“His last name is Towalski. His father is Humphrey Towalski presently in Okeechobee Correctional. He lives with his scary stepmother, Ruth. I can give you the address.”
“I’m thrilled and delighted.” He faked yawning.
“Look, if you can prove Abby intended to kill Toby, instead of merely shooting Banks accidentally, then you have her for attempted murder. Much better than some hokey prowler manslaughter charge.”
“Attempted murder. I like that. Where’s the evidence?”
“A strong enough motive can be evidence. I think I have it. He and Abby are into something big enough for her to have ten grand cash and Toby’s stepmother an expensive new TV. They’re fighting over illegitimate money from somewhere. Enough money that she wants him dead. Check out Toby Towalski and keep your eyes out for Jamie. You might solve a kidnapping while you’re at it.”
“Have to think about this. Why are you working this angle?”
“To find Jamie for one. Plus Moran is connecting me to Banks, the actual victim, because of old stuff on my computer. If Abby was gunning for Toby instead of Banks, then Moran can’t say I conspired with her to shoot Banks. I’d be in the clear.”
“Give me his address. And thanks...I guess.” The detective put his hand on her arm and leaned closer. “I’d really like to see you back off a bit. Why don’t you leave everything to us? You’re getting in deep here...the shooting and kidnapping. People involved in this kind of stuff shoot guns and hurt people. Possibly, we can get something on Toby now that we have a name and address to work with. In any case, be careful. He now knows you’ve discovered his identity.”
“I’m sure his mother has told him all about me.”
“We never had this conversation about your case. Okay?” They both stood. “If I can ever help with anything else, I hope you’ll call me.” He held out his hand, which she thought a bit unusual, but she shook it and said goodbye.
Kevin was waiting in the lobby when she came out. “Triney’s now with us. I think he’ll check out Toby with kidnapping in mind.”
“Good, at least something’s being done. It’s so great you located Toby.”
“Let’s sit a minute. I’ve an idea on what to do next. By the way, did I mention I enjoyed the conversation with you last night. I noticed you don’t talk much about your divorce.”
“Was that a question?”
She was dying to know what went on. “None of my business. I’m thinking about how it affected Jamie.”
“Devastating for any kid, of course. I’m lucky I ended up with her still on my side. Even though I’m a failure as a parent.”
“Failure?”
“Because I got divorced.”
“Sounds too all encompassing. Marriage is tough.”
“I was attracted to all her sexiness before we were married. I’d never had it so...excessively like that. I was okay with it, but the excitement didn't last for her. Soon she said I didn’t meet her needs and she was tired of trying to meet mine. She felt confined and trapped. She wanted to be 'active'. Said being married wasn’t fun anymore. '”
“When did she say that, at the wedding reception?”
“After two months.”
“Feeling confined and trapped are code words for I want to screw other people,” she suggested.
“I think she reconnected with one of her old boyfriends. It came to a head one night. Out of the blue, she said I ignored her.”
“Of course. The boyfriend is giving her plenty of attention. He gives her the confidence she needs to ditch you. He’s telling her all she wants is to be happy, you’re a loser, and she’s in the right. That successful ploy will continue until he gets tired of screwing her.”
Kevin looked away for a moment and then down at his hands. “He might be Jamie’s real father.”
“What? What?”
“One night we were hurling vicious words back and forth. I told her if she wanted out then that was fine with me. But I wanted custody of Jamie. That’s when she screamed out Jamie wasn’t my daughter.”
“Wow! Let's sit down here a minute. What a way to hurt a guy.”
“After one of our fights she said she stopped taking the pill because we hadn’t had sex for a month. According to her, the only unprotected sex she had during that time was with this Warren. Apparently, she saw him all through our marriage starting within a year of our wedding. She was certain I couldn’t have been the father, nevertheless she had a DNA test just to be sure. Jamie isn’t my child. Warren is.”
