Melissa hung back at the door, trying not to attract any attention. But it was too late. Two of the women standing near her turned toward her, amused. “You new?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
“Hey, everybody!” one of them shouted. “Check this out!”
All eyes in the room turned to her, and Melissa shrank back against the wall.
“So what’s your name, honey?” one of the women, with a pasty complexion and greasy red hair, asked.
“Melissa,” she choked out.
“Melissa!” the redhead shouted. “Aw, ain’t that pretty!”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble.” But that was the wrong thing to say. She watched as the COs turned their backs, allowing the harassment to continue, as if she somehow deserved it.
“She don’t want no trouble!” the redhead said. “I’ll bet a sweet thing like you never expected to end up here. Can’t believe a jury would convict you, with that soft hair—” She grabbed a handful of Melissa’s hair, but Melissa jerked back. “And them big eyes.”
“It wasn’t a jury,” Melissa choked out.
“Not a jury? A judge then. Didn’t you bat them eyes at him and tell him that you were just too delicate to be in here with all us criminal types? So what’d you do, anyway?”
Melissa didn’t answer.
“Honey, I asked you a question,” the redheaded woman asked, growing more agitated. “I don’t sense a lot of respect from you. Didn’t you hear what I asked?”
“She’s in for child abuse, Red,” one woman on the couch piped up. “I heard about her last week on the news. She left her children in the house, then burned it down.”
“No, I didn’t!” Melissa cried.
“I saw it, honey. That was you.”
“Child abuse? Murder? Arson?” the redhead taunted. “No wonder even that soft blonde hair didn’t save you.”
Tears were coming to her eyes, despite her efforts to hold them back. “It’s not true,” she whispered. “Please.”
Another woman grabbed a handful of her hair and jerked her head back so she was looking up at the ceiling. “Please what?”
“Let me go!” Melissa shouted through her teeth. “I haven’t done anything to you!”
“We’re just welcomin’ you, honey,” Red said. “Like we do all the girls.” A round of laughter erupted over the room as others got up and started toward her.
“SHUT UP!” Chloe’s voice cut like a chain saw through the room, and breath-held silence fell over them as the big woman rose to her full height. “Can’t you see I’m tryin’ to watch Wheel of Fortune?” she belted out. “Let her go so she’ll shut up! I been listenin’ to her whimperin’ all day as it is!”
The inmate dropped her hair, and Melissa rubbed the roots where it had started to tear out of her scalp. She looked at Chloe, waiting for her wrath to fall.
The women scattered slowly, so as not to appear frightened by the big woman, but they left Melissa alone.
Melissa stood at the door a while longer, trying to catch her breath, trying not to cry, not knowing whether to go right or left. Finally, she sat down in an empty chair and fixed her eyes on the television, trying not to provoke anyone else, holding her hands clasped to keep their trembling from showing.
She hadn’t expected God to protect her through Chloe, but it seemed he had. The next hurdle, she thought, was to stop being so terrified of her protector. Chloe had rescued her from the others, but she didn’t know who would rescue her from Chloe. Maybe she could learn not to make Chloe mad, she thought. Maybe she’d be lucky enough not to be around when someone else did. Maybe she was just going to have to get used to living in abject fear.
Maybe not every day of her six months would pass as slowly as this first day was.
The noises of the jail kept Melissa awake that night, though Chloe had fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Melissa lay in her cell, staring at the ceiling, listening as doors opened and closed for reasons she didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Now and then, COs spoke to each other without lowering their voices, and the sounds of hard shoes clicked on the floor.
Somewhere, she heard the sound of someone crying, a sound that was sometimes audible, then muffled, then loud again. She wondered how many inmates lay awake as she was tonight, nursing broken hearts, missing family members, bitterly regretting their mistakes.
She wondered about the dead flowers Chloe kept in the vase on the cardboard shelf.
