by Raen Smith
“Delaney,” I said warily, turning my head in all directions.
“I’m sorry, Evie,” she whispered. “They tracked me after I sent the second email. They saw the email you sent. But I promise - ”
It’s all I needed to hear. I broke the grip on her arm and sprinted toward the lake. I wouldn’t go down like this, not now. Ryan was right; I shouldn’t have come back. It was too dangerous, and now I had put us both at risk. I barely made it twenty yards when a black flash emerged from a bush right behind me. I felt the arms around my waist and the barreling body, soon after, that flushed me to the ground. My face scraped against the concrete as he yanked my arms behind my back, the handcuffs surrounding my wrists at once with a click.
Damn.
“Evie Parker, you are under arrest,” the man started. I closed my eyes, listening to the voice. It was low and gruff, but it held a hint of familiarity. There was a softness, as if he was talking to a friend or family member; a gentleness he probably didn’t like to admit. I would recognize that voice anywhere.
“Sanchez,” I groaned, interrupting the phrase I never wanted to hear directed to me.
“Evie, I have to finish it. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed. If you decide to answer any questions now, without an attorney present, you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney. Got it?” Sanchez finished then pulled me up to face him. Delaney stood twenty feet behind us where I had left her, pacing with her hands on her hips.
Damn, Delaney.
“Yeah, I got it,” I replied, looking into Sanchez’s tanned face. He looked exactly as he had a year ago; his skin a leathery tone that glistened in the sun. Sweat was dripping down the sides of his face, and I was instantly embarrassed that he had caught me that fast.
“Those glasses threw me off,” Sanchez grinned, resting his hands on his holster.
I stared straight ahead, looking past Sanchez at the still pacing Delaney. Two more cops appeared next to her. If it hadn’t been for her, I would still be in Norway with Ryan. Now, here I was, handcuffed and headed to prison.
“It wasn’t her fault,” Sanchez said, reading my gaze as he nodded back toward Delaney. “After I got the call about Father Haskens, we were on alert watching Sister Josephine and Delaney. It was so close to the year anniversary. The fact that the perpetrator didn’t steal anything and left in a hurry tipped me off that he might be back to raise some more hell, so to speak. There was something about it - too coincidental.”
“Great detective work.” I raised my eyebrows at him, amused with his gloating. If only the Appleton Police Department had kept a closer eye on its own employees and residents, I wouldn’t be here, handcuffed.
“So here we are,” Sanchez continued as he leaned closer to me. Sweat-soaked Old Spice flared in my nostrils. “Watching Delaney turned out to be good for me, after all. It got me what I was looking for.”
“You’re going to go after me when there’s someone out there that killed Father Haskens?” I asked, not flinching with his stare.
“Yeah because we need you,” Sanchez said, wiping the sweat from his brow.
“You need me?” I asked. Delaney walked toward me with the two other cops flanking each side like bodyguards. I eyed their holsters, their guns resting alongside their hips. I suddenly became painfully aware of my situation; handcuffed midday at the Chicago zoo. A mom with a stroller careened around them, shielding her toddler’s eyes from viewing me.
“What’s that girl doing mommy? Is she in trouble?” the little boy asked before the mom swung the stroller around and fled the other way.
Even a toddler knew I was a train wreck.
“Come with us,” Sanchez said as he grabbed my wrists and pushed me forward to the exit of the zoo. He walked behind me as Delaney and the officers walked alongside me. “We’ll talk and walk.”
“Can you come in front of me? I don’t want to talk behind me,” I said. I asked the question even though I knew the answer.
“No. I don’t trust you, not yet anyway.”
“Evie, just do it,” Delaney said as she pressed her sunglasses back down onto her face. “James is meeting us and can represent you. We can talk through this all.”
“Talk through what?” I asked. Up until this point, I’d kept my cool despite being arrested in the middle of the day after being completely and utterly free for the last year. I was working to put everything behind me and had moved on from the idea that I would ever have a family back in Wisconsin. Ryan was my family now, and I had betrayed him.
“We need your help, Evie, and we’re willing to make you a great deal,” Sanchez said.
A deal. They were going to make a deal with me?
“This doesn’t seem like a great deal to me. Tackled, handcuffed and led out of a goddamn zoo with three armed officers,” I replied, the sarcasm dripping from my voice. “All set up by my very own sister, whose life I saved.”
Delaney’s body tensed next to me as we walked out of the zoo. People stared and pointed at the entourage we had become. So much for not being noticed. I hated Delaney for doing this to me when I was so close to setting things straight with Ryan and moving blissfully on with a life in Norway. We could have stayed there for the rest of our lives without any trouble, simply me and Ryan living in the mountains. Instead, a pair of Appleton police cars were waiting to take me away. It dawned on me how bad they really wanted me. They had driven three and half hours to get me.
“Sister Josephine is missing,” Delaney finally whispered as she moved to the first car.
“What?” I asked. I thought I had heard her say missing, but it couldn’t possibly be true. Sister Josephine was missing?
“And we need your help finding her, before?” Sanchez stopped, opening the back door.
