Memory of Murder

by Ramona Richards

  “You’re a woman of many talents.”

  She smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

  He stood. “Be right back. I want to get this out to the patrol officers.” He stepped into the bullpen and gave the drawing to an officer to scan and distribute. Returning to the conference room, he settled in a chair facing her. “Now for the rough stuff.”

  Lindsey nodded and stiffened her back. “Let’s do it.”

  Jeff picked up his pen, poised to take notes, then he looked directly into her eyes. “Let’s start with your dream. Tell me every detail you remember.”

  Lindsey hesitated, and Jeff saw the reluctance in her eyes. She blinked and her mouth tightened. In her lap, her fingers twisted around each other. He leaned a little closer to her, relying on his experience with other victims, other adults who had been abused as children. “Lindsey, I know you want to do this...but you don’t. You’ve overcome so much that you feel invaded this time, as if all the things you’ve put behind you have come rushing back to haunt you. I know you’re in pain as few other folks can understand.

  “But everything that you’ve been through can help us catch this guy. Even your dreams. Because your mind knows things you may not realize on the surface. I can’t promise this will always be private information, but for now, it’s between you and me.”

  Her eyes widened during his speech, and her fingers stilled. “I trust you,” she whispered.

  He leaned back, oddly honored by her words. “I’ll do my best to take care of you.”

  “I know.” She thought for a few more moments, then nodded, almost to herself. “I dreamed about my mother at first. I’d been reading in her diary before I went to sleep, and I guess that led to the dream.”

  “Why were you reading her diary?”

  “I read it every night. It’s a way of staying close to her, getting to know her in a way I couldn’t when she was alive. I was so young.” She paused, blinked hard, then continued. “After she died, my father went to prison on a life sentence, and I went into foster care. Before I did, the people who cleaned out our house let me take just a few things with me, and I took my mother’s music box. She loved it so much. Only later did I find the diary in a secret compartment in the bottom. It was like discovering her all over again.”

  Lindsey shifted, tucking her good foot beneath her and hunching forward like a small child. “When I had that flash of memory of my father at the wreck, his face was all beat up, all cut and bloody. It’s confusing because my father was always the aggressor. I can only remember one time when he got beat up, and Mama wrote about it in the last entry in her diary.” Tears slipped down Lindsey’s cheeks again.

  Jeff paused and picked a box of tissues from a credenza against the wall. He pushed them toward Lindsey, who grabbed one, a fleeting smile of thanks crossing her face. She wiped her face, then balled the tissue into one palm.

  “What happened that day?” Jeff asked quietly.

  Lindsey shrugged and looked down at her hands. “I don’t know. Mama didn’t see what happened—just the aftereffects. She thinks I saw something, but I don’t remember. I don’t even remember that day. That whole period of my childhood just blurs into one long stretch of fear and pain.”

  “That’s probably your mind working to protect you. You were just a kid.”

  Her mouth twisted. “Maybe. But this part would be easier if my memories weren’t blocked.”

  Jeff paused and leaned closer to her, placing one hand on Lindsey’s arm. He lowered his voice, keeping the tone low and soothing. “Do me a favor. Close your eyes and let the dream come back to you.”

  She did. “Okay.”

  “How did your mother appear in the dream?”

  Lindsey sighed. “Beautiful. Perfect. Unhurt.”

  “What did she have on?”

  “She wore her favorite jeans and a big, comfy flannel shirt, as if she’d been working in the yard. She loved working in the yard. Had such a green thumb. She motioned me to follow her, and we went down a forest path. So pretty! Little flowers lined the way. I could see all this detail in them.”

  “Can you smell them?”

  A gentle smile lit her face. “Sweet. Like strawberries.”

  “Are you lost?”

  She shook her head. “No. Mama seems to know where we’re going. She keeps smiling and pulling me along.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Curious. Excited.”

  “Where does it lead?”

  “A meadow. Really bright. Lots of grass, but the wind is blowing. RuthAnn’s there, holding my keys up, like she’s teasing me with them. You know...kinda like, ‘Here they are, come and get them.’”

  “Do you get them?”

  “No. I start to, then all of a sudden, everything goes dark...then there’s a spotlight on RuthAnn. Only suddenly it’s not a spotlight, it’s headlights. Then that GTO comes out of nowhere, heading straight for her. I scream for her to get out of the way, and that’s when I woke up.”

  Lindsey stirred and opened her eyes, but Jeff tightened his grip slightly. “Not yet. Stay there for a minute.”

  She closed her eyes again.

  “I know you were afraid. What else?”

  “Yes. I just want to get away, get RuthAnn away.”

  “Did you see who drove the car?”

  Lindsey shook her head. “The windows are black.”

  “Did you see who beat up your father?”

  “Karen’s husband.”

  Lindsey’s eyes shot open, and she stared at him. Her lips parted but no sound came out.

  “Are you all right?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. She gasped. “How did you do that?”

  Jeff released her arm and leaned back. “I didn’t. You did. Lindsey, your memories aren’t blocked. They’re blurry so you can tuck them away and get on with your life. But they are there. Do you know who Karen is? Or her husband?”