Her own tears couldn’t be held back any longer, and she covered her mouth to keep from giving in to the despair. She didn’t want anyone to hear her crying. She didn’t want to incite the wrath of the guards, or of Chloe.
She wondered if Pendergrast was laughing at her, rejoicing at the way things had turned out. His crime against Sandy was still being played out, the ripples still rippling. He was still raping their family, and Melissa was one of the victims.
Bitterness swelled within her. Her hands trembling, she reached for the Bible that she’d put under her pillow and clutched it tightly against her chest, like a shield that would keep her from her wayward thoughts. There was someone in the world she hated, and before this ordeal was over, there might be many others.
She couldn’t forgive—not yet. It was too hard.
Help me, Lord. Help me to do what I’m supposed to do.
Chloe’s heavy breathing ceased for a moment at the gasping sound of her tears, and Melissa turned over and buried her face in her pillow.
“You cryin’ up there, ain’t you?” Chloe barked.
Melissa didn’t answer.
“I told you I didn’t want to hear no blubberin’.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was trying to be quiet.”
She waited, bracing herself, for Chloe to get up, but the woman didn’t move.
“Least you ain’t makin’ all the racket that other one is. You’d think she lost her best friend. Probably killed her herself.”
Melissa didn’t answer.
“I find out who that is, she’ll have a reason to cry tomorrow.”
Melissa sat stone still, holding her breath to keep from agitating the big woman.
After a moment, Chloe’s deep, heavy breathing returned.
She was asleep for now, and Melissa would do well to let her stay that way.
Lying as still as a log, and just as rigid, Melissa waited for the night to pass.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Larry ate dinner in his car the next night. The minute he’d gotten off work, he had headed for Pendergrast’s apartment complex. The man’s Cherokee wasn’t there, so he tried Pendergrast’s office. The Cherokee was still sitting there on the gravel parking lot.
He parked behind a low-hanging willow tree and rolled down his window. A heat wave had come through, making temperatures hotter than usual for October, and now, as the sun went down, it seemed hotter than it had been all day. As he bit into the hot dog he’d brought with him, he tried to imagine what Melissa had eaten tonight. Was she still terrified? Was she able to eat at all?
His appetite left him, and he tossed the hot dog back into the bag it had come in and sipped on the drink that was now watery from melted ice.
Please Lord, let me catch him at something tonight.
It wouldn’t get Melissa out of jail, but at least he would be able to see some justice being served.
He saw the front door to the office building open, and Pendergrast came out and got into his car.
Larry waited until Pendergrast was a block away and had turned right onto the main road before he cranked his Chevy. Staying back in traffic, he followed him across town to Highland Drive, a brand-new, just-paved road near the mall.
Pendergrast pulled into a site where a building was going up; men were still there working. Pendergrast got out, cut across the dirt, and shouted a few orders to the men around him.
Larry waited about twenty minutes for Pendergrast to go back to his car as the other construction workers split up and heade
d for their own cars. Larry let three trucks pull between him and Pendergrast, then followed them back to the main road. He trailed as Pendergrast went home, locked his car, and trotted up the steps to his apartment door.
Larry waited.
His cellular phone rang, startling him. He reached for it and clicked it on. “Hello?”
“I knew you were in your car.” It was Tony, and Larry braced himself.
“Yeah? So?”
“Did you even go home?”
“I had things to do, okay?”
“Yeah, well, I just wanted to see if you’d want to go get a bite to eat.”
“I’ve already eaten.”
“Where are you, man?”
“What difference does it make?”
Pause. “You’re at his place, aren’t you? You’re staking out Pendergrast.”
Larry glanced up at the apartment. “I’m off duty. I don’t have to account for my time.”
“Look—let’s go eat, and talk, and then you can go back there if you have to.”
“No,” Larry said. “I’m staying right here.”
“He knows you’re gonna be on him, Larry. He’s not going to do anything this first couple of weeks. He’d be nuts.”
