Cassandra touched Granger's chest, then looked up at him, seeming to draw strength from him, and it was clear to Jeanine that the two had gotten over the past problems that had made her run when Granger had first found her. “Why don't you go on up to our suite, I know you have business you want to take care of. The detective and I can talk at the restaurant.” she said.
At first it seemed as if he would refuse, but after a moment he simply nodded, then leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Alright, but remember, we're planning on taking your mother to an early dinner.” Running a hand up her arm, he kissed her softly on the lips, then left.
Cassandra turned, leading the way to the restaurant. “We can have some tea, if you'd like. They have some nice blends there.” she said conversationally as they made their way across the crowded lobby.
Jeanine nodded, and as she followed it did not escape her attention how the staff tripped all over themselves to greet the woman they now knew as Granger Mortensen's wife. It's true, wealth has its privileges! She thought as an uncharacteristic twinge of jealousy wormed its way through her stomach. But, to be fair, the woman didn't seem the least bit fazed or condescending, and actually stopped and took the time to make small talk with the staff members. Now feeling thoroughly ashamed of herself, she thought, Oh Lord, please, please don't let this job turn you into someone as cynical as good old Kojak....
When they finally arrived, the hostess led them to what was called the 'Tea Room', a room that was completely encased in glass, and decorated in a Victorian theme. Taking their seats, both women ordered Jasmine tea.
“Detective, I know you want answers, but there very few I can offer.” Cassandra said, getting right down to business.
Pulling out her notebook and pen, Jeanine sighed. “Can you tell me about your time here? For the past three years, I mean.” she said, pinning Cassandra with a look. “What was your relationship with Mr. Parker?”
Cassandra knew what she was implying, so she remained silent until the waiter had brought their cups of tea and left. “Detective Rhodes, my relationship never went past friendship.” she replied, looking directly in the woman's eyes. “He was my doctor, and my friend, or so I thought. I trusted him, and I really believed he was trying to help me, that he wanted to help me. When I came out of my coma, his was the first face I remember seeing. He was there telling me who I was. Or who he wanted me to be, I should say.” she finished, sounding a bit dejected, then took a sip of her steaming tea.
Jeanine could sense she was being honest. She had seen a lot of predators in her time on the police force, but after working this particular case, she now believed Brett Parker was the most evil, manipulative predator she had ever personally encountered. Like any predator, he had been grooming this woman to trust and need only him, but what really amazed her was how fiendishly patient the man had been. Three years he had been at it. She also believed the doctor had never wanted to possess Cassandra strictly for sex, but that he wanted to completely possess the woman, body, mind, and soul. Her worst fear, however, was that like so many other predators, if the time ever came that he realized Cassandra was no longer living up to his expectations, he would try to kill her. That was why it was so important to her for the man to be arrested ASAP. “Tell me what you remember, when you came out of the coma.” she said.
Putting her cup down, Cassandra rubbed her temple and answered, a look of hurt stamped clearly on her face. “I remember waking up at the children's home, and the nuns were doing their very best to comfort and reassure me. The pain at times was unbearable, but Brett was there by my side the entire time. He would sit with me at night. Anyway, because I had amnesia, he filled me in about my life before the attack. Which was all lies, as you well know.” she said, then shook her head angrily at the thought of how readily she had accepted everything at face value. Maybe the reason I believed everything was my fear of not knowing, and of being all alone. He used my fear to get close to me.... she thought.
“Yes, go on.” the detective urged gently.
“He was so kind and gentle, or so it seemed. How can anyone be so cruel, detective? He knew I had a child, a family, but said nothing. It was nothing more than a game to him, wasn't it?”
“It certainly appears that way.” she answered sympathetically.
With a heavy sigh, she continued. “I would suffer long bouts of headaches where any light or sound was intolerable, and during those times he sat with me in the dark, all night, never saying a word, and holding my hand. He saw to it that I never wanted for pain medication. Like I said, at the time I thought it was kindness, but now...” her voice trailed off.
Dreading the next question, the detective decided to jump right in and get it over with. “Cassandra, do you believe your husband had anything to do with this?”
Looking up sharply and suddenly glaring daggers, she replied in an indignant voice, “Absolutely NOT. He didn't hurt me. I know that, now. I take it you haven't spoken to my new doctor lately? About my hypnosis session?” she finished in a softer voice, feeling guilty about snapping at the woman. She was just doing her job, after all.
Jeanine gave her an understanding smile. She had already did some checking on Granger's whereabouts in the time-frame of Cassandra's disappearance, and not only had he been out of the country the day she disappeared, but there also was not one scintilla of evidence to suggest he had ever hired anyone else to carry out the brutal attack. Not even a ghost of a suspicion, gut feeling, or woman's intuition on that one. But it was S.O.P, at least with her, to want to hear it 'straight from the horse's mouth'. Satisfied, she reached into her jacket pocket and retrieved her work card, then handed it to her. “If you happen to remember anything, anything at all that you even think may be of interest to me, will you please call? In the meantime, if Brett Parker does manage to contact you either by phone or in person, you call 911 immediately, and let us do our jobs, Ok? Stay away from him. Don't try to reason with him, Mrs. Mortensen, the man is unstable, and I mean dangerously so. Come on, I'll escort you back to your suite. Thank you for the tea, by the way.” she finished as she rose to her feet.