  “Not a clue. I don’t even know why I said that.” Her eyes widened. “But June or April might know.”

  “Take me through the attack one more time.”

  Lindsey seemed to come back to herself. She sat up, and put her foot on the floor again. She described the attack in RuthAnn’s house again, in more vivid detail than she had at the scene. Jeff took notes, but was grateful for the recorded backup. Especially since he couldn’t resist watching her as she described the night’s events.

  Unlike her words about her dream, Lindsey’s voice grew stronger and held steady. Her cheeks flushed with anger. The fear the man had instilled in her faded, and the determined entrepreneur he’d come to know returned. She’d been shaken, but not defeated. By the time she reached the point where the man had bolted out the back door, her eyes flashed with the need to find the answers to all this. She paused and took a deep breath, then peered at him closely.

  “What?” he asked.

  “The boy. He was a blond. You don’t think there’s a blood connection, do you?”

  Jeff made a note. “Could be. Something to check.”

  “Surely a man wouldn’t talk like that about his own son. He said he deserved to die!”

  Jeff leaned back in the chair. “He also involved him in kidnapping and attempted murder. Lindsey, I don’t think this man shows many of the normal civilities.”

  “True. When are we going to the hospital?”

  “I’m going later this morning. You need to rest. I’ll run you over to April’s—”

  “Work would be better. Even better, I could go with you.”

  “Lindsey—”

  She stopped his words with a hand on his arm. “I know you want to take care of me.” She leaned forward, her eyes focusing on his. “I appreciate it. More than you know. And now that most of the adrenaline has worn off, you’d t
hink I’d want to sleep. But I’m still too keyed up. All I would do is pace. In fact, I doubt I’ll rest much until this is over. Let me go with you. It might help to see him. Then I need to work. I can bat things around with June and April, and we might even come up with something out of our childhood. I’ll rest when this is done.”

  Jeff hesitated. The warmth of her hand on his arm was reassuring, almost comforting, but his misgivings about her being out in the open, even at the restaurant, ran deep. And she did need rest. A lot of it. Her eyes, as intent as they were on him, were darkly shadowed, her cheeks drawn. The investigator in him, however, knew that a visit with her attacker and an afternoon with her sisters might be just what it took to loosen Lindsey’s memory.

  Jeff relented with a deep exhale. “All right.” He leaned forward and put his hand over hers. “I’ll take you with me. But promise me you’ll stay alert and aware of everyone around you. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

  SEVEN

  Through the windows of the ICU, Jeff watched the nurses care for the man who’d kidnapped Lindsey, wishing he felt more anger, more satisfaction that the man suffered for his crimes. It’s what I should be feeling, right? Instead, the investigator in him was filled with curiosity. Why did you do this? Were you part of the plan or a dupe who didn’t know what you were getting into?

  Lindsey never said the man had tried to kill her; just deliver her.

  Beside him, Lindsey remained as silent as she had since they’d arrived. On the drive down, they had talked again about the accident, but nothing new stood out from their conversation. Jeff continued to hold back the information about the switchblade. It was a street knife, one for up close and personal contact. Lindsey showed a lot of confidence and strength following such trauma, but there had been too many moments of doubt, of lingering fear. He wanted her to be wary, not completely terrified.

  “I wish they would tell us something,” Lindsey whispered. “Do you think he’s going to die?”

  They had talked to the doctor, who couldn’t tell him much about the man’s condition, citing the privacy laws. But in the hour or so they had watched the nurses come and go, checking the man’s vitals and levels of medication, Jeff had seen no expectation at all that the man would awaken from his coma when they entered. He’d asked one if the man’s condition had changed, only to receive a curt shake of the head in response.

  “Officer? Miss?”

  They turned and Jeff looked down at the charge nurse, who was holding a clipboard. Jeff stood at least a foot taller and was both heavier and younger, but he’d watched her give orders and had no doubt she could put him in his place. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Am I to assume this young man will be arrested?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He more or less already is. We have his prints. He’ll be formally booked if he wakes up.”

  She gave a sharp nod. “If he wakes up.”

  Lindsey gasped but remained silent. She turned back to stare at the young man behind the glass.

  The nurse went on. “We’re still holding his personal effects, knowing they would be considered evidence in a crime. Will you sign for them?” She held out the clipboard toward him.

  Jeff straightened, trying to fight a surge of eagerness, as he took a pen from her. “Absolutely. Has anyone else inquired about him?”

  “Not here. Someone might have called in, but the patient information operator wouldn’t have given out anything on the phone. Family have to be given a code in order to inquire.”

  “Thanks. By the way, you said, ‘If he wakes up.’ You don’t think he will?”

  She checked his signature, then peered at him over her reading glasses. The shadows around her eyes told of long shifts and distraught relatives, but the blue of her eyes glistened with awareness. “I can’t give you a medical opinion. You know that.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Wasn’t asking for one. I was inquiring about your...experience in these sorts of things.”

