by R. T. Wolfe
* * *
They made it to the station with time to spare. The front desk receptionist directed Andy and Rose to the conference room, as there wasn't enough space in Dave's office for the five of them—six, actually, with Duncan.
Duncan stepped in front of him and opened the door without knocking. At the look Officer Savage threw him, Andy understood how she earned her nickname. He sensed she wanted to say something, but she sat back instead and let Dave take lead. He could also tell Duncan placed himself strategically close to her and sat defiantly, even more so than he normally would.
"The purpose of the meeting is to update you on the status of Miguel Ramirez and outline strategies to keep yourself as safe as possible."
He walked to a wall of dry-erase boards and pulled a map down over the top. "Officer Savage, will take lead for this update." Dave looked to her and nodded with approval.
She wasted no time with greetings. "There have been a number of unconfirmed and false sightings. However, we believe the reports from Columbus, four days ago, and Detroit, two, are legit, which means if previous patterns continue, the perp is making his way east. Both cities were home to suspected victims that have since been relocated. We assume he spotted the PD surveillance teams and left." She followed in a general pattern on the map.
Amanda covered her mouth with her hand. Rose ran both hands through her short hair. Dave sat expressionless.
"He likes to stalk. Not for the sake of stalking, but as a sort of stake out. He's looking for patterns. Therefore, don't give any. Come and go at different times. Drive different vehicles. Share rides on days when you can. Change your lunchtime routine. Mostly, be aware of your surroundings. If he's near, that alone will serve as a deterrent."
When Officer Savage turned, Andy noticed that everyone except he and Duncan had their faces dropped practically between their legs.
"Holy shit, look at you," she said.
Dave shot up a look at her.
"I apologize, sir, but this isn't helping. I feel if I'm taking lead at his presentation, I must repeat myself. Look at you. The girl," she gestured to Rose, "is knee-deep with the guilt that her mother carried this... this burden for the sake of protecting her. Your ex feels guilty because the perp discovered he has a daughter. And, if I may, sir, you're the worst. The cloud you've been carrying around is bringing you down. Amanda didn't want you to know and she's a smart woman. Everyone made their choices. Bad things happen. How long has it been since you've let her out of your sight? Does she still even have a job? No offense, ma'am. You've been a valuable, on-site source. All this misplaced guilt is doing nothing but clouding the facts."
"And what facts would those be, Officer Savage?" Dave stood and asked her.
Andy watched the woman breathe heavily. Past issues? Or just nervous to be given lead. "The facts are Miguel Ramirez is the one that raped Amanda and produced Rose. Ramirez is the one who has been taunting her. No one else is to blame."
"Nickie's right." Duncan didn't move an inch, only turned his eyes toward her. "Someone's going to slip up if they don't clear their conscience. What's done is done." He stood and walked in front of everyone and right to the map. "And if patterns prevail, he's almost here."
* * *
The man that hijacked Carolyn Foster's Honda thought she was dead, lying in the backseat, and she was determined to keep it that way. He'd shot her in the chest, but she was still breathing, still alive. She was cold and, even though she slipped in and out of consciousness, she knew she was still bleeding.
When she would wake, she first cried salty tears of fear that she would soon be dead. Then, she tried to listen to the man's ranting and tried to figure out where he was taking her. He carried on about bus stations and trains and someone named Mandy. When he finally mentioned a woman in Buffalo, Carolyn knew she didn't have much longer.
Holding her breath, she remained as still as possible as he parked her car on a busy street. He didn't bother locking it and tossed the keys on the seat before casually wiping down the steering wheel and door handles.
She waited as long as she could to make sure he was truly gone before opening the door and rolling out onto the sidewalk.
* * *
Miguel smoked a cigarette as he walked down the street from the target's townhouse. It had only been six months since their last little visit, much sooner than he would have liked to have seen her, but the last two apartments were empty. Hadn't he shown them pictures of what he did to women who moved without his permission?
