by Jason Parent
“I thought you said your midterms were over?” Helen seemed to be studying Michael, waiting to see how he would respond.
“They are,” Tessa said, answering before he could blubber a response. “Our teacher allowed those of us who did poorly to retake it. He said he would average our two grades. I didn’t do so well the first time around, and Michael offered to help me study. He’s so smart, much better at that stuff than I am.” She smiled. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced. I live close by, and my phone’s not working, so I figured I would just stop by and see if Michael was busy. I hope I didn’t catch anyone at a bad time.”
“Well, Michael does have… an appointment of sorts in a few hours,” Greg said, “but I don’t see why you can’t hang out until then.”
Michael appreciated Greg’s discretion. He just knew DCF was going to recommend counseling. Hell, they had recommended it when he got into a fight in middle school, when he set off a chlorine bomb in his neighbor’s gazebo—which he still maintained was an accident—and most recently, when he’d had his head swirled around in a toilet. But given his present company, he guessed he wasn’t the only one for whom DCF would order counseling.
“Michael’s friends are always welcome,” Helen chimed in. Her smile was warm, but her face was wrought by worry. She turned to her husband. “Are you sure now’s such a good time, though? I mean, Michael’s been through a lot, and we’re all under—”
“Now’s not the time to be turning away friends.” Greg put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “That’s very Christian of you, Michael, offering to help her like you did.” He leaned in close and gave Michael a nudge. “Like she would be coming to you for help in math, of all subjects.” He chuckled. “There’s hope for you yet, son. I do hope she’s telling the truth about that extra credit exam, though.”
Michael ducked out from under Greg’s arm and studied Tessa’s face. He wondered what had brought her there and what she expected of him. He thought she was still in that center. He had even considered that she might end up like him, a foster kid.
“Will your lady friend be staying for dinner?” Helen asked.
“I… um…” Michael didn’t know how to answer.
Tessa replied cheerfully, “If you’ll have me.”
For someone as screwed up as she must be, why is she less awkward talking to strangers than I am?
“Great. I’ll set an extra spot at the table. I hope you like roast pork.”
What just happened? Michael couldn’t believe the nerve of Tessa. She had shown up uninvited and unwanted and managed to weasel her way into a free dinner. The verdict on her was still out; Michael couldn’t unsee what he had seen in his vision. Yeah, he felt a little sorry for her, but that didn’t mean he was okay eating at the same table with her. As if roast pork night wasn’t bad enough.
Well, he wasn’t going to get answers with his foster parents standing there. Michael cleared his throat. “Te—uh, Jaime, we should get some studying done before dinner.”
“Okay,” Tessa said, smiling as though everything was made of sunshine and rainbows.
If all the world was a stage, Michael preferred her to act her part elsewhere. Her smile is as phony as the rest of her. But he couldn’t let on right then, so he nodded and led her up the stairs and into his bedroom.
He started to close the door when Helen yelled up, “Leave the door open. I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner.”
Michael grumbled but not loud enough for anyone downstairs to hear. He shut his bedroom door anyway. When he turned around, Tessa was standing by his bookshelf, peering at his comic book collection.
He grabbed her shoulder and shook her. “What the hell are you doing here?” He let go when he realized he was touching her. After waiting a few seconds, he let out a sigh of relief at not having spiraled into another vision.
Instantly, the mask Tessa wore fell away. The scared, fragile girl returned. “I didn’t know where else to go. I couldn’t stay at that halfway house. Father would have found me there. Once he finds out that your detective friend is going after him, he’ll know I told. He’ll come after me. I broke his number one rule: don’t tell.”
“So you thought coming here was a good idea? Look, I don’t know what kind of sick family games you two like to play, but I don’t want any part of it. I did what I could. I got you out of that house.”
“But Father’s still out there. What if that detective can’t stop him?”
“Then you’re putting everyone in this house in danger by being here. Who asked you to come here anyway? You can’t just show up at my house uninvited.”
“Why not? You did at mine, and look at all the trouble that caused.”
“You came to me for help. I did you a favor.”
“You did? I’m not so sure. Right now, it’s a coin flip.”
“Geez! You’re so—”
“Stop.” The word came out more like a plea than a command. She sank down onto Michael’s bed and started to cry. She hid her face behind her hands. “I’m scared, Michael. I didn’t know where else to go. I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Michael tentatively perched beside her, not knowing what he should do. He’d never had to comfort someone before. For as long as he could remember, he’d been alone. People didn’t share their feelings with him, and he didn’t really talk to anyone but Sam. He gingerly stretched out his arm and draped it across her shoulders, being careful not to make skin-to-skin contact. “You’re right. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe here.”
She leaned back against his arm, and his forearm touched the skin on the back of her neck. His breathing hitched, but no vision came, so he relaxed a little. He had no idea why he wasn’t getting another vision, but he was truly happy for it. Equally surprising, Tessa didn’t pull away. Instead, she rested her head in the crook between his shoulder and chest.
