She still was ashamed of the whole situation with Brian. He had been nothing but sweet, supportive, and protective. However, she had still been humiliated that he knew everything. She had tried so hard to keep her secret from him. She had wanted him to think she wasn't so flawed. But he hadn't judged. He had been amazing. The way he had held her and comforted her during the storm had made her feel so safe, despite the roaring winds.
Freya shuddered at the thought of the guesthouse. Brian had shut the curtains in the room and hadn't allowed her to see the mess outside. She couldn't help but think that if he hadn't gotten her when he did, she'd be flattened with the rest of the house.
There was a short knock at the door. It was already cracked, but she supposed Brian was being polite.
“Hey, Freya,” he said, entering the room. Unlike her, he hadn't changed since the previous night yet. “The doctor's here. He's going to look at your foot.”
“Okay,” she said, though she was a little apprehensive about letting a stranger examine her.
It had been done to her so many times at the hospital, but after she had left, she had only wanted people she knew working with her. Dr. Myles was familiar to her, and so was her psychiatrist. She felt comfortable with them, and even though she trusted Brian, strangers still made her nervous.
A middle-aged man stepped into the room. He was slightly balding with sandy brown hair and a somewhat friendly expression on his face. He looked a bit tired and was wearing a tracksuit. Freya wondered if he had been affected by the storm as well.
“Hi, my name is Dr. Franklin,” the man told her. “Sorry about the appearance, but I've been without power the whole night.” He looked at Brian and smiled grimly. “Either you're special, or you must have a back-up generator.”
“Generator,” Brian confirmed.
“Yeah, I should have gotten one a long time ago with the winters we have up here,” Dr. Franklin confirmed. “Now, let's look at the young lady here. Would you like Brian to stay during the exam or leave?”
Freya floundered for a moment. Brian had seen and heard the worst about her. What would it matter if he heard some more at this point? Plus, she would feel better not facing a stranger alone, even if he was a doctor.
“He can stay,” she said quietly.
She looked over at Brian to see the look of relief on his face. He must have not wanted to leave her alone as well. That fact made her feel at least a bit better.
“Good then,” the doctor told her. “Now...Freya, is it?” She nodded. “So, Brian has told me you messed up your foot pretty good.” She nodded again.
Dr. Franklin walked up to the bed and looked at her right foot, wrapped in an ice pack.
After a brief examination, he said, “Looks a bit swollen. Can't tell if it's broken without an x-ray. You could have just sprained it. We'll go through a full exam and go from there.”
Dr. Franklin proceeded to get the essentials: age, height, weight (which Freya was ashamed to say because she was way underweight), allergies, etcetera. Meanwhile, Brian stood at the door, arms crossed, studying the doctor's every move. When the doctor went to get her blood pressure, he paused at her wrists, looking directly at her scars. And odd expression crossed his face.
“Um, may I ask how you got these?” Dr. Franklin asked.
“I...” Freya started, but she didn't know what to say.
She looked to Brian for help.
“She was attacked six months ago,” he told the doctor coldly. “That's all you need to know right now.”
Dr. Franklin looked at Brian and then back at Freya.
“I'd like to speak with Freya alone.”
Brian looked agitated. Freya knew what he was thinking: that Dr. Franklin thought Brian could be involved in her injuries.
“It's okay,” she told Brian. “I'm fine.”
He looked uncomfortable, but he nodded and said, “I'll be outside if you need anything.”
As soon as he left the room and the door closed, Dr. Franklin looked at her and said, “Now, I've known Brian for many years. I've always thought him an honorable and respectable man. However, I have got to ask, and I want you to answer honestly: Has Brian hurt you?”
Freya could have laughed. The doctor had no clue, but it was his professional duty to ask. So, she gathered all the strength she had for Brian's sake.
“No,” she answered firmly, looking him in the eye. “It was another man...There's still an open investigation, so I would appreciate it if you kept this confidential. Brian has been...helping me through this hard time.”
