“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Johnson said. “I've read your reports. I've also read that this Morgan girl and her father have left the state.”
“I'm in constant contact with them. I have their statements, and honestly, it's probably best since this Walker guy is running circles around us.”
Johnson leaned over the desk, peered right into Howard's eyes, and said, “Then make him stop. You've got one week. If you don't make progress by then, I'm moving the case to someone else. And honestly, if it lasts any longer than that, it's probably going to end up going cold, especially with the victim out of state.”
Howard swallowed a lump that had started forming in his throat. He could try to argue, but it would do no good. No one argued with the Chief.
“Yes, sir,” Howard replied.
Chief Johnson nodded and strolled off, mumbling something about getting some sleep. Howard let out a deep sigh when he thought the Chief was far enough away. One week, he thought. Not even close to enough time. It was almost as if the Chief was trying to push this case completely under the rug. As for reasons why, Howard had no idea.
Chapter 4
Monday, April 13
6:07 PM
Freya snapped her eyes open and sat up in bed. Her heart was going a mile a minute. She blinked a couple of times and realized that she was safe in her father's New York condo. She wasn't being violated. She was okay. He wasn't here. He couldn't hurt her anymore.
Kicking her legs over the bed, she padded over to the connecting bathroom. Flipping on the light to the bathroom, revealed soft cream walls, marble countertops, and brushed nickel designer faucets—her father's perks of being the head of a major publishing company. She wandered to the sink and splashed her face with water.
When she was done drying herself off, she glanced at pill bottles lined up along the counter. It was all of the medication she was taking: anti-depressants, anti-anxiety pills, birth control pills.
After finding out that she was not pregnant, she had taken the precautions of making sure she'd never have a scare like that again. The rest of the pills were for her spiraling depression that had gotten worse as time had progressed. She had been living in her father's guestroom for over the past three months. During that time, she had barely ventured out of the room, let alone out of the condo itself. She just couldn't muster up the strength or the will to face the world.
Her father had been so patient with her, but she knew that he was worried. Once a week, he had a therapist come in and talk with her. Her father also had a private physician come in twice a month as well. They hadn't really been helping though. She had lost a tremendous amount of weight, and she slept a lot of the day. The cuts on her back and the rope burns on her wrists had healed nicely into scars that were a daily reminder of what James had done to her.
The one blessing had been that James had not tried to contact her at her father's, which was good because they had found out that Detective Greene, who had been so helpful, had been booted from the case a while ago. The detective that replaced him had not been so helpful. Her father had eventually broken contact with the guy. Even though neither Freya nor her father had had any contact with James Walker, Freya was still frightened for her life. She wondered if there would ever be a time where she would feel safe leaving the house.
Walking back out into her bedroom, Freya flopped down on the bed. It was the place in which she spent most of her time, at least when her father was away at work. It was a nice space, small for Charlotte-living standards but nice for New York. There was also a nice view of New York City from her window, so she spent a lot of time watching the hustling and bustling of the city. She hated living in a city this big, though. It made at least attempting to leave the condo pretty much impossible.
She had begun to close her eyes when she heard the front door to the condo open; her father was home. She tried the best that she could to put on a good show for her father, so she always tried to be awake and coherent when her father was home, even though the meds that she was on made her groggy.
Freya wandered out into the open concept living room/dining room/kitchen that made up the main space of her father's home. It was smartly designed in a contemporary style and specifically selected by her father. The color scheme was monochrome, unlike the guest suite Freya was staying in. It was the favorite style for a lot of New Yorkers, but Freya really couldn't stand sitting out there for any length of time. It was too...cold.
Greeting her father at the door, she stopped and stared in surprise at what she saw. Her father came in the door carrying several wrapped packages, dressed in his normal suit and tie. He smiled when he saw her, shutting the door and setting down the packages.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he told her.
For a moment, Freya just gaped at the multiple packages on the floor. She had lost track of the days. She rarely watched television or read a newspaper. She mostly just lived life one day at a time, struggling all along the way.
Was it the thirteenth already? She was not prepared to be twenty-six. Yeah, twenty-six with no job, dependent on her father, and living in fear every single day. That sounded really appealing. Her life was a complete mess.
Noticing the frown that was starting to form on her father's face, she quickly got herself together and tried to smile.
“Dad, you didn't have to,” she told him.
“Yes, I did,” her father said, his expression lightening. “You've been through...a lot this year.
That was the understatement of the year.
“You didn't have to get anything,” she told him quietly.
She honestly didn't need anything.
“Come on,” he waved her over to one of the two couches that ran the length of the living room, creating a conversation space.
He picked up the packages and moved them to the living room space.
She always felt out of place sitting in her father's living room, since she was usually in sweatpants and sweatshirts. Awkwardly sitting down, she waited for her father to get himself situated. Her father first opened a larger box. It contained a gorgeous looking birthday cake, complete with candles and everything.
