by Charly Cox
‘Whoop whoop,’ Isaac yelled before Brock shot him a warning glance. ‘What?’ he mumbled. ‘Can’t I be excited for my sister?’
‘Yeah, that’s what it is, excited for me. Has nothing to do with hoping you’ll be the friend I choose to go with me,’ Holly said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at her brother. ‘As if.’
Alyssa caught her husband’s eyes, both quietly agreeing not to inform their son – yet – that, even if Holly was allowed to go – and that was still a big if – there was no way she was allowing her not-quite-in-high-school, fourteen-year-old son to traipse along unchaperoned in Europe, of all places. Good lord, it was more than five thousand miles away! Despite being an adult in the eyes of the law, her eighteen-year-old daughter did not count as a suitable guardian in this case.
Isaac opened his mouth to argue.
‘Your mother said we were still discussing it,’ Brock cut him off, ending the conversation. Then, locking eyes with his wife, he pulled a large white envelope from behind the enormous Winnie-the-Pooh cookie jar and set it in front of Holly. ‘Besides, I think your sister might have some more good news to share.’
Bewildered, she cocked her head to one side and said. ‘I do?’ Then: ‘Is that from Cornell University?’ Her hands shook as she fumbled to open the letter. ‘What if it’s a rejection?’ Holly bit her lower lip, reminding Alyssa how her own little brother used to do the same thing whenever he was anxious or excited. She shook her head, refusing to allow sadness to interfere with this moment.
Isaac, still irritated at his sister’s comment regarding her plus one to Europe, rolled his eyes. ‘Only one way to find out. Why don’t you open it?’
When she still hesitated, Alyssa went to stand by her daughter and draped her arm around her shoulder. ‘Come on. We’ll do it together.’
It was difficult to say whose hands trembled more. The envelope finally opened, Holly slid out the top piece of stationery. She handed it to Alyssa. ‘You read it. I can’t. Just break it to me softly if it’s bad news.’
‘Congratulations! The selection committee in the College of Engineering has approved…’ That was as far as she got before her entire family erupted into cheers and her oldest child threw herself into her arms.
Isaac forgot he was annoyed with Holly and thrust his fist across the table. ‘Pound it, sister!’
Beaming, she tapped her brother’s fist with her own before they both pulled their arms back and opened their hands wide to mimic an explosion. ‘Boom!’ they cried out in unison, laughing.
‘My turn,’ Brock said, moisture in his eyes as he pulled his daughter into his chest. ‘Would you look at that? My little girl’s going Ivy League. So proud of you, baby.’
‘Oh my gosh! I need to tell Grandma.’ She turned and headed down the hall to grab her phone. Alyssa knew the second Mabel answered because Holly squealed.
She smiled and nestled her head against her husband’s chest as he drew her in. ‘Thank you for not showing her last night. I would’ve hated to miss that.’
Brock’s answer was to tilt her head up and kiss her softly.
And Alyssa was able to forget, for a few precious minutes, about Callie McCormick and the dangerous world they lived in.
* * *
Thirty minutes later Alyssa was still smiling as she walked into the conference room. She was so happy for Holly. Her lifelong dream of getting into one of the Ivy League universities had once seemed far-fetched, but she had worked hard to achieve her goal, and she’d done it.
She was checking her phone when Cord walked in, followed by the rest of the crew. As soon as Hal wheeled his chair in, closed the door, and joined them around the table, they got down to business.
Alyssa started with Joe and Tony. ‘Tell me what you’ve got.’
Tony pulled out a sheet of paper and slid it over to Alyssa. ‘Mervin Wallace lives with his sister in a condominium up in the Heights. Volunteers his time at the homeless shelter and to various veterans’ administrations throughout the county.’
Alyssa’s eyebrows shot up, but guessing her thoughts, Tony shook his head. ‘Never met Callie. Different charity. I already checked.’
Disappointment dug in deep, but she listened as White continued. ‘Wallace was at the dealership because his sister, who he described as “a meddlesome, nagging old fool who always thinks she knows what’s best for him and his life,” was ill, and he’d offered to take her car in for her. Unless Hal uncovers something in the background check, for now he seems clean, at least as far as this case is concerned.’
