The House Across The Street

by Melanie Jones Brownrigg

  “What!” I screamed over one of the news reports. Backing up live TV, I watched the segment again. “Oh my God! Jackson, they’re talking about Elena Johnson. She’s the surgical nurse Richard had the affair with. The one who wasn’t paying attention to the sponge count.”

  “Jesus Christ!” he bellowed. In two seconds flat he was on speakerphone with Rob, explaining to him about Elena Johnson’s car having slid off an embankment over the Trinity River, resulting in her drown body having been recovered.

  “It could’ve been an accident,” Rob offered after hearing the details.

  “Like hell,” Jackson retorted. “We both know Richard and Dawson are somehow involved in this.”

  “I know,” Rob admitted. “But we need more than a picture of the two of them together.”

  “I’ll find it!” Jackson promised.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Rachel

  The next day, Jackson had the printed pictures I had taken from Jarrod Dawson’s house spread out on the kitchen table. He’d been going over it for hours on end. I had spent my time working on the last few tax returns on my desk. Then I needed to meet with my clients to obtain their signatures on the electronic authorization forms. Jackson wanted to go with me to make sure I was safe. So, while he reviewed the documents, I completed my work. However, it was getting late in the day and I was worried my daylight was running out.

  “The bank records must be a key,” he mentioned, glancing over at me. “I mean who has this many different accounts?”

  “The same thought crossed my mind when I took shots of the front pages of each statement.”

  “Too bad you didn’t have time to get the complete copies.” He paused, scrutinizing one of the sheets. “Holy Toledo.” He held the photo closer to his face. “Rachel! This particular statement shows an electronic deposit from an insurance company.” A few minutes later, he yelled, “Here’s another one. My God, he’s collecting on the policies … it just has to be!”

  “Do you think it’s enough for a search warrant?” I inquired.

  “I have to try. I’m calling Sutton to see.”

  After a phone call, Detective Sutton agreed to process a search warrant. Jackson’s face brightened with a smile. “He thinks, with the surgical nurse turning up dead and the direct deposits into these accounts, we shouldn’t have any problems.” He paused, his smile turning flat. “He wants me to accompany him to explain the connection with the nurse. Do you mind if I mention your husband’s problems?”

  “No, just be careful to only divulge the information you read from looking at the court files, and the picture Mrs. Tuttle captured. Otherwise, it’ll look like I’ve violated the gag orders.”

  “I’ll watch my mouth,” he agreed. “Rachel, it’ll take a while to draw up the paperwork and it may take even longer to find a judge willing to sign the warrant on a Saturday afternoon.”

  I frowned. “I understand. But I’m running out of time before the 15th. It needs to get done so I can focus on mid-month payrolls. I meant to do this alone yesterday. Why can’t I do it today while you’re out and about? With any luck at all, Jarrod Dawson will be hauled in for questioning while I’m running my errands.”

  “Okay, but you still need to watch your back,” he warned.

  As soon as he left, I organized my paperwork, slid my butt behind the wheel, fastened my seat belt, and began a route. Having dropped off several returns, and with the evening wearing on, I decided to bring Mr. Stewart to the top of my list. Mr. Stewart lived out in the country, south of town. And he loved to visit, which made getting his signature ultimately time consuming. After giving him a call to make sure he was home, I texted Jackson the address and turned south.

  Just under an hour later, I exited off I-35 and turned onto a smaller tar-packed road. From there, I wound through the countryside admiring the thick trees on either side of the road. Turning down a small dirt lane, I finally pulled up in front of Mr. Stewart’s old, barely painted farmhouse. He met me at the front door and invited me inside, telling Ralph, the dog, to get down so I could sit on his dog-hair covered couch. Getting his signature quickly wasn’t a problem, it was getting away that proved to be extremely difficult. After a long visit, I finally made it out the door. But then he walked me around his house and pointed out his newly plowed garden he was prepping for spring planting. Then he showed me his new chicken coop, insisting for me to take some fresh eggs. Finally, he introduced me to Lillie, his newly born black calf. Poor Mr. Stewart, he was so lonely after his wife, Dolores, had passed. I plastered on my friendly face and even sat with him for another thirty minutes on his porch swing while we drank iced tea and had a piece of store-bought pecan pie. In the back of my mind, I hoped the search warrant had been issued and Mr. Dawson had been hauled in for questioning.

