by Rowan Hanlon
Suddenly Clara came back into the room. Sloan jerked when she saw her, not realizing she had gone into other parts of the house looking for Jeremy. She shook her head at Sloan, indicating that he wasn’t here. Then she turned to the young woman and a soft smile crossed her lips. Without a word, she went over to her and bent down, hugging her along with Hadley. Sloan watched them for a moment and then she, too, walked over and wrapped her arms around all three as best she could. She wasn’t that big, but she managed to touch all of them at once with her arms and that was good enough.
Three Angels
The young woman’s name was Aubrey Patton. She was a thirty-one-year-old blonde hair, blue-eyed beauty from Kentucky. She had a PhD in chemistry and was a research scientist for a big pharmaceutical company. She called Sloan, Hadley and Clara her “Three Angels.” And, because of that, that’s what everyone else began to call them, too.
They’d stayed with Aubrey, holding her tightly, until the police came. An officer had broken down into tears at the sight of Aubrey and another actually vomited. Her captor had taken to giving her arms a good cutting each and every day. A little slice here and a little slice there. The wounds had stayed open and, with no antiseptic to cleanse them, they had crusted over in the dirty house and had nearly turned to gangrene. If they hadn’t found her, she would have been dead within a week.
They told the authorities everything they knew. They told them his name and where he lived. They told them they just had a hunch, that was all, and that’s why they had followed him out to the country.
Jeremy Clemmons was at work in his cubicle in an Atlanta office complex when six uniformed officers and four detectives walked in to arrest him for kidnapping, rape, assault, battery and… Well, the list went on and on. To say his co-workers were shocked would be a gross understatement. In fact, the whole world was shocked. How could this young man, this upstanding citizen who paid his bills and went to work each and every day have done such atrocities? It was a story everyone was talking about.
However, Jeremy Clemmons maintained his innocence throughout his trial. He begged the jurors and the judge to please spare him, that it was a case of mistaken identity that he’d never even once hit a woman. He tried to appeal to the families of the victims, asking them, “What if this was your son being convicted of crimes he did not commit?” But the evidence was there. His laptop’s history had several of the women’s social media pages on it, as if he pursued them almost on a daily basis. Also, the tires from his car directly matched those found at the house where Aubrey Patton was held captive. In addition to that, he had a small storage unit they raided. It was piled high with all sorts of junk—broken furniture, yearbooks, et cetera—and in the back they discovered a huge old locked trunk. Inside the trunk they found Jeremy’s trophies from his victims, which included Hadley’s earrings, her watch and her clothing. They found Clara’s riding boots. They also found Sloan’s phone and, oddly and grotesquely enough, her fingernails in a little plastic bag.
That wasn’t all they found. They found many other tokens from many other women: Clothing, purses, pictures of family members, keys. All stuffed inside this trunk in a storage unit.
Therefore, the evidence was conclusive. Jeremy Clemmons was the man who’d done all these horrible things to many different women. For all intents and purposes, it would be an open and shut case and he had one federal trail in Atlanta that was covered by almost all of the major news programs. There were always throngs of crowds waiting on him outside the courthouse, all holding up signs telling him what a foul human being he was, how he was a murderer, a kidnapper, a rapist and, generally, the worst piece of trash on planet Earth.
None of the women were asked to take the stand against him, but Clara Simmons chose to. Once she was on the stand, she and he locked eyes and he begged her, with tears streaming down his cheeks, “Please, ma’am, I didn’t do this. I am begging you to believe me. I did not hurt you or any of these other women.”
She had stared at him and for the life of her, she could find not one ounce of empathy. But something about the way he begged got to her… What if it wasn’t him? But how could that be? And he called her “ma’am.” Ma’am? She couldn’t ever once remember him calling her that while he held her captive. But, then again, that wasn’t something a serial killer would say to his victim. Why was he using that term now? But then she chastised herself for even giving over to this sort of thinking, for doubting for even a second that the man in front of her was not the man who had done all the awful terrible things to her and many other women. He was a monster. It was him and now that he was facing the great unknown, he was begging for mercy, just like all of his victims had begged, never to be heeded.
But he didn’t get the empathy he begged for. He got convicted for his crimes and sentenced to death. He would never leave the federal penitentiary where they put him after his trial was over.
That was well over a year ago. Everything was done; all the loose ends had been neatly tied up. After it was all said and done, Clara did the one thing she’d wanted to do for a while and that was get herself a new horse. It took some time to find the perfect horse, but once she laid eyes on him, she knew he was the one. He was the most beautiful Palomino she’d ever seen and he stood about fifteen hands high, which was really tall for a horse. He was as gentle as summer rain. She named him Thunder and whenever he’d see her enter the stable, he’d whinny and shake his head. And she’d say, “You think I got you something?” He’d shake his head again and she’d pull out the apple she’d been hiding behind her back. Thunder would get so excited you’d think someone just told him he was going to the Kentucky Derby. And all it took was an apple. This pleased Clara to know that such a simple thing could bring so much happiness.