She looked at the doctor square in the eyes. Freya has screwed up a lot of things in the past, but she wasn't going to blow this one.
“Oh, dear,” Dr. Franklin said. “I may have jumped to conclusions. I'm sorry, Freya. And, of course, this is confidential.” After a brief pause, he added, “Why don't we have Brian come back in?”
“Sure,” she said, trying to form a smile.
The rest of the exam went without a hitch. Brian watched Dr. Franklin like a hawk as he performed the rest of the exam. At the end, Dr. Franklin recommended that she get an x-ray if the swelling didn’t go down in a day or so.
“There's an Urgent Care not too far from here,” the doctor said to Brian. “You can take her there in a few days and get it checked out."
"No!" Freya exclaimed. "No hospitals. Not even Urgent Care. He'll...he'll find me. He's done it before." She looked frantically at Brian. "I can't go. Please don't make me go."
The room was quiet. Both men stared at her.
Finally, Dr. Franklin responded. "I don't recommend skipping an x-ray, but...keep her off her feet until Monday. She can see me at the office. I'll try to find a boot for her. That's probably what they'd give her at the Urgent Care, anyhow. Even if it was a break, most orthopedists will try not to cast it if not necessary. We'll do this as discreet as possible."
“What about my medications?” Freya asked suddenly, realizing that they were under a crushed house.
“Yeah,” Brian piped in. “She lost them when the tree crushed the guesthouse.”
Dr. Franklin nodded and said, “Yeah, I saw that mess out there. Freya, you're lucky you're alive if you were staying there. I can write you some prescriptions, depending on what they are. Others, I would need to actually have you as a patient.”
Nodding, Freya told him to the best of her knowledge what she had been on. As she went down the list, Dr. Franklin looked more and more disturbed.
“Uh, I can send you up some samples for the birth control,” Dr. Franklin mumbled. “The damned drug companies gave me a ton of that type. I'll send it by this afternoon. But as for the rest...Freya, I'm not comfortable with the combinations of the others you told me. Some of those anxiety medications and anti-depressants can interact with each other, especially with the amounts that you've told me. You didn't have side-effects?”
Looking down at the comforter on the bed, she said, “Maybe some drowsiness. Loss of appetite.”
Dr. Franklin snorted. “You're lucky that was it. Who prescribed that combination? I'd get a second opinion if I were you.”
“My psychiatrist...” Freya said trailing off. “My dad can probably get me my regular prescriptions when he comes down.”
Brian nodded, but the doctor shook his head.
“Still, I'd like to see you Monday at my practice if you can get out there,” the doctor told her. “As I said, I’m not a psych doctor, but I may be able to refer you to a few around here who can make some adjustments.”
“I'll get her out there,” Brian spoke up.
“Good,” Dr. Franklin said. “Now continue to ice your foot to get the swelling down, and I'll see you on Monday...And I hope the best for you, Freya.”
“Thank you,” she mumbled, though she felt so lost. Her medications were dangerous? She could barely cope without them.
7:45 AM
“Brian, I am sorry that I assumed you had something to do with that girl's injuries,” Dr. Franklin t
old Brian as they walked outside toward the doctor's SUV.
“I understand why you did,” Brian replied. “But excuse me if I'm still a little bit pissed. I just found out about it myself last night.”
“You'll get over it,” Dr. Franklin said, a wry smile coming to his face.
Brian wanted to be mad at the man, but Dr. Franklin was too nice of a guy. Brian didn't know of many docs that would drive up to someone's house at seven in the morning for a favor. Franklin was still very old school, and he had also just been doing his job as a professional. Brian would have assumed the same thing if he had been in the man's situation.
“Yeah, whatever,” Brian said, trying to smile. He had found that it had been hard to smile since he had found out about Freya. “How much do I owe you?”
“Eh, I'll send a bill,” Franklin said, shrugging and returning a smile.
“You do realize this has to be off the books,” Brian told him. “The man who did that to Freya is still at large, and the guy is good at digging through information electronically. Put my name down for her appointment on Monday. I’m dead serious about this. Her life is in danger.”
