Wrecker

by Dave Conifer

  By then it was midmorning. She wondered if it was too early to go home, but then decided she could tell Steve that the hospital floor was over scheduled and she wasn’t needed. As she logged off NetReach and packed up to leave she wondered why she’d tortured herself by reliving the Creedmoor’s pain. What had she gained? Kristie was right. There was no point to her research. Hoping it was out of her system, she left the hospital, climbed into the car and headed home.

  ~~~

  She didn’t get very far. The idea hit her before she’d left the parking lot. Manteo, Creedmoor, all of it had run its course as far as she was concerned. It was interesting, even fascinating, but it no longer had anything to do with her – if it ever had. It was time for closure, and time for her and Steve to try to put their marriage back together, if that was still possible. There was one thing she needed to do before she was willing to put this behind her, and it was a simple thing.

  She pulled the car out of the line of traffic waiting for the light and parked in the emergency room overflow lot. The number for the Hammonton police was stored in the contact list of her phone so it was only seconds before it was dialed.

  “Can I please speak with Sergeant Rockingham?” she asked. It turned out that she couldn’t, but somebody agreed to have the Sergeant call her back as soon as he was available. A plan was already forming in her mind. It wasn’t going to be easy. Steve wouldn’t like it because he was going to be on his own with Allie for longer than he expected. In the long run she was sure it was best for both of them. After this day it’ll be over, she told herself, and she could focus all her energy on saving their marriage. She drove away from the hospital and slowly made her way toward home. Three miles later the phone in her lap rang.

  Chapter 16

  “Miss Havelock?” the sergeant said in the twangy drawl of a black man who’d spent a lot of time somewhere in rural America. Jane couldn’t place the accent but it was obvious that he couldn’t have lived in New Jersey for very long.

  “Hello? Sergeant Rockingham?” she answered anxiously before swapping her hands between the phone and the steering wheel. “Hello?”

  “Just returning your call,” Rockingham said.

  “Thanks. I know you’re busy and it’s almost lunchtime. Did you hear anything new about the Creedmoors?” she asked.

  “The Creedmoors? Not a thing,” he answered. “Should I have?”

  “Well, no, not that I’m aware of,” Jane stammered.

  “Why don’t you just say what you want to say? You’re fishing for something here, aren’t you?”

  He’s good, Jane thought. No use trying to trick him into anything. “I can’t stop thinking about what I saw in there,” she confessed. “In that house. I feel like something is wrong. I’m worried about my friend that I saw in there. If there’s a reason for him to be there, I can’t think of what it could be. I just need to stop thinking about this. I need to be done with it. And I’m worried about the man who lives there. I was reading about everything that happened to him.”

  “You mean the accident up in Maine?” Rockingham asked. “Yeah, that was quite a story. I know a little bit about that.”

  “That poor man,” Jane said. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

  “Now I have a question for you,” Rockingham said. “Where on earth were you reading about that? It’s been five years. What’s going on here?”

  “Nothing. I just checked it out on the internet, that’s all.”

  “But why?” he asked. “Listen, with all due respect, what does that have to do with you?”

  “It’s nothing, really,” Jane said. “I was just asking if there was anything new, that’s all.”

  “Nothing new about what?”

  “I get your point, Sergeant, really. I know.”

  “My man went out there, got some ID from Creedmoor and had a look around. Ain’t anything going on there. Unless you know something I don’t know. Are you holding out on me?”

  “Did he look inside the house?” Jane asked as she pulled onto her own street.

  “I doubt it,” Rockingham answered. “He had no call to. I’m sure they did the ID check at the door and that was the end of it. There wasn’t anything going on at all.”

  “I’ll bet if the officer had gone inside he’d feel differently. There’s the smell and the graffiti all over the walls.”

  “I can ask but I’d bet my bottom dollar he never went in.” He paused. “The walls I remember. Maybe you better tell me about that smell again.”

  “I’m not sure how to describe it. Maybe like rotten eggs. When I went upstairs it was a lot stronger. Just some kind of foul smell.”

  “That might be something worth looking into. Most likely it’s nothing but bad housekeeping. Maybe I can send somebody out there again when I get a chance.”

  There was the opening she’d been looking for. “I’m heading out there in a few minutes,” she told him. “I want to have one last look. Then I’m done with this.” Would he take the bait?

  “You’re going to the house?” Rockingham asked. “You can’t do that. You can’t be doing that.”

  “Why not? Is it against the law?”

  “Well, not exactly. But you can’t go snooping around private property like that. And what if there really is something wrong out there? Then you’re in a fix.”

  “Oh well,” she said, trying to sound as naïve as possible. “I just have to know.”

  “You have to know what?”

  “That’s what I don’t know.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out there,” he told her again.

  “Are you telling me not to?” She pulled into her own driveway and cut the engine.

  “I can’t,” he admitted. “Look, I don’t have anything pressing right now. Why don’t I go on out there with you? I was heading out for some lunch anyway.”

  Yes, she thought. Yes! “That’d be great. I’m nervous about going out there alone. Especially if I get a chance to go inside.”

  “You should be nervous, and you damn sure shouldn’t be going inside. I mean, it’s a job for the police. Not that there’s anything out there to worry about. Why don’t you come by the station and we’ll ride out together in a squad car?”

  “I can be there in twenty minutes,” she said. She knew it would be more like forty.

