by T. R. Ragan
Seemingly surprised by her request, Jared said, “According to the file, you’ve been there before. I don’t think it’s necessary.”
“That was over a decade ago,” she said. “Everything’s different now. I’ve been seeing images of the house and the street in my mind. I need to go back there. Now.”
“Are you sure you’re ready?” Jared asked.
“For Christ’s sake,” Jimmy said. “I’ll take her there myself.”
Lizzy swallowed the lump in her throat. No, she wasn’t sure. The truth was she felt as if she was teetering on the edge of a cliff. She could fall off at any moment. Been there, done that. But she’d already made up her mind and she wasn’t going to turn back now. Glancing at Sophie’s picture, she nodded at Jared. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Before you run off,” Jimmy said, “I have a few more questions.”
She crossed her arms. “What do you want to know?”
“For starters—why now?”
Jared joined them in the living room and looked at Jimmy. “What do you mean?”
Jimmy’s gaze never left Lizzy’s. “I want to know why she thinks she can suddenly pinpoint the exact street where she was found, and yet for the past decade she couldn’t zero in on a street within a mile radius of the spot given to us by Ms. Raeburn.”
Refusing to cower, Lizzy stared back at Agent Martin with the same determination and grit she saw scrawled across his face.
“I believe she’s been suffering from survivor’s guilt,” Jared cut in before she had a chance to respond. “Lizzy’s guilt has caused her to repress painful memories, memories that could and can be triggered by almost anything...a particular smell, a song, a sound...anything at all. In Lizzy’s case, I think it was the phone call she received from Spiderman or possibly the note that triggered some memories to return.”
“I know you didn’t believe me back then,” Lizzy said to Martin, “and you probably don’t believe me now, but I don’t care what you think. The only thing I do care about is finding Sophie before it’s too late.”
Jimmy shoved his hands into his pants’ pockets. “I’m all ears.”
“You two can speculate all you want,” Lizzy went on, “but I’m telling you Spiderman is back. And he already knows everything about Sophie, including what she’s afraid of. If she’s afraid of the dark, then she’s in a basement or a windowless room.”
“What about you?” Jimmy asked. “Did he keep you in the dark?”
“He didn’t know me. I wasn’t part of his plan. He used insects to scare me.”
“Snakes and spiders never bothered you,” Jared added.
“No, they didn’t,” she said. “Spiders and snakes intrigued me, but Spiderman didn’t know that. His excitement when I showed fear was palpable. I knew that’s what he wanted. If he acted as if he might place a spider on me, I cried out and begged him to stop. I let him think he’d found my Achilles heel. He feeds on fear.”
“You played him for a fool.” Jimmy jangled the change in his pocket. “Sounds like this guy isn’t as clever as he thinks.”
She lifted her chin. “Clever enough to avoid the FBI for fourteen years.”
Jimmy pretended to ignore her, but she could tell by the tic in his jaw he wasn’t happy with her. Too bad. “Spiderman would also use things the girls enjoyed to calm them.”
Jimmy lifted a brow. “For instance?”
“Hot chocolate, licorice, stuffed animals: you name it, he used it. He knew what they liked and he used it against them in the same way he used their worst fears to frighten them.” She picked up Sophie’s picture. “We need to find out everything we can about Sophie. Did she walk home or did she ride a bus? How did she treat her friends and family? Did she have any vices?”
“Why would that matter?” Jimmy asked.
“Spiderman thinks of himself as a hero,” Jared answered. “In his mind, he’s delivering justice by taking out girls he believes are disrespectful or ‘bad.’”
“Disrespectful to whom?”
“To anyone,” Lizzy said. “Adults...parents, friends. He used to talk to me about his victims being menaces to society. He didn’t like girls sneaking out of the house after their parents were gone, girls who cut class, or talked back, or who smoked cigarettes between classes.”
“For the sake of argument,” Jimmy said, “let’s pretend we know everything about Sophie. How is that information going to help us find her?”
“She’s looking for a link,” Jared said. “Any link at all between Sophie and the other victims that might tie them all to one person, one man, one killer.”
Jimmy huffed. “Aren’t we all? What do you think we’ve been doing for the last fourteen years? Picking our noses?”
Lizzy shrugged as if that were a possibility.
“At this very moment,” Jimmy said, “I’ve got someone talking to the principal at Sophie’s school. Her piano teacher will be turning eighty next week, so we ruled her out. Sophie wasn’t into sports and she gets straight A’s. Other than the fact that she’s a teenager, there aren’t any links to the other victims.”
Lizzy held in a growl. Jimmy had already given up on finding any new clues. Before she could give him a piece of her mind, his cell phone rang and Jimmy excused himself before stepping outside to talk.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Jared said. “He’s a hard head.”
“He’s an ass.” She put her hands up in surrender. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my time talking to him. He doesn’t want to listen to anything I have to say. Can’t you see he’s already squeezed this case into a nice little box and given up?”
“Let’s take a ride.”
“What about your tea?”
“It can wait.”
