[Suburban Murder 01.0] The Forgotten Girls

by Alexa Steele

  Jay had seemed genuinely touched. They shook hands. Jay actually waved to him as he drove away.

  If it weren’t for the letter Ridley received from Jay while in prison, he never would have dared come here. Even now, he wondered whether this move was crazy or smart. Jay hadn’t exactly proclaimed Ridley’s innocence, but he did write that he believed there was more to Margaret’s murder than what people claimed. And, well, he did insinuate he knew Ridley’s mother and what she was capable of. That was the phrase that had stuck: “I know what she is capable of.” How had he known? What did he mean? Those few little words had provided fuel during some of Ridley’s hardest moments in prison. They were the reason he was approaching Jay’s doorstep now. He prayed Jay would help him. Somehow. He had nowhere else to turn.

  He crept, slowly, around the corner of Hillside Avenue, looking for number 99. Jay was about to get the surprise of his life. Ridley took a deep breath, looked up at the sky, and did something he had never done before: he crossed himself and asked God for a favor.

  “Please. Don’t let him turn me away.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Dr. Marion Weber’s office was located in a banal suburban office complex in a strip mall on a four-lane road five minutes out of town. She kept her unexpected visitors waiting thirty minutes in the drab waiting room, with nothing for company but a few ripped posters on the wall about teen pregnancy prevention.

  After twenty minutes a lanky teenage boy walked out and behind him followed a beady-eyed, stern-looking woman who, at 5’ 11”, towered above Bella when she said hello. She was extremely unattractive and her icy demeanor made her more so. Her hair was black and short and curly and her jawline protruded outward harshly. Her thin lips were clenched tightly and she looked to be bursting out of the mud-brown pantsuit she wore, as though it were two sizes too small.

  She led them into a small room with dull yellow walls, a pine desk with two wooden chairs, and a small couch up against the back wall. There were no pictures or books—nothing personal at all. The room looked like it was rented and its occupant had done nothing but thrown a diploma on the wall. She had heard about the murder and expressed regret, but displayed no sorrow whatsoever. Bella asked about her run-in last week with Joslyn.

  “We did argue,” Dr. Weber told them firmly, without a hint of emotion in her voice. “Carly is eighteen years old now and I do not need to discuss her treatment with her mother.”

  “Is it true she threatened to report you to the Ethics Bureau?” Bella asked.

  Dr. Weber looked shocked at the question. Bella didn’t know this for a fact, but guessed it might have been what happened.

  “She did indeed,” she admitted. “But her threat was ridiculous, as I have done absolutely nothing wrong. I am sorry she didn’t like that I wouldn’t discuss Carly with her, but I will not be intimidated by threats. She may be used to getting her way, but I am not one to be bullied, Detective.”

  There was a moment of silence as her comment hung in the air.

  “Was there any substance to her belief her daughter was abusing Adderall?” Bella inquired.

  “None whatsoever,” Weber answered. “Just the hysterical ranting of a helicopter mother.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I know my patients—what they can handle, how they function, what doses are safe—that’s why. Carly performed and functioned at optimum levels all through high school. Witness her grades.”

  “Is that the standard?” asked Bella.

  “It is the one that matters. Straight A’s cannot guarantee acceptance at a college of your choice anymore, and that is where Adderall comes in. It helps youngsters achieve more than straight A’s. Carly kept up a GPA of 4.3, played varsity basketball and soccer, and was all-county orchestra three years in a row. It is doubtful she could have managed without some help, no matter how politically incorrect that may sound.”

  Her eyes remained fixed upon the unfortunate soul to whom she spoke, in this case Bella. Mack cleared his throat and both women looked his way.

  “It’s basically a cocktail of amphetamine stimulants,” he said with a slow drawl. “It’s prescription speed, similar in makeup to illegal methamphetamines. Isn’t that right, Doc?”

  Mack was enjoying the challenge.

  “It does wonders for those who need it,” Weber replied.

