Married to a Stranger

by MacDonald, Patricia

  Trey shook his head.

  Joan took a deep breath. “All right,” she said. “Let’s open the car up.”

  The three of them walked across the parking lot to the brown Toyota. The early twilight of November was beginning to descend on them. The manager tried several keys, and then they heard the locks click. They opened the driver’s door and looked inside. The car was not new, but it was extremely clean inside. No empty paper coffee cups, no loose change on the floor, no empty plastic soda bottles under the seat. Lizette Slocum was a person of tidy habits. Joan straightened up from inspecting the backseat and looked across the roof at Trey, who had been searching the passenger side.

  “Trunk?” she said.

  Trey nodded.

  “Mr. Vetri, can you pop the trunk for us?”

  “Sure thing,” said the manager cheerfully. He found the key and put it into the lock. Then he pressed the lever and pulled it open. His eyes widened and a look of anguish came over his face. “Oh no,” he cried as if he’d been deceived. “She’s in there. Did you know she was in here?”

  Joan and Trey looked into the trunk. Lizette Slocum was curled up, her backpack thrown on top of her. Her eyes were open, and her skin was a splotchy gray.

  Joan Atkins sighed. “I was afraid she might be,” she said.

  IT WAS NEARLY FIVE and the sky was charcoal gray when David and Emma returned to their cul-de-sac after their long, leisurely lunch and headed down the street toward their house. Emma let out a groan of dismay as she recognized the unmarked police car parked in front of her home.

  Lieutenant Atkins and Detective Marbery got out of the car, slamming the doors. David sighed, pulled in the driveway, and came around to help Emma out of the front seat.

  “We need to talk to you both,” said Joan Atkins without preamble. “Let’s go inside.”

  “Of course,” said Emma.

  David said nothing but led the way up the walk and opened the door. Emma offered them a seat in the living room. Joan refused for both of them.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” said Emma as she took a seat. Joan shook her head.

  “What is it now, Detective?” said David.

  “Several things. Number one, Mr. Devlin’s alibi checked out. He is no longer a suspect either for the attack on your wife in the Pine Barrens nor the attack at the train station,” said Joan bluntly.

  “What?” David cried. “You let him go? You saw what he did to me. What he tried to do to Emma.”

  “He’s still under arrest for the sexual assault of his daughter. But he is no longer a suspect in the attack on you, Dr. Webster.”

  “Is there any question about his alibi…?” Emma asked.

  “None at all,” said Joan. “It wasn’t Devlin.”

  Emma looked up at David from where she sat. David was raking his hand through his hair.

  “That’s not everything. Acting on a missing persons report filed by her place of employment, we began a search for Lizette Slocum, the nurse whom your stepfather—”

  “I know,” said Emma. “Have you found her?”

  “Yes, we found her,” said Joan grimly. “We found her dead, stuffed in the trunk of her car, which was left at the bus station.”

  “Oh my God,” Emma said as she felt her stomach start to churn.

  “Jesus,” said David. He came and sat down close to Emma, absently kneading her hand.

  “We’re not yet sure how she died. We’re waiting for the coroner’s report. But we do know that Lizette Slocum was last seen alive right here in this house, taking care of you, Dr. Webster. We are theorizing now that the person who tried to kill you came here to attack you and found Lizette instead. I’d like to know where you were at the time she disappeared.”

  “I went downtown,” Emma said. “When I came back, she was gone…I thought she left because I…kind of…sneaked out without telling her.” Emma suddenly remembered the DO NOT DISTURB sign that had been ripped off her door. It wasn’t the nurse who tore it from the door, she thought. It was someone who had come to the door, expecting to find her asleep in there, and was furious to find her gone. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I think someone else was here.” She explained about the sign.

  “I should have realized there was something wrong when she left so abruptly and didn’t let anyone know.”

  “Yes,” said Joan Atkins. “You should have. We wasted precious time because we didn’t know that her disappearance was linked to you.”

