by Wendy Byrne
They pulled up to Tallman’s home and spotted his car in the driveway. “Bingo. I knew we’d catch up with him today.”
“We’re going to ask him some questions and then call in the police, right?” Cole glanced at Sam before he exited the car.
“Yeah, sure.”
“I mean it, Sam. We’ve followed this too far to let it blow up in our faces by doing something stupid.”
Sam shook his head, thinking about all the needless time Travis had spent in prison and it was hard to suppress the anger. “Gotcha.” He sucked in a breath and willed all those years he’d been an easy target for everything that had gone wrong to slide off his back. Now was not the time to be living in the past.
Cole took the lead and pounded on the front door. “Tallman, come on. Man up and open the Goddamn door.”
They stood on the front porch several minutes without an answer. Frustrated, Sam glanced around. “How about we check the back? Maybe he’s got an unlocked door or something.”
They walked around to the back. “Holy shit.” Cole said.
Sam couldn’t seem to form the words as he spotted Tallman’s body floating in the swimming pool.
“I guess this means we’re back to square one,” Cole said as he opened his phone to call 9-1-1.
“Who’s that lying over by the bushes?” Sam ran toward the edge of the yard, hoping it wasn’t Travis. He turned the body over, and felt for a pulse. He was relieved it wasn’t Travis since this kid didn’t look like he was going to make it.
Chapter Thirty
Even if her mind could turn off for a few seconds, her racing heart was a constant reminder of what was at stake. Jillian took the exit ramp to Venice Beach without touching the brake. So many scary thoughts had tumbled through her mind as she drove. The terrible loss of her parents paled in comparison to something happening to Travis. She tried to focus. How could Carlos and Travis escape without help?
Bottom line: Lexie needed help. Helping Lexie could help Travis. She might know where Carlos and Travis were. Jillian didn’t have time to wallow in fear.
Hoping for a positive update of some kind, she called Detective Brock as she entered Venice.
“Detective Brock.”
“I’m so glad you’re in the office. Have you heard anything about Travis?”
“Nothing so far.”
She tried to hide her frustration. “But how did they get out? Surely somebody would have caught them pretty quickly if they were on foot.”
“They had inside help.”
“You have to know Travis was coerced. No way would he have left with Carlos unless under duress.”
“That’s what I thought until I saw the video. It looks like Travis is holding a knife to Carlos’ back as they leave.”
“No way.” She shook her head as tears dribbled down her cheeks. “Where would he get such a thing? He’s only been out of the hospital a couple of days. It doesn’t make sense.”
“I agree, but I gotta tell you this video is pretty convincing.”
She would not give up. She could not give up. When all else failed, soldier on, her father would say. “Then it’s been doctored or faked or something. It shouldn’t be much of a stretch to believe there could have been some manipulation since they knew it would be on video.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I have to figure out a way to prove it. The judge is all over my ass now to try Travis as an adult after this stunt. So once we get him back, it’s going to be pretty rough.”
“I appreciate your candor, Detective. I’ll let you know if I hear anything from Travis.”
Her insides twisted. She had to figure this out.
The voice in her head that kept telling her she should have contacted Sam to come with her was just an annoyance. Being reliant on somebody else was not how she wanted to live her life.
Besides, it was Lexie. And she had sounded so scared. Surely she wasn’t that good of an actress. Then again, this was the girl who had somehow convinced Travis to come to her aid, starting this whole nightmare.
She listened to the commands of the GPS as she drove through the unfamiliar neighborhood. The sun was beginning to set and a slight fog was settling in. Finding a scared-out-of-her-mind girl at McDonalds shouldn’t be that difficult.
She dialed back the number Lexie had called her from, but it went right into voicemail. “Damn.”
An eerie sensation slid down her spine when she spotted several cop cars up ahead blocking the road. When she spotted the McDonald’s sign smack dab in the middle of it, her already frayed nerves ratcheted up another notch.
She squealed into the parking lot and bolted inside. A crowd lined the front, their noses pressed against the glass. Hearing whispers about a possible hit and run, she tried not to assume the worst.
But when she didn’t spot Lexie among the crowd, panic set in. She forced her voice to remain calm and asked, “What happened?”
“Some girl ran out of here and right into the street.”
“Was she alone?” No one seemed to notice the tremor in her voice as the focus remained on the flurry of activity outside.
“She was hanging around like she was waiting for somebody. She looked pretty scared and I thought she might be in trouble, but when I went to ask if I could help her, she ran off.” The guy shook his head. “A lot of runaways come into this place. I try to hook them up with the shelter so they don’t do something stupid. I didn’t mean to spook her like that.” His voice started to crack, but he continued, “She ran into the street and got hit by a car.”
“What did she look like?”
He shrugged, his mind seemingly lost in its own torment. “She looked about sixteen or so, tall and thin, dressed in jeans, blonde hair, I think.”
Lexie. The validity sank inside her heart. With her worst nightmares confirmed, Jillian asked, “Do you know if she’s okay?”