  “And for those who don’t,” Mack answered. “Seems the whole world’s come down with a bad case of ADD and needs some Adderall to help them out of it. Its abuse has increased nearly two hundred percent in the last few years.” Mack laughed cynically. “Come on. Let’s be straight with each other here.”

  Dr. Weber did not respond.

  “It is also highly addictive, is it not?” asked Bella.

  “It can be.”

  “And it has been known to trigger irreversible schizophrenia and bipolar disorder as well?” Bella questioned.

  “Rarely,” Weber responded, deadpan.

  “But sometimes?”

  “There are risks to all drugs, Detective,” Weber replied reluctantly.

  “Yes, there are,” Bella agreed. “I guess I am just trying to get my mind around how so many parents are willing to let their children take a pill like Adderall, given these particular risks.”

  “Are you a parent, Detective?” Weber glared as she asked this question.

  “No, I am not.”

  “Well then, it might be hard for you to understand this. But when a parent has a child who cannot or will not focus on their school work; who cannot or will not sit still in class; who is so disorganized that their backpack looks like a tornado hit it every day and homework is constantly being lost—after years of this it takes a toll. Adderall is a wonder drug: one pill and a child is organized, focused, motivated—even driven. It becomes easy to overlook the risks.”

  “An organized backpack and straight A’s are worth the risk, huh?” Bella countered.

  “Apparently,” Weber responded.

  Bella’s jaw tightened.

  “Do you have any idea where Carly may have gotten Adderall pills in higher doses than what you prescribed?” Bella asked.

  “I don’t know for sure that she did. I only know what Mrs. Freed claimed. And no, it is news to me if Carly is getting Adderall elsewhere. As far as I know, Carly was in no danger whatsoever.”

  She spoke with absolute authority.

  “Well, clearly Mrs. Freed was,” Bella retorted.

  There was a moment of silence.

  “It is very unfortunate what happened to Mrs. Freed. However, I fail to see the connection between her murder and Carly’s Adderall dosage.”

  Mack leaned forward in his tiny wooden chair and Bella noticed for the first time how ridiculous he looked in it, a man of his size.

  “You did hear about the two young seniors who took their own lives last month?” he asked.

  Dr. Weber looked momentarily sideswiped.

  “Yes. Of course. This is a small town, after all.”

  “Terrible tragedy about those two,” Mack continued.

  “Yes, it was,” she answered, but these were only words. There was no feeling in her voice or her eyes.

  “Did you know them?”

  She was silent for a moment.

  “I am not at liberty to discuss,” was all she answered.

  So she did know them.

  “Were you at the gala last night?”

  “Why would I be? I don’t have children in the school system,” she responded curtly.

  “Ahhh…I didn’t know that. So your children go to a different school?” Mack asked.

  “I do not have children.” She stiffened.

  “No?” Mack replied sheepishly. “Yeah, neither do I. All three of us here dodged that bullet,” he laughed.

  Bella noticed Weber fidget in her seat. She seemed to be fighting the urge to get up.

  Mack went on:

  “I don’t know I’d be much of a dad, what with the work I do and all. Yo
u’re lucky though—I am sure your patients begin to feel like children to you after a while, eh?”

  She glared at him.

  “Hardly, Detective.” She smirked. “Although some are more endearing than others.”

  There was something off about this woman. It seemed to Bella that Mack felt it too. Bella glanced at the diploma hanging on the wall behind the desk, one from a university in Europe. How did she end up here? Bella wondered.

  “I see you went to medical school in Europe,” Bella remarked. “Did your graduate residency there too?”

  There was a discernable flush in Weber’s cheeks.

  “I came to America for my residency,” was all she answered.

  “Really?” Bella pressed on, genuinely interested. “Where did you do it?”

  Weber paused as though she didn’t want to answer. But she did. “Dunmore Psychiatric.”

  Dunmore. Wow. Bella knew the place. It had been a high-security hotel for the criminally insane before they shut it down. This might explain Weber’s edge; or maybe it was her edge that brought her to Dunmore.