  “It’s not my wife’s fault,” David protested.

  “And what about you, Mr. Webster? Where were you on the day that Lizette Slocum disappeared?” Joan asked.

  “I was in New York. Doing an interview,” David said.

  “We’ll need to get in touch with that person,” said Trey, holding his pen poised over his pad.

  “Well, I don’t have a number for him. He’s…in Europe.”

  “How inconvenient,” said Joan Atkins.

  “You can call my editor. He’ll tell you. I was with a French author named Bernard Weber.”

  “Where did you meet him?”

  “A restaurant. In the Village.”

  “I need names. I need dates, times, and places,” Joan said loudly, “and I need them right now.”

  “If you talk to me in that tone of voice,” David said, “I’m going to call my attorney and you can talk to him.”

  “Stop, David. Forget the attorney,” Emma cried. “Just give her the information. That poor woman is dead.” She could see the fury on his face, but she didn’t care. “Right is right,” she said. “Do it. You know you were in the city. Why make this difficult?”

  David got up from the couch and went into his office. Emma did not look at the detectives. In a few minutes, David came back into the room and handed them a sheet of paper. “Here. Talk to everybody. Knock yourself out.”

  Joan pocketed the paper. “This investigation into the attacks on your wife is ongoing, Mr. Webster. Do not leave the state under any circumstances. Mrs. Webster, your life is still in danger. I would recommend that you hire someone to protect you. Round the clock. If you like, we can recommend someone.”

  “That’s all right,” said Emma. “My husband found a bodyguard for me. We will call him.”

  Joan Atkins looked at Emma with narrowed eyes. “I’m not sure that’s the wisest course of action. Why don’t you let the local police advise you on who would be competent to protect you? You need someone who is experienced with this kind of situation.”

  “We don’t need your advice, okay?” said David.

  Joan turned and glared at him. “I was talking to your wife. Call the station and ask to speak to the desk sergeant. He can help you. He’s expecting your call.”

  Before David could reply, Joan nodded to the younger detective, and the two of them headed for the door.

  David sat back down on the sofa and clapped his head in his hands.

  “I can’t win,” he said. “I’m back to being the prime suspect. They’re determined to make a case against me.”

  Emma sat back against the sofa cushions, stunned by these latest developments. “That poor woman,” she said, shaking her head. “She came here to take care of me and ended up dead. It’s unbelievable. Who would want to kill me that badly? Do you ever think about that?”

  “Of course. I’ve thought about little else since last Saturday,” he said. “I figured it was Devlin. Or maybe, I don’t know…whoever sent you those notes. I don’t know. I just wish the cops would try to figure it out instead of insisting on blaming it on me…I have a sinking feeling that they’re not going to believe Nevin, or even Weber, if they manage to get a hold of him.”

  Emma frowned at him. “Now you’re sounding paranoid, David. Your alibi is solid as far as Ms. Slocum’s death is concerned. Once they talk to Nevin, or track down the author, they’ll realize it. Besides, they don’t even know how she died yet. They may find traces of DNA on her body that will lead them to another suspect. That’s who’s really t
o blame.”

  “You’re right,” said David.

  “So, try not to worry.”

  “Try not to worry,” he scoffed. “The police think I tried to kill you. They’re busy trying to work up a case against me while your life is still in danger.”

  “I know. But I still feel safe as long as I’m with you.”

  David sighed and shook his head. “Well, we have to hire a bodyguard. That’s all there is to it. And what was all that crap about their bodyguards being able to protect you better than someone I could call? What do they think? That I’m going to hire a killer instead of a bodyguard? It’s like Kafka! It’s a nightmare.”

  “Dammit, David,” she cried, “we can’t worry about what they think. Let them think what they want.”

  All of a sudden, the phone rang, and they both jumped. David hurried across the room and picked it up. He frowned. “Chief Osmund, yeah,” he said in a surly tone. “What do you want? You want to talk to my wife?”