“Oh, god, you poor guy. What an evil, nasty, crummy thing for her to say to someone who has been bringing up her child. Your heart must have sunk through the floor when the DNA test confirmed it. Are you certain about the timing of all this.”
“It doesn’t make any difference to me. I don’t want anyone else to be Jamie’s father.”
“Forget about the DNA for a minute. Is there any chance you had sexual relations with Abby around nine months, plus or minus, before she was born?”
“I’ve no idea. All that took place years before the night she hit me with the news. I’ve been all through this. Her biological father isn’t involved emotionally or legally in this. That’s the way I want it. I don’t want him involved in her life.
“When did you participate in the DNA test?”
“I didn’t participate. They tested Warren and got a positive result.”
“For chrissake, Kevin, you’ve had some pre-med education, yet you sound like some ignorant hillbilly. That isn’t how they do it. You must give a sample as well. That’s what paternity testing is all about. You, Abby and Jamie must all three give samples for the DNA to be valid.”
“She didn't say anything to me about that.”
“What about all her unprotected sex with other men during your marriage? Warren might have been her partner now and again for years. I’ll bet there were other men as well. God only knows who all those guys in turn slept with and what you were subsequently exposed to.”
“I definitely was concerned about that part when I found out. I had tests immediately for HIV and a complete STD screen. I’m totally clean.”
“At least you had sense enough to do that. And there’s been no sex with Abby since?”
“Of course not!”
“You don’t trust Abby. Why do you believe her when it comes to the most important thing in your life?”
“I don’t want to know absolutely, definitely, that Jamie isn’t mine.”
“You can’t go through life with your head in the sand. It’s important to know. You have to find out for sure. I think we should dig into this. Tell me about the divorce.”
“She ran around, but it was my fault as well. I could’ve been a better husband. Sort of silly...I got hooked on Rubik’s Cube.”
“Wait, wait, wait. She screwed other men. You tried to solve Rubik’s Cube. You think you both are guilty of destroying the marriage?”
“Usually she would get all dressed up and go out in the evening to meet a girlfriend, but one night we were home watching TV, one of her shows. I just wasn’t that interested and had the cube in my hands twisting it around. It was a challenge for me. She blew up and told me she was tired of seeing that dumb cube and she told me where I could stick it. I suppose there were other times when I could have done something with her. The entire Rubik fascination lasted only a couple of weeks.”
“You found the puzzle more interesting than her.”
“That wouldn’t take much. In the divorce, we agreed she got half of everything, including the house I practically built before the marriage. Later, she agreed to give up custody of Jamie in return for all of the house. I jumped at the deal. I would get Jamie. I could always get another house. Jamie also was in heaven over the arrangement. The kicker came later. Abby told me after the house deal got settled she was going back before the judge and get custody of Jamie on the grounds she had a house for the child and I didn’t.”
“Leaving you with nothing and Jamie taken
away.”
“She didn’t really want Jamie. She did it because she knew Jamie and I wanted to be together. So I changed my mind about giving her the house. She’ll still get it, I suppose, but I’m going to fight it.
“So you think you’re a failure as a parent because of all that. You’re going to get her back permanently, I’m sure of it. I’ll help you. I just put it on my to-do list.”
“That’s great but we have to find her first.”
“You absolutely must get a valid DNA paternity test.”
“You said we need Abby’s DNA and Jamie’s DNA as well as mine. Abby would never give a sample and Jamie isn’t around.”
“I’ll get their DNA. You’ve been watching Abby’s house every chance you get haven’t you?”
“Sure, and no sign of Jamie.”
“I’m going to go inside.”
“Inside Abby’s house? You think Jamie’s in there?”
“That’s a long shot although with Abby who knows. The house has never been checked. Is there more than one bathroom?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” He saw she expected an answer. “Okay, there’s a bathroom off the master bedroom and one in the hall.”
“Jamie uses the one in the hall, right?”
