The River Girls

by Melinda Woodhall

  Chapter Five

  Reggie Horn smashed her foot down on the brake pedal of her Mini Cooper just as it hurtled up to the gate outside the house on Shutter Street. She tapped in her security code with a long red-lacquered fingernail, and when the gate rolled open, she maneuvered the tiny car into an equally tiny parking space before cutting off the engine.

  Take a deep breath and count to ten, Reggie told herself, knowing that Eden was likely already in a heightened state of anxiety and wouldn’t respond well to more stress coming from her.

  Deliberately stopping herself from blowing into the room like a tiny force of nature as she usually did, she instead stepped into the office with a graceful flourish, her canary-yellow caftan billowing around her short, thin frame. She swung her enormous red leather messenger bag onto the desk and turned to face Eden.

  “So, where is she?” Reggie asked, searching the room with a perplexed expression, her eyes big behind red-framed glasses, her ebony skin luminous in the soft glow of the desk lamp.

  “She’s sleeping in unit 1B. It’s been empty since Tilda Collingsworth moved out last week,” Eden replied, already moving toward the door. Duke jumped up to follow her.

  “Stay here, Duke,” Eden said, stepping into the hall without giving Reggie the chance to ask further questions.

  Reggie patted the disappointed golden retriever on the head before following Eden out and closing the door behind her. She could see right away that the door to unit 1B was closed, but when Eden tried the knob it was unlocked, and she opened the door and stepped into the room.

  Reggie pushed past her to see that both the twin beds were empty. A pair of tennis shoes lay on the floor, laces untied, along with an empty bottle of water.

  “There’s a light on in the bathroom,” Reggie said, motioning for Eden to knock.

  “Star? Everything all right?” Eden called, tapping on the door twice. When Star didn’t respond, Eden knocked again. “Star? Are you okay?”

  “Is she even in there?” Reggie asked. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “Maybe she passed out,” Eden said, looking back at Reggie with wide, green eyes.

  Reggie could hear the tremor of anxiety in Eden’s voice and felt her own heart begin to pump faster in response. She reached over and jiggled the doorknob; it wasn’t locked. She pushed open the door and stared into the brightly lit room. No one was standing in front of the small sink or sitting on the toilet. She crossed the floor and drew back the mint green shower curtain. The bathtub was freshly cleaned and completely empty.

  “Looks like she did a runner.” Reggie’s tone was matter-of-fact; she wasn’t surprised.

  “She was sleeping,” Eden said, returning to the main room and looking around, as if she may have missed Star standing in a corner.

  Reggie ignored Eden’s comment and headed back toward the office. “We can check the security tapes first to see if she left the building. If we don’t see anything we’ll have to search room to room.”

  “But I was watching the monitor. There’s no way she got past the camera,” Eden insisted as she followed Reggie back into the office, but there was a hint of doubt in her voice.

  Reggie began clicking away on the mouse next to the display. She opened a folder and clicked on a thumbnail image. A video clip of the back entrance and lawn appeared. In the video the back door was open and a slim girl with messy platinum curls slipped out and closed the door behind her, before darting toward the river. Within seconds she had disappeared into the shadows.

  “I presume that was Star?” Reggie asked, looking back at Eden, feeling a rush of sympathy at the crestfallen expression on Eden’s face.

  “Yes, that was Star,” Eden responded, staring back at Reggie. “She just…left. Why’d she leave like that? And why would she go without her shoes?”

  Before Reggie could remind her that drug-addicted teenagers didn’t always need a reason to disappear, Eden turned and hurried down the hall and through the back door calling Star’s name. Reggie scrambled after her, arriving at the back door just in time to see Eden reach the lawn and start to run. Fear surged through Reggie as she saw Eden slip into the pitch-black shadows by the shore.

  “Eden, wait!” Reggie yelled, returning to the office to grab a flashlight out of the utility closet, then running down the hall and out the backdoor toward the dock. She cursed herself for wearing her favorite strappy sandals as the kitten-heels sunk into the soft, wet ground near the river.