“Sure,” Franklin said. “And, again, I'll get her those birth control samples, so you don't have to file a prescription in town.”
Brian winced at the thought of Freya being on birth control and wondered whether she'd gone on it after Walker had brutalized her.
“But Lord, Brian,” he continued. “I can't honestly prescribe her any of the other drugs without a full evaluation. I don't even know how she was functioning with what she was on.”
“I understand,” Brian said. “I'll get her in on Monday to see you.”
“Great,” Franklin said, nodding and opening the SUV door. “And keep her off her foot. Hopefully, she just wrenched it. It won't be fun if she has to wear a boot for weeks on end or a cast.”
“Just hoping and praying that it doesn't have to come to that,” Brian agreed as Franklin shut the car door and drove off.
9:58 AM
Alexis sat in her Infiniti and looked at the clock on the dash impatiently. If Howard was late again, she swore she'd kill him. It was one thing being late for coffee, but it was another to leave her sitting in an area on the west side of town in a trailer park of all places. Yeah, he had completely forgotten to tell her that the address was to a trailer park on the outskirts of Mecklenburg County. People around the area were starting to look at her funny. One of the interesting things about living in Mecklenburg County was that it was both big city, suburbs, and country all in one. It was something that she liked about the area, but she swore if Howard wasn't going to get his butt over here soon, she would hightail it back to her Uptown loft.
The trailer park itself was run down, although there were some newer campers that were interspersed with some of the older ones. The name of the place was “Winter Springs,” which was an oxymoron in and of itself. However, Alexis thought that the place should have been called “Winter Apocalypse.” The place was a wasteland of beat-up trucks and half-rusted out cars. Currently, there was no one out and about, which she was glad for. She didn't fit in here with her luxury car and designer shoes.
A knock on her car window made her jump. When she craned her neck to see who it was, she sighed. Of course, it was Howard, wearing jeans and another one of his classic button-down shirts with a leather jacket over it, this time in light blue. Why couldn't the man ever look ugly?
Opening the door, she tried to glare at him as much as possible.
“Took you long enough,” she grumbled as she stepped out of the car.
“Hey,” he said, pointing to his watch. “I'm right on time.”
Damn it if he wasn't.
“Okay, Greene,” she told him. “Let's get this over with.”
“Hey! I've been upgraded from 'Detective' to 'Greene.' I bet in another week you'll be calling me 'Sweetheart.'”
“Shut up, and let's go,” she said, ignoring his attempts at charm and humor.
She got out of her car and started heading toward the trailer park's landlord office—or whatever they called it in a trailer park. She wasn't quite sure. Howard trailed behind her. When they got there, he pulled in front of her and opened the door to the office (which was also a trailer).
“I go first,” he told her.
She rolled her eyes at him again, but she secretly was glad that he was taking charge. This kind of thing wasn't her. She waited for the law to bring her the bad guys, and then she got them convicted. She still honestly didn't know why she was a part of this. Perhaps she thought that justice would never get served if she waited for James Walker to make his way into the court system.
When Howard opened the door to the management office, a strong smell affronted Alexis's nose. From the look on Howard's face, he was not particularly happy with the smell either. The office was the living section of a trailer complete with small TV, dirty dishes, dirty laundry, and some unidentifiable piles of garbage. There were stains all over the seating areas as well. On one of the couches, was a skinny old man with long scraggly hair. He was wearing a stained wife-beater shirt and a pair of jeans that had seen better days. He was dosing soundly.
“Hello?” Howard called. The man stirred but did not wake up. “HELLO?” Howard called again—this time much louder.
The man opened his eyes and sighed.
“I 'eard ya the first time,” he said in a very thick Carolina accent, sitting straight up in his seat. His eyes looked to Howard in his nice button-down shirt and then to Alexis in her jacket and jeans. “I'm thinkin' that ya'll aren't wanting to rent. Ya'll from the gov'rnment or somethin'?”