He paced nervously, very much unlike him. He was generally smooth, observant and confident. The wanted posters were too much. The fucking train station placed them so far in the building a dozen people could have seen him before he was close enough to see his face, his own face.
He shaved his head and coated himself with skin darkening cream, put in black contacts, but it was still him. "This is Mandy's doing," he said out loud as he paced, forgetting all about the townhouse he was staking out. "No one fights back." He took one last drag, inhaling deeply, before throwing the cigarette in the street. "No one."
He started to walk when he saw an unmarked slow down in front of the place, pull over and stop. Plain clothed pigs got out and walked around to the back. "Fuck." Miguel turned and walked slowly toward the hijacked car. He was running low on money, and it was getting to be a problem.
He would regroup, that was all. He didn't stay out of the light for all these years on accident. He would make more stops, get new women if he had to. Get an extra large stash, then alter his appearance surgically. When he rounded the corner to the car, there were two black and whites and an ambulance. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Turning to backtrack his backtrack, he saw the unmarked driving slowly, clearly looking for someone—for him.
Chapter 30
"We have a probable victim in Buffalo." Dave used the station interactive whiteboard to put up a map of confirmed sightings. "That adds to the one in Columbus, Ohio, and another in Detroit, Michigan. He hasn't made another hit that we know of until this woman." He showed a black and white printout of the woman. She hadn't been beaten but was unconscious. "This is Carolyn Foster. She claims to be the victim of a hijacking and has described and identified Ramirez as her assailant from a photo lineup. She's been shot in the chest. The bullet missed internal organs and was removed from beneath her left lung. This doesn't follow any pattern except the location, but we'll go out and see what she has to say for ourselves."
* * *
Each from the group made conscious efforts to abide by Officer Savage's advice.
Amanda did, in fact, still have a job when she returned and knew she would. Homeless shelter manager wasn't a highly sought-after job. She was thankful that was the case. There was chaos, last-minute decisions, changes, and the need to be flexible. Mostly, she loved being part of the reason someone may stick it out another day, helping them find success in some corner of their lives.
Sure enough, the backlog of empty food shelves, gaps in volunteer servers and an employee schedule that looked like a third-grader put it together were just what she needed to make her feel normal again.
After spearheading a couple smoking dope in the back of the building, she took advantage of the outdoor air and had a moment of alone time.
* * *
Rose, too, made efforts to change her routine, but animals simply didn't work that way. They had routines, needed routines. She wasn't about to trade places with Grace and put her in danger. She tried to work with someone around whenever she could, something she rarely did.
Keeping an eye on her surroundings, she checked the smaller animal habitats from both inside and out of the main building. An opossum mother and her babies were a more recent addition. She had gotten tangled in a plastic six-pack ring, became infected from the wounds and rejected her young. Rose checked on the interns as they syringe-fed the babies while the antibiotics worked on mom.
The week that had passed didn't settle Rose, but it did allow her time to imag
ine Miguel with new funds and possibly working on some prosperous illegal gambling deal somewhere far away.
* * *
They decided to have a regular girl's night out, one with bridal magazines, mothers, future mothers-in-law, sisters-in-law, and sisters. Rose waited with Brie for the others while they mixed spicy cream cheese dip and arranged sun-dried tomato crackers.
"Did you know your mother and Dave plan to remarry?"
Rose paused and considered. "I guess I expected they would, sure."
"Did you know they plan to make a stop at the law and justice center and grab the nearest person as a witness?"
Rose set down the box of crackers and looked at Brie. "That's awful."
"That's what I said. You know what I think? I think you only get married to your husband for the second time just once in your life."
Rose turned that around in her head as the others arrived. Five women gathered around a giant table in Brianna Reed's kitchen, talking about colors, dates, locations, and of course flowers.
"So, you're thinking fuchsia and sky blue?"
Rose couldn't read her mother's expression with the question. "Dark pink and the color of the sky, sure." Ugh.
