by T. R. Ragan
Lindsay Norton didn’t appear to be injured at all. Zee pushed “Rewind,” then hit “Play.”
It was blank. She’d hit the wrong button.
You’re an idiot, Lucy said.
“Yeah,” Zee said. “I think you might be right.”
SEVENTEEN
After looking for Jessie at her office, Ben walked to her house and knocked on the door. Before he could knock a second time, he saw Jessie pull up to the curb. He sensed something was wrong when he saw her grimacing as she climbed out of the car. As he approached, he noticed scratches on the side of her face and neck. Blood seeped through her shirt on the back of her shoulder, but he figured it best if he kept that to himself since she had a severe aversion to blood. “What happened?”
“I made the mistake of paying Kendra Sue Foster a visit.”
The name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it.
“She was the volunteer at Mercy General when Dakota Bale was kidnapped,” she added.
“Ahh.”
After she grabbed her purse, he followed her to the front door. Limping along, she fumbled with the keys.
“Let me help you.” He took care of opening the door, then held on to her elbow as she made her way up the stairs. “Sit down and I’ll get you a glass of water.” He knew Jessie well enough to know she was a stubborn one, and so he was surprised when she let him take over.
Through the kitchen window, he could see Higgins in a small gated area in the backyard. He handed Jessie the water. “Where do you keep your bandages?”
“Why?”
“No reason.”
“How bad am I bleeding?”
She saw right through him. “Barely a nick on the back of your shoulder. Where’s the first aid kit?”
“In the bathroom. Top shelf.”
It was easy enough to find. He returned to the main room. “I’ll need you to pull your shirt a few inches off your right shoulder.”
She tried to take a peek over her shoulder.
“Don’t look. I don’t want you fainting on me.”
“Okay, Dr. Morrison.” She turned back the other way.
“I’m married to a nurse,” he informed her. “I know my way around antiseptic and a bandage.”
She tugged on her shirt and kept it out of his way while he worked. “How bad is it?”
“Hardly a nick, like I told you.”
“You’re such a liar.”
“You can’t handle the truth. Now let me clean this up while you walk me through exactly what happened.”
“Kendra Sue didn’t want anything to do with me,” Jessie told him. “Thanks to a little trick I learned from you, though, I offered her a bribe, and she let me right in.”
“Glad I could help. What were you hoping to accomplish?”
“I just wanted to take a quick look around the apartment, ask her a few questions, see what sort of vibe I got from the woman. But then her husband came home, or maybe it was her boyfriend—I really have no idea. As soon as he discovered I was there to ask questions about the Bale case, he went ballistic.”
“He hit you?”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry.”
“He picked me up and tossed me into the bookshelf. All sorts of knickknacks fell on top of me.”
“And then you left?”
“I made the mistake of commenting on a framed picture of a little girl.”
Surprised, he asked, “Foster had a child?”
She nodded. “According to Kendra Sue, their daughter died from leukemia. The man didn’t like Kendra Sue talking to me. After he rushed off to find his gun, I thought that might be a good time to get out.”
“Good idea. How old was the child in the picture?”
“Two or three.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Absolutely.”
“It shouldn’t be too difficult to find out if there are any records of the woman giving birth,” Jessie said.
He nodded his agreement. “Did you have your gun on you when you decided to pay her a visit?”
“No. I’m still on probation.”
“For how much longer?”
“Until the end of the month.”
Finished applying first aid, he stepped away. “All done. You’re good as new.”
She covered her shoulder.
“I wouldn’t get it wet for a few days. Have Olivia look at it tomorrow and change the bandage then.”
“What do I owe you?”
He knew she wasn’t serious, but it made for a good segue as to why he’d come to see her. “That’s why I’m here.”
She looked him square in the eyes. “Really?”
“Really. Let me put this stuff away, and then I’ll explain.” When he returned, he sat on the edge of the chair across from the couch where she sat. Elbows propped on knees, he leaned her way. “I need your help with a missing person’s case.”
“Okay.”
“But only if you promise that when we’re done, you’ll consider us even. No more talk about ‘owing’ me anything.”
She stuck out a hand. “Deal.”
“Deal,” he said as he took her hand in his and shook it.
“So what’s this case all about?”
“Me.”
Jessie gave him a bemused smile. “Ahh. I see.” It was quiet for a moment while she appeared to mull things over in her mind. “What if—” She stopped midsentence. “Never mind.”
“No holding back,” he urged. “If we’re going to do this, I want everything on the table right from the beginning.”
She rubbed her chin between her thumb and index finger. “What if I discover something about you that I don’t think you’ll like?”
“It doesn’t matter. We both know how this works. There were plenty of details you learned about your sister that I’m sure you wished you’d never found out.” He shrugged. “If we’re not truthful with each other, what would be the point?”
“Okay. You’re absolutely right. I’m going to treat you like any other client, which means I need to know everything you already know about your past. Family, friends, schools you attended, where you grew up.”
