Girl Eight: A Mercy Harbor Thriller

by Melinda Woodhall

  “You have any last words you want me to add in there?”

  A raspy laugh sounded over Doc’s head and for a minute he let himself imagine this was all a bad joke. That Terri would sit up and rip the bag from her head, and Ace would pound him on the back and tell him to stop freaking out.

  “Okay, then I’ll just add in what I think you’d want to say.”

  A conspiratorial tone entered Ace’s voice.

  “You know, how you couldn’t live with what you’ve done. How you took Terri with you so she wouldn’t be alone. By the time I’m done the folks around here will think you’re some kind of martyr.”

  Doc heard Ace’s words as he burrowed further into Terri’s lap, but didn’t lift his head.

  This isn’t real. It’s just a bad dream. I’m going to wake up and Terri will be fine, and everything will be back to the way it was before.

  A strong hand settled around Doc’s hand, forcing it around the hard metal grip of the gun. It felt strange to be holding the gun in his left hand.

  “Doc, I just want to say I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

  A somber tone had entered Ace’s voice.

  “You’ve been a good partner. I’ve enjoyed our mission.”

  The words filtered through to Doc’s brain, but he didn’t try to understand them. He didn’t want to think about Ace and his mission. He didn’t want to think about the girls he’d taken, or what Ace might have done with them. The girls weren’t his responsibility. Only Terri was. She was the only one that had mattered. And now she was gone.

  A slow rage began to build inside Doc at the injustice of it all. He'd only been trying to protect Terri. He hadn’t wanted to kill anyone. He hadn’t wanted to kill Natalie. He hadn’t wanted Helena Steele to die.

  But what else could he have done? They were going to tell everyone. They were going to ruin everything. He’d had no choice but to stop them.

  “I wish there was some other way, but there’s not.”

  Doc tried to pull his hand back, but Ace was close behind him, holding him down, forcing the gun up.

  “Don’t make me do this the hard way, Doc. Be a man about it.”

  The hard metal of the gun rested against Doc’s left temple, and he squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

  Why resist? Without Terri, nothing matters anyway.

  Ace tightened his finger on the trigger, and Doc’s world exploded into darkness.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Blood seemed to be everywhere. It coated the front of Terri’s white dress, dripped from the plastic bag, and pooled on the desk. Ace had even felt a light spray of back spatter sting his eyes, which were the only part of his body not covered by the protective gear. He blinked and squeezed his eyes shut until the stinging had subsided.

  When Ace looked around again he saw bright red streaks had splashed across the paper he’d hoped to use for the suicide note. Reaching out a bloody glove, he opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and another pen. He hesitated, then determined the desk was too messy to use. The kitchen table would be a better idea.

  But he didn’t have long. The detectives would come by soon wanting to question Doc, and Ace needed to be gone before they arrived. With any luck they would find the bodies, read the note, and close a handful of open cases all in one afternoon. Everyone would win, and then Ace could decide what he was going to do next.

  But first things first. I gotta check the scene. Can’t afford any mistakes.

  He studied the position of Doc’s body, which was splayed awkwardly on the floor, having been propelled sideways by the force of the 9mm bullet. Ace was glad to see that the Ruger was still clutched in Doc’s hand. The firearm was registered in Doc’s name, and Ace knew that once they tested Doc’s arm for gunshot residue they would have to conclude that only Doc could have pulled the trigger.

  And the note will be the final touch. No way they can see all this and not call it a murder-suicide. It’ll be open and shut, case closed.

  Ace took a step toward the kitchen, then stopped when he saw that his protective shoe cover had left a bloody smear on the floor where he’d been standing. He surveyed the rest of his body and realized that he needed to remove all traces of blood before moving through the house. Otherwise he might leave behind evidence that someone else had been in the house when Doc and Terri had died.

  The shoe covers slipped off easily, but the blue coverall was harder to remove. After a few minutes of tugging and pulling Ace stood in his street clothes, the protective gear rolled into a bundle under his arm.

  He decided that he would throw the bundle into the Willow River on his way home; the acidic water would dissolve the disposable material and destroy any evidence that he’d ever been in the house.

  Satisfied that the bodies and the scene had been arranged just as he’d planned, Ace sat at the kitchen table and smoothed out the blank page in front of him. He picked up the ballpoint pen and began to write:

  To My Family, Friends and Community:

  If you’re reading this note, then you must have found me and Terri. Let me start off by saying I’m sorry it had to end this way. I didn’t set out to hurt anyone, and the last thing I wanted was to let everyone down. But somehow everything just got out of control, and I ended up doing some terrible things that I deeply regret, and which I can no longer live with. I’ve taken Terri with me so that she won’t have to struggle in this cruel world alone.

  I have prayed to be forgiven for the evil I’ve done, and I have faith that Terri and I will be going on to a better place together. In the spirit of repentance, I hope that the following confession will allow some of you to find closure and peace.

  I’m ashamed to say I’ve taken the lives of several innocent people in a misguided attempt to protect myself and my wife.

