Save Me

by Heidi McLaughlin

  The thought tears at my insides and I pray Penny has armed herself or is out of the country.

  “Anything else in the box?”

  I dig through some of the mementos she kept until my fingers touch a key ring. Smiling, I hold it up.

  “It’s the key to my storage unit and motorcycle. I doubt it’s still there, but maybe the owner forwarded mail to her or something.”

  “Most likely not, but let’s go find out.”

  I put everything back in the box, including my gun, and take it with me. It’s a not clear sign of her whereabouts, but at least I know why Lawson came after me … us.

  CARA SPEEDS DOWN THE road heading toward the storage unit where I kept my bike. It’s crazy that after being gone for so long, I remember everything. Nothing seems out of place or new as we traverse the city streets.

  I’m hoping Penny continued storing my bike after I left, but considering how everything happened so fast my gut is telling me she didn’t have time. Now, more than ever, I want to get my hands on Frannie. I want to shake the truth out of her, torture her until she tells me everything. Where’s my family and our belongings, and more importantly, why? Why the fuck did she target the four of us, or was it just me and the others were part of the casualties?

  “Is Lawson really that fucked up to go after my kid because I asked around?”

  Cara shakes her head. “Remember Renato?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “He had a list of buyers looking for specific children. Some blonde, some brunette, some with green eyes, and one of the most sought after feature was virginity.”

  “Excuse me?” My stomach lurches at the ugliness of this situation. Thank God Archer killed that mother fucker when we had the chance. If we had captured him, I have no reason to believe he’d be behind bars. Someone bureaucratic bullshit would’ve had him walking out the front doors of justice. That’s what Capitol Hill money does—it makes problems go away.

  Cara nods as she turns the corner. Down the street I can see the storage facility I’ve always used. Before we get there, she pulls over and types out a message on her phone. “I’m getting a warrant just in case they don’t want to talk to us.” Setting her phone back down, she turns toward me.

  “I shouldn’t be telling you this because it’s classified and I know this is going to be hard to hear because your daughter was involved, but what your wife did, saved her life. Lawson was tasked with finding children for Renato. In exchange, Lawson got to live out his deranged fantasies. Abigail Chesley was not the first child he raped … there were many others, except we can’t pin those on him because they happened in Cuba. Renato wanted American children and Lawson promised to get them for him in exchange for money and drugs. We believe Lawson was also funneling drugs into the schools in Florida so he could use that as part of his campaign tactics. Even with him behind bars, his goons are making sure they keep up his handiwork. They’re harder to bust and our resources are thin on the case since we have Lawson in custody.

  “The list Renato gave Lawson not only included the basic, but included ages and virginity status. Renato’s clients didn’t want kids off the street, they wanted what they called ‘untouched’ children. Some of the clients didn’t care about virginity because they were just interested in turning those children into sex slaves. Those people paid less. If Lawson delivered a less desirable child, he didn’t make as much money. Why he came after Claire, we don’t know. There isn’t a description on the lists that we have which matches hers.”

  Cara’s words are hard to digest. The father in me wants to round all of these sick bastards up and kill them one by one. The SEAL in me feels the same way, but would torture them first, making sure they felt death knocking on their door. I swallow the lump in my throat and try to push the nausea in my stomach down.

  “But she’s older now, was there a description of her six years ago?” The words barely tumble out of my mouth. Thinking of my baby, any baby for that matter, being on a list causes rage to build inside.

  Cara shakes her head. “Not that we’ve found.”

  “Then why come after Claire?”

  “Easy target, especially if her dad is out of the picture.”

  Cara maneuvers back into traffic and heads toward the storage facility. Every time I try to piece this all together, Frannie rears her ugly face in my thoughts. Everything ties to her, but I can’t figure out why. I was never meant to be a detective. Shit, even the trained detectives are having a hard time figuring this out.

  “You know, if you guys hadn’t come back, we’d still be trying to piece this together.”