Chapter 9
Tuesday, February 16, 2010 12:04 PM
Karen Crowley was pleasantly surprised to see that her brother had chosen a beautiful peaceful city to reside. Mountainous wilderness and the Sierra Nevada Range lay to the east, while rolling green hills could be seen to the west.
It was a miracle her mother had finally produced an address at all. Karen’s mother lived in Arkansas and hadn’t seen her only son in years, not since he went to visit their mother fourteen years ago. According to Mom, that’s when her younger brother met his future wife, Cynthia. Mom mentioned that she received a Christmas card from Cynthia every year, which was how Karen was able to get her brother’s current address. She hated to pop in on her brother and his wife unannounced like this, but his number wasn’t listed in the phonebook and Mom didn’t have their telephone number.
It was a shame, really. That her parents would marry, have two children, and then have absolutely nothing to do with them. Their father died five years ago and nobody bothered to let her know. That’s when Karen broke off all contact with her mother. Enough was enough. Her mother never called her. She didn’t care about anyone but herself. Until a month ago, Karen didn’t think she’d ever bother trying to contact her brother or her mother again. But recently, every time she looked into her son’s eyes, she saw her brother. That’s when Karen knew it was time to find him and make amends, tell him how sorry she was. She’d even gone so far as to try and locate two of the three girls partly responsible for her brother’s mental breakdown during high school.
But so far, no luck.
Karen’s cell phone rang. It was her husband. She picked up the phone and held it to her ear. “Is everything all right?”
“It’s time for you to head home,” he told her. “The kids miss you and I miss you.”
“I can’t come home. Not yet.”
“You still haven’t found him?”
“I just talked to Mom. She found my brother’s address. I should be there in a few minutes.”
“I should have come with you.”
Karen, her husband, and their two kids, lived in Italy, above Cantiano and about two hours from Verona. She would have loved to have her husband come to the States with her, but the kids need
ed one of them at home. “I’ll be fine.”
“How do you know? From what you’ve told me, your brother can be a bit off his rocker.”
“Mom said he was the happiest she’d ever seen him when he was with Cynthia. Mom said he no longer shows signs of his previous irrational behavior.”
“I don’t like it. What if he hasn’t forgiven you?”
“I doubt he even remembers what happened.” That was a lie, but she’d never had the guts to tell her husband the whole sordid story.
“You won’t know that until you see him. Why don’t you keep me on the line until you get there?”
“I can’t. I’m not supposed to drive and talk on the cell phone without one of those ear devices. I shouldn’t be talking to you now. I’ll call you as soon as I find the house, okay?”
“Be careful.”
“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” She clicked the phone shut. Wellington was the next street. A few more turns and she’d be at her brother’s house.
5416 Wise Road. There it was.
The house was a beautiful one story set on the top of a quiet hill. The house set her mind at ease. The lawn was well cared for, the fence freshly painted.
She pulled into the driveway, shut off the engine, and stepped out of the car. The walkway was swept clean. Other than a week’s worth of newspapers piled up near the garbage bin, everything looked normal. For the first time in years, her heart lifted at the thought of seeing her brother. Usually she felt apprehension and fear at the idea of speaking to him, let alone seeing him, but not today. Despite the chill in the pine-scented air, she felt a warm glow inside.
With confidence in her spine and warmth in her heart, she knocked on the door. Then she rang the bell. After no one came to the door, she tried the door handle, surprised when the door came easily open. “Hello.”
No answer.
“Is anybody home?”
The house looked well-kept. No clutter or junk. She stepped inside. The furniture was high-end, the rugs Persian. She never would have expected to find her brother living in such luxury. Although, why it would surprise her, she wasn’t sure. According to Mom, he’d graduated from college with high honors. He was incredibly smart. So why had she expected so little from him? What was it about him that frightened her? Guilt? Guilt for what she and her friends had done to him? She could hardly face what happened herself. How would she ever tell anyone else?
Thinking about that time in her life made it hard to breathe. And so did the horrible smell that seeped through the cracks and crevices as she walked toward the kitchen. Wherever was that horrid stench coming from?
Chapter 10
Tuesday, February 16, 2010 12:15 PM
Lizzy sat in the passenger seat of Jared’s Denali and ignored the sloshing waves rolling inside her stomach.
Jared exited the freeway, heading toward the river. The closer they got to the area where Betsy Raeburn had found her, the more her chest tightened.
He made a left on Primrose Way. According to the map, they were almost there. Lizzy’s body tensed, every muscle rigid. Her fingernails dug into the leather seats.
Jared pulled to the side of the road and turned her way. “Are you okay?”
No. She was drowning in a sea of nervous tension. She rolled down the window and sucked in some crisp cold air. Once she could breathe easier, she leaned her head back against the headrest and tried to compose herself. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”
It wasn’t long before they were driving through the neighborhood. The homes looked nothing like the houses she saw every night in her sleep. These houses were smaller, older, single-family properties. Most were one-story detached homes built on less than a quarter of an acre. Shade trees were sparse and the majority of front lawns were in serious need of water. “Nothing looks familiar.”
Driving at a snail’s pace, Jared turned onto a quiet cul-de-sac. “This is where Betsy Raeburn said she picked you up.”