  “Star!” Eden called again, and then as Reggie approached, cried out, “What if she’s thrown herself into the river, Reggie? What if she wants to kill herself?”

  The image of the untied shoes abandoned by the bed played in Reggie’s mind as she aimed the beam of the flashlight toward the dock. Something was different. What was it?

  “The boat,” Eden said, turning to Reggie. “The little rowboat is gone. She must have taken the boat.”

  “If she’s in the boat, then she should be safe on the water. I’m sure she’ll find a place to dock,” Reggie said, putting a hand on Eden’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

  “But what if she tips over and drowns? Or what if they catch her…whoever they are?” Eden’s voice caught in her throat, and her eyes filled with tears.

  “I know, honey, I know,” Reggie said, guiding Eden back toward the building. “But you did what you could.”

  “She’s so young,” Eden moaned, and Reggie cringed inwardly, knowing better than most the type of abuse some people were capable of inflicting on those weaker than themselves. She also knew that many victims of abuse ended up returning to their abuser. She didn’t want to worry Eden even more, but a thought nagged in the back of her head.

  Was the poor girl running back to the man who had hurt her?

  “I know you want to, but you just can’t save everyone.” Reggie stepped in front of Eden and looked into her friend’s haunted eyes, recognizing the guilt and regret that always seemed to hover just under the surface.

  “You have to forgive yourself for…well, for not saving Mercy. You have to let it go.”

  “This isn’t about Mercy or about me.” Eden stared out into the dark water. “This is about that girl out there, on her own.”

  Eden began to walk toward the safe house. Her shoulders were slumped, and Reggie thought she looked somehow deflated, her energy seeming to have deserted her.

  Reggie turned to look back into the shadows. She strained to hear, hoped to detect the sound of oars breaking the surface of the river, but the night was quiet and only the croaking of frogs and chirping of crickets could be heard in the dark. Star was gone.

  Chapter Six

  Hollywood sat in the passenger seat of Vinny’s old silver sedan and checked his phone again. She was still in there, he was sure of it. They’d driven by just in time to see Star disappear into what looked like some type of big apartment house on Shutter Street.

  Someone had been standing in the doorway looking out when they’d gone past, so he’d had to duck down and tell Vinny to keep driving. But when they circled back around, the front door was closed, the gate leading up the front walk was locked, and Star had disappeared into the house.

  “She’s in there,” Hollywood said to Vinny, without taking his eyes off the house. “Just a matter of time until she has to come out.”

  “At least she didn’t run to the cops,” Vinny said, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, looking around at the other houses on the block.

  “She ain’t going to the cops,” Hollywood snorted. “No way.”

  Hollywood had already decided it was safe to stake out the house, at least for now. The block didn’t have street lamps, and most of the houses were dark. No one seemed to be out walking their dog or jogging, and no other cars had driven by. It was a quiet neighborhood. So why had Star run here?

  Hollywood didn’t know what she was planning, but he needed to find out. If Star did rat them out, the whole operation at the Old Canal Motel would b
e in jeopardy, and next week’s shipment would have to be called off. Sig wouldn’t be happy.

  “I’d better call Sig,” Hollywood said, looking over at Vinny. His mouth twitched as he said, “Sorry, pal, but I gotta let him know you screwed up and Star got away.”

  Vinny jerked his head around and stared at Hollywood.

  “You’re the one that passed out, man. I wasn’t even there.”

  “Exactly, you moron, if you’d been there she’d never have gotten away.” Hollywood watched Vinny digest the insult.

  He repressed the urge to laugh when Vinny swallowed hard, adjusted his glasses, and turned to look out the window. At least he had Vinny here to amuse him while he waited for Star to come out. He picked up his cell phone and tapped in Sig’s number.

  “Hey. Sig, what’s up?” Hollywood snuck another peek at Vinny, who had tensed in the seat next to him. “I got some bad news, man. Yeah, Vinny took his eye off the ball and one of the girls did a runner.”