“They’ve got her in the ambulance now.” He looked about to cry. “I was trying to help. I didn’t mean to scare—”
She grasped his arm. “I believe I know the girl. I’m going to see what’s going on.”
“Let me know if you find out anything.”
“I will.” With a kind of determination she hadn’t felt in a long time, she marched outside and approached the first cop she spotted.
“I’m a family friend. How’s the girl who was hit?” She trembled as she took in the scene around her. Cops were still directing traffic. A shook up driver paced along the periphery. The ambulance door was open but she could see little inside.
“They’re trying to stabilize her before they move her to the hospital.”
“Thank God she’s alive.”
He gave her one of those looks that didn’t hold a lot of promise. “For now.”
“Can I see her?” It might be selfish, but all she could think about was that Lexie wanted to tell her something, and if she died, the secret she held would never come to light.
“Let me check with the paramedics.”
Without asking further permission, she followed behind him. There seemed to be a lot of activity inside the ambulance, which signaled to her that they were working on Lexie. She heard somebody shout, “We’ve got a pulse,” which led to another round of frenetic movement.
The officer stood to the side waiting for the activity to subside before he interrupted. “I have a family friend here. Can she talk to the girl before you transport her?”
Tears pooled in Jillian’s eyes as she spied Lexie’s still body inside. This was bad. She could sense it in the quietness of the chaotic scene.
“You’ve got seconds, not minutes,” one of the paramedics said.
Jillian squeezed inside. “Lexie, honey, you’re going to be all right.” She touched Lexie’s hand. Blood stained Lexie’s clothing. Her eyes were closed and her skin felt clammy to the touch. “I’ll have them call your mom.”
Her eyes slid open a quarter of an inch. “No.” She drew in a shaky breath, “doc—”
&n
bsp; “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re going to have to leave. Leave the contact information for the girl with the officer.”
***
Sam pulled into Jillian’s driveway. Darkness had set in, especially so at her place since she lived in the mountains. Based on the absence of lights in her house or a car in the driveway, he suspected she wasn’t home.
She hadn’t returned his calls, which was probably a good thing since he didn’t know how he was going to explain Tallman’s death, Jeremy in intensive care and the fact that were pinpointing Travis as a chief suspect since his fingerprints were all over the Goddamn house. But with her car missing, he couldn’t help being worried. Was there a possibility she’d been contacted by the police already? He knew she blamed herself for everything, even things or circumstances she had no control over, and that could tip her over the edge.
Long ago, he’d been subject to the same kind of guilt: If he hadn’t been such a bad kid and had helped his mother more, she wouldn’t have used drugs, wouldn’t have left him alone so often. If he’d been around more he could have somehow stopped her from sticking the needle into her arm. He’d been a victim of misplaced guilt.
Finally, he’d accepted the cold hard fact that his mother was an addict. Because of her addiction, she did everything and anything to feed her habit. There was nothing he or anybody else could do to change that fact.
For a long time, he would search for his mother in crowds, thinking he’d spotted her, only to be disappointed as he got closer. He knew that the woman he remembered from so long ago would inevitably look different because of the progression of her disease. So, whenever a female street person came up to him asking for spare change, he couldn’t stop himself from looking into her eyes for a glimpse of familiarity. He wondered if she was still alive, if she knew of his success or the fact that he’d grown into someone she could be proud of.
While he always gave Mama Iris credit, which she richly deserved, he couldn’t dismiss the fact that his mother had given life to him. Her struggles having him at a young age were chronicled in the lengthy reports he’d read at the DCFS office. He knew she’d been helped initially by some of the programs available, but they hadn’t been enough as she struggled to keep her head above water. By the time he turned three and was attending the local Head Start program, his mother was already using crack and reports of his neglect had begun to filter in. It didn’t surprise him when he’d read in his file that at one time his mother had been involved in prostitution to continue her habit. DCFS had lost track of her for a period of time, but when she resurfaced again when Sam was eight, they’d swooped in and had taken him away.
Bits and pieces of that day broke through in haunting memories. Overwhelming fear and sadness had overshadowed everything else. For him, like a lot of kids, it had resulted in a whole lot of anger. That misdirected anger had led to multiple foster home placements throughout the years. Prior to Mama Iris, he was a youth who was destined to become a statistic.
A sense of melancholy filled him as he fought to keep positive. He pushed back thoughts of the tough lessons he’d learned on the streets or in the care of foster parents who were stretched to their limits.
When he spotted lights and Jillian’s car pulling into the driveway, he was glad for the reprieve from his thoughts but at the same time worried about how he was going to tell her what had happened. Focusing on the negative wouldn’t do squat as Mama Iris would say.
Jillian parked her car and got out. Any questions he might have about her reaction to seeing him were resolved when she got out of the car and placed her hands on her hips.
“I don’t mean to be rude, Sam, but I don’t have time for this now.” She rushed towards the house.
“What’s going on? Have you heard from Travis?”
Her lack of eye contact made him wonder what she was hiding. “No, but I need to do something.”