“You're welcome.” Cassandra answered in a subdued, frightened voice, chilled by the detective's warning.
********************************************
“Martina, don't you come back here! Don't you DARE disobey me on this!” Brett growled into the cell phone he had purchased at a department store in another county. He had also rented a car there, using a bogus I.D.
“But Bre-et!!!” his cousin whined on the other end. “Why can't I be there to help you? I miss you, too!”
Seated in the rental car and parked across the street from the main entrance of the Flagstone Inn, Brett slid further down in his seat and watched as that pesky, bitchy female detective walked up to her unmarked sedan, then stand there as she dialed a number on her cell phone. Rhodes, you really don't think you're smart enough to catch me, do you? He thought. He had been warned by a friend (who was a clerk at the county courthouse) that the D.A.'s office had issued a warrant for his arrest, and that the DEA was filing their own charges against him. And this nosy bitch certainly hadn't helped matters any.
“Brett! Are you ignoring me?” Martina whined even louder.
“No, darling! It's just that I won't have you caught up in the middle of all this mess.” he replied, half-truthfully. He knew if she was around she would try to stop him from killing Granger, and as much as he truly did love and adore her, he couldn't allow her to interfere in this one. And he genuinely didn't want to see her get into trouble with the law, or hurt. Or both.
“I told you before, I'm a strong girl! I'll do whatever you need me to do.” she answered in the petulant voice of a nine year old.
Deciding it would be necessary to prey on her greatest weakness, Granger, he began spinning his web of deceit. Although he felt guilty about having to do it, he reasoned to himself that even though Granger's death would devastate her for a time, he would be there for h
er, to comfort her, and he would personally choose a proper suitor for her once her period of grieving had passed. There were plenty of other fish in the sea for her. “Sweetie, I know you're a strong girl, but you need to stay away. No one knows we're kin, and that works to your advantage. When I make Cassandra see the error of her treacherous ways, she and I will leave this place, together. Granger will be free, and you, my sweet, beautiful angel, will have him all to yourself. Remember how I vowed to you a looong time ago, after the last of our relatives died off, that I would always do whatever it took to keep you happy? Trust me, honey bunny, I won't let you down.”
“Oh, my sweet, sweet darling!” she sniffed, sounding close to tears. “I believe you. You've always taken good care of me. You're so smart and handsome! If you want me to wait here, that's what I'll do. You're right, all I have to do is wait. Well, I'm on my way to visit Mother Grace, to encourage her to get Granger to return to the estate. Maybe if I make that bratty little kid of his sick, he'll return immediately. I'll call you later. I WUV you!” her voice sang out.
“I WUV you too, pumpkin. Kiss kiss.” he replied, then flipped his phone shut.
Still watching the detective, he waited patiently as she apparently ended her phone conversation, then put the phone in her pocket. Suddenly, she wheeled around and looked in every direction, and he slid further down in his seat nervously as her gaze seemed to linger on his rental car for a fraction of a second too long, in his estimation. Then, with considerable relief, he watched as she finally climbed into her car and drove away.
Sliding back up to a normal sitting position, he released a long breath, and began tapping one finger on the steering wheel. Reaching for the ignition, he muttered, “Well, enough fucking about, time to clean up the mess.”
*****************************
Moments earlier
Taking out her cell phone, Jeanine called her supervisor, Sergeant Richards. “Sarge? Rhodes here. I'm calling to check in, and let you know I'm taking a ride out to Brett Parker's house, just for one more quick look-around.”
“You need back-up? I can send someone, if you can wait another hour or so. Sorry, it won't be any sooner than that.” he answered apologetically.
She knew the reason why. The department was facing big cuts in funding, and they sorely needed more officers, but since the newly elected town manager and the majority of the city council felt crime was at an all-time low, which was not true, she knew, it made no sense to them to hire more officers. “Nah, I can handle it. Besides, a hundred bucks...no, make that five hundred, says Parker's already lit out of town anyway. There's no way he's just hanging around, waiting to be arrested.”
“Alrighty then, see you at the end of the shift. Oh, some of us are getting together after work to down a few suds and go bowling. You up for it?”
“Not tonight, thanks for the invite though. Got a killer headache. Later, Sarge.”
“Be careful.” he cautioned, then hung up.
Placing the phone in her pocket, she suddenly felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and it was unlike anything she had ever felt on-duty before. Thoroughly creeped out, she whirled around and began scanning the parking lot, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “Just this damn case, that Parker creep is giving me the heebie-jeebies.” she muttered uneasily.
Getting into her car, she began the drive to his house, hoping to get lucky and dig up some sort of clue about where he may be hiding. She couldn't wait to put him in handcuffs.