Now what? Michael stayed frozen in that pose, with a million thoughts running through his head, until she finished crying. Why are you helping her? Comforting a killer? The whole situation is absolutely crazy. Yet he couldn’t deny that he wanted to help her. He wanted to hold her, to keep holding her for as long as she would let him.
She sniffled a little then hiccupped. “Will you keep me safe?”
“I’ll… I’ll try. No, I will. I promise.” What are you doing promising something like that? If her father comes looking for her, would you really be able to stand between them? “Anyway, from what I’ve seen, you can take care of yourself,” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“What do you mean?”
“When we first touched, that day at school, I had a vision.”
“I know.” She looked away. “Whatever you saw, I’m sure it was horrible. He makes me do things, things most people can’t even imagine.”
“You stabbed him.” Repeatedly. He decided to keep that last thought to himself.
She raised her head and gaped at him. “I did what?”
“I saw you kill your father.”
“I killed him?” She stared at him for a full minute, then she started to laugh. At first, it was a hesitant, stifled giggle, but that soon blossomed into full-blown laughter.
Michael chuckled. He couldn’t figure out what was so funny, but her laughing was way better than her crying.
After she calmed a bit, she asked, “Are you sure? I’m too scared to even speak around him. Maybe that brain of yours is broken?”
“Or maybe you’re stronger than you think?”
His cellphone rang, and Sam’s name and number appeared on the screen. Michael answered it. “Hello?”
“Michael,” Sam said. “Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Masterson got away. The girl confessed to everything. Making matters worse, she’s missing, too.”
“She’s here,” he said.
Tessa
gasped and jumped to her feet. As she started toward the door, Michael grabbed her arm with his free hand.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s Sam. Detective Reilly.”
Tessa still looked ready to make a break for it, but after a moment, she nodded and sat back down beside him.
“What’s she doing there?” Sam asked.
“She didn’t feel safe at the halfway house.” Michael knew he hadn’t truly answered Sam’s question. He’d only explained why she had left, not why she was at his house.
Sam seemed too frazzled to delve deeper. She spoke quickly, as if every second mattered. “Keep her there, but be safe. Warn your foster parents. Lock your doors, and don’t open them for anyone other than me.”
“Why? You don’t think he would actually come here, do you?” Michael hadn’t considered the possibility.
Tessa seemed to be holding her breath. Her body was tense, and her leg bounced against his as he pulled her closer. But he remained calm. Wouldn’t her father be more concerned with escaping than with coming after us?
“He might,” Sam said, “if he thinks she’s there.”
“I knew it,” Tessa mumbled. “I knew she couldn’t stop him.”
Michael stroked her leg, trying to calm her. “How would he even know where I live?”
“I’m not sure. The charges and other legal documents filed in his case shouldn’t have included any of your personal information. If the police report did, it should have been redacted before it was given to Masterson’s attorney. But there could have been plenty in there—your foster parents’ names, school information, whatever—for Masterson to use as a starting point in researching your address. Anyone with even a smidgeon of investigative ability would know half a dozen ways of finding you just from knowing your name.”
“That is not a comforting thought.”
Sam’s silence was even less comforting. Michael had just come to accept Tessa’s presence, but Sam had unraveled his false sense of calm faster than a kitten with a ball of yarn. Do your job, and catch the psycho, he wanted to tell her.
When Sam spoke again, her voice was quieter. “Michael, I’m sorry, but I have to ask. How much do you trust Tessa? You said you didn’t know her very well, so how did she know where you live? Also, her going missing at the same time that her father did is a little suspicious. At first, I was worried that he had gotten her, but the social worker said Tessa snuck out of the center within a half hour after I left. Her father had been released from custody around the same time. We know he went home first, but where he’s gone since is still a big question mark. We don’t think he’s left the area, and we’re certain he’s armed and dangerous.”
A heavy breath whistled through the speaker. “She’s done things, Michael, terrible things—things she and I are going to have to have a long talk about. I’m sure we’re just beginning to uncover a long list of her father’s victims. Who knows how many secrets that girl holds? I’m a little worried that she went to him. And now she’s with you, so…”
How did she find me? The question was a good one. Michael glared at Tessa suspiciously. She stared back, looking confused and scared but completely innocent. She wouldn’t. There’s no way she would lead him here. His heart sank. Would she?
He had easily found Tessa’s address. He just looked up her last name in an Internet phone directory and voila. But Michael’s last name wasn’t the same as his foster parents’. Tessa would have to have known their last name to do that kind of search. Michael wasn’t even sure if their address was listed.
But looking down at Tessa, sitting next to him and fidgeting, he couldn’t bring himself to think badly of her. He whispered into the phone, “I can trust her.”
“I would rather you didn’t,” Sam said. “In fact, I’m telling you not to. I’m sending a car around. It’ll be parked outside until Masterson resurfaces. Tell the officers if you notice anything out of the ordinary, and not just outside the house. I’ve got work to do now. I’ll check in on you as soon as I can.”
As usual, Sam hung up without saying goodbye. Michael barely noticed, his thoughts upon more important matters. Could the girl who had just cried on his shoulder be leading him into a trap? He’d heard women were nothing but trouble. Michael had never even kissed a girl before, and already he was forced to wonder if this girl would be the death of him.
