Suddenly all the fear rushed away, and Melissa sat down next to her. “Oh, Jean.” It was the first time she’d used her name and it felt strange, but she went on. “Little children don’t go to hell. They’re too small for God to hold them accountable for their mistakes.”
The woman looked hopefully up at her. “Then Johnny’s in heaven, you think?”
“I’m sure of it. Jesus had a special place in his heart for the children.”
Red pinched the bridge of her nose, fighting her tears. “I never really thought much about heaven or hell before. I pretty much assumed I’d go to hell when I died, if there was one. But Johnny—I never counted on takin’ him there with me, or sendin’ him ahead of me.” Her stoic face cracked. “I didn’t take him to church even once. What he knew about God, he never learned from me.”
Melissa took her hand, squeezed it.
“I just wish . . . that the last time he visited here . . . about a month ago . . . I wish I’d known I was never gonna see him again. I’d have read him that book he likes a few more times. He wanted me to, but I got tired of it and wouldn’t. I coulda read it twenty times and he wouldn’t have got tired. I should have read it just one more time.” She dropped her face in her hand and wept harder. “I can’t believe I’ll never see him again.”
Melissa touched her hair, stroked it, and began to cry herself. “You can see him again, Jean. You just have to make sure you go to heaven, too.”
“Too late for me,” Jean said. “Some things you can’t take back. I done too much.”
“God can forgive anything.”
“Not what I’ve done.”
“Try him.”
Jean looked up at her and saw Melissa’s tears. Frowning, she asked, “What are you cryin’ about?”
Melissa sniffed. “The same thing you are. I’m just so sorry.”
“Why?” Red asked suspiciously. “I would have beat you to a pulp the other day if Chloe hadn’t stopped me. How do you know I still won’t?”
“You might,” Melissa acknowledged. “I realize that.”
“Then why would you cry over my baby?”
Melissa wasn’t sure, but she gave it her best shot. “Because I know how I would feel if I were in your place.”
They stared at each other for an eloquent moment, a moment in which anything could happen. Then Red looked away, as if uncomfortable with the thought of truly connecting with anyone.
“What did a debutante like you do to get put in here, anyway?”
The question, designed to break the intimacy and put Melissa on the defensive again, didn’t daunt her. “I lied to a grand jury.”
“About what?”
“I told them I’d been raped when I hadn’t.”
Red began to laugh. “What was it? Revenge on some guy for dumpin’ you?”
Melissa looked at her feet. “Yes, it was revenge. But I was never involved with him. It’s a long story.”
“Looks like the joke turned out to be on you.”
She felt the blow, knowing it was aimed to hurt, but she didn’t let it. “You’re right. It backfired. But God’s forgiven me.”
Red thought that over for a minute. “Bet you never thought you’d wind up in here with us losers when you were sippin’ wine with all your elite little friends, plannin’ out your lives and doin’ lunch.”
Melissa realized where this was all going, so she got slowly, sadly to her feet. “Look, if you need to talk again, I mean if you really need to talk, instead of just flinging insults, you know where I am.”
Red’s eyes got a dull, thoughtful gleam as she watched Melissa leave.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Karen Anderson’s hands trembled as she buttoned her blouse back over the microphone and wires taped to her chest. “Are you sure they’ll be able to hear me?” she asked Pam Darby, the lieutenant who was helping her.
“Positive. They’ll hear every word.” “But couldn’t I have some kind of ear phone so I could hear them?”
Pam shook her head. “Sorry. It might be too obvious. But as long as you’re at work, they can reach you by phone.”
“It’s not the part at work that I’m worried about,” Karen said. “It’s the part where he approaches me.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “See, I just can’t believe that they could get to me soon enough. I mean, what if he has a gun? What if he has a knife? What if by the time they hear him hurting me, it’s too late?”
“These are good cops, Karen. You have to trust them.”
“Right,” Karen said, flinging her hair back over her shoulder and leveling her eyes on the cop. “So you’re telling me that you wouldn’t be scared to death to walk into a maniac’s hands like this?”
“Of course I would. It takes courage. Lots of it. You’re a hero, Karen.”
Karen wasn’t buying it. To her, it just sounded like flattery to get her to cooperate. “Not yet, I’m not. And if I wind up getting killed in the process, am I just going to be one more statistic?”
“You’re stopping the statistics, Karen,” Pam said evenly. “That’s why we need you.”
Karen went to the window and peered out to the street, where cars passed by in a steady stream and pedestrians hurried to and from their offices. She wondered what she had ever done to wind up attracting Edward Pendergrast. Was it something she’d worn? The way she acted? Maybe it was her hair. He liked blondes, they’d said. Maybe she should dye hers after this was all over.
If she survived it.
Beginning to feel sick, she turned back to Pam. “Those other women he raped . . . do you have pictures of them?”
She thought for a moment. “Well, yeah. In his file.”
Karen lifted her chin. “I want to see them.”
“Why?” Pam asked.
Karen’s eyes filled with tears as her face reddened. “I want to see what he did to them. I want to see what I have to expect.”