  I don’t say anything because honestly there’s nothing left to say.

  We park outside the gate and make our way to the front office, hoping someone is working today. Cara opens the door and walks in, with me right behind her. I recognize the man behind the desk; he’s a face I’m familiar with.

  “This is the man I rented from,” I whisper in her ear as we approach the desk.

  “Stay behind me,” she says under her breath. I do as she instructs, dropping by head so he can’t see who I am. I’m not sure what will happen if he recognizes me, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

  “I’m SA Hughes and this is my partner, Riggs. I’m following up on a case and believe you may have encountered the suspect. Have you seen this woman?” Cara holds up a picture, but I don’t know who its of.

  “Yeah, I’ve seen her around.”

  “Doing what?” she asks.

  “Don’t know,” he replies and I imagine him shrugging. I also imagine my gun cocked against his head for being an asshole because the image is either of Penny or Frannie.

  “Okay. I feel ya,” she says, pulling out her phone. “Hey, Allie, I’m going to need that warrant. Yeah, yeah, I want to dump his financials … hold on, Allie.”

  “Lady, you don’t need a warrant, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  Cara pockets her phone as I stifle a laugh. She didn’t call anyone, but she sure as shit made him believe she did.

  “Look that chick in the photo, she’s nuts, okay.”

  “We know,” Cara says. “What about this woman?”

  “Nah, I mean I’ve seen her, but not for a few years. That crazy chick asks about her, too. What’d she do?”

  I can’t continue to stand behind Cara, so I move next to her and try not to make any contact with the man behind the counter. I need to hear him clearly. I should’ve worn a hat or something to cover some of my face. This is why I wouldn’t make a good detective.

  “Her name is Penelope McCoy and she didn’t do anything wrong, we’re searching for her.”

  The man shakes his head. “So’s that crazy chick.”

  “When was the last time you’ve seen either one of them?”

  “The blonde? Probably five years ago or so, but she wasn’t blonde. She had jet black hair. The one riding the train to cuckoo land, last month.”

  “What’d she want when she came in?” Cara asks.

  “The same as always. She wants to know who’s paying this one’s storage bill, but seeing as she’s not the police I don’t tell her.”

  “Wait, you’re sure the McCoy storage building is being paid for?” I ask as my heart pounds loudly in my chest.

  “Uh huh, every month.”

  “Who’s paying it?” I take over asking the questions because while Cara is trying to find Frannie to arrest her, I have other priorities.

  “Hold on,” he replies as he starts typing away on this computer. “Says here the payee is Amy Jones.”

  “Does that name ring a bell?” Cara asks, and I shake my head.

  “Where does the payment come from?” I’m starting to shake and my palms are sweating. This is the first solid lead we’ve stumbled upon since I’ve been back and it all started with a dream, remembering the night Penny and I met.

  “Hold on, that’s another screen.” He uses the mouse to move screens and types with one finger while I wa
it impatiently. I’m about to push him out of the way when he stands up and comes back to the counter.

  “Says the transaction comes from a TF Bank. That’s all I got,” he says, shrugging.

  “She’s on the East Coast,” Cara mutters as I look at her, both confused and impressed that she just knows this information off the top of her head. “We’ll take a look in the storage unit now,” she adds, smiling at the man as he walks around the front with a massive set of keys hanging from his belt loop. He’s slow, fat, and out of shape, and it takes us far too long to get to my unit. The key I have sits in the box, inside the car, and I realize I should’ve brought it with me, along with my gun.

  He searches for the right key and starts to lift the door. I close my eyes, not wanting to see what’s inside.

  “Do you have video surveillance here?” I can hear Cara ask him.

  “Yeah, but it don’t work all the time, and I only save tape for a week before I reuse them.”

  “Here’s my card. If the other woman shows up, I want you to call the police first, then me. Understand?”

  “Yup,” he says. I hear the faint jingle of his keys as he walks away.