  “It’s getting dark,” I pointed out. “And I have the hour drive back into town. I really need to get on the road.” I had texted Jackson three times about my inability to tear myself away from Mr. Stewart.

  “Well shucks,” he pouted. “I was sure enjoying our visit.”

  Finally, I made my escape, thanking him for his business and placing the carton of eggs in the floorboard of my backseat.

  “Goodbye Mr. Stewart. Thank you again for the eggs,” I said, waving to him from my rolled-down window.

  “Come back anytime,” he shouted from his old front porch which was in dire need of a few board replacements.

  Retracing my path down the dirt road, I came to a stop and texted Jackson to let him know I had left Mr. Stewart’s house and was heading home. Unfortunately, Mr. Stewart had monopolized my entire afternoon and the sun had already dipped below the horizon. Pulling out onto the tar-packed road, my phone gave a jingle from my purse. From my heads-up display, I knew it was Jackson. I answered through Bluetooth. “Hello.”

  “Rach, we got the warrant and we’re conducting the search of his house. But Dawson’s not at home.”

  “Did you check over at Logan’s house?” I suggested.

  “Yes. We spoke to Foster. He doesn’t know where Dawson is, and Hutchins is gone too. I’m afraid those two are up to something.”

  “Does it look like they’ve skipped town?” I asked, fearing they might have become suspicious and decided to get out of Dodge while the getting was good.

  “It doesn’t appear any personal items are missing. Hopefully, they’re just out and about.”

  “Well okay then, they’ll turn up,” I said with confidence. I had been traveling at a slower speed than I normally drove and noticed a vehicle fast approaching me from the rear. Being on a lonely backroad, I thought he would simply pass me. “Some asshole is right on my tail,” I complained to Jackson.

  “Well pull over and let him pass,” he suggested.

  My attention was concentrated on a steep embankment while I checked the roadside for a place to pull to the side of the narrow lane. Looking ahead to see where I could move over, I was distracted when the upcoming vehicle locked against my rear bumper, causing me to lose control of my automobile. The impact, though probably resulting in little damage to the heavy-duty bumper glued to my car’s rear, was powerful enough for me to careen into the steep ditch.

  “Jackson, he just pushed me off the road,” I screamed as my car hurtled out of control down the embankment, bouncing over large rocks and falling into deep crevices before coming to an abrupt stop when the front of my BMW crashed into a huge oak tree. My front airbags deployed violently into my face and ribs. The impact from the tree left me dazed and confused and blood gushed from the top of my forehead and ran down my face. “Jackson, I’m hurt,” I whimpered into the phone before my engine sputtered and died, cutting off my Bluetooth.

  Moments later, a figure was to the side of my car and I heard, “Open up Rachel.” I just looked at him with a disoriented expression and shook my pounding head. “Dad, she’s moving around. She ain’t dead yet and the door’s locked. What should I do?”

  “Break the driver-side w
indow and bash the crap out of her head into the steering wheel. It needs to look like she hit her head and died in the crash.”

  “How would the window come to be broken?” It was David Hutchins’s voice, asking Jarrod Dawson what to do, and I knew I was in serious trouble.

  “I have a burner phone with me. Break the window out, kill her and then I’ll call it in like we’re Good Samaritans and tried to help her.” He chuckled. “Sadly, we’ll be too late, and we’ll be long gone before help arrives.”

  “All right,” David agreed. “I need something to bust the window.”

  “Let me see what I have in my cargo area. I think I have a Maglite. We can use the butt of it.”

  While they were searching for something to shatter my window, I searched for my phone, spotting it on the far side of the passenger floorboard. But with the airbag obstructing my reach, I pushed open my door, thinking I’d have to go around the car to get to it.

  My feet had just contacted the ground when I heard Jarrod yelling, “She’s out of the car. Get her back inside.”