"In the fall?"
Oh, Rose got it, now. "I just want to get married." She hated this stuff. Was no good at it. "What colors do you think?" she asked less curtly.
Her mother leaned forward. "This is your day, honey."
"What colors?" Rose asked a little more forcefully.
Her mother and Brie held some kind of secret flower person meeting with their eyes. "What do you think about russet orange and sun-dried yellow?"
"Deal."
"It will look lovely with your hair." Brie was looking at her, judging and deciding. Rose could tell.
They flipped through pages of a magazine that could have been mistaken for a New York City phonebook.
Jessica took her turn to confuse Rose. "What are you thinking regarding table decorations? I liked using the flowers from the aisle guest seats for the vases in the centers of the reception tables."
"Whoa." Rose stood, arms out in surrender. "You and you." She pointed to her mother and Brie. "What do you think about being in charge of the flowers and ... flower stuff?" Next, she turned to her sister and Hannah, who were uncharacteristically quiet. "What do you two think about taking care of the chair thing and reception... ya know, looks?"
As if they'd planned this all along, Hannah and Jessica stood and gave each other a high-five large enough to make someone think they were guys at a pro ball game. As if that wasn't bad enough, her mother and Brie did the same.
* * *
Rose set a bucketful of water and three live fish on the trailer behind her four-wheeler. She heard her assistant start up the second four-wheeler that carried the gear for training the new interns. Although Gracie would see the fish no matter how far around the aviary she chose to drive, she purposely took the long way around the enclosure. She wanted Gracie to get a good, long, predatory look at her dinner.
Never once looking at the fish, the eagle followed her with both body and yellowing-eyes all the way around the frame of her aviary. With a lifeless glare, the bird stared her down. Perched on her artificial tree, she waited for her moment. Her posture was clearly that of a challenge.
Stopping at the entrance, Rose turned to face her. "Listen, girl. We can do this the hard way or the easy. Up to you. You're not getting one bite if you come at me." Rose couldn't hold back her smile.
Grabbing hold of the five-gallon bucket, she set her hand on the door and gave Gracie her best threatening posture. They both knew it was fake. Gracie loved the game... and the fishing. Rose loved the eagle. Using her free hand to unlock the door, she shook her head at the sudden, potent, acidic smell. She took in a shocked breath of air, felt the cloth that covered her mouth and turned. Gracie shrieked behind her. In the seconds before Rose collapsed, she looked into the all-too-familiar eyes that matched her own.
* * *
"That's too many switches for one box."
Andy tried to explain to Duncan that more than three switches on an electrical plate and even the owners wouldn't remember which went to what. Duncan didn't argue. They arranged and rearranged electrical boxes, leads and tubes that would carry all the wire to the mother box. He convinced Duncan to use an extra dummy tube that traveled up all three stories of the home as a place to run wire for any future changes in heart after the drywallers had finished. Looking around at the work accomplished, Andy warmed at the sight of his cousins joining in the work.
Andy had to admit Hannah had some damn good ideas about hiding extra outlets under cabinets, around the kitchen and along the top of the fireplace mantel. Jonathon, of course, knew his way around a work site; he'd spent plenty of summers working for Andy. James was going to be more of a suit and tie kind of guy but didn't wince at working with his hands. Both twins helped the roofers scatter boxes of shake shingles over the roof.
* * *
Miguel had parked the four-wheeler in the back of the cottage. He should have had at least another hour before the girl woke up if he followed directions good enough. He had taken his time checking to make sure the ride was out of sight from the road, all the shades were pulled, and the windows and doors were locked. It didn't matter. She wasn't going anywhere.
He pulled up a wooden chair from the rental cabin's kitchen table, spun it around and sat in it backward as he faced her. Lifting her lifeless head by the chin, he pulled open one of her eyelids. He couldn't tell with her face all limp like that. The timing was right, though. How could Mandy have hidden this from him all this time? Fuck.