“I thought we'd have some later,” her father told her.
He was always trying to get her to eat something. Freya had dropped several clothing sizes since coming to New York. She had lost her appetite since the attack. The prospect of cake didn't sound very appealing at that moment.
“Maybe later,” she agreed quietly.
“Here,” her father said, handing her a smaller box. “Open this one first. It's from Doctor Myles.” Doctor Myles was the personal physician that saw Freya once a month at her father's condo.
Freya tentatively began taking the wrapping off the small box. Inside, there was an envelope. She looked back at her father in confusion, but he urged her to open it. The envelope contained one sheet of crisp white paper. It was a letter.
“Read it,” her father urged.
It only took a moment for Freya's eyes to scan through the contents.
“It's from Dr. Myles,” Freya murmured. “And...”
She gasped, excitement growing in her chest.
“I tested negative!”
She had almost forgotten that her doctor had taken a blood sample a week ago, the last HIV test she'd have to have.
Tears started to fall, but they were the first ones in a long time that were happy tears. She suddenly felt her father's arms around her in one of his classic bear-hugs. At least it was one less thing to worry about.
“Honestly, sweetheart, I don't think my presents come even close to that news,” her father said, his voice choked with emotion.
He wasn't one to cry, but she could hear the emotion in his voice.
Freya barely remembered opening the rest of her presents or the cake that she had managed to gulp down. At least for that evening, she felt okay.
Chapter 5
Friday, May 15
10:40 PM
James sat in
a darkened room with only the light of his pre-paid cell phone and laptop computer. He was anxious. It had been too long since he had been out of contact with his little slut. He had been told not to go after her when she had run to daddy in New York. Yeah, that wasn't going to stay that way for long. He wanted her. Needed her. Needed to bury himself inside her, to cut into her skin. James had never left a girl alive. He had also never gotten so much police attention before. But he had to finish her before he could move on.
He could already feel himself growing hard thinking about what he would do to her when he finally got her back. The other girls he had done hadn't been like her. Sure, they had all been sweet little virgins (the only type of girl he wanted). Once he had fucked them, he had made a quick job of slitting their throats and finding a convenient place for the body. But James had found himself prolonging his experience with Freya. He loved the way she had cried and screamed. It had also been the reason why he hadn't been able to finish her off initially.
And that asshole of a father of hers had ruined everything for him.
James felt the anger rising in his chest. He would finish what he had started. He didn't care if he wasn't supposed to leave Charlotte with his “activities.” No one was the boss of him. He had been waiting too long for another girl, but he didn't want to move on. No, he was coming after Freya, regardless of the consequences.
Moving his attention to his laptop, he began preparations. The house that he was using as his current base of operations was a bank foreclosure, and James had been “borrowing” it for the last couple of days. He was also “borrowing” the neighbor's wireless access to avoid detection. It wasn't exactly the usual space that he preferred.
James enjoyed luxury, not this empty house without electricity or running water. However, he did enjoy being a step ahead of the rest of the world, and so he often moved around, changing addresses, cars. Even his appearance was subject to change. This month, he had decided to go for brown hair just to switch things up.
He had debated on coming after Freya without any warning but had nixed the idea. It was more fun when he made her squeal. Besides, he knew how her father operated. There was no way that he'd send her away. And Joe Morgan was a high-profile kind of guy. No matter where he moved her, James could find all his property listings, telephone calls, and email accounts.
No, he would play with his prey first before the main fun began.
Chapter 6
Saturday, May 16
7:55 PM
Freya watched as her father flopped heavily down on the couch right next to her, a bowl of popcorn in his hand. He fished for the remote to the seventy-inch LED television, and when he found it, flipped it on. This had been their ritual for the past four Saturday nights: movie night. It had been her father's idea that they spend more quality time together (instead of Freya hiding in her room all day). Of course, her father had to be careful about the type of movie they watched. Most genres just ended up upsetting Freya, so it was usually silly comedies that they watched together.
“What are we watching tonight?” She asked wearily, wishing that she could just go back to her room and sleep.
Her psychiatrist had adjusted her meds, and they were draining her.
“A classic,” he said proudly. “Space Balls.”
Freya rolled her eyes. This would not be the first she had watched that movie with her father. It appealed to his goofy side.
“Oh goody,” she murmured.
“Are you being flip with me, young lady?” He asked, half-mocking.
“Yep,” she said and sank as best she could into the sofa.
There was something about this contemporary furniture. It looked nice but was super uncomfortable.
The movie had just started when the house phone began to ring. Freya made it a point never to answer the phone if she wasn't one hundred percent certain that it was her father, so she looked over to her father to answer it.
“Just let it go to the answering machine,” he told her. “It can wait.”
Freya tried to turn her attention back to the movie, but the phone continued to ring. Finally, the answering machine picked up. After the caller was instructed to leave a message after the beep, she heard the following words creep out from the speakers like words from the devil himself:
“Freya...I know you're there. Did you think you could run away with your daddy? I'm going to come get you there, you little slut. You can't hide from me. I'll get you wherever you go...”