“Before what?” I asked, sliding into the back seat behind the confines of the bars. My body’s initial reaction was to fight back, to kick the other door open and flee down the street, but I focused my mind on Sanchez’s answer.
“Is it safe for you two to ride together?” Sanchez looked at Delaney, ignoring me in the back seat. Delaney nodded her head before she slid in beside me. I leaned my head over her lap as far as I could until my cuffed arms were unable to push me any further.
“Before what?” I asked again. My eyes concentrated on Sanchez’s gold badge. I wanted to hear him say it, to know how serious it was and how good of a deal they were willing to give me. I needed to know where we stood, how bad they needed me. I needed him to say the words that I feared the most.
“Before she’s dead.”
8
June 17, 8:10 a.m.
Appleton, Wisconsin
Sister Josephine opened her eyes to the sun streaming through the curtains of the unfamiliar room. She inhaled sharply for a moment, scanning her eyes around the room to see a picture of Carol’s gray cat, Mittens, on the dresser. Right next to it was her glass angel statue. That’s right, she reminded herself. I’m at Carol’s.
Carol, the administrative assistant at the Church, had graciously opened her house to Sister Josephine after the death of Father Haskens. Sister Josephine hadn’t taken up the offer until she had received the anonymous note yesterday. She couldn’t stay at the rectory or her own apartment anymore; it wasn’t safe.
She had contacted the only person she knew that would help her get out of this mess. Sister Josephine still hadn’t heard from Delaney, and she was afraid that Evie Parker wouldn’t be able to get to her in time. Delaney might be right, she silently chided herself as she still lay in bed. She should have gone to the police right away. She would now, after she made a stop at the Church.
Sister Josephine thought of Evie as she swung the blanket away from her legs in a gentle sweeping motion. In her memories, sh
e always saw Evie as a child; the small girl that Sister Josephine had held all night after washing her bloodied hands. Poor Evie had been thrust into a life of violence she knew nothing about. She wasn’t made for that life, but Holston had forced her hand into it.
In the beginning, Sister Josephine had taken Evie in with a tender hand, hoping that she would be able to provide any ounce of normalcy that she could to the young girl. She had coddled her, wrapping Evie close into her warm arms. She would do anything to protect this little girl from Holston. As the teenage years wore on, Sister Josephine could see the change in Evie from a shy, little girl to a hardened, questioning young woman. Sister Josephine had marked it off at first, blaming the usual adolescence to the abrupt change, yet she’d had it wrong.
Evie had discovered what Sister Josephine had known all along; a past and truth she only knew in the darkest whispers. But Sister Josephine had closed her ears long before Evie was a teenager for fear of what she would hear. She knew who Holston was, to some degree, but she couldn’t bring herself to confront her guardian angel.
And despite how hard she had tried to keep the truth from her, Evie had uncovered the evil that resided inside Holston Parker. Neither of them, up until the FBI and police had discovered the remains of the bodies in the Hinske’s backyards, had actually known how desperate and evil he had become. Sister Josephine had turned a blind eye much earlier, praying that it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.
Sister Josephine had been wrong and for that, she was truly remorseful. She should have taken Evie away as a child. Holston wouldn’t have stopped her then. He still had a soft spot for Sister Josephine then; he still had some sliver of humanity buried deep inside. Still, he had transformed over the years, becoming more aggressive and violent in the quiet of the Church when no one was looking. She saw it in his black eyes. He had sins that he desperately wanted to rid himself of. More death wasn’t going to take the sins away, she knew that, and as much as she tried to convince him of that, he never listened.
She slipped her feet into the slippers waiting along the bed. Their softness enveloped her feet and comforted her as she moved toward the nightstand. She pulled the rosary off it and rolled the small beads between her fingers.
She had prayed last night just before the clock had hit midnight for strength and endurance as God continued His plan. She hoped that God’s plan would end more mercifully for herself than it had for Father Haskens. She also prayed for the man who had given Father Haskens the heart attack. She prayed for the same man that had left the note for her to find the light in his heart to stop whatever he was planning.
Her feet moved beneath her, walking her toward the door, before she stopped momentarily to see her own reflection. She ran her fingers through the silvery strands mixed with the slightest bit of brown and wondered where the time had gone. Her mind flashed back to the early days of the convent school. So much joy and excitement had flooded through her as she had embarked on the journey with her fellow sisters. It seemed like so long ago and so many years had passed since then. Those years were filled with times of joy and servitude working with Father Haskens.
Heavy bags were forming under her eyes, a sign of stress she had never endured before. She poked them with her index finger, feeling the squishiness of her skin. She couldn’t let the worry of the note get to her. She had a job to do. She had to prepare a proper burial for Father Haskens. She would take her chances on the police and God.
Sister Josephine turned back to the door, listening and waiting to hear the sounds of Carol in the kitchen, but instead heard nothing. Her breath quickened as she pushed the door open. She poked her head out into the hall, but it was empty.
“Carol?” she called into the hallway.
No response. Her voice was alone in Carol’s house. She reached her hand to grasp the statue of the guardian angel. Her fingers curled around the glass, gripping it tightly as she moved into the hallway. She told herself to breathe. No one was here. Whoever it was that was looking for her wouldn’t find her here.