“Right. I’m glad we cleared up the bathroom layout. What are you up to?”
“I can obtain DNA samples from their toothbrushes. We’re going to continue searching for Jamie while waiting for the test results. I want to nose around in her house anyway. Stuff on her computer. Messages on her answering machine. An address book. Something lying around. Anything that might lead us to Jamie.”
“You know she has a gun?”
“The cops took it. At least they took one gun—she may have another. If you phoned her, say tonight, could you get her out of the house for an hour? I’m not certain just how I’ll get in. I can probably do it. Often there’s an unlocked window or something.”
"Why don’t I just tell you where the backdoor key is hidden?”
“That’s too simple. More fun to break a window. I’m kidding...where’s the key?”
“In the hanging flower pot on the back porch. She leaves it there for Jamie. How can I lure Abby out of the house?”
“Make up something about visitation or custody. Tell her there’s some problem. Will that work? Phone her now.”
She waited while he phoned Abby. He began nodding his head. After a few minutes, he flipped his phone shut and smiled. “No problem. Seven tonight. She was surprised. She’s coming over to the Ramada. I told her I’d buy her dinner. She thinks I want to get her in bed.”
“Do you? Hey, just once more for old time’s sake?”
“I’ve already drunk too much water from that poisoned well.”
Chapter Fifteen
Shortly before seven that evening, Sandy parked down the block and watched as Abby left her house and backed out of the driveway. When her car was out of sight, Sandy pulled far up the driveway so her car wasn’t visible from the street.
On the back porch, she found the key in the hanging flowerpot. She unlocked the door and stepped inside the kitchen. It was growing dark outside. A yard light mounted on the garage illuminated the rooms at the back of the house. She could see with no problem. She walked through the small house directly to the bathrooms. An electric toothbrush was in its stand in the master bathroom. She snapped the brush out of the end and wrapped it in the little square of clean paper she’d brought. In the hall bathroom, she found a small brush with Yogi Bear for a handle. She wrapped it also and stuffed both deep into the pocket of her jeans. Next, she checked the bedrooms, opening each closet thinking how satisfying it’d be to find Jamie there gagged and pleading with wide eyes.
That’s when she heard something. Something from the kitchen. Like the click of a closing door. Had she locked the back door after she came in? No, she wanted it open for a fast getaway. She waited there in the hall. Quiet. Nothing. The sound had possibly come from outside. She stepped softly across to the dining room window to look out at her car. A chill raced along her spine. Oh Christ, now a white SUV was parked in the driveway.
She heard shuffling and a loud grunt behind her. She started to turn. Some cloth, it felt like a dishtowel, was flipped over her head and pulled hard around her neck. Definitely someone strong behind her. She jerked back against him. Tried to scream. The towel twisted tighter around her neck. She choked and tried to get her fingers under the towel. Too tight. She flayed about trying reach back to find his face with her hand. He pulled harder. All she could do was to kick and twist and claw at the towel around her throat. She felt faint. Could no longer struggle. She felt warm. Dizzy. And an increasing blackness.
The man let her limp body fall to the floor. He took the towel from her neck and used it to tie her wrists together behind her. He turned her over onto her back lying awkwardly on her tied hands. He spread her legs and ran his hands over her jeans feeling her thighs. He straddled her, sitting on her legs with his knees on the floor.
She moved. She was alive.
“Sandy...that your name?” His voice was low, almost as though talking only to himself. “Mother told me about you. Been watching you. What you doing here?”
It had to be Toby. She gasped and tried to catch her breath. All she could do was whisper, “Abby went to the store. Gave me the key. She’ll be back any minute. You’re breaking my arms, you bastard. Get off me.”
“I hope they’re not broken. I know I’m heavy on you, but think I’ll stay right here on your legs so you don’t start kicking.”
“Let me sit up.” She tried to think. This is Toby. This is the son. Evidently, he’s afraid of his stepmother. Perhaps afraid of all women. She gave it a try, “Toby, let me get on that couch this very minute!”