Pam shook her head. “Karen, nothing like what happened to them is going to happen to you. Trust me. You don’t want to see those pictures.”
“That’s what I thought,” Karen said. “That bad.” Her stomach roiled, and she set her hand on it. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Just take some deep breaths,” Pam said, getting face-to-face with her. “In . . . out . . . in . . . out . . .”
But Karen only shoved her out of the way and headed for the bathroom. She bent over the toilet and wretched, making the tape on her chest pull with the effort, reminding her that someone was probably listening to every sound. She flushed, left the stall, and rushed to the sink. Cupping her hands, she caught some water, drank, then caught more and splashed it on her face. She looked up into the mirror, at the wet, pretty face that had caused her so much confusion over the last few years. She was too pretty to be taken seriously, and she’d fought that since high school. A woman who worked full-time and put herself through college deserved a little respect, she’d always thought. Now, that prettiness was more than a stumbling block. It was her enemy.
She began to cry as she stared past that face, to her hair, vowing to cut it off the moment this was all over, so that it wouldn’t attract any more attention from sick rapists.
Pam poked her head into the bathroom. “Are you okay?” she asked. “I could get you something to settle your stomach.”
Karen nodded. “Anything you have.” She watched as the cop left her alone, then looked back into the mirror and began to sob. She would never make it. She would get sick the moment he spoke to her. She would throw up, ruining everything. She would slip up somehow, and he’d kill her.
Quickly, she began to unbutton her blouse, her trembling hands making it almost impossible to function. She grabbed the end of the tape with her fingertips and started to jerk it back, tear the microphone off . . .
But then what? Would she go back into hiding? Would she have to keep waiting?
She slammed both fists against the mirror, then spun around, trying to calm herself. She had to do t
his. She had no choice. It was the only way to find peace again.
She tried to breathe as Pam had told her . . . in . . . out . . . and slowly, she began to button her blouse again.
The door swung open, and Pam came back in. “Here’s some Pepto-Bismol. Captain Richter keeps two or three bottles in his desk all the time. He has ulcers on his ulcers. Why don’t you take it in your purse in case you need it while you’re at work?”
Karen nodded and took it, opened the bottle, and guzzled a mouthful down. Then she shoved it into her purse.
“Do you think you’re ready?” Pam asked.
Karen closed her eyes and tried to summon her strength. “I guess so,” she whispered. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Is there anything we’ve forgotten?” Larry peered at Tony and the captain across the table in the interrogation room.
“I don’t think so,” Tony said. “I think we’ve covered everything. As soon as she’s ready, we are.”
“What if she loses her nerve?”
“She can’t. We’ve gone over and over it.”
The captain stood up and peered out the window. “The van’s ready. And we have enough men on the case. We can’t afford to do this again. We have to bring this to a head tonight.”
“I think it would have come to a head without us, Captain,” Larry said. “There’s a hole dug with a body bag just waiting for her. I don’t think he plans to waste any time.”
The door opened and Karen came in, followed by Pam Darby. Karen looked pale and more fragile than usual, but she’d dressed as she usually did for work.
“Ready?” Larry asked.
She pulled in a shaky breath. “I guess so.” Her hand trembled as she ran it through her hair. “You’re not going to let me down, are you? You’ll be close by the whole time?”
“I promise,” Larry said. “And we’ll be calling you in the store every step of the way, letting you know if he’s waiting, where we are, everything. And when things start happening, we’ll hear every word you say.”
She closed her eyes. “This is the worst thing I’ve ever been through in my life.”
“It could have been a lot worse,” the captain said.
She wasn’t sure about that. “So what do I do now?”
“Get in your car,” Larry told her, “go by your apartment, take your suitcase in like you just got back from a trip, just in case he’s watching. We need to let him know that you’re home—that things are back to normal. Then come back out, head to work. I don’t think he’ll strike this early. The risk is too great. He’ll wait until you get off work.”
“I’m gonna be sick again.”
“Can’t,” Tony said. “There’s no time.”
They started out of the room, but Larry hung back. “You guys go test her mike. I’ll be there in a minute.”
He waited until Tony, Karen, and the captain were gone, and then he sat back down and stared at the wood grain of the table. This is it, Lord, he thought. Please help us. Don’t let anybody get hurt.
He wished he’d been able to talk to Melissa when she’d called earlier, to tell her to pray for them tonight. But she hadn’t called back, and now he wouldn’t be able to make visitation. She would wonder where he was and convince herself that he had already lost interest. It would be Saturday before he’d be able to tell her differently.
Maybe he’d have good news.
He felt a little sick himself as he pulled up from the table and started for the door. In all his years of police work, he’d never wanted to catch anyone so much. And he’d never been more afraid that something could go wrong.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Melissa tried to look her best with what she had to work with as she waited to be called to the rec room for visitation. Chloe had gone over half an hour ago, as had many of the women from her cellblock, but Melissa’s name hadn’t been called yet. She tried to read while she waited, tried to straighten up her cell, but no one called.
