by PJ Fernor
“You can call me Jack,” he said.
“Jack, I’m Detective Allie Down,” I said. “You said you know who this is? So this is a local man?”
“Not entirely sure,” Jack said. “I’m the pharmacist here. It’s forever busy. I was in the office that night. We were having issues with our software. The last thing I wanted to deal with. But Hartley insists on cutting corners.” Jack waved his hands. “I’m sorry, that’s not relevant. Hartley owns the store. The pharmacy. The building.”
“Is that relevant?” I asked.
“No.” Jack shook the piece of paper. “I heard his voice. Yelling. Screaming like a fool. Demanding he pick up his prescription. Saying he was in so much pain he was going to call the police. Then a lawyer. Poor Davis back there…” Jack turned and pointed inside the pharmacy. “Well, I better bite my tongue saying that until you hear everything.”
“Forgive me, Jack, but can you stay on point here?” I asked.
“This man was in this pharmacy that night,” Jack said. “Causing a scene. There was nobody else though. Thankfully. He demanded a prescription we didn’t have for him. I’m not sure what he thought this was, but there’s a process to get medication. Especially painkillers. Well, with the way things are today…”
“He was looking for painkillers?” I asked.
“That’s right. Demanding them. Yelling at Davis so loud I thought something physical was going to happen. So I hurried from the office to the counter. The man…” Jack held up the picture. “It was him. Something about his face just stuck with me. His eyes were dark and beady. A little sunken in too. He looked disheveled. Confused. If you ask me, he looked like some bum looking for a cheap high.”
“What happened to him?”
“I guess when he saw me and realized I wasn’t going to just hand out pills, he stormed off. He turned and ran from the pharmacy. Like a fool. I told Davis to check the aisles and make sure nothing looked stolen or damaged. And then I told him to report it. To call the police.”
“Did he?”
“That’s where our story takes a sad turn, Detective,” Jack said with a frown.
“Why don’t we go inside and talk about it then?” I asked.
Jack nodded. “I promised Davis you wouldn’t arrest him. I shouldn’t have said that. But I needed to know what was happening. If you do need to take him away, please let me know so I can apologize first.”
“What exactly did Davis do here?”
Jack opened the pharmacy door. “For starters, he never called the police.”
I shut my eyes and held my breath for a couple seconds.
You had this guy right in front of you? Yelling? Screaming? Knowing he looked messed up? An obvious drug seeking man who then left and kidnapped Jessie? Or maybe Jessie was already in the back of the SUV…
I opened my eyes and when I saw who Davis was, I wanted to sigh.
He was a kid himself.
A teenager. With patches of acne on his face. Curly, blonde hair down to his eyebrows with blue eyes and a perfect smile. He looked like he belonged in a boy band. Just with scruffy, baggy clothes and pimples.
“Davis, this is a detective,” Jack said in an almost sarcastic voice. “You need to tell her everything. Or else I’m calling your parents.”
The boy’s face turned bright red.
“I’m calling another detective to come,” I said.
“What? Why?” Davis finally spoke.
“I’m getting the truth,” I said. “One way or another.”
Davis looked ready to pass out.
I sent Ben a text to get over to the pharmacy ASAP.
Then I looked at Davis. “You get one chance with me, Davis. That’s it. And calling your parents is the least that will happen.”
“You said I wouldn’t get arrested,” Davis said to Jack.
“Now wait a second-” Jack started to say.
“Depends on what you tell me,” I said to Davis. “You didn’t call the police on the man who was in here acting strange?”
“No.”
“Even after Jack told you to?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Davis shrugged his shoulders.
I moved my left hand to get a set of cuffs.
“Please, no,” Davis said as he stuck his hand out. “I couldn’t call the cops.”
“Why not?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Davis shut his eyes. “Of getting caught.”
“Caught?” I asked.
I glanced at Jack.
Jack pursed his lips tight.
There was silence.
Davis opened his eyes and they were glossy.
What did you do, kid?
“Should I pull up the crime scene photos of Lucy Maurowitz for you to see?” I asked.
“No,” Davis said. “I had nothing to do with those girls going missing. Oh… you think I…”
“What do you think I think?” I asked in a louder voice. “I’m not here to play games, Davis.”
“Why’d you say something?” Davis asked Jack.
“You said something first,” Jack said. “Now tell the detective or I will.”
“I’ll arrest both of you,” I said.
“I couldn’t call the cops…,” Davis said. He sighed. “Because… I stole the card.”
“You stole the card?”
Davis nodded. “He threw his credit card to the counter, demanding I charge him for painkillers. He somehow thought that was legal to do. I don’t know. He stormed out and left the card on the counter.”
“And you took it?”
“I took it,” Davis said.
I stepped closer to Davis. “Do you remember the name on it?”
“No,” Davis said.
“But he still has the card,” Jack called out. “With him. Right now.”
I put my hand out.
I was one step closer to finding Jessie.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
When I saw the guy crouched next to my car, he told me his name was Brian. That, of course, was after I had pulled my gun on him. Even in that tense moment something in me just knew this guy was a little off. The name stuck with me. Good thing too because the credit card Davis produced did not have the name Brian on it.