  “Dunmore, huh?” Bella tried to sound casual as she leaned back. “Quite a place to work.”

  “Quite a place in general,” Weber replied slowly.

  “Different world than Greenvale?” Bella smiled.

  “Quite.” Weber smiled eerily, revealing yellow, crooked teeth.

  Bella wondered how this woman had ever landed in this town. She seemed way too unrefined.

  “OK then,” Mack sighed and stood, signaling he was ready to go. “Here’s our card. If you think of anything that might be helpful please get in touch. Hey, let’s hope the stress of this case doesn’t land us on your couch, huh, Doc?”

  He laughed, but she didn’t crack a smile. Instead, she stood abruptly, clearly thrilled the interview was over, and led them out of her office where she unceremoniously opened the door for them to leave and quickly closed it behind them.

  “Another nutcase,” Mack exhaled when he got inside the car. “And she’s the pro. We’re in the Land of Oz, man.”

  He rolled down the windows in the car and rested his hands on the steering wheel, but didn’t start the engine. He simply sat, staring straight ahead. Bella sat next to him quietly, lost in thought herself.

  “Something’s off with that broad,” Mack said. “Something’s off with all the broads here if you ask me. None of them give a shit about the murder. Except Erika.”

  Bella’s phone vibrated with a text from Billy. Joslyn’s sister had arrived.

  “Lillie’s here,” Bella said softly.

  Mack nodded and started the engine.

  “They are whackadoodles,” he continued with resignation in his voice. “They’ve lived in their cocoons far too long. All of ’em.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “But I think there’s more going on. Joslyn was fixated on this Adderall issue. I wonder if she stumbled on to something, got in over her head?”

  Now it was Mack’s cell that vibrated.

  “What do you know?” Mack said. “Someone saw a guy who fits Ridley’s description on a train into Grand Central this morning. They’re checking the cameras, have put out an APB. And we got a hit on another sick bastard, sex offender living next town over. Earl Powell. Andover Complex. Wants me to grab a body and go have a chat.”

  Bella grimaced. “Lucky you.”

  Mack sighed resignedly as he backed the car out of the lot.

  “It looks like you’re chatting with Lillie alone.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Media trucks perched prominently in front of the Freed home as Bella drove through the gates with the help of the officers outside. Once inside, even she couldn’t deny the beauty of this place, the most magnificent of the homes she had seen so far.

  The S-shaped charcoal-pebbled driveway wound its way alongside massive evergreens, poplars, and willows, until the sprawling, shingled and stone new construction house at the end of the driveway came into view. A detached, peaked and shingled three-car garage stood off to the left. Climbing vines of pink roses meandered their way up the barn-style garage doors until they reached the French windows above. A full court basketball court was carved into the side of the property, and a mass of dark evergreens adorned the center island. A silver Maserati sat parked off to the side.

  Bella got out of the Ford sedan and walked, alone, toward a pair of deep walnut, double-height doors framed by five-foot pewter stone planters bursting with pink and green hydrangeas. She smiled inwardly, imagining Mack’s reaction to this place.

  A maid led her through the double-height entrance foyer, over a black and white diamond-shaped marble floor, into a library. The arched opening into the room hid a pair of French paneled pocket doors, beyond which were walls made of dark mahogany boxed molding, lined with built-in bookshelves. Floor to ceiling French windows in the rear afforded a view of the backyard. Bella noticed the Gunite pool and hot tub. Toward the right stood a fire pit, outdoor kitchen, gazebo, and garden.

  An antique desk grandly anchored the room, and a pony-hair swivel chair sat at the helm. A deep red Persian carpet lay underfoot and a chocolate brown chesterfield leather couch rested against the wall. Memorabilia lined the walls: Jamie with celebrity athletes, signed posters of the Rolling Stones, and a picture of Jamie with Mick Jagger.