“I’ll put everything I know about my past on paper. It won’t take long. I know both of my parents passed away before I turned thirteen. A coworker recalled my telling him that I was raised by my grandmother. But I don’t know her name, and I don’t recall anything about her.” He raised his hands. “That’s about it.”
“You’ve told me more than once that you were fine not knowing about your past. What made you change your mind?”
“Last night I got a call from my sister.”
Jessie’s brows arched in surprise. “I thought she had no interest in getting reacquainted?”
“I never knew why she pushed me away. The few times I met with her after the accident it was clear she wasn’t comfortable being around me.”
“And you have no idea why?” Jessie asked.
“No.”
“What did she say on the phone?”
“That she’ll be in Sacramento this weekend and wants to meet my children.”
“Interesting.”
“Very. I invited her to stay with us, but she declined. She’ll only be spending one night at the Hyatt Regency downtown. She wanted to make sure my wife would be at the house on Saturday when she visits.”
“I wonder why now, after all this time?”
“I wondered the same thing,” Ben said.
“The Hyatt is right around the corner,” Jessie said. “Mind if I try to talk to her?”
“You’re reading my mind.”
“Perfect. Any questions that you would consider to be off-limits?”
“No. But it might be best if you hit her up on Sunday after she’s visited with the kids,” Ben said.
“I agree. Maybe after she meets your family, she’ll be more willing to talk about you.”
“Let’s hope,” he said. “I sh
ould have more details later, flights, etcetera, so you’ll know when she might be leaving the hotel. I’ll text you with that information if that works for you?”
“Perfect.”
He stood and then snapped his fingers. “I almost forgot. I got my hands on something that might be of use to you in the Ashley Bale case.” He pulled a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket and handed it to her.
She read it, then looked at him. “What is it?”
“After Dustin Harrigan at the newspaper found out Ashley Bale had hired you to continue the search for her daughter, he gave me Rene Steele’s phone number. She was a nurse at the hospital when Dakota Bale was taken. As we discussed, Dustin had been keeping tabs on most of the key players for months after the baby was taken. The last time he talked to Rene, he said she came across as skittish and was unwilling to talk. Dustin told me he did everything he could think of to get her to open up, but she remained tight-lipped.”
“I haven’t seen her name come up in Ashley’s files. Why did Dustin consider her to be a key player in the first place?”
“He said there was something about Rene Steele that wasn’t right. Journalists write about the facts, but we get there by feelings and instinct.” Ben exhaled. “Dustin said authorities interviewed every nurse at the hospital that day, whether they worked in the nursery or not. Rene was not being singled out, but she acted as if she were. A little digging revealed she’d been working twelve-hour shifts, so Dustin figured she might be suffering from burnout.”
“But then?”
“But then she began to act erratically.”
“How so?”
“Late to work and then missing work altogether, which, according to her coworkers, was unusual. A few months after the abduction, she got a DUI. In Dustin’s opinion, that changed everything.”
“How?”
“Because she’d been sober for thirteen years. Dustin’s question was and still is, why did she start drinking after thirteen years? Did it have something to do with the Dakota Bale abduction?”
“I’m assuming Dustin talked to authorities about his suspicions?”
“Many times,” Ben said. “Investigators kept an eye on her and questioned Rene and her mother more than once. But ultimately the police believed Rene was innocent. A nervous Nellie, perhaps, but innocent. She was also well liked by the hospital staff and had recently won the Daisy Award given to nurses who stand out in their field.”
Jessie held up the piece of paper. “Tell Dustin thanks. It won’t hurt to give her a call.”
He nodded. “After the DUI, Rene retired,” Ben added. “She was fifty when she moved to Auburn to live with her mom. And that’s all I’ve got.”
Jessie pushed herself to her feet and walked Ben to the top of the stairs that led to the main door. “I’ll let you know how it goes,” she said as she watched him leave.
“Take care of that shoulder,” he said. “I’ll text you later about my sister’s schedule.”
EIGHTEEN
Olivia was in the car with Zee. Thankfully, Zee had not asked her to drive. They were on the highway, headed home after shopping. They had spent the first hour at a gothic clothing store. Olivia had tried on jewelry and leather pants, and she really liked a red-plaid and black-lace party dress, but she knew that would never fly with Jessie. After that, they’d gone to the mall, where Olivia had ended up with a simple look that Zee thought was boring: jeans, a sleeveless top, and a pair of flats.
“If it’s a Halloween dance, you should go all out and dress up.”
“Nobody dresses up at these things, trust me.”
“Well, you should at least get a nose ring before the dance,” Zee said.
Olivia laughed. “Jessie would yank it out the minute I walked through the door. Besides, nose rings look like they would hurt.”
Zee muttered something indistinguishable under her breath. It sounded a lot like “Boogie boogie boo.” Although Olivia was getting used to Zee’s outbursts, she wondered what it must be like to be Zee. She decided to ask. “What’s it like to have schizophrenia?”
“I don’t know. What’s it like to be a skinny fifteen-year-old with freckles?”
Olivia made a face.