Chapter 26
Officer Nicole McEvoy rubbed her knuckles. The skin over them was red and cracking. She hated New England winters, but she still had another six years before she was eligible for early retirement and could take her cushy cop pension and retire to West Palm Beach. Brown slush covered the floor mat, dripping from her boots. She looked outside the patrol car window at the salted and sanded yet still icy mess of a street and wondered just how long those six years would seem.
“It’s so cold out tonight,” Officer Ryan Noble said. He had a knack for stating the obvious, another factor that made her patrol years seem long. He crossed his arms over his chest. They couldn’t have the car running on a stakeout, which meant no heat. “This is a waste of time. Masterson’s not going show his face around here.” He unfolded his arms long enough to slap the steering wheel. “Why do we get stuck babysitting some brat while everyone else is out looking for that cop-killing fuck?”
Nicole nodded. “I know. I’m freezing my ass off. Maybe we should let the car run a bit.” She looked across the street at the Plummer residence. “Still, he’s out there somewhere.”
“If he has any brains, he’ll be halfway to Mexico by now. Screw it. I’m just gonna run it long enough to get us a little warm.” Ryan turned the key. The engine started, and the automatic headlights sprang to life, illuminating the road in front of them. “Shit! I forgot the lights.” He reached for the knob.
Nicole squinted through the fogged-up windshield. A man was standing directly in the beam of the left headlight.
“Where the hell did he come from?” She moved her hand toward her service pistol, keeping her eyes locked on the stranger.
The guy was dressed in a heavy winter jacket with the hood hanging almost completely over his eyes. He puffed out a steam cloud each time he exhaled. As he stepped closer to the patrol car, Nicole saw a bag in one of his hands and some kind of tray in the other. He kind of matched the description of Masterson, but so did a good portion of the male population. They had a picture, but his facial features were obscured by his hood and the night. She could tell that he wasn’t wearing glasses like Masterson, but she didn’t let down her guard, just in case. Holding up his hands, along with the bag and tray, the man walked around to the driver’s side.
Ryan lowered his window. “What can I do for you?” He obviously wasn’t feeling comfortable with the situation, either, since his hand lay on his open holster.
“Hello, Officers.” The guy bent a little to look inside the car and grinned at them. “I hope I didn’t startle you. My name is Greg Plummer. I live at the address you’ve been assigned to watch, and I’m a friend of Detective Reilly’s. I wanted to thank you both personally for helping to protect my son, Michael. He’s had a rough week, and we’re all worried about this sicko who’s on the loose.”
“Why aren’t you in the house?” Nicole asked. “We never saw you come out.”
“My car’s right there in the driveway.” The man pointed at a silver Nissan Altima parallel parked among the row of cars that lined the street.
Hadn’t it always been there? Nicole couldn’t remember. Not wanting to look like an idiot, she didn’t question it aloud, but her suspicions of the man remained.
“Anyway, I wanted to get you guys a quick pick-me-up to show my appreciation.” The man held up the bag, which had a local doughnut shop’s logo. The tray contained two cups that most likely held hot coffee. “These are for you.”
Ryan’s eyes lit up. He played right into the cop stereotype. On a cold December
night like that, a hot coffee would have enticed almost anybody.
Anybody except Nicole. “No, thank you,” she said.
“Relax, Nicole,” Ryan said. “It’s just coffee.” He turned to the man. “Don’t mind if I do. Thank you, sir.” He took the bag of doughnuts and set it on the console. Then he grabbed the tray of coffee.
Nicole whispered, “At least ask to see his ID first.”
“Oh, give it a rest, will you?” Ryan popped the lid off one cup. “Mmm, it smells so good.” He passed it to Nicole then opened the second one.
Nicole set the cup on the seat between her legs. She wanted her hands free while their visitor was standing so close.
“How much do we owe you?” Ryan asked. Nicole knew it was an empty offer.
“Oh, no. It’s my treat.” The man crouched beside the car door, blocking Nicole’s view of the side mirror.
She watched him cautiously. Something seemed slightly off about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. She slipped her hand down and unsnapped her holster. “Thank you, Mr. Plummer. But what I could really use is a bathroom. Would you mind if I follow you back to your house? I’ll only be a minute.” All the time I’ll need to see if you are who you say you are.
The man smiled. “No problem.”
Nicole watched for any hint of uneasiness, but the man remained comfortable and carefree. Too carefree. Particularly for a man whose son might be targeted by a killer.
Ryan chuckled. “Women and their bladders.” He raised his cup and took a hearty gulp.
He started coughing. Coffee splashed onto his hands and lap.
“What?” Nicole slid her pistol three-quarters of the way out of the holster. “Ryan, are you okay?”
“It’s fucking hot!” Ryan sputtered. “The coffee is good, though.” He looked up at the man. “Thanks again, Mr. Plummer.”
“Please, call me Greg.”
“You’re an idiot, Ryan.” Nicole relaxed a little and let her gun slip back into place.
Ryan blew on the coffee then took another gulp. “So, what do you do for a living, Greg?”