  In 1994 I had a sexual relationship with Natalie Lorenzo, who at that time was a minor. Twelve years later Natalie claimed that I was the father of her son and demanded that I tell my wife and provide support for the boy. I panicked and ended up killing Natalie in a fit of rage.

  Two weeks after Natalie’s death, a woman named Helena Steele approached me and said she knew that I was the father of Natalie’s child, and that Natalie had asked her opinion about seeking child support. She threatened to go to the police. Again, I panicked and killed Helena Steele to stop her from exposing my secret. I had selfishly tried to protect my wife from finding out what I’d done and hoped never to be discovered.

  For twelve years I lived with my guilt, trying to make amends by caring for my disabled wife. I hoped my terrible past was behind me. Then recently an investigation into these crimes was reopened. I was questioned and grew nervous, and in my anxiety I accidently supplied a patient at Hope House with the wrong medicine and she was hospitalized. Once I figured out what I’d done, I went to the hospital to apologize and explain my mistake to the girl, but she became hysterical and threatened to report me to the police and have my medical license taken away. I panicked, tried to silence her and ended up killing her. I buried her body where it will never be found.

  After that I was paranoid, thinking everyone was out to get me. When I heard that Penelope Yates had been talking to investigators, I thought the only way to keep her from sharing any information she might have about me and Natalie was to kill her. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I went to her apartment and did what I felt I had to do.

  Later I came to my senses and realized how stupid and selfish I’d been. At that point I realized that there was only one way out of the mess I’d created. And only one way to prevent my wife from finding out about the terrible things I’d done to protect her.

  I hope in heaven my lovely Terri will forgive me, and I pray that all of you will find it in your hearts to forgive me, too. My final request is for Terri and me to be cremated and for our mingled remains to be scattered in the ocean.

  Farewell to all,

  Dr. Adrian Bellows

  Ace read through the
letter several times, proud of the job he’d done. He’d managed to neatly tie all the open investigations together in one straightforward confession. It would be easy to convict Doc posthumously and close the cases without Ace’s involvement ever being discovered. If all went as planned, he would be in the clear. All he had to do was finish with girl eight, and he could start over again. Come up with a new mission.

  After propping the suicide note on the kitchen table, Ace headed for the back door, careful to take the bundle of evidence with him. A loud knock on the front door stopped him just as he reached for the doorknob.

  He froze, unsure what to do, then crept back down the hall and peeked through a slit in the blinds. Eden Winthrop stood on the doorstep, huddled under an umbrella, her long blonde hair blowing frantically in the wind as she knocked again on the door.

  A wild rush of anger surged through Ace, and it took every bit of self-control he had not to rip open the door and strangle the woman right there on the front stoop.

  Hasn’t the bitch already caused enough trouble? Isn’t it really her fault that Doc and Terri had to die?

  But Ace knew he was close to settling everything to his satisfaction. If he gave in to his anger and killed Eden, the whole murder-suicide scenario would fall apart. Besides, the storm was getting stronger and he still needed to get the girl in his garage out to the farm. It was too risky to hold her in his house any longer.

  One more dirty deed, and the mission would be over.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Eden struggled to keep the umbrella steady as she knocked on the door. No answer. She looked back at the blue van parked at an angle in the driveway. Dr. Bellows had to be home. So why wasn’t he opening the door? Would he really refuse to let her in out of the wind and rain?

  He will if he has something to hide.

  She looked at the windows on the ground floor and noticed that all the blinds were closed. She stepped back and looked up, seeing closed blinds on the second floor as well. Perhaps they really weren’t home.

  Maybe Dr. Bellows and his wife had already evacuated in another vehicle and left the van behind.

  After giving the front door a long, frustrated glare, Eden splashed back to the Expedition and climbed in. But she didn’t start the engine; something didn’t feel right.

  Duke’s head appeared in the rearview mirror, and Eden turned around to stare into his doleful eyes.

  “You should have evacuated with Barb and the kids, Duke. Staking out Dr. Bellows’ house is going to be pretty boring.”

  And dangerous if the hurricane stays on the same path.

  Duke stared back, then curled up on the back seat and put his head on his paws, as if making a point that he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Eden had packed Barb and the kids into the older woman’s big Buick, and they were already halfway to Orlando, where they planned to spend the next few days hunkered down with Barb’s son and daughter-in-law.

  Barb’s dog, Lucky, had gone with them, and the Yorkie’s tail had wagged nonstop as they’d loaded up the car. But Duke had refused to get in, no matter how much Hope coaxed, or Devon begged.

  Finally, Eden had sighed, and agreed that perhaps Duke would be happier staying with her while she made one last effort to track down Kara before the brunt of the storm hit town.

  The idea of Kara out on the streets, fending for herself all alone, stopped Eden from leaving town before she’d done everything she could to find the missing girl.

  Eden thought of the promise she’d made to Kara’s sister earlier that day. Anna Stanislaus had called to say that she and little Niko were heading to Willow Bay to look for her sister, hurricane or no hurricane.

  Eden had only been able to convince the young mother not to drive down in the storm by promising that she would keep looking for Kara as long as the weather permitted.

  And the heavy rain and blustery wind hadn’t stopped her so far, but she was at a loss as to where to look next. If Dr. Bellows had already left town, what was her next move?