Whenever she got the chance, she rode almost daily. She especially enjoyed riding Thunder with the English saddle her mother had gifted her for her last birthday, though her favorite was still a western. Whenever she thought of Thunder, she smiled and was so pleased she was able to get a new horse.
But riding a horse in the summer heat came with its complications, mainly being that she smelled like a horse, especially after she’d given Thunder a bath. One day, Clara was about to run upstairs and get into the shower when her cell rang. She retrieved it from her purse, which was on the kitchen island, and was pleased to see who the caller was.
“Hey, Hadley,” she said as she picked up. “What’s shakin’?”
“Nothing bacon,” Hadley said then paused, then laughed. “Why did you answer like that?”
“I don’t know, I just did,” Clara said and laughed a little. “But what about you? Bacon?”
“I love bacon,” Hadley said.
“Who doesn’t?” Clara replied. “Anyway, how’s married life treating you?”
“Good,” Hadley said. “It’s actually really good. I thought when we got married it might get harder, but it hasn’t. We’re cool.”
“How’s Huck?” Clara asked and leaned against the island. She glanced down at the floor, at the spot where Ray had been killed and she instinctively bent down and touched it, thinking about him. She caught herself and stood back up quickly and, while she knew no one had seen her, she felt a little weird for doing that. But it was something she always did. She didn’t really know why.
“Huck is doing well,” Hadley said. “Anyway, he wants to start travelling again and, of course, I am not ready for that. And, I have an interview at a hotel in your neck of the woods.”
“Really?” Clara said. “Do tell.”
“Yeah,” Hadley said. “I, uh, just spontaneously applied and didn’t expect to hear anything back but I got the call an hour or so ago for the interview.”
“I didn’t know you wanted to go back to work,” Clara said. “And you want to move here?”
“I kinda do,” Hadley said. “I think it would be good for us. Nashville is such a cool city.”
“It is,” Clara said, then squeal
ed, “You could get a house in my neighborhood! We could be neighbors!”
“Actually, I’d need to be closer to the hotel,” Hadley said. “I’d probably want to rent a condo or something downtown at first.”
“Well, that’s okay,” she said. “We can still do lunch and hang out and stuff.”
“We can,” Hadley said. “I mean, if I get the job. Who knows if I will or not. I don’t.”
“Oh, you’ll get it,” Clara said offhandedly, knowing there was no way anyone could turn down Hadley.
“Fingers crossed,” Hadley said. “Anyway, I’m coming up early tomorrow morning for the interview and I’d like to stop by and see you when I’m done. Probably after lunch.”
“That sounds fantastic,” Clara said and smiled. “Oh! You could spend the night! We could have a slumber party!”
“Aren’t we a little old for a slumber party?”
“A little, yeah,” Clara said. “Your point being?”
“Never mind,” Hadley said, laughing softly. “So, tomorrow about noon or maybe one. Also, depending on traffic, of course.”
“Sounds great,” Clara said, smiling. “I know the best barbeque restaurant, too. We can do some good eatin’.”
“I love barbeque,” Hadley said. “And I can’t wait.”
“Well, get on over here,” Clara said. “And good luck with your interview.”
“Thank you,” she said. “Oh, I just thought of this! Why don’t we invite Sloan? I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
“Me either,” Clara said. “When was the last time you talked to her?”
“Last week,” Hadley said. “She’s still all tore up about what happened to Jeremy Clemmons.”
“Yeah,” Clara said and exhaled loudly. “I know.”
“Wasn’t it weird, though?” Hadley asked. “I just can’t believe it happened.”
“I can,” Clara said with as much indifference as she could muster. “He probably smarted off to the wrong inmate and he got his head cracked. Now he’s dead.”
“I know,” Hadley said. “It just seems… So surreal. You know? I can’t explain it.”
“Well, you don’t have to,” she said.
“I can tell you don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Hadley said. “And we’ve talked about it to death.”
“It’s not that,” Clara said. “It’s just that it seems as though anytime I get to a really good place, something happens like that and I just don’t want a backset. I mean, it’s awful and I feel a little bad, to be honest, though I know I shouldn’t. But I do. I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know what I’m feeling right now but when I do, I’ll tell you.”
“Good enough,” Hadley said. “You want to call Sloan or do you want me to?”
“I can,” Clara said.
“Okay,” Hadley replied. “See you tomorrow. Bye!”
“Bye,” she said and hung up. She sighed heavily and wished she could shake that odd feeling off whenever they talked about Jeremy Clemmons. But she couldn’t. Last week, there had been a huge news story about how he’d died. Apparently, he and another inmate had gotten into a fight in the cafeteria and the other guy, who was bigger and badder than he was, had grabbed him and slung him against the wall, cracking his skull and killing him. She’d watched the news program about it, not believing it, not knowing how to feel. He was dead. Her captor, the one who’d imprisoned her and done all those awful, terrible things to her was dead. Just like that. She hadn’t told anyone, but when she heard, she broke down and cried. It was really all over. And that meant, she had to move forward. Ray was never coming back and he’d died for nothing, so this asshole could get his kicks.
