not the worst guy in the world. He’s cute. And kind. So kind. To be honest, I started to like all of the texts we shared.”
“I see.” Bolin pivoted. “What about Jonathan? Did you ever have any relationship like that with him?” Bolin’s phone went off again. Ignored.
Christine gave him a look. “Jonathan? I hardly ever talk to him, especially outside of work. He’s a jerk. The last time I had any conversation with him was over the summer when I needed him to give me a car jump. I would have gone to anyone else, but he was the only one there. All he did the whole time was make degrading comments about how helpless women are without men like him to rescue them. It was so unpleasant to the point that I almost walked home instead of tolerating his big head for another five minutes.” She looked up, right at Bolin and shook her head. “I hate that man.”