“Fine!” She shouted. “Be the sole guest at your pity party but don’t go minimizing my feelings. I need someone to talk to...I have to find closure once and for all and if you’re not going to help me then at least have the decency to refer me to someone who will.”
Leave it to a woman’s high-pitched yelling to subdue his buzz. Jake stopped laughing and looked squarely at her.
“Okay then, Eliza,” he said her name jeeringly. “Talk. Tell the great and mighty doctor all of your woes.”
Eliza’s eye became misty. She wasn’t about to try to engage in a serious conversation about her daughter with this drunken fool.
“Never mind,” she said, rising from the recliner. “I obviously made a stupid mistake coming here.”
“Now don’t get bent out of shape. Tell you what. You tell me a little about your problems and I’ll refer you to the best person I know to assist you with those problems.”
Eliza held back her tears. She took a big swig of the bourbon, scrunched up her face and shuddered, then sat back down.
Jake almost laughed at the sorry display but controlled himself. Clearly the woman was troubled. He’d give her ten minutes of his time before sending her off. He had bigger fish to fry.
“Almost four years ago, my six-year-old daughter was abducted, raped, tortured and murdered.”
Eliza’s lips trembled as she spoke and her voice was weak and shaky. Dr. Bentley felt his head begin to clear. Having Eliza around was not good for the drunken stupor he had hoped to attain. He listened intently as she spoke.
“It was my fault,” she said, breaking down. “I was careless...I was stupid. I put her in harm’s way. I gave that monster my baby....”
Dr. Bentley stood up and left the room. He returned seconds later a box of tissues. Eliza nodded as she grabbed a few tissues and used one to wipe her tears away.
“I’m so sorry, Eliza...really I am. I can’t imagine anything worse for a parent to have to endure. I know a woman who would be perfect to talk to. I’ll go and get—”
“No,” Eliza said. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to start seeing patients again.”
“I wouldn’t advise that, you’ve fostered that grief, that guilt for so long, you—”
“It’s been almost four years...what’s another month or year?” Eliza replied with a weak smile.
“I’m sorry, Eliza, I’m just not in the position to help you right now...and quite frankly, I don’t think I’ll ever be well enough to help anyone again.”
“Okay, don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine.”
“I think you should—”
“I’ll be fine, Dr. Bentley, I really don’t want to discuss it any further.”
“Jake,” he said earnestly. “Call me Jake. I’m really very sorry, Eliza, for what you’ve been through and for being unable to help you.”
Eliza nodded. After a few seconds, she cleared her throat.
“There is something you can help me with.”
Jake shook his head skeptically.
“I doubt it,” he said.
“Hillary Greyson.”
Eliza could see Jake’s face harden at the mention of her name. She had absolutely no remaining doubts that she was alive and that Jake was planning to change that.
“Eliza, I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”
“I know she’s alive. I know you want to find her. I can help you.”
“Do you know how ridiculous that sounds? You want to help me find a dead girl?”
“She’s not dead, Jake, and I know where she might be.”
She had Jake’s full attention. He had been following national news stories hoping for a clue as to her whereabouts. On more than one occasion he had driven to her home in Maple Trails in search of her. He wasn’t sure how he would find her. Now, here in his house, a police officer was informing him that she might know where Hillary was...that she wanted to help him find her.
“Where?” He asked feverishly.
Eliza could see the hatred in his eyes.
“Somewhere in North Carolina,” Eliza said softly. “She murdered a cab driver. His car was found just outside of Raleigh. It was out of gas, abandoned at a mall.”
“What makes you think she’s still there?”
“I don’t know that she is, but it’s a starting point. You have a better suggestion?”
Jake shook his head.
“Why do you want to find her?”
“Because she’s a child killer and no one’s out there searching for her. Everyone is convinced that she’s dead.”
“Why do you believe she’s alive?”
“Your wife, for one thing. But even more persuasive, DNA evidence found at the crime scene.”