‘I’ll take it from there,’ Joe said, mimicking his partner by sliding his report over to Alyssa. ‘Hunter Jenkins. Lives in a small, one-bedroom rental house in the South Valley. When we got there, he invited us right in. He remembered seeing a woman in the waiting area but didn’t take much notice of her other than she was talking to her father.’ He paused. ‘He assumed Mearl Leroy was her dad. And as far as Mr. Wallace goes, Jenkins said he’d never met him before Monday when they both dropped their vehicles off at the same time. In fact, he said he was planning to walk over to the McDonald’s for some hotcakes, but when they told him his car wouldn’t take too long, he decided to wait.’ He closed his file. ‘After I spoke with him, I asked for his landlord’s number, and he gladly rattled it off for me, and then told me where she lived, even invited us back if I had further questions. According to his landlady, Mr. Jenkins wouldn’t kill a fly, much less kidnap a woman.’ He glanced around the room. ‘I added that last part, not her. Anyway, she said he was in and out a lot, never had a lot of visitors, and was a good renter.’ Joe’s face reddened as he added, ‘Strange-looking dude, but for now, appears he’s on the up and up.’
In other words, they still had nothing. Alyssa nodded and moved on. ‘Hal?’
‘Well, as much as I’d like to tell you I have the smoking gun and the silver bullet, I don’t.’ Before continuing, he laughed at Liz’s horrified expression. ‘Got to find the humor in life, or you’re bound to lose yourself.’ Then he looked back to the detectives. ‘What I can tell you is this: the young man Larry Wilkins happens to be a private investigator.’ He grinned. ‘Turns out the receptionist’s husband suspected his wife was having an affair with one Mark Jacobs, so he hired Wilkins to check it out.’
Well, that explained Aubrey’s surprise when she’d unexpectedly walked into the manager’s office only to find the detectives still there.
‘Anything else?’ Cord asked.
‘Still waiting for the McCormicks’ phone records, so not from me,’ Hal answered.
‘Technicians are still backed up, so nothing yet on the prints lifted from the crime scene, either,’ Joe added.
‘What about a DNA profile from the blood found on the wall and floor near the stairs?’ Tony asked.
‘Probably still a little too soon to tell whose it is, but Hal, do you mind calling the medical examiner’s office and checking on that for me?’ Alyssa asked.
‘Consider it done,’ Hal said, writing a note to himself.
‘I heard Ruby griping up front,’ Liz said. ‘Guess people are calling in hoping to cash in on that reward.’
Alyssa winced. ‘Yeah, Ruby all but threw these,’ she lifted a stack of memos in the air, ‘as soon as I walked through the door.’ She shared a few of them with the others. ‘So far, we’ve got three people who’ve seen Callie cross the border into Mexico, another who was positive she’d seen her heading into Canada with a man who was definitely not Rafe McCormick. One witness claims he performed plastic surgery on Callie so she could escape her abusive spouse.’ The next one made her laugh out loud. ‘Gladys here swears she watched, and I quote, “the missing woman get sucked into a spaceship.” End quote.’ She tossed the memo onto the table.
It was Liz’s turn to laugh. ‘If only we were in Roswell instead of Albuquerque, that would have to be moved to the top of the list.’
Alyssa read one more. ‘And this one here wishes to remain anonymous until an arrest is ma
de and the “money collected.” But he would like us to know he’s a psychic and believes this is all a ruse set up by Callie’s husband in order to distract creditors from his deep financial troubles.’
‘Already discredited,’ Hal piped in.
‘Okay, well, since we still have to follow up on these, no matter how far-fetched, I’ll let you handle this one, Hal.’ Alyssa divvied up the rest of the memos, keeping a couple for her and Cord. ‘Let’s keep digging,’ she said, her voice somber. ‘Let’s find Callie and bring her home. Keep in touch today and let us know how things are going.’