  The way back to Mr. Stewart’s house was across the road and back toward the dirt lane. David began running toward me and I had no choice but to stay in the low-lying area my car had lurched to. Climbing up the embankment would’ve been difficult, and he was already at the top.

  With no time to retrieve my phone, I surveyed the thick woods I had previously passed by. Feeling my options were limited, I ran for them, hoping to find a hiding spot until Jackson could get to me. Jackson already had my text showing Mr. Stewart’s address. He knew I had just left there. And he knew someone had just pressured me from the road. Time was all I needed before the cavalry would surely arrive.

  The trees, thick with live oak, prevented any residual light from piercing the forest’s dense canopy veil. With a deep foreboding breath, I took off, searching for safety. Bending through a barbed fence, I snagged my clothes and ripped my shirt.

  Hearing their voices as they called, “Rachel, we’re here to help you,” caused me to plunge forward into the dark unknown. Stumbling on uneven ground, I lost my footing, causing one of my heeled pumps to slip off. Knowing it was better to have foot protection, after looking frantically for it in the obscured lighting, but unable to locate it, and knowing precious time was wasting, I hoped to manage without it. Hobbling along with one shoe, the heel sinking deep in the soft soil after recent rains, I kicked the other off and pushed forward on bare feet, thinking I could run faster without it.

  Deeper into the dark forest I plunged, running away from the dangers behind me and searching for a protective spot to hide. From out of nowhere, frightening shadows grew and seemingly came to life. Briefly I considered encountering coyotes or wild hogs, not to mention a bitter cold that would soon be adding to my already insurmountable problems.

  With recent rains, the scent of dampness was thick in the air and making my path slippery and treacherous. Leaving my shoes behind turned out to be a horrendous mistake. My bare feet ripped at every spiky branch, pointed stick and thorny bush. But whatever obstacles lay ahead in the darkness couldn’t be as horrible as what was closing in behind me.

  Forward my unsteady feet carried me, hoping for refuge. Hoping my life would be spared. The only thing behind me was my certain death. And from the harsh snap of breaking twigs, they were quickly gaining on me. And when they caught me … I’d be dead.

  Frantically trudging through the woods, my only light source came from the rising sliver of a pale white crescent moon, barely visible within the sporadic break in dense trees. Though the vague glow gave me slight glimpses to see the path I was taking, it caused eerie uncertainties to appear one second and then melt away into darkness, serving only to increase my fears.

  Desperately I fumbled around in the darkness, breaking the quietness with every step taken on twigs sharply cracking beneath my bare and tortured feet. Every sound carried like an echo through the still night air and sounded like tiny explosions. For a moment, I stopped and listened, at first hearing only the tinkling sound of leaves caused by a nippy wind sending chill bumps along my arms. Then a louder, closer rustling pumped my adrenaline, urging me on.

  “Rachel, you can’t hide. We will find you,” Mr. Dawson shouted into the thick damp air.

  Feeling like they were right on top of me, I pushed harder, picking up speed, running and running deeper into the dense unknown woodlands. My prolonged absence from the gym had left me out of shape. My legs throbbed and every part of me ached, especially my ribs from the impact of the airbag. My chest tightened and my throat burned. Slowly releasing an agonized breath, I gulped back a cough, fearing it would lead them directly to me. I couldn’t let that happen. I needed to keep going. Hopefully, at some point, I could circle back and by the time I reached the car, Jackson would be there to save me.

  Tripping over a downed log, I stumbled and crashed to the ground, a grunt penetrated the air when I landed flat against my sore chest. Instantly I ceased all movement and listened into the crisp, night air. For a brief moment, a menacing silence surrounded me. Then suddenly, a breeze whistled through the trees and stirred the nearby undergrowth, startling me and forcing me to cover a gasp.

  “I heard her,” Mr. Dawson’s deeper voice called out. “She’s that way.”

  “She can’t be too far,” David’s voice returned. “Not on those heels.”