  She continued to stare at him a few moments. Finally, she took her glasses off and nodded toward the sack in his hands. “I’d suggest you do what you can with his effects, in the way of evidence. I doubt a confession will be forthcoming. Clear enough?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Which means there’s no reason for y’all to linger, clogging up the walkways. Shoo.”

  Her last word, uttered with more affection than command, made Jeff smile. He tipped his head at her, then looked down at Lindsey. “You ready to go?”

  She hesitated. “Do you think we’ll ever know why he did it?”

  “Probably not.”

  Lindsey glanced up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” He touched her arm. “Lindsey, that can be one of the most frustrating parts of my job. Sometimes you have solutions but no reasons. We know that he kidnapped you, but we think he did it for someone else. We may find the connection, we may find out why they kidnapped you. But if he dies, we’ll most likely never know why he chose to, or had to, do it.”

  She looked back at the boy. “That stinks.”

  “Yes.”

  She stared through the glass a few more moments, then straightened her shoulders. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Did you remember anything else?”

  She shook her head. “No. I was praying for him.”

  They headed out, Jeff cradling the sack under one arm as Lindsey leaned heavily on the other. She still limped, but moved much better than she had last night. As soon as they emerged from the hospital, his cell phone buzzed. When he opened it, Ray Taylor barked in his ear.

  “Gage! Where are you?”

  “The hospital. We—”

  “Get back up here as soon as you can. We found RuthAnn’s car. Troy’s headed over to haul it out of the quarry right now.”

  Jeff’s gut tightened. “RuthAnn?”

  Lindsey clutched his arm tightly. “Did they find her?”

  Ray continued. “Not sure if RuthAnn is in the car yet. Fred said one of the divers found it. It’s about twenty, maybe twenty-five feet under water. The diver who found it is going to help Troy hook it up. Just get here as soon as you can.”

  When he ended the call, he noticed that Lindsey’s face was pale with anxiety. “Did they find her?” she asked.

  Jeff shook his head. “Her car. We have to get back.”

  The drive out of Nashville never felt so long, even with his blue lights flashing to clear the way of his well-over-the-speed-limit run up the interstate back to Bell County. He skidded into the quarry, and drove down a long gravel ramp to the edge of the water that had long ago flooded the abandoned quarry. About fifty yards in front of them, Troy’s largest tow truck had a small foreign car dangling from a cable, grill down, over the quarry. Water poured out of the vehicle, back into the quarry and onto the gravel shore as Troy moved it slowly over land.

  Before he could stop her, Lindsey was out of the car, half running, half limping toward the cluster of people who had gathered to watch the spectacle.

  Jeff followed. “Lindsey, wait!”

  She didn’t. “I have to see!”

  Ray saw her coming and blocked her path. She fought against him, trying to push past him. Jeff ran toward them, Lindsey’s desperate words reaching his ears.

  “I have to see! Ray, I have to!”

  “Lindsey!”

  She whirled, and Jeff started at the distress on her tear-streaked face. “I have to see, Jeff! I don’t want anyone else to die! Please!”

  “No, Lindsey, you don’t want to see this.”

  She lunged toward him and he grabbed both her arms. “Please! I have to see if I got her killed!”

  He pulled her close. “Listen to me. Listen!” She grew still, and he dropped his voice as l
ow as he could in the presence of the noisy tow operation. “You did not do anything. No matter what we find out, this is not your fault. Never, ever think that, you hear me? No matter what anyone says to you, this isn’t your fault. And if RuthAnn is in that car, you do not want to see her. You have good memories of her, great memories of working with her. If she’s there, she’s dead, and you can’t change that. She will have been in the water for hours, and that’s not something anyone who cared about her should see. You don’t want that image in your mind.”

  Lindsey didn’t move for a few moments, her breathing labored. “This wouldn’t have happened if not for me.”

  “You don’t know that. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”

  Ray, who had been hovering nearby, spoke coldly. “Listen to him, Lindsey. No matter what anyone told you.”

  Ray’s words sparked Jeff’s curiosity, but he focused on Lindsey. “Lindsey, you’re the victim in this. This isn’t happening because of you. It’s happening because some psycho is out of control. That’s not your doing. It’s his.”

  Slowly, the tension ebbed out of Lindsey’s body and she straightened up. She nodded, and placed her hands over his, pushing him away. She swallowed hard. “I know. But you tell me. Okay?”

  He nodded, stroking her shoulder. “We’re in this together. I’m right here. I’ll take care of you.”

  Behind them, Troy lowered the car to the gravel at the edge of the quarry with a sickening crunching noise. Fred, the quarry’s manager, and a number of sport divers who used the flooded quarry for training and practice dives moved steadily backward from the car, their faces somber, their eyes curious. Water continued to flow out of the small car as it settled awkwardly on the gravel.

  Ray approached it slowly, as Troy shut down the towing operation and began removing the chains and hooks from the car. Another gush surged forth when Ray opened the door. Stepping back until the torrent subsided, Ray peered into the car, into the backseat, then the front. Turning to Jeff, he shook his head. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, Ray then motioned to an officer standing nearby. The young officer popped the lock on the car’s trunk and lifted the lid. Both of them looked in.