Chapter Fifteen
Wednesday, March 27
Bishop, still seething about yesterday, descended the steps, a bowl of oatmeal in one hand, a bedpan in the other. He’d been so furious when he’d finally dragged Callie back onto the bed that he’d left the house so he wouldn’t have to listen to her constant screams. He’d hoped that starving her would shut her up. She was turning out to be another huge disappointment.
‘Please, tell me why you’re doing this to me!’
‘Because I can,’ he said coldly as he set his items on the tray, and without another word, inspected her feet. When she flinched, he dug his fingernails into the raw skin of her ankle, causing her to cry out.
‘You don’t seem to be very grateful to the person feeding and taking care of you,’ he said, shoving the small plastic tub roughly beneath her. This always disgusted him, but it needed to be done. ‘You might as well use it. You won’t like the consequences if you make another mess.’
He was glad when she finally urinated, and he carefully removed the bedpan and went around the corner to the bathroom he’d installed himself and washed his hands. When he returned, he grabbed a chair he’d placed at the foot of the bed and set it up next to the side.
‘I thought today you might want me to give you another chance. You must know by now that I’m not going to let you go, so really, it’s up to you how much you want to suffer.’
He followed her gaze as it swung to the shadowbox. ‘You want to talk about my mementos? Okay, then.’
Once more he grabbed the box from the wall. He pointed to one of the pictures. ‘This was Mary.’ He tapped the braid. ‘This was her hair. I realized right away she wasn’t right, so she only lasted a day.
‘This,’ he pointed to another picture, ‘was Alice. This is her necklace.’ He stared down at Callie. ‘She kept telling me she’d give me all her jewelry if I just let her go. So, I did – by slitting her throat and dumping her in the river – and I kept her jewelry and her hair.’
He laughed when tears sprang to Callie’s eyes, but when she closed them, he jerked her head around. ‘Look,’ he ordered.
‘This,’ he tapped the glass on a picture, ‘is Debbie – no, I mean, Denise. She tried to claw me with those perfect fingernails, so I cut off her hand before I killed her. I even let her choose which one.’
He moved on to another braid, this one with a bright blue ribbon weaved throughout. ‘Sandra. She bored me. I don’t even know why I thought she was the one.’
He paused before he moved onto the last item, opening the latch on the back of the box so he could remove the glass jar containing the eyeball. He held it directly in front of Callie. When she squeezed her eyes closed, he ordered her to open them. ‘Meet Rhonda.’ He sighed as he remembered her. ‘I really thought she was it. She did everything I told her to do. It only took her one day to stop crying and begging.’ His eyes darkened. ‘I was going to reward her, but when I unlocked her chains, she attacked me and tried to escape. I cut out her eye because she’d looked at me with deception.’ He watched Callie’s reaction.
He barely made it out of the way before she retched all over again.
Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday, March 27
Evan Bishop fumed, his fists pummeling Callie’s body wherever they landed, hitting harder the more she screamed. How could he ever have thought she was the one? Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
A flash of memory – two little boys, huddled in a corner – there and gone before he could blink, had him halting his fist mid-air. And when he did, he glared at the woman in his basement. ‘I thought you were different,’ he seethed. ‘But, you’re no better than the rest. A deceitful, dirty liar.’
Get rid of her.
The voice in his head was so loud, he actually turned to see who had spoken. Then it came again: No time like the present, and he knew what he needed to do. Without a word, he swung away and headed upstairs.
* * *
Too beaten and broken to wonder why he’d left so abruptly, Callie watched Evan take the stairs two at a time, leaving the door cracked open behind him. The idea of escape barely flitted through her mind. Even if an attempt had been possible, she could barely lift her head, and she was certain her ribs were cracked, every breath shooting splinters of agony through her.
Overhead, she heard him pacing, his footsteps sounding like gunshots. Weak, he had screamed over and over as his fists battered her, and ashamed, she prayed to die right now, this minute. She was so tired of fearing what would happen next only to realize that reality was far worse than anything she could imagine. Each time the door opened, each time the monster appeared, he brought more torment. And after seeing the man’s mementos...
