Stanley’s blush deepened. “You want me to do something, tell me quick, because I am leaving,” he said, moving toward the door.
“Wait, wait, I’m sorry,” Mary said. “What I really need is to borrow your car. I have to keep my car out front to make it look like I’m still here.”
“Can you drive a stick-shift?” Stanley asked, his grizzled white eyebrow rising halfway up his forehead.
“Is the Pope Catholic?” Mary responded. “Of course I can drive a stick. My daddy taught me how to drive a real car.”
Stanley nodded and smiled. “Okay, then,” he said. “I’ll pull Betsey up behind the back of the store. The keys will be in the visor. But I ain’t coming back in here ‘til that thing is packed back up in the box.”
Rosie laughed. “Then get yourself out of here because I don’t have all day to wait before we inflate her.”
Stanley rushed to the door. “I’m gone,” he said. “Mary, the car will be waiting for you in ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Stanley, I appreciate it,” she said.
Rosie pulled out a battery powered pump and inflated the life-sized doll. The doll’s arms and legs stuck out stiffly in sixty degree angles and her neck seemed to be about the same diameter as her head. The dimensions of her breasts, waist and hips reminded Mary of a life-sized Barbie doll.
“Wow, if she were real—she’d have major back issues,” Mary said. “No one better see her from the front—they’d never believe that was me.”
“What is she going to be wearing?” Rosie asked.
Mary opened her closet door and pulled out a t-shirt and jeans, then she slipped out of the jacket she’d been wearing. “I thought dressy casual,” Mary laughed. “Do you think they’ll fit?”
Rosie looked at Mary and then looked back at the doll. “Well, hopefully they’ll stretch.”
They pulled the t-shirt over the doll’s head and stuffed the arms through the sleeves. Rosie laid the doll on the desk and Mary pulled the jeans up the legs and buttoned them at the waist. It took both of them to maneuver the arms into the jacket.
“Wow, that was harder than I thought,” Mary said. “So what do we do for her head?”
Rosie pulled a wig out of her box that was similar in shade to Mary’s hair. “This ought to do the trick, but it’s not the same cut,” Rosie said with a sigh. “Was that police officer a male or female?”
“A male,” Mary answered.
“Oh, then he’ll never notice anyway,” she laughed.
With the wig Velcroed in place, they stood back and looked at their creation. “Damn, we’ve built one of Charlie’s Angels,” Rosie said.
Mary laughed. “Now all we have to do it get her to sit at my desk for the day and we’re set.”
Rosie picked up the doll and positioned it over the chair. Mary grabbed it by the waist and stuffed it into the chair and quickly moved the chair against the desk. But no sooner had she stepped away, the doll straightened in the chair and pushed away from the desk.
“Okay, that’s not going to work,” Mary said.
“I have the perfect solution,” Rosie said.
She pulled a scarf from her box and wrapped it around the doll’s waist, and then she tied it tightly to the bottom of the chair. “Viola, seat belts,” she said.
Mary pushed the chair up to the desk and positioned the doll’s hands so they looked like they were typing on the keyboard. “Can’t get much better than this,” Mary said. “Rosie, you are a genius.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” Rosie said. “I am always here for you. But let me ask you one thing, does Chief Alden have a good reason for worrying about you?”
Mary gave Rosie a quick hug. “I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Don’t you think I didn’t catch that you didn’t give me an answer to my question,” Rosie said, placing her hand on Mary’s arm. “At least tell me where you plan to go and how long you plan on being there, just in case.”
“Don’t worry, Rosie,” Mary replied. “I’m just going for a walk in the woods. What could happen?”
Rosie didn’t look convinced.
“I have my cell phone,” Mary said. “If there’s any trouble I’ll call you or Stanley, okay?”
Rosie nodded. “You scoot out the back and I’ll wait a few minutes, open the blinds and then walk over to my store,” she said. “I’ll come over and close up for you too.”
“You’re the best,” Mary said.