“He is nuts.”
“Man, you’re asking for trouble. You’re obsessing. You need to let yourself off the hook, man. Melissa doesn’t expect this. She wouldn’t want you to suffer just because she’s in jail.”
Larry rubbed his forehead. “Tony, if you don’t have anything more constructive to say, I have to go.”
“Look, just be careful, will you? I don’t want to break in a new partner.”
Larry clicked the phone and tossed it on the seat. Maybe Tony was right. Maybe nothing was going to happen tonight. But one of these days it would, and when it did, he would be there.
An hour or so later, Pendergrast came back out, got into his Cherokee, and pulled out. Larry followed, not optimistic that Pendergrast would commit a crime tonight, since Pendergrast seemed to do his prowling in the other car. Still, he followed him to the bar where they’d first arrested him.
He knew it was going to be a long wait as Pendergrast ambled in. To keep busy, he pulled Pendergrast’s rap sheet and file out from under the seat. The two rapes they’d known about had happened very late at night, when the women were alone. It was clear that Pendergrast had known they would be alone, because both had been married, and in both cases he’d come on a night when their husbands had been working. Which meant he’d been watching them for some time. Then, on exactly the right night, he had broken into their homes and overpowered them.
Maybe there’s someone he’s watching now, he thought.
It was nearing midnight when Larry saw Pendergrast strutting out of the bar with a woman under his arm. Quickly, he cranked the car.
He watched as Pendergrast got behind the wheel and started the car, and thought how he’d love to slap a DUI charge on him. But that wouldn’t help. That would keep him behind bars for about an hour.
He followed him to a neighborhood with small stucco houses, and hung back, several houses down with his lights off, as Pendergrast and the woman went inside.
Larry checked his watch. Maybe he should just go on home. This wasn’t Pendergrast’s typical MO. He didn’t date the girls he raped. It was all done anonymously, cruelly, without any warning. He doubted this girl was in any danger.
On the other hand, he couldn’t take the chance of leaving, just in case Pendergrast did hurt her.
He almost fell asleep several times, but shook himself awake, forcing himself to stay alert. It was almost three when Pendergrast came back out of the woman’s house. He watched the man get into his car and drive off, and then he saw lights being turned off throughout the house. She was all right.
Cranking his car, he followed Pendergrast back to his apartment. It was nearing 3:30 when Pendergrast walked slowly back inside. Larry sat watching for a long moment, waiting for Pendergrast’s lights to go off. When they did, at around four, he realized that the man was in for the night and wasn’t likely to go out again.
Wearily, he headed for home and fell into his bed, praying that he’d be able to function the next day.
He fell into a troubled sleep, filled with dreams of Melissa being stalked and hounded by inmates and prison guards, being hurt or abused.
When the clock woke him at six A.M., he was soaked with sweat. He sat up abruptly. God, help her, he cried in his heart. Please protect her.
But the troubled feeling wouldn’t leave him as he got ready for church—then changed his mind and decided to resume his stakeout instead. The obsessions he’d been accused of kept growing—more and more intense.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Larry’s eyes were getting tired as he wove between cars on the interstate, trying to keep up with Pendergrast in the inconspicuous gray Toyota. He had followed Pendergrast home from work again tonight—as he had last night—watched as he went into a fast-food restaurant for dinner, then home. And just after nine, when Pendergrast had come out again and gotten into the gray Toyota, Larry’s adrenaline had begun pumping. Maybe this was what he’d been waiting for.
He almost gave up when he saw Pendergrast turn into the mall parking lot and park outside a Dillards store. Was he going shopping just before closing time?
But Pendergrast didn’t get out. Larry parked a few rows away and reached for the infrared binoculars he’d laid on the seat next to him. From where he sat, he had a terrific view of Pendergrast. The man made no move to get out. He was waiting for someone. And it didn’t seem likely that he’d have brought the gray Toyota to pick up a girlfriend.