*****************************************
Jeanine walked around the large Georgian Colonial style house, and her stomach heaved as she caught the sickening stench of either human or animal decay. Someone, or something, is dead. Maybe Parker killed himself, he wouldn't be the first to commit suicide when faced with prison.. She thought.
Hearing the snapping of twigs, she whirled around, her hand moving instinctively to the gun strapped to her waist. Pointing the mag-light she held in her free hand in the direction the noise was coming from, the beam of light revealed a scruffy looking dog in the rose garden, and the pitiful looking creature was tugging from the earth what looked like a piece of cloth. Well well, what do we have here? Suicides don't normally bury themselves.. She thought. “Go on, shoo! Get!" she hissed loudly, making the timid animal scurry away.
Scanning the ground carefully with her light, she walked slowly towards the spot the dog had occupied only seconds before, and gasped as she saw what the animal had been digging for. It was a decomposing human hand, and it looked as if it was beckoning her from the grave. “Son of a bitch! Should have waited on that back-up.” she whispered, chilled to the bone. Reaching quickly into her pocket, she grabbed her cell phone and flipped it open.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” a soft, mocking voice suddenly sang from somewhere in the darkness.
Screaming, she dropped the cell phone from her nerveless fingers, and began waving the flashlight wildly in every direction as she fumbled with her .38 revolver. She screamed again as she sensed someone rushing at her from behind, but managed to glimpse only a flash of silver from the corner of her eye before a searing pain burned across her throat. Dropping the mag-light, her trembling hands clutched at the gaping, gushing wound in her neck. Now in shock, she was only dimly aware that it was futile to try to stop the bleeding. Sinking slowly to her knees, she tried to call for help, but all that escaped from her mouth were desperate gurgles.
Sneering, Brett Parker stepped in front of her, then wagged an admonishing finger in her face. “No fair, playing while my back is turned! Not fair at all! This is what snooping around gets you, you dyke bitch!” he mocked, his face devoid of all sanity.
“Plea...plea...please.....” she managed to sob and gurgle as tears began streaming down her face. Sarge...should have listened to you.... her mind screamed, and as she slipped deeper into shock, her thoughts became more and more disjointed. Daddy..I did it! I made the cheer leading squad, this is the happiest day of my life! Gotta' get to Bullet Park Friday and watch my Powell Valley Vikings whoop the tar out of those Appalachia Bulldogs! Paul, I miss you so much...you were the best partner a cop could ever have, and you were the only man I ever loved, why did you have to leave? Who's gonna' empty the cat's litter box, mom? You know I'm allergic to.....
“Meddling bitch!” Brett hissed, then raised the serrated hunting knife over his head and plunged it into the woman's heart.
“Paul.....” was her last word, and her last thought on earth as her lifeless body slumped to the ground.
Bending over, he took the .38 revolver from her holster and put it in his jacket pocket, then grabbed the cell phone she had dropped earlier. Whistling softly, he fumbled with it for a moment, then aimed and snapped a picture of her lifeless body. “One down, several to go!” he mumbled, then smiled, blissfully unaware of the fact he was now completely insane.
Chapter 32
Grace peeked around the doorway, careful that the people in the kitchen couldn't see her watching them. She watched her grandson laughing as his great-grandparents chatted with him. “Papa' Edoardo, can you believe Madre' will be calling me in....” Regan looked up at the ceiling, mentally calculating the time, “...in two more hours!” he said happily. Then, in the true fashion of an impatient child, he frowned and whined, “But that's gonna' be soooo long.”
As Gianee placed a plate in front the boy, his favorite meal of Italian sausage and Tomato Rigatoni, she chuckled, then took a seat next to him. Reaching over, she patted his cheek reassuringly. “Caro non e' lungamente quello. Mangiare e prima che lo conosciate sentirete la vostra voce bella dlle madri.” (Dear, it's not that long. Eat, and before you know it, you'll be hearing your lovely mother's voice.)
Face flushing with anger and jealousy, Grace watched in smoldering silence as the three ate and make small talk, laughing like a family. Many times she had witnessed the same scene with Granger, when he was a child. He had actually preferred to eat with the help!
&
nbsp; Knowing she wasn't welcome in their little world, she slinked away quietly. Although she wanted nothing more than to demand that her grandson stay away from Edoardo and Gianee, she knew that upsetting Regan would only cause more problems, more problems she certainly did not need. She knew her carefully stacked house of cards was already on the verge of collapsing around her.
Wiping her clammy hands on her pants, the look on her face was grim as bitter thoughts flooded her mind. What if Granger finds out Edoardo and Gianne are his paternal grandparents? The only reason they remained silent for all these years is because they thought I had the power to kick their other grandson off the vineyard. What they didn't know was that that no good, dead husband of mine left Granger, not me, in complete control of the vast Mortensen fortune. Suddenly panicked, she felt the pressure from all her past deceit closing in on her. All her lies and cover-ups, threatening to be exposed. She knew if Granger found out, she would be left with almost nothing, at least not enough to keep living the lifestyle she was accustomed to. And he's already angry, because that working-class, ambulance chaser Satin Johnson told him about Alex and I trying to wrangle information from her... she thought.
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