  “Are you going to look?” Cara asks, bumping my shoulder. I can tell by the tone of her voice I won’t find my wife and daughter’s bodies in here, even though that’s what I’m suspecting. I shake my head slightly before prying my eyes open.

  I start at the end of the unit. The boxes in the back should be our Christmas decorations. Claire’s crib is on the side, saved for another child, and boxes of her baby clothes are pushed up against it. In the middle sits my bike with mine and Penny’s helmets hanging off the handle bars. I fight the urge to cry as I see the belongings that I never thought I would.

  “Is that your bike?”

  I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions in check. The last thing I want to do in cry in front of her. I don’t care if she’s a woman, she’s a Federal agent and they’re as tough as a SEAL … sometimes.

  “Are you going to take it home?” Her question gives me so much hope, but it quickly deflates.

  I shake my head. “I’m sure the registration is expired and I can’t afford to get pulled over.” I can feel her eyes on me, but I’m afraid to look at her. I really need a moment to take all of this in. First, someone named Amy Jones has been paying this rental fee, and for all I know that’s my wife. The money is coming from an East Coast bank Cara seems familiar with. The problem now is that I’m on the West Coast with no money to get to where this bank or this Amy person is. Cara makes the first move and steps into the storage unit. She walks around my bike, inspecting it. It’s safe to say it won’t blow up if I start it since Frannie hasn’t had access to. When she gets to the end, she kneels and starts to smile.

  “Nope, you’re good for another few months,” she states, much to my surprise.

  “What?” I choke out.

  “McCoy, someone has been paying for the upkeep of this bike, and you and I both know it’s your wife.”

  “Or this Amy Jones,” I mutter, because that’s who we have proof of.

  “Semantics. Call your PI and let her know what we’ve found. I’m going to go talk to Buzz.” Cara walks out, our happy moment now over and back to work mode has set in again.

  “Buzz?”

  “That’s what his name tag said,” she says, shrugging as she walks away.

  When Cara is out of sight, I step in and instead of going to my bike I open one of the boxes holding Claire’s clothes. I pick up a pink dress with ruffles on the bottom. I’d like to think I remember her wearing this, but I don’t. I bring it to my nose and inhale deeply, imagining the sweet smell of my baby girl. I know it doesn’t smell like Claire, or a baby, but I’m telling myself it does because I need to believe I’m going to find her. I need to have faith that this Amy Jones is going to be or know where my wife is. I put the dress down and pick up a pair of socks, putting them in my pocket. If I can’t have my daughter with me right now, I’ll carry a piece of something she used to wear. It’s stupid, I know, but I need it.

  My bike looks clean even though there’s a layer of dust on it. I find a rag and wipe it down before climbing on. She feels good between my legs—it doesn’t feel like I haven’t been on her for six years. I think about starting her up, but would rather do it out in the open. Pushing the kickstand back and dropping into neutral, I roll out until I’m in the middle of the alley.

  After closing the storage door, I hop back on and make my way to the front office where Cara is. She’s standing by her car, talking on her phone, which reminds me to call Marley. I pull out the cell phone Evan gave me and dial her number. It rings and rings until her voicemail comes on.

  “Marley, it’s McCoy. Call me. I think I found something.” I decide not to leave any details because I’m still fearful that she’s being watched, although if Frannie is hounding the storage owner, she can’t be messing with Marley. I wouldn’t put it past Frannie to have a fucking team of assholes working for her though.

  The gate opens, allowing me to take my bike through. By the smile on Cara’s face, she approves that I’m on it.

  “Have you started it up yet?”

  “No, I was waiting until I was out here. If I need a tow truck this area is accessible. Plus, I left the key in the car. Did you get what you needed from Buzz?”

  Pulling out her notebook, Cara nods. “I just verified what he said earlier and I asked him about the tags on your motorcycle. He says they came from the DMV every year. I asked him how he knew to put them on and he said the last time he saw Penelope, she asked him to take care of the bike and only let you in there.”

  “So he recognized me?”