Larry watched as several families spilled out of the store near closing time, and he saw the manager of Dillards lock all but one of the doors as they prepared to close.
Group by group, employees walked out, escorted by a security guard, then dispersed in the parking lot, heading to their separate cars.
Pendergrast sat straighter now. He brought something to his face—binoculars? A camera?
Yes, it was a camera, Larry realized. Probably the camera they’d gotten from his apartment. He had, of course, gotten all of his confiscated things back after the charges against him had been dropped. The camera had a long lens on the front, and Larry guessed it was a night lens. He was taking pictures of the employees coming out. Larry moved his binoculars in the direction Pendergrast was shooting, and saw a young woman who looked about twenty, with long, flowing blonde hair a lot like Melissa’s. She passed Pendergrast’s car, unaware that she was being watched, and got into her own, which was two spaces down from his. By reflex, Larry reached for his gun and waited for Pendergrast to make a move.
The girl got into her car. The lights came on as she cranked it. Pendergrast did nothing as she pulled out of her space. The moment she was far enough across the parking lot not to see him, Pendergrast’s lights came on and he pulled out in the same direction.
Larry followed, keeping his lights off, as his mind reeled. Pendergrast had targeted that young woman as his next victim. Larry’s heart pumped triple-time as he followed both cars out into the light stream of traffic.
The young woman took an unfortunate route home—Highland Drive, the newly paved road where new construction was in progress during the day. The same road where Pendergrast had construction projects under way. Now, at night, the road was deserted.
From this distance, Larry couldn’t read her tag number. He reached for his night binoculars again and held them to his eyes. Mumbling the numbers back to himself, he pulled the pen out of his pocket and scribbled the numbers on his arm. Tomorrow he could look it up, if it wasn’t too late.
He followed as they came to an area of new housing at the end of the long road, and she pulled into an apartment complex only a couple of months old. He held his breath, waiting to see if Pendergrast was going to make a move. Pendergrast, too, pulled into the complex but continued on around the parking area, appearing to be ju
st one more resident looking for his parking space. Larry pulled in near the young woman’s car and cut his engine, waiting.
She got out and locked her door. Clutching her purse, she started toward her apartment.
Pendergrast’s car came slowly around now, and pulled into a space. Larry watched him as Pendergrast watched her go up the steps and around to her apartment door.
“What are you doing?” Larry whispered as Pendergrast just sat there. Was he going to wait until the lights went off, then break in somehow and attack her? Or was he just watching, planning, for some other time?
After about twenty minutes, Pendergrast cranked his car and pulled out again.
Larry sat still for a moment before following. Then, staying far enough back not to be seen, he followed him back across town to Pendergrast’s apartments. Pendergrast parked the Toyota at the far end of the parking lot, locked it, and walked over to his Cherokee. He pulled out, and Larry followed him to the bar where they’d arrested him. Was he done with the woman for tonight? Was he going back later?
Not willing to take the chance of missing whatever Pendergrast was up to, and risking the life of that young woman in the process, Larry decided he could make it the rest of the night without falling asleep. He had to.
Pendergrast was getting ready to make a move, and when he did, Larry would be there to catch him.
Larry’s eyes were raw by the time he made it to the police station the next day. Pendergrast hadn’t made a move; instead, he’d left the bar well after midnight with some other woman, and Larry had sat outside that house, waiting for some sign that there was trouble inside. At nearly four A.M., Pendergrast had driven home.
“You look like death warmed over,” Tony said as Larry approached his desk. “Have you been sleeping?”
“Not much.” Larry sat down and flicked on his computer.
“Are you sick, man?”
“No,” Larry said irritably. He punched in the tag number of the car he’d seen the young woman driving last night, and waited.
“What are you doing?”
“He’s stalking somebody.”
Tony pulled up a chair and straddled it, looking over Larry’s shoulder to the computer screen. “Who is?”
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