She scooped up her purse and a small backpack and closed the back door softly behind her.
True to his word, Stanley had left “Betsey” behind the building. Betsey was a turquoise blue 1961 Chevy Impala four-door sedan. She was the size of a boat and had the engine power of a locomotive. Stanley bought her new when he and his wife were newlyweds, and with Stanley’s care and devotion she ran as smoothly today as she had fifty years ago.
Mary slipped into the front seat and smiled when she saw the felt hat and jacket Stanley had left for her on the white leather bench seat. She popped the hat on her head and then pulled the visor down. A pair of keys with a red diamond-shaped plastic key chain that advertised Wagner’s Office Products with a phone number of Pencil 2-3489 fell into her hands. She slipped the key into the ignition and turned it, the engine purred to life.
She stepped down on the clutch, shifted into reverse and carefully maneuvered the car into the alley. Then she shifted into first and crept down to the end of the block. She scanned the street. No police officers in view. Good! She slunk down in the seat, let up on the clutch and drove slowly away from downtown Freeport.
Once she was at the intersection of Highway 26 and Galena Street, she felt a little safer. She slid into the right lane and flicked on her turn signal. There were three cars in front of her. The drive down Highway 26 to Highway 20 was only about a mile and once she was on Highway 20, she was free. The light seemed to be taking forever. Mary tapped on the steering wheel, waiting for the green. She glanced into the rearview mirror and her heart jumped when she saw Bradley’s cruiser pulling onto Galena Street several blocks behind her.
“Come on, come on, come on,” she whispered desperately.
She glanced around, frantically considering her options. Everyone in town knew that this was Stanley’s car and they would assume that he was driving it. Assume until they pulled up alongside and saw Mary. Mary glanced back again. He was getting closer. Think, think, think. She could pull into the Pizza Place parking lot, but Bradley could follow her in there. She could try to change lanes and make a left turn, but it was fairly impossible with the huge car. She could bend over and pretend she was picking something up, but Bradley might think that Stanley was in trouble and stop to offer assistance.
Glancing back she saw that he was about a half a block behind her. Crap! But when she looked forward, the light had turned and all three cars had already cleared the intersection. Mary accelerated and turned onto Highway 26. She was more than a quarter mile down the road when the cruiser crossed the intersection and continued down Galena. Mary breathed a sigh of relief and headed toward Apple River Fort with a smile on her face.
She pulled into a parking space at the far corner of the lot. Not only because it helped to protect Stanley’s precious Betsey, but it also brought her closer to the area where the shed used to be. She slipped on the jacket Stanley had left her and grabbed the backpack. Opening it, she quickly scanned the contents: water bottle, compass, flashlight, Swiss Army knife and bug repellant. Tossing the keys and her cell phone into the pack, she closed it up and as she exited the car, hitched it onto her shoulder. She locked up Betsey and walked toward the edge of the woods.
The grass was covered with autumn leaves and there was definitely a chill in the air. She shoved her hands into her pockets and glanced up at the sky. Dark clouds were lining the horizon and Mary guessed she had about two hours before the storm arrived.
Stopping at the edge of the woods she looked back up the hill toward the main street. She tried to remember how things l
ooked when she had chased Jessica on her bicycle.
“I think the path was somewhere around here,” she said, pushing through some brush and stepping onto a narrow deer path. The woods closed in around her. The sounds from the traffic at the top of the hill faded away and Mary felt very alone. “Okay, I see ghosts for a living,” she whispered. “It’s kind of silly to be afraid of the woods.”
A cloud drifted over the afternoon sun and the woods darkened. “Maybe not so silly,” she amended, reaching into her backpack and pulling out the flashlight.
TWENTY-THREE
Something wasn’t right. Bradley pulled his cruiser into his parking space at City Hall and threw it into park. He hated when he got these nagging feelings, but something definitely wasn’t right.