Finally, she ventured out of the cell and went to the bubble at the end of the block, where two guards sat doing paperwork.
“Excuse me,” she said. “No one’s called me, but I’m pretty sure I was going to get a visitor tonight. Could you check the list and make sure there’s no one out there for me?”
The CO scanned the list. “Sorry, honey. No enchilada.”
Her heart fell, and she started back to her cell. There were still two hours left. Maybe he was just running late.
She climbed up on the top bunk and curled up into a ball. Whatever the reason he wasn’t here, whatever it meant, it was his happiness that mattered. Not hers.
Closing her eyes, she began to pray for him, that whatever he was doing, God was with him. She prayed that he wouldn’t feel guilty for skipping this visit, that he wouldn’t be distracted from whatever he was doing or whomever he was with—that if God had another plan for him that didn’t include her, that she could accept it.
But even as she prayed, despair washed over her. Loneliness as smothering as a gas seemed to suffocate her, and she began to cry. She cried for the next two hours, until Chloe came back.
“He didn’t come?” Chloe asked.
“No,” Melissa whispered. “He’s a busy man. I’m sure he would have come if he could.”
“Yeah, right.” Chloe changed clothes and plopped onto the bed. “It’s not a lot to ask, you know. That they come and spend a hour with us, just to break up the time.”
Melissa didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “I’m okay,” she whispered. “Good night.”
“Yeah,” Chloe said.
The big woman was snoring long before Melissa fell off to sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTY
The surveillance van was an old purple van with no back windows, in which they had a wealth of equipment that could monitor everything that Karen said in the store, and everything that was said to her. She was nervous. Her conversations at the counter were short, brief, clipped. One of her coworkers asked her why she was in such a bad mood, and she told her she had a headache. When she spilled two bottles of cologne, then knocked another one off the counter while trying to clean them up, Larry and Tony began to wonder if she could go through with this at all.
Two rows away, they saw Pendergrast, waiting as usual for the mall to close. It was only fifteen minutes until closing time. Karen’s voice was shaky, and her coworker suggested that she sit down and drink a glass of water. But she refused and tried to finish doing her job.
Tony sat in the front seat, watching with infrared binoculars through the windshield. “He’s reaching for something in the backseat,” he said. “What’s he doing?”
Larry abandoned the tape recorder to John Hampton, their surveillance expert, who sat with headphones on in front of the tape equipment.
“He’s getting out!”
Larry came to the window and watched as Pendergrast got out, looked both ways to make sure no one saw him, then sauntered over to Karen’s car.
Larry grabbed his camera with the night lens and focused it. “He’s got something in his hand.” He clicked. “What is it?”
“Can’t tell,” Tony said. “He’s bending over.”
Larry snapped the camera again as Pendergrast stabbed something into Karen’s tire, then hurried back to his car.
“Okay, this is it.” Larry’s heart beat wildly as he hurried back to the telephone. “I’ll let her know. Tonight’s definitely the night.” He dialed the number for the men’s cologne counter.
Through the binoculars, Tony tried to determine whether the tire was flat yet. It was hard to tell. “He’s either going to try to get her into his car right here in this parking lot, or he’s expecting her to drive off and not realize anything’s wrong for a block or so.”
“It’s too risky to get her here,” Larry said. “Too much could go wrong.” He held up a hand to stem Tony’s reply as Karen picked up the phone.
“Men’s Cologne.”
“Karen, it’s Larry. You okay?”
>
“Yeah. We’re getting ready to come out. I’m just waiting for the security guard who usually escorts us.”
“Okay. Now, listen. He just did something to your front left tire. Looks like he punctured it—not real bad, so I don’t think it’s flat yet.”
“What’s he gonna do?” she whispered.
“We don’t know yet. But get in your car like normal, and pull out, like you would if you didn’t know. Stop a quarter of a mile down the road, and get out to see the tire.”
“And then what?” she whispered viciously.
“He’ll probably pull up behind you and approach you.”
Dead silence, then in a high-pitched squeak, she said, “I can’t do this.”
Larry glanced back at Tony, who could hear her through the tape recorder. “Look, we’re right behind you, Karen. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Where will he take me? What if he loses you? What if something happens before you can get to me?”
“You have to trust us, Karen. Now, just act normal.”
He could tell she was crying. “The guard’s coming. We’re about to go.”
“We’re ready, Karen. Are you?”
“No, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Larry glanced at Tony again. “Karen, we can hear every word that’s said. Remember, you’re not alone. It’s going to be all right.”
“Here goes,” she whispered, and hung up the phone.
Tony slipped into the driver’s seat, keeping the binoculars to his eyes. Already, some of the employees were being escorted out. Pendergrast was sitting at attention, watching, waiting, for Karen to come through those doors.
Larry grabbed the radio mike. “All right, guys,” he said into it. “We’re almost to liftoff. Stand by.”
The three men in the van held their breath as they watched the front door open again. Karen and a group of employees spilled out. Karen stayed with the security guard until she was almost to her car, then ventured out, as stiff as a board, and tried to jab her key into the door lock.
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