  “You fucking kidding me?” Sig spat out the words.

  Hollywood knew it wasn’t so much a question, as it was a threat, but he wasn’t scared, at least not yet. He watched Vinny squeeze the steering wheel with both hands until his knuckles went white.

  Holding the phone to his ear with one hand, and scratching his arm with the other, Hollywood said, “I know, I know, it’s a mess, but Vinny’s already on it, and I’m with him too, man. We’ve tracked the bitch down and should have her back at the motel shortly. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “You do what you have to do.” Sig’s gravelly voice hinted at the unfiltered Camels he always kept in his front shirt pocket.

  “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Hollywood disconnected the call and produced a low whistle.

  “Got what, man? What did he say?” Vinny asked, frowning over at Hollywood.

  Hollywood patted Vinny’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bro, I’ve got your back. Always have, right?”

  Vinny gave a slight, grudging nod, and Hollywood relaxed as he flipped down the sun visor and looked into the mirror, admiring his reflection. He stared into his own green eyes, brushing a strand of dark blonde hair back from his brow and smiling.

  Looking good. Nothing to worry about.

  He wasn’t going to take the blame for passing out and allowing Star to slip past him. It wasn’t his fault he’d gotten bored and needed a fix. The puny amount of smack Sig was passing around lately wasn’t near enough for him.

  He had needed more, so he’d shot up the junk that was meant for Star, as well as his own stash, and had passed out. No big deal. Once he had Star back he’d teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

  Hollywood looked down at his phone and watched the glowing dot on the screen. He glanced over at Vinny’s worried face and chuckled, then turned up the volume of the radio and leaned his head back against the headrest. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been sitting in the car, but he was beginning to feel itchy and restless.

  Suddenly the dark street was illuminated by headlights as a bright red Mini Cooper sped by and stopped outside the big building. Hollywood watched as the wrought iron gate rolled open and the car pulled into a small parking lot on the left side of the building.

  When no one emerged onto the front porch, Hollywood realized there must be a side entrance.

  “I think you’re gonna have to go up and check out the house. Maybe take a peek in the window,” Hollywood said, scratching his arm again and wishing he’d brought his stash with him. If this was going to take much longer he would need a fix.

  Vinny glared back, his glasses smudged and a lock of his normally slicked-back hair falling over his forehead but didn’t reply. Five minutes later the iron gate began to roll open again. This time a big, white Expedition pulled out and headed east on Shutter Street.

  Hollywood saw a blonde woman in the driver’s seat look both ways before she pulled into the road. The SUV’s windows were tinted, and he couldn’t see if anyone else was in the car, but the glowing dot on his phone had already begun to move.

  “C’mon, dumbass, follow her,” Hollywood barked, hitting Vinny on the shoulder and sitting up straight in his seat.

  He pointed to the SUV’s taillights and nodded his head in satisfaction as Vinny started the car and steered the silver sedan onto the street. His eyes gleamed as he watched the SUV turn left, heading toward downtown Willow Bay.

  “Oh yeah, we’re coming for you, Star; we’re right behind you.”

  Chapter Seven

  Detective Nessa Ainsley ran a weary hand through her tangle of auburn curls as she surveyed a growing pile of files that dominated her desk. She had planned to take the most urgent files home with her. Of course, that had been before the call came in about the missing girl.

  Nessa often reviewed witness statements and finished the day’s reports at her kitchen table once the kids were in bed and Jerry had drifted off in front of the television. She found that working in the familiar hush of her quiet house made reading and recording the disturbing details of violent crimes more bearable.

  Late nights at home also helped Nessa manage her caseload without her partner, Detective Pete Barker, who had suffered a heart attack while mowing his front yard the previous month. Barker said the doctor had called it a myocardial infarction, which sounded less threatening. Kind of like a misdemeanor infraction, as opposed to the more felonious-sounding term, heart attack.