Could I just be feeling guilty? he wondered as he climbed up the stairs to his second-floor office. Mary is a trained professional, after all, and she has a job to do. But damn it, she’s been shot at, accused of being a terrorist and she ran into a fort… I still don’t quite understand the fort thing…but she obviously encountered quite a few dangerous situations. She needs my help.
“Whether she likes it or not,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry, Chief, did you say something?” his administrative assistant, Dorothy, asked.
I am going nuts, he thought.
He shook his head and smiled. “No, Dorothy, just thinking out loud.”
She smiled back, but he thought it had an “I need to be nice to the crazy guy” edge to it.
He stopped at his office doorway and looked back at Dorothy, now busily typing up some reports, and shook his head.
If she thinks I’m crazy, he decided silently, maybe she’ll work harder to keep me happy.
He logged on to his computer, glanced over his e-mails and finally, did what he’d been anxious to do since this morning, place a call to the officer who was watching Mary.
“Everton, this is Chief Alden,” he said after the officer had picked up the call. “How are things going with O’Reilly?”
Everton didn’t even try to hide the boredom in his voice. Obviously he doesn’t think I’m crazy, Bradley thought.
“The subject has not left her office since 13:30,” Everton reported. “She hasn’t even left her desk.”
Bradley glanced up at the clock. It was nearly four-thirty. She hadn’t left her desk for three hours?
“Everton, did she have any visitors?”
“Yes, sir,” he responded dully. “She received two visitors soon after she arrived at her office, Stanley Wagner and Rosie Pettigrew. They both left by 14:00 hours.”
Bradley remembered seeing Stanley’s car heading out of town earlier that afternoon.
“Have you seen Stanley since?” he asked.
He could hear the yawn in the young officer’s voice. “Yes, sir, Stanley has been sitting in front of his store all afternoon, as usual.”
“Everton, get your ass out of the car and enter Miss O’Reilly’s place of business,” he yelled, hoping that got a response out of the young man. “I want an immediate report. Got it?”
“Yes. Yes, sir,” came the frightened reply.
“Good. Now he can think I’m crazy too,” Bradley muttered, tapping his fingers on his desk as he waited for the report.
“Sir, Chief Alden,” the panicked voice on the other end of the line caused Bradley’s stomach to clench. “She’s not there, sir. It was a doll, an inflatable doll.”
“Damn,” Bradley growled. “You get back on that street and don’t let Stanley or Rosie sneak away. I’ve got some questions for them.”
One thing I know for sure, he thought as he grabbed his keys, revolver and phone. If I’m not already crazy, Mary O’Reilly is going to drive me there.
TWENTY-FOUR
Mary moved cautiously into the depths of the woods, stopping every few feet to survey the area and try to catch a glimpse of either Jessica or one of the other little girls. A scurrying sound in the brush had her dropping to the ground behind a large log. “Okay, Mary, calm down,” she said, taking a deep breath. “This is just a lovely forested area. Bambi could live here.”
“Then again, Bambi’s mother did die,” she countered.
Suddenly, the woods came alive with sunshine and activity. Birds were chirping and a warm wind was blowing through the trees. The sun was warm on her back and Mary started to perspire. What the hell? she wondered, looking up to the blue sky.
Mary looked through the woods and saw Jessica about fifty yards away floating in the air. She was struggling, beating her fists and twisting her body, but the unseen abductor held her tight. Mary jumped up and ran toward Jessica, swerving around trees and brush, working desperately to keep her in sight.
The abductor moved quickly. Mary could tell that he was familiar with his surroundings. He definitely knew where he was going. Mary scanned the area and tried to gauge where he was heading with the little girl.
In the distance she could see an old cabin; it must be the one the paramedic mentioned. He had thought it was haunted. A chill ran up Mary’s spine—the abductor was taking Jessica to the cabin.
Mary stopped for a moment, her breath coming out in gasps. She did another quick surveillance of the area. If she ran to the top of the small ridge in the distance, she might gain on Jessica’s abductor. She turned and sprinted up the hill toward the ridge.