  “Yeah, he must’ve. Did you call your PI?”

  This time I’m the one nodding. “Left a message to have her call me.”

  “It’s a good lead, McCoy. Come on, let’s go get some food. I’m starving.”

  After I get the key out of the red box I hop back on my motorcycle and turn the key, engage the clutch, and push down on the kick-start. She roars to life underneath me, and for the first time in I don’t know how long, I’m smiling. This is a small step, but it’s monumental one.

  IT’S BEEN A few days since my blackout, and thankfully Ray seems to have forgotten about it and so has Adam. He hasn’t said anything the last couple of times he’s been in the store and for that I’m thankful. I couldn’t quite figure out why Ray was so sour about my blackout until I went to work the next day and everyone was asking if I was okay. If I was being asked here, then that means Ray was being asked at work and he likely didn’t want to take attention away from his students. Plus, hearing your wife is blacking out is probably cause for concern. I can’t really blame him.

  Of course the day after the blackout, which let’s be honest was really my mind going elsewhere, I didn’t get any work done. The store was full of concerned neighbors and citizens; even the town’s resident doctor stopped by to make sure I was okay. It was overwhelming and I’m hoping it’s now behind us. I don’t want to be treated with kid gloves or have people staring at me, wondering if it’s going to happen again. That day with Adam was an isolated incident.

  I thought about taking a few days off, but that would only prove to be troublesome for me. Being alone in my house with my thoughts with nothing to occupy my time would defeat the purpose of forgetting about everything and that’s what I need to do, forget.

  The bell chimes on the door and once again I find myself lost in thought about nothing in particular. I’m afraid to think about my life before I arrived in Pittsfield. No, I shouldn’t say that. My life was great. I was in love, happy, and my man loved me with everything that he was. I never doubted how he felt about me. But that all changed when Frannie— No, I shouldn’t think about it. Those thoughts, that life, it needs to stay locked away. Ted Lawson cannot hurt my family anymore.

  I smile at the couple that just walked in. They’re tourists. It’s easy to tell the peo
ple that haven’t been here before because they walk in and cringe when the screen door slams shut. Their steps are timid because they’re not sure where they should go. Eyes wander, searching for the bathroom sign, and they rush off as soon as they see it. I chuckle at this particular couple because that’s what they just did, only to stop by the glass-covered pastries and point to the large cinnamon rolls and cookies. Even if they only meant to stop and use the restroom, they’ll purchase something as they leave. Laura has the store set up perfectly that way.

  As soon as customers walk in, the counter is off to the left with the store opening up on the right. Directly in front of them is a table full of Vermont specialties and diagonally from there, you’ll find our coffee and pastries stand with the bathrooms in the back corner. Groceries and the deli are straight ahead when you walk in. It’s truly the perfect little country store.

  Another couple, followed by a family, walks in—meaning I should leave my duty of dusting. I stand at the counter with my hands behind my back, making eye contact with them when they look my way. The goal is to make them feel welcomed. That’s what Laura did for me, same with Ray. Claire and I were barely making it, but we had each other and I was determined. I never liked working at the gas station. It’s freezing in the winter and stifling in the summer, but it paid my rent and put food on the table for Claire. People used to drop things off for her when we were at work. We’d walk home, a mile down the busy stretch of the road, and find a bag of clothes. She’d be so excited and on the inside I was, too, but as soon as she went to sleep for the night I cried my eyes out in the bathroom. My life wasn’t supposed to be like this. When my husband died I should’ve been able to pack up my home and find a new place for us to live. I have no doubt I would’ve gone to stay with Ryley, who was pregnant at the time. I’ve always wondered how she’s doing today and whether or not she had the baby.

  I’ve been tempted to hunt for her on the web, see if I can find a picture of her, anything to curb my curiosity, but at the same time, I don’t want to know. I don’t want to risk someone looking over my shoulder, or somehow knowing I looked her up. That part of my life is dead and buried, and as much as I miss it, I’ll never be there again.