  She stared defiantly at the windows of the silent house, impatient to do something other than wait around for Dr. Bellows to appear.

  Her eyes rested on the big blue van, and she wondered if the gold chain she’d seen might still be inside, perhaps under the seat.

  It couldn’t hurt to have a look, could it?

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she opened the car door and stepped back into the rain. She held up the battered umbrella and began sloshing through puddles of water toward the van. Once she reached the van she again turned to the big house to see if anyone was watching. The house was still quiet, still closed up; nothing moved in the windows.

  As Eden leaned forward to peer into the front passenger side window, she saw with surprise that the door was unlocked. Her eyes flicked to the console; the keys were still in the ignition.

  Heart racing, she opened the door and pulled herself up and into the passenger seat of the van. She looked down at the floor.

  No gold chain, No cross.

  She slid her hand along the carpet and under the seat.

  Nothing.

  Her eyes studied the interior of the van, not sure what she was hoping to find. They stopped on the satnav display and lingered. What could it tell her about Dr. Bellows’ activities?

  She turned the key in the ignition. The radio blasted out an update on the storm’s coordinates, and the engine began to purr.

  Eden reached out a finger and began tapping on the satnav display. Within minutes she was staring at all the locations that Doc had driven to on Saturday, the day Kara had gone missing from the hospital.

  She saw that Doc had been at the hospital around the same time she’d arrived.

  Terri told me she hadn’t been at the hospital on Saturday, and that she hadn’t left the house all day. So why were you there, Dr. Bellows?

  Eden scrolled down to see that after leaving the hospital he’d driven to 3278 Ironside Way, a residential address about ten miles west of downtown.

  Where did you go, Doc? And who did you have with you?

  Eden pictured Dr. Bellows driving away from the hospital. She could have sworn she’d seen a figure in the passenger seat of his van. Could it have been Kara? Could Dr. Bellows have taken her to the house on Ironside Way?

  There’s only one way to find out.

  Eden opened the door of the van and scurried back to her SUV, heedless of the ankle-deep puddles all around.

  Once back inside the car, she considered her plan of action, then dialed Nessa’s number before she lost her nerve. She rehearsed what she would say as the phone began to ring.

  Nessa, will you go to an unknown address to search for a doctor who may or may not know something about a girl who may or may not be missing?

  But after four rings the voicemail picked up and Eden realized she’d have to leave a message.

  “Nessa, this is Eden. I’m sure you’re busy with the storm and…well, everything, but I think I may know where Dr. Bellows took Kara Stanislaus. I have an address…it’s 3278 Ironside Way.”

  She paused, knowing that once she hung up she would have passed her responsibility to find Kara over to the police. After that she would only be able to sit and wait for a call that might never come.

  Eden was surprised to hear herself saying, “I’m going to go by there now to check it out. Please, call me when you get this.”

  Already regretting her impulsive decision, Eden started the engine and backed out of the Bellows’ driveway.

  Standing water in the road hinted at the flooded streets to come, and the wind gusted through the massive branches of the overhanging Cypress trees, making the long ropes of Spanish moss dance overhead.

  As debris began to fall and water began to rise, many streets would become impassable. There was no time to waste. If she was going to make it to the address in Bellows’ satnav, she’d have to get going.

  It’s probably just a wild goose chase anyway.

  But as she dro
ve onto the highway and headed east toward Ironside Way, she found herself holding her breath, filled with both a tentative hope and a nagging fear of what she might find when she arrived.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Jankowksi walked back into the office just as the phone on Nessa's desk started to ring. He dropped his backpack and looked over at the blinking light. The call was coming in from an internal number. Someone in the building was trying to reach Nessa.

  “Hello, this is Jankowski, and no, Nessa’s not here right now.”

  “Oh, hi, this is Alma. I needed to speak to Nessa. Do you think she’s already left for the day, or is she on duty for the duration?”

  Jankowski scanned the office. Nessa’s purse was gone but her laptop still sat open on her desk.

  “It looks like she’s gone out, maybe had to run an errand, but her computer’s still here so I think she’ll be back. Can I help?”

  “I managed to lift a print from the glass she dropped off earlier.”

  Alma’s voice was high-pitched with excitement.

  “And it’s a perfect match with an unidentified print collected from the Natalie Lorenzo scene.”

  “Okay, that’s great news,” Jankowksi replied, struggling to hide his confusion. “So, the print at the scene definitely matches the print on the…the glass?”

  “Yeah, I was shocked, too,” Alma said, her words spilling out. “When Nessa brought me the glass I thought she was really grasping, but she was right. Looks like this doctor guy must have been at the Lorenzo scene after all.”

  Jankowski waited for his mind to catch up.

  What glass did Nessa give to Alma? Could the doctor Alma mentioned be Dr. Adrian Bellows? Had Bellows been at the Natalie Lorenzo scene?

  “Of course, just because he was at the scene, it doesn’t prove he’s the perp.”

  Alma’s initial excitement gave way to concern.

  “And without having a warrant or documented chain of custody on the glass, the fingerprint won’t help you in court. If it gets that far, I mean.”