  ~~~

  Steve was waiting for her in the living room when she walked inside. She could hear Allie’s videos in the other room. Well aware of Steve’s child care style, she knew that’s what Allie had done for most of the morning. “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” he answered without moving his lips.

  “Did you and Allie make it to school?” she asked, already sure what the answer would be.

  “No. She didn’t feel good.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jane answered. She didn’t bother asking if Allie was feeling better because she knew her husband had made up the bit about her being sick. “It’s only preschool.”

  He glanced around before speaking again. “Look, I was thinking,” he said. “Do you think one of us should move out? Probably me. Allie needs you more.”

  She hadn’t planned on stopping to talk but this was big. It had all happened so fast. Feeling faint, she steadied herself with a hand on the wall before slipping into a chair. A smug look crossed his face as he watched her reaction. “I think it’s too soon for that,” she said after dropping her day bag between her feet.

  “You accused me of adultery. I don’t want to live under the same roof if you think that.”

  I saw pictures, she thought. I wouldn’t exactly call it an unfounded accusation. But it wasn’t the time for that. “What about Allie?” Jane asked. “I can’t do it to her. It would break her heart.” She thought about little Sara Creedmoor. “All a little girl wants is to be happy with her mother and father. I can’t take that away from her.”

  “Even if the mother and father are miserable? I can’t live like this,” he said,
folding his arms.

  “We couldn’t even afford it,” Jane argued. “Where would you live? And don’t forget, it takes two of us covering for each other to take care of Allie. Neither one of us could do it alone.”

  The conversation ended then because Allie appeared in the doorway. “Mommy!” she yelled as she tore across the room and buried herself in her mother’s shirt.

  Jane held her tightly. She was the same age Jessica Creedmoor had been when she’d died of a broken head and a collapsed lung. “I love you so much, sweetie. We’ll always be here for you.” She looked at Steve but couldn’t see his face through her own tears. He didn’t have a clue about why she was crying. How could he? He knew nothing about Sara Creedmoor. She heard him swear under his breath and stamp out of the room.

  ~~~

  “I have to go back into work,” she told him a few minutes later after failing to think of a more believable reason for her to leave again.

  “What? You just got back from work!”

  “I know. They over scheduled this morning and under scheduled this afternoon.”

  “You mean they fucked up, in other words,” he sputtered. “So I’m on duty again. This Mr. Mom deal is getting old.”

  She’d recently vowed never to use the words “I’m sorry” to him again but the phrase nearly popped out of her mouth before she caught herself. “I’ll be around more after today. I promise. Just this last time.” She expected him to put up a fight but he didn’t say anything more about it. Without another word she was back out of the house and on her way to Hammonton within minutes.

  ~~~

  “It’s a good thing I didn’t wait on you for lunch,” a uniformed officer said after emerging from somewhere behind a counter. In his hand was a Taco Bell wrapper that held something half-eaten. She’d guessed his race correctly but had been wrong about everything else. He looked to be in his mid fifties, with a splash of gray in his hair near the temples. He was in good shape but older than he’d sounded over the phone. “I’m Sergeant Rockingham. You’ve got to be Jane Havelock.”

  “Yes,” Jane said, offering her hand. “Sorry I’m later than I said I would be.”

  He smiled. “I knew you would be. You seem like somebody who stays below the speed limit.” He nodded at the man at the desk, as if they’d already discussed the sergeant’s plans, and he came around the counter. “Let’s get on the road.”

  They walked outside through glass doors to a standard police cruiser with a narrow set of lights across the roof. “I’ve never been in one of these,” she said as she buckled into the passenger seat.

  “That’s a good thing,” he answered with a smile. The engine roared to life and they were on their way. Jane marveled at the way the other cars on the road slowed and moved from their path, the same way she always did when a police vehicle was around. It looked a lot different from this perspective.

  “I thought you were a nurse, Miss Havelock,” he said as he eyed her purple scrubs.

  “You can call me Jane. And I am a nurse.”

  “I’m Duane, then, since we’re not really on official business. You look more like a lab tech or an x-ray girl in that garb. Where I come from the nurses dress like, you know, that lady in Cuckoo’s Nest. With Jack Nicholson.”

  “Are you sure? That was a long time ago,” Jane said. “I think most nurses dress like this now.”

  “Could be, could be,” he said. “Except in the movies, maybe.” They were on the expressway now. The cruiser had taken off like a rocket as soon as they merged into traffic and hadn’t slowed down at all. Sitting back casually with one hand on the wheel and looking everywhere except the road in front of him, Rockingham moved into the left lane and drove even faster. Jane tried unsuccessfully to see the speedometer. They were doing ninety, easily, she was sure, as she covertly clutched the handle of the door next to her.

  “What is all this stuff?” she asked, pointing at the array of electronics and screens that ran across the front from door to door. “Radios?”