  He was listening intently. Then he looked at Emma, his eyes wide with astonishment. “Really? My God. Excuse me. Really? Tonight. Yes, we’ll come. Where should we meet you? Okay. Yes, we’ll be there. Okay.”

  Emma sat up, staring at him as he hung up the phone. “What happened?”

  David put down the phone and stared at her. “That was Chief Osmund. God, I almost hung up on him.”

  “What did he want? Tell me.”

  David sat down beside her on the sofa.

  “You’re trembling,” she said, clutching his forearm. “Tell me.”

  David raked his hand through his dark hair. “He said there’s been another attack in the Pine Barrens. Same everything. Ski mask. The works.”

  Emma gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh my God.”

  David nodded and started to grin. “But this time, they think they’ve got him.”

  27

  “CAN’T IT WAIT? We’re almost there, honey,” David said.

  “Obviously, you have never been pregnant,” she said.

  “All right. All right. There’s a gas station up ahead. They’ll have a restroom. I’ll get us some gas,” he said.

  “Thanks, honey. Oh, David, I feel…hopeful. If this is the guy, then this nightmare will finally be over.”

  “I’d like to believe that,” David said, frowning. “But we know that you were a specific target. You haven’t forgotten the attack at the train station.”

  Emma shuddered “Hardly. But at least there’s a chance.”

  “We’re going to be all right,” David said. He flashed her his sad-eyed smile, which always made her heart turn over.

  “God, I can’t wait until we have our lives back,” she said.

  “Me neither,” he said. “Here. We’ll pull in here.”

  Evening had come to the Pine Barrens, and Emma hoped it would be the last evening she would ever spend here. The call from Chief Osmund had given her a renewed hope that all would be resolved, that the danger was past.

  The chief wanted her to view their suspect in a hooded lineup to see if she could pick him out by his size and body language. They also wanted to question her again, given what they had learned from the latest victim. This man could be Claude Mathis’s killer. Emma understood all too well how important this was to Chief Osmund. It was even more important to her. She looked around as David pulled off the highway and into the service station. The jagged outlines of the pines, which surrounded them, loomed black against the moonlit sky.

  There was a missing persons poster with a picture of a pretty girl on the pump as well as a sign that read THE ATTENDANT CARRIES NO MONEY. PLEASE PAY INSIDE.

  The man who came to the car window had hooded eyes and was lacking several teeth. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “Fill it,” said David.

  Emma leaned across the seat. “Excuse me. Do you need a key for the restroom?”

  The man breathed through his mouth and studied her with a faintly hungry look. “No, ma’am,” he said. “Help yourself.”

  Emma forced herself to smile. “Thanks.”

  The attendant began to jockey the lid off their gas tank and insert the nozzle of the pump.

  Emma grabbed her purse and climbed out of the passenger’s side of the Jeep.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” David asked.

  “You don’t have to,” she said.

  “Come on,” he said. “I better. I’ll stand guard.”

  Emma smiled, relieved. “Okay. That would be good. It’s so creepy around here.”

  Together they walked over to the side of the service station, and Emma turned the knob on the door marked LADIES. She steeled herself for whatever unpleasant conditions she might find there, but when she turned on the bright overhead light, she was relieved to see that the restroom was neat and clean. She poked her head out.

  “Civilized,” she said to her husband.

  David smiled and jammed his hands into his pockets. His hair shone in the halogen lamplight, and Emma felt her love for him well up in her heart as he waited for her like a sentry, guarding her safety. Emma closed the door and locked it. On the wall in front of her was the same missing persons poster that she had seen on the pumps outside. This time she was close enough to read it. The edges of the poster were curling, and a section that had ripped was held together with yellowing tape. The poster announced the disappearance of Shannon O’Brien, who had gone missing from this very service station several months ago, after finishing her shift. No wonder they have these posters everywhere, Emma thought. There was a blurry photo of the auburn-haired, freckle-faced girl, as well as statistics of her age, height, weight, etc. At the bottom of the poster it said, Anyone with any information contact Chief Audie Osmund. Below that was the address of the police station and the phone number.