  As Bella ogled the wall she once again pictured Mack’s reaction, how blown away he would be with all of it, especially the photos. She looked for pictures of Joslyn but found only two—one when she was extremely young and one with her daughters when they were babies. Other than these two, peeking out behind some books on a shelf, Bella didn’t see a recent picture of Joslyn anywhere in sight.

  Jamie entered the library and greeted her solemnly.

  “Lillie is upstairs with the girls,” he said in a solemn voice.

  “Can I have a few minutes with you before she comes down?” Bella asked pleasantly. He nodded.

  “We learned some things today I would like to go over with you, if that’s OK?” Bella asked deferentially.

  Jamie leaned back in his pony-covered chair and looked more regal than he did at the club. She was clearly on his turf now—his demeanor screamed it. Jamie pointed to two straight-backed steel metal chairs that faced his desk and told her to sit.

  “We had the pleasure of meeting some of your wife’s friends today,” she began as she squeezed herself into the small chair. “Lovely people.”

  “To whom do you refer?” Jamie squinted his eyes.

  “Doug and Jenna for starters,” she answered. “Really seem to have loved your wife.”

  A silence descended.

  “We also met Stephanie. Sweet woman,” Bella added with a smile.

  Still no reaction.

  “I have to say my favorite was Erika.” She grinned, surprising herself with this comment. She hadn’t considered a strategy and now she was thinking maybe she should have. She and Jamie looked at one another.

  His face remained stoic, unreadable, like ice. Gone was the bereaved husband from this morning. Here, before her, was a Master of the Universe in his lair.

  “Is there a question there? Is there something you’d like me to say?” Jamie looked impatient.

  “Not at all,” said Bella. “Just wanted to keep you posted on our progress.”

  “I don’t know what kind of progress you think you’re making by speaking with our friends. There is a sadistic killer out there and our friends aren’t going to help you find him.” Jamie looked angry.

  “You would be surprised how much progress we have made already, Mr. Freed, how much we have learned,” Bella said, turning her pleasant tone into a no-nonsense voice.

  “Learned about what?” Jamie shot her a look.

  “Your wife, sir,” she answered seriously. “We have a better sense of her now than when we started our day.”

  “What does that mean? I told you everything you wanted to know,” Jamie said indignantly.

  “Yes, but you neglect
ed a couple of interesting tidbits and, well, I guess I am wondering why.”

  Bella was in motion, pumped in a quiet kind of way.

  “What are you talking about?” Jamie looked peeved.

  Bella brought up the article Joslyn had been writing and her visit with Lieutenant Glades. She told Jamie about his wife’s theory that too much Adderall or an adverse reaction may have been behind the girls’ suicides. She informed him of his wife’s growing concern Carly was abusing Adderall too. Bella spoke to Jamie as though she were filling him in on the life of a stranger, not his own wife. And in some ways, she was.

  Jamie looked blindsided.

  “I did not know any of this.”

  Bella cast a skeptical glance.

  “Why do you think that is, Mr. Freed?”

  He shook his head from side to side, confused. He ran his hands through his hair twice before he spoke

  “Look, we definitely needed time alone. It had been a while, with work and kids and college applications and—” He strained then stopped.

  “We had drifted. We were working on it. We needed to reconnect,” he stammered. “I don’t know why she wouldn’t have talked to me about Carly.”

  “Earlier you said all was well in your marriage.” Bella almost sounded sad.

  “All was well,” he said defensively. “We just needed some time. We were twenty years in for god’s sakes. I wasn’t about to get into the nitty-gritty with the two of you an hour after—”

  A knock at the door interrupted them. It was the maid informing him Lillie was in the family room.

  “OK, Mr. Freed. We can talk more later,” Bella said quietly.

  “I loved my wife,” he said to her, defiantly.

  Bella deliberately did not respond. She lifted herself out of the small steel chair and followed him into the family room, where a woman sat curled into a corner of the sofa, wrapped in an ivory cashmere throw, her face red from crying. She looked Bella’s way when they entered and warmly invited her to sit down and thanked her for being there. Bella liked her immediately.