Her father had jumped to intercept the message on the answering machine, grabbing the phone out of its cradle.
“Listen, you sick son-of-a-bitch,” her father shouted into the phone. “You leave her alone! Hello? Hello? Fuck! He hung up!”
By this time, Freya felt so weak that she could barely move, barely think. It had been months since his last contact with her. She thought that it had been over. She felt her body start to shake. Sinking down onto the couch, she curled into a little ball and shut her eyes tight. In the background, she could hear her father calling 911 and talking to an operator. All she could do was lay there, frozen with fear.
Chapter 7
Sunday, May 17
2:30 PM
Joe Morgan paced around his hotel room, about a million thoughts rushing through his head. Most of them were thinking about how pissed he was. It had been months since that bastard Walker had tried to contact Freya.
Why now? Why torment her when she was just starting to heal? Now, she was catatonic again, not moving, not saying anything, just there.
Joe had taken her to a nice hotel after their lovely brief encounter with the police. They had come to his condo, listened to the message, and concluded that there wasn't much they could do. A restraining order granted in one state didn't necessarily apply to others. Or they just didn't care. That was another option that Joe had considered.
He had gotten Freya to the hotel late last night. The hotel was one that he used to visit all the time when he first started his company in New York, so he had had a pretty good reputation with them. The staff hadn't been too fussy when he had hauled his daughter in very late last night. She had been white as a ghost at the time, and he had gotten an expensive two-bedroom suite, so she could get some rest. The irony was, she had refused to stay by herself and had collapsed on the couch in the connecting room. She was still sleeping right now. Occasionally, she would wake up with a start. Joe knew that she was fighting bad dreams.
As for dreams himself, he hadn't gotten the chance to dream because he hadn't gotten the chance to sleep. Late last night he couldn't sleep, and now he was too busy. He had spent the morning on the phone with some of his lawyers and the afternoon with the detective in Charlotte who had been reassigned to their case.
Detective Davis was not exactly as helpful as Detective Greene had been. The words incompetent and apathetic came to mind when describing Davis. Joe had wished that Greene was back on the case. He was the only one who seemed to give a damn about his baby girl.
Joe paused in his pacing for a moment. That had given him an idea. What was to stop him from contacting Detective Howard Greene? The guy wasn't exactly on the case, but maybe he could help? Maybe he could at least give some advice? Fumbling through the contacts in his phone, he dialed Greene's number.
There were a few rings before Joe heard, “Greene.”
“Detective Greene,” Joe started, then decided upon first name basis instead. “Howard, this is Joe Morgan.”
“Yeah?” Howard said in surprise. “Man, I haven't heard from you in a while. How is everything going? How is Freya doing?”
Deciding not to beat around the bush, Joe explained the situation.
“Damn, I am so sorry,” Howard said after hearing out Joe. “There's unfortunately not much I can do from my end. My boss decided that I hadn't done a good job on your case and moved me out.”
“And Davis is doing better?” Joe exclaimed. “You were the only person who got anywhere with it.”
The
re was a pause on the line before Howard said, “Well, you know how politics go sometimes. Look, I'll do what I can.”
“Hey, thanks, I appreciate it and so does Freya,” Joe replied sincerely. “I was also hoping you could give some advice with what I do with her right now. You seemed to have developed a pretty good profile on Walker.”
“Yeah, sure. What do you need?”
“I need to figure out a place where Freya can be safe, but this Walker guy seems to know where to find her.”
“He seems very technically capable,” Howard said. “What he did to that Jag's on-board computer and GPS that we found was pretty intricate. Definitely not an average user. Since he found you in New York, I would assume he's been hacking through some things that he shouldn't be, possibly financial records, emails, phone records, who knows? You're a pretty high-profile guy with your company. That creates an easy way to find her.”
“So, you're saying that I should keep my daughter away from me?” Joe asked grimly.
The thought of Freya being away from him was unnerving.
“Look, I'm not saying either way, but you want to be careful with how you use technology. Email, phones, credit card statements, anything that is public knowledge like properties you own, I'm betting he can find.”
“Then what am I supposed to do? We don't have a ton of close relatives. I don't necessarily want to take her back to Charlotte either where a lot of my friends and her friends are.”
“I'm sure you'll figure out something,” Howard said. “In the meantime, be careful about technology, okay? And I'll try to see what I can dig up.”
“Sure thing,” Joe told him before hitting the end button on his phone.
He plopped down heavily on the sofa next to Freya's sleeping body and sighed. He was scared for his daughter. From what the detective had told him, this Walker guy was out of control and dangerous. Where was he supposed to take her that was safe? If the guy could hack into things, what was safe? Walker might even be able to see this hotel reservation on Joe's credit card. Now that was a thought that worried him.
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