  “Most of it’s communication gear, yeah,” he said. “That’s a computer under there,” he said, pointing somewhere between himself and her. “I’ve got some experimental hardware in here, too. The company that makes it wants it beta-tested,” he explained. “So they let us have it for free.”

  Jane was increasingly nervous about missing their exit but at the last minute he cut back over to the right lane, aided greatly by yielding motorists, and guided the car down the ramp and onto route 571. Jane empathized with the driver of the Mustang in front of them after Rockingham caught up. She’d never been ticketed in her life, but even so there was nothing more nerve-wracking than driving in front of a police car on a two lane road. It was uncomfortable for Jane just riding shotgun. Thankfully the Mustang turned in the other direction when they reached Falling Run Road.

  “That didn’t take long,” Jane said. “We’re just about there.”

  “I want you to stay in the car,” he warned. “All I’m doing is knocking on the door and asking for some ID. He doesn’t have to show it to me and he damn sure doesn’t have to let me inside.”

  “Staying in the car’s fine for me,” she agreed. “All I want to know is that Mr. Creedmoor is safe and sound.” She turned to face him as they passed through the stone pillars that flanked the driveway. “But how do we know if it’s really him?” she asked. “That was my whole problem with what your other officer did.”

  “I’ll know him. I checked his driver’s license picture before we left so I could be sure. If it’s Creedmoor that opens that door, I’ll know it.”

  “You can do that?”

  “Of course. I’m the police,” he said, grinning as they approached the mansion. “As a matter of fact I don’t even have to be at headquarters. I can do it right there,” he said, pointing at the computer again.

  “So we’ll know for sure,” Jane said. “Good.” She took a long look at the grounds as the car stopped after passing all the way around the oval. From where they sat in the cruiser it all looked so orderly and serene that she could understand why nobody thought much about her concerns. The place appeared as though it was cared for by an army of servants and landscapers. It would be hard for anybody to believe that the inside would be any different. But she knew otherwise. She’d seen it.

  “You stay here,” he said as he opened the door and stepped out. He fingered his holstered pistol momentarily as he walked to the door, probably more out of habit than anything else. After pushing the doorbell button he took three steps back but never took his eyes off the door. When nothing happened he pushed the button again. After the third time he rapped on the door with the iron clapper. Finally, after he’d been on the porch for five minutes, he walked back and got back into the cruiser. “We’ll wait a little,” he told her.

  “For what?” Jane asked.

  “People don’t like opening the door for a cop,” he said. “But they usually change their mind if you give them time. Or maybe nobody’s home yet.”

  There was movement even before he’d finished the sentence, but not from the house. They both twisted sideways in time to see a shiny burgundy Mercedes turn into the driveway from the road. Jane thought it was the same one she’d seen the first night she’d been there but made no mention of this. The driver of the Mercedes slowed to a crawl halfway to the house. “He just saw us,” Rockingham said. “That’s normal. I wouldn’t like it none either if a cop was sitting in my driveway.”

  The Mercedes picked up speed. “That’s his car, all right,” Rockingham said. “I checked his registrations, too.”

  “What’s he doing?” Jane asked.

  “He’s probably asking the same thing about us. He’s just being cautious and trying to figure out what’s going on. I’ll go talk to him if he ever gets this far.”

  When the Mercedes reached the cruiser Jane could see inside it clearly. For a split second she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. The bottom dropped out of her stomach the way it did on a roller c
oaster. Does the sergeant see what I see? Finally, somebody was going to have to start taking her seriously. Because she was right about everything. Sitting behind the wheel of the sparkling Mercedes was none other than Rob Manteo, the grimy sander of decks and digger of trenches. She desperately wanted to see the expression on Rockingham’s face, but she and Manteo had locked eyes and she couldn’t tear herself away from his stare. She saw him, he saw her, and she wasn’t sure who was more surprised.

  “That’s him. Let’s see about this,” Rockingham said as he stepped out of the car. Jane was speechless. That’s who? What are you talking about? Rockingham walked behind the Mercedes but before he reached the passenger side it began moving again, this time not as slowly as before. Rockingham stopped and watched as it disappeared behind the house.

  Instead of returning to the cruiser, the sergeant followed on foot. That didn’t look like a good idea to Jane. Now that he knew that there’s a problem here, she thought he’d be more careful than that. He does know, right? Shouldn’t he know better? She saw the keys dangling from the ignition and wondered how hard it would be for her to drive the car around the house and somehow rescue him from his mistake.

  It wasn’t long before the sergeant reappeared, apparently unharmed, and walked back in the direction of the cruiser. The sound of squealing tires erupted from somewhere behind him, filling the air as he approached. Rockingham picked up his pace as he looked back to where the sound was coming from before jogging the last ten steps. He reached the cruiser just as a beat up white pickup truck flew from behind the house and up the driveway. The truck stopped briefly at the shed, where Manteo hopped out and quickly transferred a few things into the truck bed before taking off again. The brake lights flashed for an instant before it fishtailed out onto road and was gone. Jane had seen that truck many times before.

  “Did you see him?” she yelled out the window. “Now do you believe me? That was him! That was my friend!”