“Actually,” Howard said, reaching to his jacket pocket to show his badge. “I'm Detective Howard Greene from CMPD. This is Alexis Montgomery, an Assistant DA for Mecklenburg County. We have a few questions for you.”
The man grunted, stood up, and said, “Well, well. We have the big shots here. Ya'll aren't here for me, right?” He grinned. “Name's Henry Wiggins by the way. I'm the owner-operator of this fine establishment.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Wiggins,” Howard replied. Alexis was nervous as hell, but Howard seemed so at ease. “And, no, we're not here specifically for you. We need some information about a tenant you had last year. His last known address was this place. His name is Alexander Clark.”
Wiggins looked thoughtful a moment and scratched his chin.
“Oh!” He said as if he remembered something important. “Yeah, I know 'im. Though I never called him that. He wanted to be called James. Signed his tenant agreement Alexander, but 'veryone around here called him James.”
Alexis’s heart almost popped out of her chest. She had suspected that Alexander J. W. Clark had actually been James Walker, but now she was one hundred percent sure.
“Uh,” Howard mumbled. He looked just as shocked as Alexis felt. “I don't suppose his trailer...I mean...home has been occupied? I'd like to look at it if you wouldn't mind.”
“I'd love to help ya'll out, but the trailer he was in was taken out.”
Alexis's heart sank. If they could get fingerprints that matched the ones at Freya's apartment, they'd have a solid case. Unfortunately, right now, all the evidence that they had was coincidental. It would never fly in court, and it would just serve to piss the chief of police off.
“May I ask why it was taken out?” Howard asked.
“Fire damage...wasn't worth it to salvage,” Wiggins replied. “Got me a good chunk of insurance money, though.”
“Was the fire during Mr. Clark's duration as a tenant?” Alexis asked.
“Uh...well,” Wiggins began. He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “It was during his stay here, toward the end. He, uh, left after I couldn't find him an available unit.”
“When was that?” Alexis asked.
“Uh, early January? I think,” Wiggins told her. “I could find you some paperwork, but as you see, I'm a little disorganized.” He pointed to the mess around him.
If it had been early January, then the fire might not have been accidental. The guy may have been covering his tracks after Freya was rescued. Whatever happened, it sounded very fishy.
“Any foul play suspected?” Howard asked.
The whole thing sounded suspicious to Alexis, and it seemed to sound a bit strange to Howard as well.
“Fire department cleared it,” Wiggins said, suddenly sounding very defensive. “Said it was accidental. I hope ya'll aren't suggesting any wrong doin' on my part.”
“No, no,” Howard said, trying to soothe the old man. “As we said, we're looking for Clark.”
Alexis noted to herself to check the fire department's report to see what they suspected.
Wiggins seemed to calm down from his agitated state.
“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Do you need any more information?”
“Do you have a forwarding address for Clark?” Howard asked.
“You know, he never did,” Wiggins apologized.
Alexis shifted uncomfortably next to Howard. His question had been a long shot, but it, unfortunately, hadn't panned out. Walker was too quick for that.
“Can you at least tell me approximately how long Clark stayed here?” Howard continued.
“Um, maybe about four months until he left in January,” Wiggins replied.
“You said something about a lease agreement?” Alexis cut in.
“Yeah, everyone signs one,” Wiggins replied. “Even if they own their trailer cuz they're still rentin' the spot.”
“Could you get that paperwork for us?” She asked.
A paper trail would be a good start at least with finding some substantial evidence against Walker.
“Uh,” Wiggins mumbled, looking around the messy trailer. “Yeah, about that...I've misplaced a lot of my files recently.”
Alexis sighed. Of course, he had. It was just their luck that any evidence that could have pinned Clark as Walker was either destroyed or missing.
“One last thing, Mr. Wiggins, before we go,” Howard said.
He pulled out a white sheet of paper from his coat pocket. When he unfolded it, Alexis realized what it was: James Walker's profile sketch.
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