She could still see his face and hear his voice, begging her in that courtroom to tell them she was lying, that it wasn’t him. “Please, ma’am, please. It wasn’t me. I swear to God, it wasn’t me. Look at me! Please, look at me! I wouldn’t do any of those things! It makes me sick to my stomach to think of anyone doing anything like that! I swear to you, I swear it was not me!”
She had just stared at him and almost, just for one split second, believed him. However, his words seemed to infuriate someone in the courtroom and a man yelled, “You fucking piece of shit! Shut up and stop manipulating her!”
And then, everyone went crazy. The courtroom had erupted in anger at his words. People had yelled at him, told him to shut up and take it like a man. The judge had banged his gavel, trying to maintain order, but, soon enough, Jeremy Clemmons had to be escorted out of the room for fear of his safety and court was suspended for the rest of the day.
She shook herself and felt anger for a moment, anger because she would never be free of that bastard. He’d fucked her life up and he was still reaching out to her from the grave and continuing to fuck with her.
“Argh!” she groaned then shook herself, picked her phone back up and dialed Sloan’s number. She waited and waited and the line never connected, then the call was dropped. That was weird. She stared at the phone and redialed then got the same response. Some tower somewhere might be down, she reasoned, and told herself to remember to call her later.
Figuratively Speaking
Hadley’s interview went well and instead of the old “we’ll be in touch” she was offered the job on the spot. She was extremely happy about that, too, and really wanted to celebrate. She couldn’t wait to get back to work and get all the minute details of the move finalized.
As soon as she got into her car, she called Huck, who answered almost immediately. “I got it!” she squealed.
“Shite,” he muttered. “I wished you hadn’t.”
“Huck!” she exclaimed. “You know this is a big deal for me.”
“I know, I know,” he said. “I just wanted us to start travelling.”
“Let me have my victory,” she said. “Please.”
“Congratulations,” he said, a slight joking yet begrudging tone to his voice.
“I might not even take it,” she said, knowing full well she was lying. Of course, she was taking it! She’d been dreaming of this day when she was well enough to go back to work and just be normal. Of course, there’d be people who’d want her to talk about her abduction and that came with the territory. But she knew that soon enough the fascination would wane and she’d be like any other employee. That’s the day she was headed for. That’s the day she wanted like nothing else. To just be like everyone else.
“You could have at least let me come with you,” he said.
“Huck, I have to do this, you know that,” she said. “Otherwise, I’m going to turn into an agoraphobic! My psychiatrist said it’s good for me to do things on my own.”
“Like what? Oh, I know. Helping to capture a serial killer.”
Hadley groaned. While in awe of the heroic rescue of Aubrey Patton, Huck had also been slightly angry, telling her she could have gotten herself killed. He had said to her, “I can’t believe you did that! Why didn’t you call me and let me help? That was crazy!” And on and on until she thought she’d lose her mind. Yes, perhaps, it had been a little shortsighted but, at the time, she couldn’t do anything but rescue Aubrey. The thought of her in that house being tortured by that psycho was too much to take. Hadley remembered just wanting to get to her, and, once she did, she wrapped her in Sloan’s blanket, bent down and whispered in her ear, “Everything is okay now. We’re here.” She remembered Aubrey breaking down and clinging to her, not letting her go. She even rode in the ambulance with her to the hospital and visited her afterwards. They were now friends and spoke a few times a week.
Even so, she was a little tired of Huck always bringing this up. Whenever he did, it inevitably led to a big argument and her nerves would start to fray. She couldn’t handle it, even on a good day and today was a very, very good day. She’d just gotten a new job! It was something she’d wanted for a very long time and he was, more or less, raining on her parade. “We’re not going to talk about that today, Huck,�
� Hadley said. “I mean it.”
“Okay, fine,” he said. “What else is going on?”
“Just going to meet Clara for lunch and she wants me to spend the night,” she said. “You know I told you that.”
“I know, but I thought you might change your mind,” he said. “You said you didn’t know if you wanted to or not.”
“I guess it depends on how long we’re out,” she said. “And then there’s the time difference to think about. I don’t know if I want to be driving that late at night. You know?”
“I know,” he said. “I just wish you’d let me come with you.”
“Jeremy Clemmons is dead now,” she said, getting irritated that it always came down to this. Sometimes, he made her feel like a foolish woman who couldn’t make good decisions on her own. “We can stop worrying about him.”
“But what about a copycat?” he asked. “What if some sick fuck out there wants to copycat that asshole? What if—”
“You’re going to give me a panic attack!” she yelled, feeling her nerves start to tear a little. “I mean it, Huck! Stop with the worst-cast scenarios!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said like he really meant it. “I just worry about you so much and you’re so far from home, baby! Why didn’t you let me go with you?”
“Is this our life?” she asked. “This can’t be our lives, Huck! We have to move on! Jeremy Clemmons is dead now. He can’t hurt me or anyone else anymore! Accept it. Please, accept it!”
“I just worry about you so much,” he said. “I’d die if anything happened to you.”
She softened. “I know, honey,” she said. “I know. But you have to let me live my life. I can’t sit home anymore waiting for something bad to happen.”