She had been silent about staying here and had just ducked into the house late last night. Besides, she had gone through the house again after Carol had gone to bed. She had checked every window and door, locking every single one. Then she went through the house again. She was sure she would have heard someone coming in. She was an incredibly light sleeper who jumped at every door slam and extra gust of the wind.
Sister Josephine crept into the kitchen, her slippers soft against the linoleum of the floor. She looked at the neon lights of the microwave. They glowed back at her with surprising numbers. 8:15. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept in so late. The exhaustion and sleepless nights were finally getting to her.
A small thud sounded behind her.
Her heart pulsed as she whipped around, raising the statue high in the air. She wouldn’t let this man take her. She would fight and scream until he begged her to stop. He wouldn’t know what hit him. She held the statue ready to strike, expecting to see a dark outline of a man before her. Instead, she stared at Carol’s gray cat, Mittens, licking its paws with a soft, glowing expression.
It’s just a cat, she told herself, trying to catch her breath. She placed her hand on the counter when her eyes landed on a note next to the cat. She shooed the cat away, and Mittens meowed gently before jumping down.
Sister Josephine, I went to Church to work on a few things this morning. Call me if you need anything. I think we should focus on the funeral arrangements this afternoon. I should be back around lunchtime. Carol.
Carol was at Church. She felt her fingers loosen their grip on the statue, her arm relaxing enough to set it on the counter next to the note.
It’s just a note, Josephine. But the note she had found yesterday had been one she’d never expected to receive. She would go to the police, right after she made a stop at the Church. She gazed at the face of the angel statue, praying that despite what he had done, that Holston was looking over her from wherever he was, whether it was Heaven or Hell.
9
June 19, 4:00 p.m.
Milwaukee, Wisconsin
I was in a Milwaukee Police Station. More specifically, District Four, according to the sign on the one-story building. The building was at the northern most point of the city, just two hours south of the town I left a year ago for good. Appleton seemed too eerily close for me.
The nuances of Wisconsin accents and mannerisms greeted me at the door. It started with Betty the building administrator, who smiled voraciously at me even though I was a fugitive. Then there was another officer who politely said hello to me as he walked by on our way to the interrogation room. I was back in the Midwest, there was no doubt.
I found myself in an interrogation room where James was already waiting for me. I wasn’t sure if he was happy to see me, although he gave me a meager smile and head nod anyway. Delaney and the other two officers waited outside the door as I slid into a seat next to James whose suit jacket was already off, his tie loosened around his neck.
He forced another smile and ran his fingers through his hair, tapping the manila folder on the table. I was sure that he wasn’t happy to see me. If your only memory of someone is watching that person kill three other people, I imagine it’s hard to see that individual in a different light. Plus, James typically didn’t deal with criminals. He was a transaction lawyer, dealing with business acquisitions and contracts. He didn’t step into a courtroom, ever. He probably wasn’t the best person to represent me, but I didn’t exactly have a contact list for lawyers that represented criminals.
“Evie.”
“James.” I replied, my mind flashing to the last memory of him. He was bleeding out on the couch, thanks to Holston. “All healed up?”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning closer to me. “Off the record, I never got a chance to thank you. Probably not the best time to be doing this, but thank you for saving my life.”
“No problem.” This made me crack a small smile. I
t was the first glint of relief I’d felt since arriving in the states. I stared at my brother-in-law, trying to force my mind to wrap around the fact that he was just that - my brother-in-law. My family. But it didn’t stick.
I was grateful that Sanchez took a seat across from me. He laid a thicker folder on the table, about to open it, and then stopped. He stared at me with his luminous dark eyes and under-eye bags that hung with the shadows of stress.
“Before we get started, I want you to know I’ve never done this before,” Sanchez said slowly, hanging on his words. “It’s not standard protocol, especially for our department. I got the go ahead to offer you a plea agreement, but I want you to know, I wanted you to come back. I think you would be a valuable asset to the case, and I want to be able to trust you.”
I nodded my head in understanding, placing my handcuffed hands on the table with a clank. I made sure the chains scraped against the surface, the sound echoing through the room. I stared down at my hands before looking at him. He leaned in, unlocking the handcuffs and pulling them toward him.
“Thanks,” I said as I rubbed my wrists before setting them in my lap.
“So, what’s the deal?” James asked. “My client won’t talk before we hear the deal.”
Sanchez opened the folder and recited the charges. “You’ve been charged with a felony against the state for identity theft and falsification, and for fleeing a crime scene and country with a warrant out for your arrest. The state is not charging you in the deaths of Lieutenant Schaefer, Janice Hinske and Holston Parker. All determined to be self-defense according to witnesses. Ken Hinske was left unharmed in his bed at the time, which helped your case as well.”
He paused, momentarily looking up as if he had something else to say, but stopped. Either they never pieced together the case with Theron and the barn, including Holston’s other henchmen, or he wasn’t saying. I studied him, deducting that Sanchez had a gut feeling but no evidence to go back on. The case was closed.