The path up the hill was overgrown, with brush and roots creating an uneven and hazardous surface. Mary felt like she was back in Rookie Boot Camp, hopping through the tire obstacle course, no sooner had she placed one foot down than she leapt up on the next. She watched the ground, only glancing up occasionally to be sure that she was still on course. The way was fairly clear with the only impediment, a sapling at the very edge of the path, about five yards ahead.
She continued quickly, but moments later her shoulder hit the tree and knocked her to the ground.
“Damn, that’s twice,” she muttered, wiping the cold rain from her eyes and seeing the tree in its full-grown, twenty-four years later version.
Her vision wavered between present day and twenty-four years ago, the sapling aging before her eyes. Then it stopped and she was left at present day. In cold rain and a darkening sky rather than the Indian Summer Day that Jessica was snatched.
She stood and looked around. The former ridge had been excavated and now had a steep drop-off.
“Crap,” she shouted and raced through the rain to the top of the hill.
She looked around and could picture where the old cabin would have stood. She was only about a mile away from her location.
She ran along the edge of the ridge her feet slipping on the wet leaves, trying to find an area that was not as steep, so she could reach the bottom of the small valley. About one-hundred yards closer to her destination, she found a place that had been graded for run-off. Loose river rocks covered the ground and would make Mary’s descent hazardous, but it was the only way she was going reach the cabin quickly.
She stepped onto the rocks, the ground slipping underneath her feet, and let the momentum of the rock slide work with her angled movements. Slipping and sliding, rain beating against her jacket and head, she balanced her body like a surfer and half-ran, half-slipped down the incline. With only three feet to go, she leapt forward and landed on solid ground.
She turned toward the direction of the old cabin and ran through the woods. The rain increased as lightning flashed across the sky and thunder rumbled all around her. Trees tossed in the wind as the remaining autumn leaves were torn from the branches and sailed through the air.
Mary pushed against the wind, putting all of her strength into moving forward. Her jacket was soaked and plastered against her body. Water streamed in rivulets from her hair down her face and neck. Finally, she entered a clearing that seemed like it was the right spot for the cabin. “Come on, Jessica,” she said, her hands on her knees as she gasped for air. “Help me see you. I want to help.”
Suddenly the rain disap
peared and the sun was out again. Mary could see the cabin a few feet away. She took a deep breath, straightened and jogged to the cabin’s door.
She reached out to grab the doorknob when it was snatched away as the door crashed open. Jessica’s motionless form drifted through the doorway, her arms and legs hanging at her side. Mary covered her mouth with her hand and bit back a sob.
“No, damn it! No,” she cried.
She leapt toward the still moving body when suddenly, it disappeared. She stopped and looked around. “Jessica! Jessica! Where are you?” she called.
The sun was still shining. The sky was still bright. But Jessica had disappeared from view.
“What the hell…?” she began, but a sharp stinging sensation on her arm interrupted her thought process and brought her immediately back to present day.
Luckily the second bullet missed her and exploded into the tree next to her. She immediately dropped to the muddy ground. Rain poured over her in the dim early evening light and her arm throbbed. “Well, damn, what next?”
“Over here.”
“What?”
Mary turned toward the youthful voice. There in the mist of the forest were four little girls, all about eight years old, all with long, dark hair, all similar enough that they could have been sisters. And all ghosts.
“The bad man is coming,” one of the girls called. “Follow us so he won’t get you.”
Mary could hear the sounds of movement from the woods, but the light was too dim to see what was coming. She instinctively reached for her weapon, then remembered she was a civilian and her gun was safely locked in the gun safe next to her bed.
“Quick, he’s coming!” the little ghost urged, her pale skin iridescent in the twilight.
“What the hell,” Mary muttered and belly crawled to the cover of the woods where the girls waited.
“He’s a very bad man,” another of the girls said once Mary reached the shelter of the woods.
“He hurt me,” another added, her large brown eyes glistening with tears. “I can’t find my mom.”
Crimes of Passion Page 96