“You’d think if they had the evidence that they’d—”
“What? Pursue a ghost? They think the forensics team botched it up somehow.”
“And if you find her...what are you going to do to her?”
“I’ll bring her into custody,” Eliza replied.
Jake shook his head again.
“She’s not the type of girl to just take into custody. She needs to be stopped once and for all.”
Eliza knew precisely what he meant. If they did find Hillary at some point, would she be able to stand by and allow Jake to kill her? She didn’t think so. Even though she despised the girl and everything she had done, she was still a child herself. For the sake of gaining Jake’s alliance, she would agree with him. She nodded.
“You’re right, we can’t take any chances,” she said.
Jake seemed pleased. Perhaps he would be able to trust her after all. He took the last sip of his bourbon. It burned like fire in his food-deprived stomach. He set the glass down and examined his new associate. She was a very attractive woman...petite, but not bony. She had all the right curves in just the right places. Yet, Jake didn’t feel the slightest tinge of desire for her. He couldn’t, nor would he ever again...not toward her or anyone else.
“Get out!” He shouted, his voice erupting so suddenly and unexpectedly that Eliza spilled her drink all over herself.
Frowning, she looked over at Jake, hoping for an explanation. Had she offended him somehow? Did he know that she had no intention of actually killing Hillary or allowing him to do so?
“Just go,” he said, his voice now broken and resigned.
“Did I offend you somehow?” Eliza asked softly.
“I need to think,” he replied hastily. “And you just need to go...please.”
He shut his eyes as he turned his head away from her.
Eliza placed the glass on the coffee table and stood up.
“Are you with me on this or not?” She asked curtly.
“Fine,” he huffed, desperately wanting her to leave. She was too much of a reminder of his lost manhood.
“Come back tomorrow morning,” he said somberly.
Eliza nodded. Without saying another word, she left his house. This time she questioned whether she should collaborate with him. He seemed even more unstable than she was. Could she tolerate his outbursts? Did she want to?
Still, she knew that he had information that would prove useful in finding Hillary. She would make an effort to put up with his mood swings and drunkenness as long as it didn’t impede the search.
Do I really need her? Jake wondered after she was gone. She was privy to information he would never be able to attain on his own. She had, in fact, given them a good starting point. In addition, it would be beneficial from an economic standpoint. They could split the expenses.
He exhaled deeply. He had wanted to take care of this on his own, but as long as she didn’t get in his way or go soft when it came time to kill that sadistic little whore, he would tolerate her presence. The booze would help.
And with that thought, Jake poured himself another full glass of bourbon.
~8~
Hillary could hardly believe it. She was on a Greyhound bus with Miss Billie headed for Silver Spring, Maryland—a
town just fifteen minutes away from Bethesda. The old woman had been nice to her, but Hillary sensed that it was forced, artificial. Hillary figured she was still upset over the accident she’d had with the toddler. Or maybe it was the discussion they’d had about the nefarious Hillary Greyson. Either way, she was pleasant enough, but not her usual chipper self. It was going to be a long eight-hour trip.
Miss Billie had been reading her Bible while Hillary dozed off. Three hours later, the bus pulled into the Richmond, Virginia bus terminal. They had to depart the bus and wait fifty minutes for the next bus to arrive. Miss Billie groaned about her aches and pains as she slowly stood up and walked off the bus. They retrieved Miss Billie’s small suitcase. Hillary already had the duffel bag that the woman had loaned her for her clothes and the personal items from the shopping bag. Miss Billie never questioned the contents of that bag but had naturally grown more curious once the research she conducted had aroused her suspicion. She couldn’t help but notice the metallic clanging sounds she had heard from within the shopping bag from time to time. Despite her wild imagination, Miss Billie didn’t fear Hillary. She didn’t trust her, but she wasn’t concerned for her own safety.
It was 11:56 a.m. by the time they had made their way into the bus station. It was crowded and smelled like body odor. Miss Billie made a dash for the ladies’ room while Hilary waited for her outside the door.