Slapping Rose a few times firmly on the face, he tried to rouse her. He'd been waiting for this, anxious. Sighing deeply, he let her chin drop back on her neck, stood up and walked to pour himself a shot of gin.
* * *
Rose sat with her hands tied behind her back and then to the back of a chair. She was awake, could hear a voice, but wasn't lucid enough to piece everything together. Sheer instinct told her to play dead, or in this case, unconscious. She had vague memories of being dragged through dirt, her feet bobbing over a threshold and her head hitting a doorjamb. The mountain of a headache told her the memories were real.
She smelled musty wood and floor cleaner mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke. Her nose burned like she'd been breathing in lacquer, but her mouth wouldn't open. It felt like it was sealed shut with cotton. The voice was unfamiliar and the man wasn't speaking English. Where was Grace when she needed a translator?
At that moment, her mind cleared. Grace. She was supposed to meet Grace behind the action center to help her with Gracie and the new interns. She could feel the duct tape covering her mouth. The rag, the man, her father—it all came together and made her dizzy with bubbling fear.
She worked to keep her breathing slow and kept her head down. How long had she been like this? Surely they knew she was missing by now. Her neck ached enough for her to think she had been in that position for a significant amount of time.
* * *
"When do you go back? The folks like it when you stick around." Andy sat on the dirt with his forearms resting on his lifted knees. Through the opening to the window for Duncan's front room, he could see his cousins in a heated debate. He grinned.
Duncan leaned against a tree, sipping from a bottle of water. "Soon. I've nearly finished the first portrait. Not bad, if I say so myself."
"You just did. At least stay for some grilling with Hannah and the twins. They leave for college in a couple weeks," Andy said.
Andy's cell phone rang. He stood up to dig it out of his pocket. Not recognizing the number, he almost didn't answer, but something sent a chill running down his back.
* * *
Rose waited until she heard him moving around in the room next to her. She opened her eyes slightly, trying to judge her surroundings. Miguel must have been in the kitchen. She opened her eyes completely and saw she was in a small c
abin. Recognizing it as one of the models a few miles from the center, her mind began swimming through scenarios. They were a long way away from people.
She was alone. She was alone and drugged and tied to a chair with the man who raped her mother. Bile rose to her throat. Her fear turned to an ice that gripped her arms and legs. How did they get here? Who would know?
Hopelessly, she tried to maneuver her secured hands to one side of her or the other. She could move them about a foot before the rope caught. Shifting her hip, she worked to get to her pocket. Her phone was missing, but her father must have stopped searching after he found it because her Swiss Army knife was jabbing her hip. She could just get her thumb inside and reach the compact knife.
Miguel was ranting. She could hear him pacing. Every so often, he slammed down a bottle. She had worked the knife to the edge of her pocket when the sound changed to soft, approaching footsteps.
* * *
"Andy Reed," he answered his phone with brows creased.
"Oh, Andy. Son of a bitch, get over here. I called 911. I called and they're com—"
"Slow down. Is this Grace?" Her accent apparently accentuated when she was excited. Andy was already slinging his leg over the seat of Duncan's Suzuki as his brother climbed on behind him.
"Yes. Yes, I'm sorry." She took a short breath "Please come. To the center. It's Rose. She's missing."
Andy stopped before turning the key to the ignition. "What do you mean, 'missing'?"
"She would never leave the door open to Gracie's enclosure. Her phone. It was in the grass."
Andy wasn't sure what else Grace said. He hung up and flipped the bike out of neutral. The door left open was enough for him. He spun out of the drive with the gears ringing at a high pitch as he raced down the gravel drive to the highway with Duncan hanging on in back.
* * *
Dave drove in focused silence with the hidden lights blazing from his head, tail and back window brake lights. Nick sat in the passenger seat as if he hadn't just taken the last corner nearly on two wheels. As Rose's dad, he called Amanda to let her know. As detective, he called for backup.