“Of course, the couch. Would be better. Sorry, didn’t think of that.” He helped her up and over to the couch. She was slightly dizzy and fell back hard on the cushions, her hands still bound behind her. He took a dining room chair and positioned it directly in front of her. He sat with her knees clamped between his.
“Maybe I should tie her feet together,” he muttered under his breath. “You know what I need? Something in case she starts screaming. A dishcloth from the kitchen. Just go ahead and stuff it in her mouth, I guess.”
She shook her head fiercely. “Don’t gag me. I won’t scream.”
“Of course, you’re going to say that.” He reached into his pocket. He unfolded a knife. The blade was slightly curved with an angry serrated edge on one side.
She saw the glint of steel in the growing darkness. “You don’t need a knife either.” She tried to keep her voice calm. The dark traces of dried blood on the knife paralyzed her for an instant. She hoped he hadn’t noticed.
“This is my hog knife, to gut wild hogs. Hogs are smart you know that? They squirm around and make a lot of noise at first, trying to get away. Eventually they give up and quiet down. Then I can take my time with them. They just lie there whimpering which I guess is a hog’s way of crying. The first time it was me who gave up. I learned you have to keep on until they realize struggling won’t do them any good. They might as well relax. I'm going to do what I want with them. You like knives? Some people are really scared of knives.” He held it up and turned it so the long blade caught the light. “I keep this super sharp. Getting all the blood off is a real bitch.”
“I’m not scared of your stupid knife. Now put it away. If you need it, you can always pull it out.” In fact, she was more afraid of the dishtowel. He had nearly strangled her with it. Another five seconds would have done it. He had relaxed his grip on the towel just in time. Was it a fluke that he let go when he did, or did he in fact know what he was doing?
“I don’t get why you’re talking like this. Giving me orders. I’ve got the knife and you’re tied up.”
“You’re right Toby. You’re the man. You’re in control. Why don’t you untie my hands? You’ve got me trapped. I can’t go anywhe
re. You’re too strong for me.”
“You sound real corny.”
“Look, Toby, we started off wrong. We haven’t really met. You seem like a nice enough guy.” She forced a nice smile. “Let’s go where we can get comfortable and really get to know each other.”
“Yeah, we could do that, if I was dumb as pie dough. That’s what mother says, dumb as pie dough. But if you’re going to act as if everything’s cool then you won’t mind if I yank your shirt up and check out what you got.”
Her impulse was to struggle, but struggling would confirm his being in control. She just fiercely glared at him. “Don’t you dare touch me.”
“Now there you go. What’s this don’t you dare touch me, shit? I have the knife. You know, I could force you to take off all your clothes. You’d be sitting there naked and you wouldn’t be hiding stuff like you girls do. You saying my knife isn’t enough. I also need permission to touch you?”
“That’s right, if you don’t have my permission, it would be a criminal act to touch me. Have you been doing many criminal acts, Toby?
“I’ve done some pretty weird shit.”
“By weird shit, do you mean illegal acts or just stuff that was wrong?”
“When I think of wrong I just think of black. Black smoke all full in my head. Wrong is black and bad. I don’t know what else about it. What if I thought about a lot of terrible things? And I did some of them because I liked doing them. Does that make me bad?”
“You can think about a lot of terrible things and that’s normal. There’s exciting things you can do without hurting other people. I think you know the difference.”
“I like to look at pictures of naked women. That’s exciting and doesn’t hurt other people. You saying that don’t make me bad?”
“No, that’s normal. You’re wired to like pictures of naked women. Males are made that way. That’s what keeps the species going.” She wanted the words back immediately. That bit of anthropology only confused him. How senseless to have said it; she was trying to empathize enough to influence him. She tried to recover, “The trick is to recognize the feeling, realize it’s normal, and move on to something constructive.”
The Price of Candy sr-2 Page 10