“Let me help you, Jillian.” He spit out an oath when she ignored him and proceeded to unlock her front door. “This isn’t about having the strength to do things on your own. I know you have that. This is about working together.”
She gave him a sidelong glance and her lips started to tremble. “I…just…oh Sam…it was awful.” Her resolve to be strong suddenly crumbled as she threw her arms around his neck.
He held her tight for a good long time before he pulled back and looked into her eyes. “What happened, Jillian?”
“Lexie.” She gulped as some kind of nervous energy shuddered through. “She was hit by a car.”
“You found Lexie?”
“She called. I was on my way to pick her up in Venice Beach when she got hit by a car.” She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure it was an accident, but they don’t know if she’ll make it.” The words rushed out of her as if she thought if said fast enough they wouldn’t come true.
“Oh man.” He sifted his fingers through his hair and tried to make sense of it all. The good news was the kid was alive. The bad news was it might not be that way for long. How did Eric Tallman’s death play into this? “Cole and I went to talk to Tallman and found him dead in his swimming pool. Jeremy was there as well. He’s hanging on by a thread.” He couldn’t seem to tell her that her son was suspect number one in the murder. Not now, when she was so raw from what had happened to Lexie. “We do know he was involved with Lexie’s mom. Maybe somebody else was as well. Maybe somebody we haven’t even thought about.”
“I know this sounds far-fetched but could there be some connection with Dr. Stern? We saw him at Victoria Gill’s house. Maybe he’s the mystery man.”
“The guy’s an unemotional prick, but I’m not sure I see the connection.”
“All these kids have ties to him. What if through a mutual association at his office, they’ve formed a kind of killing team. Lexie woke up briefly in the ambulance and said something that sounded like no doctor. At first I was thinking she was hurting and delirious, but she looked right at me and said it like she wanted me to know.”
“It sounds iffy.”
“Which is why I didn’t call my suspicions in to Detective Brock. He’d think I went off into crazy land. I only let him know about Lexie’s accident and where she was. He didn’t ask anything further and I didn’t elaborate.”
“So what we need to know is whether there’s any connection between these kids and Dr. Stern, and what’s happened. Right?”
“Exactly. We know Lexie and Travis and Jeremy were in the same therapy group. I wonder if any of the other kids were seen by him.” She grabbed his arm. “If I’m right I have a feeling Travis is in more trouble than I thought.”
Part of him screamed ‘Tell her now.’ The other part cautioned him to take the wait and see approach.
Chapter Thirty-one
It had happened so fast, he couldn’t pull it all together quick enough. Everything was going along fine—meaning they hadn’t killed him yet—and then it suddenly went out of control.
Jeremy had been driving the car that picked them up. Travis wasn’t too happy when he spotted Slash in the passenger seat, but he’d deal. Then Carlos got a phone call and everything went south quick.
“The man needs us to take care of some business in Brentwood.”
If they were running away, why the hell would they run to a place they were more likely to get caught? It didn’t make any kind of sense. But he didn’t voice his opinion. With a little luck, they might actually get caught and he’d be back in juvie safe and sound.
Now Travis had just awakened in the car with Jeremy gone. He was missing another chunk of time.
***
Jillian could barely hide her relief. He believed her. If not, at least he was humoring her new idea that might not pan out.
“Let me call Cole and see if there’s a way for him to get Dr. Stern’s client list.” He flipped open his phone and called. As he repeated the request, she held her breath. Seconds later, he disconnected. “Good news is yeah, he can probably get the information. Bad news is that it
might take a day or two.”
Her heart lurched. “We don’t have that much time.” She paced as crazy thoughts ran roughshod through her. “What else can we do?”
“Two ways to go about this: We can approach Detective Brock about it, but I suspect even if he believes us it might be a dead end. We’d have to get a judge’s order to subpoena the names and that might take some time. Maybe I could break in and go through his files.”
“Only if I go with you.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s too dangerous.”
“Then I can’t let you do it either.” She placed her hands on her hips. “This is my child we’re talking about. I need to take the risk if it means Travis can be safe.”
“Get in. We’ll take the truck.”
***
Travis’ head pounded like somebody was using his temples for drums. Thump. Thump. Thump. He wanted to scream: Make it stop.
He could sense the darkness before he opened his eyes. He wondered how much time had passed. Sounds from the woods seemed louder. Then again, maybe it was the heavy metal band playing inside his head.
He’d never liked camping much. When Dr. Stern had suggested his mom send him off to boot camp, he’d fought it tooth and nail for exactly this reason.
He didn’t mind nature, but he didn’t want to be reliant on it. He liked the simple things in life like furnaces for warmth rather than a campfire, indoor plumbing rather than the nearest tree, and hot water showers rather than cold.
They’d removed those dumb plastic handcuffs. No doubt they suspected he’d be out of it for a while. He figured they’d put something in his water. On to them now, he was spitting out anything they gave him and faking being unconscious. He vaguely remembered somebody checking his pulse a few times during the night, probably hoping he was dead so they wouldn’t have to drag him along.