“This is just who I’ve always been,” Zee said. “My behavior confuses most people, but it’s all normal to me. I have good days and bad days. If I don’t take my medicine regularly, the anxiety can be overwhelming, and sometimes I get depressed.” She giggled. “I do have a lot of voices swirling around in my brain: Lucy, Marion, and Francis. Some people think that if you have schizophrenia, you have split personalities, but that’s a myth. I’m not Jekyll and Hyde.”
Olivia remembered reading about the voices when Zee went missing and Jessie was hired to find her. “Are the voices talking to you right now?”
“Yep. They have no idea why you’re here, since I’m basically a loner and don’t hang out with too many people.”
“Must be sort of cool having built-in friends,” Olivia said.
“I never thought about it that way. But I would have to say they’re more like sisters. They get on my nerves most of the time.” Zee laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“Francis thinks you’re a spy. She doesn’t trust you.”
“What about the others?”
“Lucy doesn’t care one way or another, and Marion isn’t sure what to think about you.”
“Well, I’m certainly not a spy,” Olivia said.
“We’ll see.”
Olivia had no idea what Zee meant by that, but she decided it probably wasn’t a good idea to ask too many questions. At least until she noticed that Zee took the wrong exit. “Where are we going?”
“There’s something I need to check on. It will only take a moment.”
Minutes later, they were driving down a residential street lined with houses that all looked the same. Zee pulled to the side of the road and shut off the engine. She pointed at the two-story house across the street.
“Does that house belong to the person you’ve been watching every day?”
“No,” Zee said. “Remember the weirdo we were following the other day?”
Olivia would never forget. “What about him?”
“That’s his house,” Zee said.
“Why are we here? What if he sees us?”
“I did some research. His name is Rudy Archer, and he’s the person we should be watching.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m an investigator now. I know these things.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. Zee wasn’t making any sense.
“Seriously. I signed up for more than one database that markets to the investigative industry. I have a bucketload of information right at my fingertips. Social media is helpful, too, telling me more about the guy than I wanted to know.”
“Like what?”
“For starters, Rudy is into ferret racing.”
“I like ferrets,” Olivia said.
Zee mumbled something under her breath. It took Olivia a second to realize she was singing a tune.
“Rudy Archer is forty-two, an only child, and he has never been married.”
“Why is that weird?” Olivia asked.
“Because every time I see the guy, he’s with people much younger than him. The first time I saw him, he was grabbing a girl by the arm. She didn’t look happy, but before I could do anything about it, they disappeared back inside his house.”
“Did you tell Jessie about the man?”
Zee nodded. “She said if he wasn’t harming anyone, to let it be.” She opened the car door.
Olivia’s heart dropped to her stomach. “What are you doing?”
“I want to see if he’s home. I might be able to peek into his garage on the way to his front door.”
“What if he sees you?”
“I’ll say I’m looking for an old friend.”
Before Olivia could protest, Zee shut the door and ran across the street. Unsure of wha
t to do, she looked around the neighborhood. A car passed by and then made a left at the stop sign. Farther away, she saw two people on bikes before they disappeared down another street. She glanced at her phone, then jumped when it buzzed. It was Jessie. She sighed and picked up the call.
“Hey there, kiddo. Where are you guys?”
“We’re on our way home now.”
“How did it go?”
She watched Zee disappear. From where she sat, Olivia couldn’t see the front door. “Um, yeah, it was fun.”
“Glad to hear it. Would you ask Zee if she wants to have dinner with us tonight?”
“Oh, um, okay.” Olivia pressed her phone against her chest and pretended Zee was in the car with her. “Hey, Zee, Jessie wants to know if you want to join us for dinner?”
Flustered, Olivia looked around the inside of the car, grabbed a receipt sitting on the console and crumpled it in her fist as she answered in a very bad imitation of Zee’s voice. She then raised the phone back to her ear. “Bummer. She can’t join us tonight. Her and her dad are doing something.”
“Are you sure everything is okay?”
“Positive. I’ll be there soon. Love you!” She disconnected the call, feeling sick to her stomach when she couldn’t see where Zee had gone. What was she doing? She was going to get them both into a lot of trouble.
Annoyed, Olivia climbed out of the car, shoved her phone into her back pocket, and walked briskly across the street. Zee wasn’t at the door or behind the shrubs lining the walkway. This was insane. Her adrenaline spiked as she walked up the pathway leading to the front door and tried to peek through the decorative glass. She thought she saw movement. And then the door opened, and she completely lost her ability to speak, or think, or do anything other than stand there like an idiot.
“Can I help you?”
It must be him, the man Zee was worried about. He was creepy-looking. Bug-eyed, with a bad comb-over, and sweat marks under his armpits. A camera hung from a strap around his neck.
Zee wasn’t the only one with voices in her head. The voice inside her head shouted, Get out of there! “Oh . . . gee . . . I thought this was my friend’s house. Sorry to bother you.”
He leaned against the doorjamb as if he wanted to have a long conversation. “Who’s your friend?” he asked before she could do an about-face and run off.