A door slammed, intruding in her thoughts, and when silence fell, she knew she wasn’t really ready to die yet. They had to be searching for her. She could survive this. She strained to hear; the silence was worse than the pacing. Had he left her to die chained to the bed? Or was he preparing an even worse torture for her? Immediately, her mind conjured up the eyeball floating in liquid, and dry heaves racked her body because there was nothing left for her to give.
* * *
Plan in place, Evan organized everything in a neat, orderly fashion: midazolam, syringe, scissors, two rubber bands, shovel, tarp. Whistling as he worked, he wondered if he should’ve held onto Callie’s Jeep a bit longer. But it was dangerous keeping it around, and besides, it wasn’t like he could use it to dump her body. Too many chances for someone to spot it. No, he’d done the right thing in getting rid of it. The police would be looking for her vehicle, not his.
He’d take her to the mountains. Even if someone found her body, there was a good chance the coyotes, wolves, or even the mountain lions would have gotten to her first. In a world where DNA was king, he wasn’t afraid that forensic science would be able to identify who she was. Knowing her identity wouldn’t help the authorities much. After all, bones couldn’t talk.
Finally, satisfied he had everything he needed, he filled a syringe with sedative, frowning when he realized he didn’t have as much as he thought, as his last order hadn’t yet arrived. He shook his head. No matter. What he had would get the job done, he was sure of it. Besides, now that he knew what he needed to do, he was too impatient to wait.
Scissors and rubber bands came next.
When he stood back, a smile spread across his face. He was ready.
* * *
He sang as he came down the stairs, and all Callie could do was watch, wondering what he had in store for her now. When he reached the bed, the light from above glanced off something in his hands. She blinked when she realized they were scissors. At first, she didn’t understand. Then she saw the malicious gleam as he stared down at her, and suddenly, she did.
A great shuddering sob escaped her as she struggled against her bindings, ignoring the stabbing pain. When he grabbed hold of her hair, she jerked her head to the side in an effort to dislodge his grip, but in her weakened state, her efforts were no more irritating to him than a buzzing mosquito. Still, she continued fighting and pleading. ‘No, no, please no. Please, I’ll do anything. I’m sorry I got sick. Please just give me another chance,’ she cried.
Then a fist crashed into her face, and she heard as much as felt the bone in her nose break. Viciously, he twisted her neck to the side, using his elbow to hold her cheek to the bed as he tugged and yanked at the back o
f her head. Blood gurgled in the back of her throat, nearly choking her, and cutting off her sobs.
Then he released her, stepping back, her limp, blonde hair in his fist. She watched, numb, as he set the scissors down and calmly pleated the length of hair into an uneven braid. Defeated, she squeezed her eyes closed, hoping if she stopped fighting, he’d kill her fast. She wondered how he’d do it. At the sound of tapping, her eyes flew open again, and she saw the syringe filled with a light-colored liquid seconds before the needle was jammed into her neck.
‘Time to say goodnight and goodbye, Callie,’ was the last thing she heard as he depressed the plunger.
Followed by her last thought: At least it’ll be over.
Chapter Seventeen
Wednesday, March 27
Frustrated and hungry, Alyssa said, ‘Flip you for the honor of getting to be the one who returns Hammond’s call.’
‘Tell you what, you give the good captain a holler, and I’ll buy lunch before we head over to visit one Josephine Graffe, our latest in the long line of callers who are one hundred percent positive they’ve spotted Callie McCormick crossing state lines.’
Her eye-roll told him exactly what she thought of that. ‘Coward,’ she muttered, already placing the call.
‘Hammond here.’ The voice on the other end was gruff and sounded every bit as irritable as she felt. She was about to make his day worse.
‘Captain, it’s Alyssa. I –’
‘Yeah, I know who it is. What’ve you got?’
‘We just finished chasing down a couple of leads. And we’re about to –’
Hammond interrupted. ‘I don’t need to tell you again, Detective, how important it is that you solve this case promptly. Fire from the mayor’s getting hot on my neck. Call me when you have something concrete. And Alyssa?’