“Ya gettin’ hungry, child?” Miss Billie asked when she returned.
Hillary nodded.
“A little,” she answered.
“How ‘bout we goes over there and gets us some hamburgers? We gots time ta kill.”
The two walked over to the only eatery in the station. It was one of those over-priced, dingy burger bars where you grabbed your choice of unappetizing pre-cooked items lined up under heat lamps and paid for them at the register by the exit—the kind of place you’d find on a highway rest stop.
Hillary was surprised to see how long the line was. She looked at the strange faces around her. She felt more out of place there than she had felt at the Baptist church. It was certainly a diverse crowd, with a good mix of blacks, Hispanics, Caucasians and an Asian couple. Hillary’s eyes happened upon a tall, skinny man with a shaved head standing two people ahead of her in line. He wore a sleeveless leather vest over a yellowed tee shirt. He had tattoos covering the entire area of exposed skin on his arms. He had multiple piercings in one of his ear. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. He caught a glimpse of Hillary looking at him and smiled. His teeth were caked with plaque and crooked. Hillary’s facial expression remained the same: sheer disgust.
“Don’t encourage him,” Miss Billie whispered in her ear.
“I’m not,” Hillary replied.
The skinhead looked angry. He glared at Miss Billie. Miss Billie met his stare with her own hostile scowl.
“Now look, you gone an’ made that nasty boy angry.”
“I’m just standing here,” Hillary replied. “I didn’t say or do anything to him.”
As the line slowly inched toward the food products, the skinhead kept looking at back at them angrily.
“Hold my spot,” he ordered the old Hispanic woman standing behind him, then started walking toward Hillary.
Miss Billie, sensing trouble, grabbed Hillary by the back of her arm and shoved the girl behind her. This infuriated the skinhead who placed his face just inches away from Miss Billie’s in a futile attempt to intimidate her. He stared down at the dark-skinned woman who continued to meet his gaze with unfaltering tenacity. He looked over at Hillary who wore a similar expression of hate and anger.
“This spook botherin’ you honey?” He asked her.
“Who ya callin’ a spook?” Miss Billie hollered. She went from greatly annoyed to absolute outrage in an instant.
Hillary admired her for standing up for herself. She was a God-fearing woman, but she was no pushover.
“I ain’t talking to you, spook,” he replied disgustedly.
“Miss Billie, we don’t need to eat now, we can wait for the next stop,” Hillary said, hoping to get Miss Billie away from the skinhead before trouble erupted. She didn’t need cops questioning her.
“No, sugar, this man ain’t gonna make us starve.”
“Why don’t you go and find us a seat and I’ll just buy the burgers.”
“Whatcha so worried ‘bout? This hatin’ fool ain’t gonna do nuthin’. Him’s all talk.”
The skinhead glared hatefully at Miss Billie then affixed his gaze to Hillary.
“What are you doing with this porch monkey, baby? You’re too young an’ pretty to be associating with people like them.”
Miss Billie went to speak up and Hillary put her hand on the woman’s shoulder.
“Let me handle this, Miss Billie,” she whispered. “You don’t need this raising your blood pressure.”
Miss Billie had often complained about her blood pressure. She was touched that the girl was concerned for her health.
“Yeah, you don’t want to go and raise your blood pressure, Miss Billie,” the skinhead mocked, pronouncing her name with an exaggerated southern twang.
He shook his head in disgust. Seeing that he was close to the end of the line, he walked back to his spot in front of the old Hispanic woman. He turned back to face Hillary and said, “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be in the likes of that one there.” He sneered at Miss Billie then shook his head in disgust again.
Hillary’s heart began to race. She was neither scared nor angry. She was excited. She walked toward the skinhead as Miss Billie called to her, yelling for her to return at once. She held up her hand, motioning for the woman to wait a moment.