  Sadly, I was no longer wearing those heels, leaving my bare feet screaming at me from immense pain, now raw and bleeding. Combined with the gash in my skull, I was leaving a trail of blood either impeding my escape or providing a path to my rescue. If nightfall obscured my location, the morning sun would leave a glistening trail of red droplets, leading them, or Jackson, straight to me, depending on my luck.

  Continuing to run blindly, my aching limbs continued carrying me. Unfortunately, the combined darkness and having fallen so many times had caused me to lose all sense of direction, leaving me without a clue as to which way to circle back to the car. My feet could be carrying me closer to death or leading me to safety.

  A cough sounded behind me and bouncing light from a flashlight warned they were closing in. “Rachel, come out, come out, wherever you are,” Mr. Dawson taunted.

  My panting breath and tired legs were getting the best of me. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with me. Desperately wanting to survive, I forced myself to keep going and submerged forward into thicker woods and utter darkness, continuing to run with all my might.

  “There. I saw her,” David shouted, shooting a beam of light across my torso.

  Panicking, I tried running faster, but one thorny step caused me to falter. Unbearable pain hit me, causing me to hop on one foot and then lose my balance. Sliding down a wet, mossy incline, I thudded to an abrupt stop at the bottom. Wallowing in dank leaves, I performed a quick medical assessment. Relieved at not finding any broken bones or life-threatening wounds, I hauled myself back to my injured feet, urging myself to continue.

  My lungs felt squeezed, the pain in my chest intense and the burning in my legs unbearable. I couldn’t take it. Exhausted I doubled over at the waist, completely drained. My harsh heaving breath pierced the quiet night air like a steam engine.

  Suddenly, a bright beam from a flashlight spotlighted the area surrounding me. Freezing in place, I tried hard to hold my heaving breath. Daring to look up the steep slope, I zeroed in on two silhouettes standing at the top of the ridge.

  “Where’d she go?” the deeper voice of Mr. Dawson asked, the flash of light searching about.

  Quickly skirting away from the wielding torch, I crouched behind a tall oak tree and hid against the base of the trunk. My heart banged wildly against my rib cage. My whole body trembled with fear. A burning ache in my chest warned me I wouldn’t be able to exert myself any further. My previous will to survive was replaced by impending doom. Night had brought a bitter chill to the air and, without any shoes or a coat on, the cold was beginning to seep into my dampened clothes. If
I were lucky enough to evade their capture, hypothermia would be setting in. Desperately, I needed Jackson to save me.

  “Well surely not down that incline,” David’s voice answered. “She must’ve kept going this way.”

  Breathlessly I waited, listening to their complaining voices as they moved away from me. In the distance, I made out the reflective features of a floating dock on a huge pond. Waiting and waiting, after hearing nothing and no longer seeing the beam from the flashlight, I silently ventured away from my cover and quietly headed toward the water. Hopefully, there was a house nearby with a kindly resident who would be willing to help me, or at least maybe I could find a barn or a cellar to seek refuge against the cold night air.

  Before even taking five steps, a beam of light blinded me and I heard, “Nice try, Rachel, but you’re coming with us.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Jackson

  After hearing Rachel’s phone call about being shoved off the road and having been hurt, I panic. A dreadful fear rises from my gut to my throat and grips me everywhere in between. Immediately I call for reinforcements. Knowing I am not in any shape to drive, heavy minutes tick by while I wait for Rob to pick me up. When he finally arrives, I throw myself into the front passenger seat and, before slamming the door, I yell, “You’re not waiting on me. Get going.”

  Several other police units are with us and together we zoom down I-35 and head down a narrow asphalt road to find her.

  “Hurry,” I urge Rob to drive faster. Terror pumps my blood hard and fast. In my head, I know the clock is ticking, loudly and swiftly, and fear my time for finding Rachel is running out.

  Squealing to a stop at the sight of a car pulled to the side of the road. Barreling out, I see Rachel’s car has plummeted down an embankment and crashed into a tree. A few officers run to check out the other vehicle. I slide down the ravine and hurry over to Rachel’s car. She isn’t inside and my heart breaks open. Grabbing flashlights, everyone begins searching. Right away a piece of her clothing is spotted in a barb wire fence, suggesting she ran into a thick wooded area.