  Emma glanced at her watch. It had taken them a while to get going. She knew she should be dreading this evening, but the truth was that she was almost dizzy with excitement. This evening could mean the end of her fears, of the ugly suspicions, of her interrupted life. She was so grateful to Chief Osmund for letting her be a part of the resolution of this crime. Grateful that he wanted her to come right away and not leave it till tomorrow.

  Seeing the chief’s number right there on the poster gave her an idea. I’ll call him, she thought. And tell him we’re almost there. We’ll be arriving soon. She quickly relieved herself, washed her hands, and then fished in her pocketbook for her phone. She turned around and gazing at the missing persons poster, punched in the number for Sheriff Osmund at the bottom of the poster, which she was able to read in the bright light of the restroom.

  “Police,” said a female voice.

  “Yes, I want to talk to Chief Osmund. This is Emma Webster.”

  “Can someone else help you? the woman asked. “Chief Osmund isn’t here.”

  Emma frowned. “Oh, there must be some mistake,” said Emma. “We’re meeting him there tonight. I just…I just wanted to let him know that we would be arriving very soon.”

  The woman at the other end was silent. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

  “Would you just check in his office? I’m sure he’s not usually there at this hour but—”

  “I’m telling you. He’s not here,” the woman said. “And he’s not coming back. His grandson had an awards dinner tonight and Audie and his wife went to it. He was talking about it all afternoon.”

  Emma was silent.

  “Is there someone else who can help you?” the woman asked.

  “I was supposed to view a lineup tonight,” said Emma.

  “A lineup? Oh. Well, maybe Gene is in charge of that. Let me get Gene Revere for you. Hang on a minute.” Emma’s heart was pounding. Just a misunderstanding, she told herself. That’s all. Emma heard the phone muffled, and the woman speaking in a loud voice. Then she got back on the line.

  “Honey, Gene says there’s no lineup tonight. He don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Emma’s face was bu
rning. “Look. Chief Osmund called me. This is Emma Webster. I was the one…I was attacked the night Claude Mathis was killed.”

  “Oh,” said the woman, her voice suddenly sounding interested. “How are you doing now, honey?”

  “I’m doing fine,” said Emma, relieved to finally be recognized, acknowledged. “Chief Osmund called and told my husband about the latest attack. He said they were holding the guy. That’s what he said. There was going to be a lineup,”

  “No,” said the woman. “We didn’t have no attack. Unless…Was he talking about the rottweiler that bit the guy out on Chapel Hill Road this morning?”

  “Rottweiler?” Emma said weakly.

  “That’s the only attack we’ve had around here in the last couple of days. But we don’t do dog lineups. I’m pretty sure of that,” she said, chuckling.

  Emma was silent.

  “Look, I’m sorry, Mrs. Webster. I don’t know what to tell ya. There’s been some kind of mistake. Believe me, if there was another attack on a person, I’d know about it. But that dog biting the woman on her bicycle was the only thing that’s happened around here in the last day or so.”

  Emma punched the off button on her phone and stood, staring, unseeing at the poster on the wall.

  The bathroom doorknob rattled, and Emma let out a cry.

  “Emma, are you okay in there?” David asked. “What’s taking you so long?”

  28

  EMMA STARED at the rattling knob as if it were a hissing snake.

  “Are you okay in there?” David called out. “Emma, answer me.”

  Emma’s mouth was dry. She did her best to moisten her lips. “I’m okay,” she managed to say.

  “Hurry up, honey. Chief Osmund’s waiting for us. Let’s get going.”

  Emma’s heart was thudding and her knees felt like they were about to give way. She groped for the sink and turned on the faucets. “Right there,” she managed to croak.

  She tried to collect her thoughts. To make sense of what she had just heard on the telephone. Chief Osmund was not waiting for her. No one was waiting for her. It was all a lie. That phone call was not from Chief Osmund. David had said it was, but it wasn’t.