“I think you’re real cute,” Hillary said quietly to the skinhead, pressing her body close to his as she whispered in his ear. “Why don’t I meet you by the restrooms in fifteen minutes and we can do some...uh, talking?”
The skinhead used his imagination to envision the kind of “talking” Hillary would do. He smiled happily then giggled like an idiot.
“Okay, darlin’ I’m there,” he said eagerly, eyeing Hillary like dessert. He was practically drooling.
Hillary walked back to Miss Billie leaving the skinhead to his perverse fantasies.
“Are ya crazy, child? You dunno what that man’s capable of,” Miss Billie scolded.
“Miss Billie, he was being mean and rude to you, calling you those awful names. I couldn’t just leave it at that.”
“Why’d you go and get so close to him? And what did you say to him that made him laugh like that?”
“I told him God was watching him and that he’d better straighten up.”
“That’s what ya told ‘im? Fo’ real?”
Hillary nodded.
“And he laughed? He must be one of them atheist types...you know, those po’ people who don’t let God into they hearts.”
“Probably,” Hillary muttered as she watched the skinhead choose one of the foil-wrapped sandwiches and place it on his tray. Her eyes followed him as he grabbed a box loaded with French fries and a large plastic cup. He carried his items to the register and pulled a thin wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. He handed the young cashier some bills and placed the change he received back into the wallet. He turned his head to see Hillary staring at him. It brought a big smile to his face as he shoved the wallet back into his back pocket.
“Now what’s that idiot grinnin’ for? Don’t look at ‘im, child, just ignore ‘im,” Miss Billie said, but Hillary didn’t break her gaze until Miss Billie said something to her about picking out a burger. She realized she had been holding up the line. She grabbed a small hamburger and tossed it onto the plastic tray Miss Billie carried.
“No fries? I seen you eat, honey, maybe you should get some fries.”
Hillary shook her head as she turned to face the skinhead. He was at the beverage dispenser filling his plastic cup with soda. Afterward, he carried his tray toward the tables. He paused in front of Hillary and blew her
a kiss before continuing on to a table in the corner. Hillary’s lips curled into a wide smile.
“Don’t encourage him child...c’mon, we don’t gots much time.”
Miss Billie paid for the food then led Hillary to a table far away from where the skinhead was sitting. She handed Hillary her burger and bottled water then unwrapped her own double cheeseburger.
“Caleigh?” She called out to the girl whose head seemed lost in the clouds.
Hillary snapped out of the daydream she was having and smiled at Miss Billie.
“Thank you for the food, Miss Billie,” she said sweetly, her blue eyes clear and bright.
“You’re welcome honey child...say grace with me, will ya?”
Miss Billie bowed her head, closed her eyes and thanked the good Lord for the food they were about to eat. Hillary remained silent, staring at the woman while she praised God and asked him to bless the food and the rest of their journey. She bowed her head just as Miss Billie finished up and opened her eyes.
“Dig in,” she said with a smile.
Hillary unwrapped the thin hamburger. It looked like a burger, smelled like a burger but tasted like cardboard. Still, she ate every bite. Miss Billie had hated to see food waste. Then she’d go on about how it was a sin to waste food and how there were starving people in the world who would love to eat the food that people callously regarded as scraps. Hillary had heard it too many times already during her short stay with Miss Billie. One time, to her surprise, she had even picked up the crust she had removed from a slice of pizza and changed her mind about not eating it. Miss Billie had a strange effect on her.
As she sipped her water, she turned her head to look at one of the clocks on the wall. It was 12:22 now. They would have to start boarding the bus in just over twenty minutes. She had business to attend to and she wanted to make sure she had enough time. She stood up and wiped her mouth with a napkin.
“Excuse me, Miss Billie, I have to go to the little girl’s room,” Hillary said as she grabbed the duffel bag.
“I can watch that bag for you,” Miss Billie offered.
“Oh, that’s okay...I feel all sweaty, I think I’ll change my shirt.”
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