  Last time Nessa saw Barker, he wasn’t sure when he’d be able to return to work. But she had been determined to handle her cases efficiently on her own. She didn’t want Chief Kramer to be tempted to assign her a new partner. She preferred to work the extra hours and wait for Barker; it would be too hard to break in someone new.

  In any case, Nessa doubted the budget would allow for a new detective. The Violent Crimes unit she was in consisted of four dedicated detectives who handled homicides, sexual assaults, abductions, and robberies. Nessa knew that if Barker didn’t return soon, Chief Kramer would likely move up a detective from another unit, such as Vice. Either that, or he’d have to add a headcount.

  Adding a new headcount, even temporarily, would require Chief Kramer to approve a substantial increase for the unit’s budget. The thought made her smile.

  We’d have better odds playing the lottery than waiting for tightwad Kramer to cough up more money.

  Nessa had been ten minutes away from packing up her worn leather laptop case and heading toward the exit when the switchboard of the Willow Bay Police Department patched a call through from the county jail.

  “Detective Nessa Ainsley here, how can I help?” Her eyes involuntarily ticked to the clock.

  “Hold on Detective and I’ll connect you.” She heard a click and then the faint sound of tinny music. She’d been put on hold.

  Nessa took a calming breath and smiled. The ability to produce a smile of great forbearance at a moment of stress or irritation had been passed down to her from her mother, who had been, in Nessa’s mind, a true southern lady.

  Her irritation now under control, she made herself pick up a pen and prepare to jot down notes on a thick pad of paper.

  Finally, the music stopped, and a tentative woman’s voice said, “Uh, hello, is this the police?”

  “Detective Nessa Ainsley here, how can I help?”

  Nessa repeated her standard greeting, but this time her voice held a note of concern. The distress in the woman’s voice was palpable even over the phone.

  “This is Beth Carmichael. I’m an inmate at Willow Bay Women’s Detention Center and I want to file a report about my daughter. She’s missing. I think something bad must have happened to her.”

  Nessa felt the words vibrate in the pit of her stomach. Another missing girl. An unwelcome question popped into her mind.

  Will we find this one in time?

  A shiver coursed through her, despite the warmth of the room, but Nessa managed to keep her voice steady.

  “Sorry to hear that, Ms. Carmichael. We’ll need to fill out
a report and get all the details. First of all, how old is your daughter?”

  Over the next ten minutes Nessa established that Beth Carmichael’s sixteen-year-old daughter, Jessica Carmichael, had been staying with various friends and relatives while her mother was serving six months in the detention center that acted as the county’s jail for all female inmates.

  But no one, including Beth, had seen or heard from the teen for more than two weeks. Beth was beginning to panic. She’d reported her fears to one of the correction officers, who had suggested she file a missing person’s report in hopes the police could track down the teenager.

  “Do you have anybody in the area I can use as a point of contact? Someone who’ll know Jessica’s friends and such?” Nessa knew Beth wouldn’t be able to help find her daughter from inside the jail, and she knew that Jessica wouldn’t be able to communicate with her mother directly from the outside.

  “My lawyer has offered to help me. I don’t really have anyone else I can trust,” Beth said, her voice cracking. She sniffled and continued, “Leo Steele is my court-appointed lawyer. He takes on cases for free, or pro bono, or whatever. He promised to help me find Jessica.”

  “Yes, I know Mr. Steele. He’s a fine lawyer,” Nessa replied, with mixed emotions. She was glad to hear Beth Carmichael had someone competent working for her, but then again Leo Steele had won more cases for his criminal clients than Nessa liked to think about. He’d ruined the last district attorney’s conviction rate almost single-handedly.

  Beth sounded more optimistic when she said, “Leo worked really hard to get my sentence reduced. The first lawyer I had was useless. She talked me into accepting a plea bargain that had me serving three years in the state prison. Luckily that lawyer quit, and I got Leo. He managed to get them to reduce my time to six months in county. I’ve only got four months to go, but now…now Jess is missing.”