Jared pulled the car around the cul-de-sac. He passed a mail truck, and then made a left before continuing up the street. At a steady pace of fifteen miles per hour, they passed more of the same. An old rusty Pinto and a couple of beat-up trucks lined the street. Most of the driveways were cracked and stained with oil. Two kids who looked old enough to be in school played kickball in the street. Farther up the road, a couple appeared to be having a heated discussion as the woman followed a man to his car, gesturing wildly with her hands.
Nothing about the area looked memorable. “How are we going to find him? How are we going to help Sophie?”
Jared didn’t answer.
“Sophie could be anywhere,” she said. “Spiderman could have been any one of those men back there—the man working in his garage, the man arguing with his wife, the mailman. This is only one street and I already feel as if I’m looking for a lost gem on a long stretch of sandy beach.” She shook her head in frustration. “What the hell was I thinking? Cathy was right. I can’t help you, Jared. I can hardly help myself.” She gestured toward the row of houses. “Spiderman’s house could be any one of these homes. They all look the same.”
“You don’t remember anything different about the house?”
She shook her head. “After escaping, I ran as fast as I could. I remember looking over my shoulder, hoping to see the house as I ran, but I was blinded by the rising sun. I hadn’t seen daylight in months.”
Jared made another turn and continued on.
She peered out the window, angry with herself for thinking she could make a difference. More of the same. Some houses were blue, some brown, some green. Had she truly thought she would miraculously recognize the house? They all had a front window and a— “Stop the car!”
Jared hit the brake a little too hard.
They both jerked forward.
She pushed the door open and stepped out of the vehicle.
Jared pulled to the side of the road and parked the car. He caught up to her. “What is it?”
“The tree in the backyard of that house—it’s enormous. And the branches—see how they resemble gigantic arms reaching out to the sky. That tree is the first thing I saw when I stepped outside and almost escaped the first time.” She marched determinedly toward the front of the house and rang the doorbell.
Jared stayed close on her heels. “What are you doing?”
“We need to talk to whoever lives here. We need to get inside.”
“I’ll call for backup. We can’t just barge into every house that looks slightly familiar.”
She pushed the ringer a second time. Seconds felt like minutes as she waited. What if this was the house? What if he still lived here? Would she recognize him? Big ears. Strong jaw. Wide forehead.
The door opened. A teenage girl stood inside. Long, stringy bangs covered most of her face. “Can I help you?”
Lizzy hadn’t realized she was holding her breath. She exhaled and tried to peek over the girl’s shoulder. “Are your parents home?”
The girl cocked her head and crossed her arms. “Whatever it is you’re selling, we don’t want any.” Before she could shut the door, Lizzy shoved a booted foot inside to stop the door from closing.
Jared set a hand on Lizzy’s elbow.
“This is the house,” she told him. “I want to know if Sophie’s here. I’m not leaving.” Ignoring the girl’s protests, and Jared’s, Lizzy forced her way inside.
“Mom!” the girl shouted.
“I’m sorry,” Jared said to the panicked girl. “She’s been looking for her childhood home, and I’m afraid she’s a little emotional.”
The girl’s mother rushed to her daughter’s side. The older woman watched Lizzy march into her living room uninvited. “What the hell is going on?”
Ignoring the woman, Lizzy swept past the woman and made her way down the carpeted hallway.
The woman shouted at her to get out of their house. Nothing was going to stop Lizzy from checking the rest of the house. She needed to find Sophie bef
ore Spiderman could torture her with his mind games and—
A sharp agonizing pain ripped through Lizzy’s skull. She stopped and reached out, leaning against the wall for support. Images played through her mind’s eye like a reel of 8mm film being played through an old projector. The images were so clear, she felt as if she could reach out and touch what she was seeing: a metal tray...and what looked like surgical tools...scissors...scalpels?
Spiderman was a doctor?
The pain in her head intensified. Her impulse was to shut her eyes, but she fought the urge and kept her eyes open. She needed to see what she didn’t want to see. Sparks flared, lights bursting within her brain. And then his face flashed before her in living color. She put both hands to the wall to stop her knees from buckling. It was him—he wore a mask and rubber gloves. He was reaching for—
“What do you think you’re doing?”
The woman grabbed her arm, breaking Lizzy from her trance. “Get out this instant! I’m calling the police!”
Lizzy broke free and ran to the bedrooms, one after another, checking the closets and under the beds. “Sophie, are you here? Sophie!” A few minutes later, frustrated and defeated, Lizzy returned to the front room.
Jared greeted her at the end of the hallway and tried to guide her toward the door, but she refused to budge. “I think he was a doctor,” she said. “And this was his house.” She pointed to the sliding door in the kitchen. “That’s the door I went out the first time I tried to escape.”
She could hear the woman on the telephone in the kitchen talking to the police. Lizzy’s gaze fell to the spot in the living room where the couch had been—the place where she’d first seen Spiderman sleeping. Chills slithered up her spine as she remembered that day and how peaceful he’d looked. So normal.
There was a different couch there now—a fully padded couch with olive green, crown-shaped cushions and a sagging middle from overuse.