Behind me the pharmacy door opened and Jack hurried away to tend to a woman named Mary. I only knew that because Jack called out her name.
“Are you sure this is the card?” I asked Davis.
“I swear on my life,” he said. “I know I screwed up here…”
I held up one finger.
Now wasn’t the time to beg for forgiveness.
Davis could work on that later. With someone else.
This was about finding Jessie.
“If you move an inch, I’ll arrest you,” I said to Davis.
He showed his hands as I turned to call Ben.
“Where are you?” I asked when Ben picked up.
“Coming to meet-”
“Stop,” I said. “I have a name.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain everything, Ben. I need you to run a name. Right now.”
“You got it,” Ben said. “What do have you for me?”
I looked at the credit card again. “I’m looking at a Daniel Endlebrook. That’s e-n-d-l-e-brook. No e at the end.”
Ben repeated the name and spelled it back to me.
“That’s the one,” I said.
“You’re sure?” he asked. “I’ll search right now. You know this isn’t a…”
“I know how it works,” I said. “But this is what we have right now. He was in the pharmacy trying to buy painkillers with a credit card. Got spooked when the pharmacist came out so he left his credit card and took off.”
“This all happened the night Jessie was taken?” Ben asked.
“Appears that way,” I said. “And nothing was called in. Which is a whole other situation to deal with.”
I looked over my shoulder at Davis.
His face turned bright red again.
I really wasn’t sure what to do with him.
“Let me get that info for you, Allie,” Ben said.
“Thanks.”
The call ended and Jack led Mary up to the counter.
“This will take care of my Robert’s boots?” Mary asked. “My goodness, the smell…”
Jack laughed. “Well, I can’t promise a miracle, but this will help. You know, you can get him to a doctor, right?”
“Oh, he won’t listen,” Mary said.
Davis’s face remained bright red as Jack rang up the foot spray.
Looking casual wasn’t my strongest trait. Especially this close to an actual suspect in Jessie’s kidnapping.
When Mary looked at me, she hurried to look away.
Jack turned his body to block a path to me.
Doing all he could to keep things normal.
Mary paid.
“Let me walk you to the door,” Jack said.
“You know, Robert is as stubborn as they come,” she said. “He doesn’t believe in doctors. Says they’re all quacks.”
“He can tell that to the next doctor that takes care of him, right?” Jack asked.
Mary laughed as they walked toward the front door.
I set my sights on Davis again.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “It doesn’t fix anything. I just…”
“Why did you take it?”
“I figured the guy was messed up, right? So I grabbed his card and thought I could buy myself something.”
“You used his card?” I asked.
Davis nodded.
I put my head back and sighed. “What did you buy?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t say nothing to me.”
“Shoes.”
“You bought shoes?”
Davis nodded. “Three hundred dollar shoes. And some other things.”
I held up my hand again. “You know what? You’re going to have to deal with that on your own, Davis. Along with your parents. You stole someone’s credit card and then used it. And that someone is the man who kidnapped…”
Davis started to cry. Full on breaking down into tears kind of crying too.
Shoot, Allie. You pushed too much.
“Why don’t you call your parents?” I told Davis. “You need to tell them everything.”
“Okay, what are we… Davis, are you okay?” Jack asked as he returned to the counter.
“Cameras,” I said to Jack. “You have cameras in here? At the counter? Right?”
“Of course,” Jack said. “I’m not sure what I can get you from that night though. We were having issues.”
“Let’s look,” I said.
“Sure thing,” Jack said.
“Davis, come with us,” I said.
“What if someone comes in?” Jack asked.
“Then you can come out and help that person,” I said with a sharp tone to make sure I had control over the situation.
I was not going to be messed with.
Jack nodded.
We went into a small office where Jack fought with a computer to pull up the security footage of the night Jessie went missing.
“I had to learn all of this myself,” he said. “I wanted to be a Pharmacist. Not this. Not a manager. Not a tech guy. Not part of solving a crime.”
“Small town living,” I said. “Everyone has to pitch in and help, right?”
Jack looked back at me. He wasn’t impressed.
Davis stood in the corner, chewing on his nails. Staring at the floor. Taking in all that he had done.
“Here is the guy,” Jack said.
The video quality was trash but I nodded the second I saw him.
It was the guy.
No doubt in my mind.
My phone started to ring and I stepped out of the office.
“Can I go back out front now?” Davis asked.
I ignored him to talk to Ben.
“I’m sending it over to you,” Ben said. “We got a hit. Daniel Endlebrook. Lives over on the north side. On the other side of the train tracks. He was picked up for a DUI two years ago.”
My heart jumped again.
“Do we have an address?” I asked.
“Of course we do. But we also have a big problem, Allie.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“You tell me.”
My phone buzzed and I pulled it away from my ear to open the picture Ben sent me.
It was Daniel Endlebrook.
“See it?” Ben asked.
“Yeah,” I said.
It wasn’t the guy… which meant he stole Daniel Endlebrook’s credit card like he had done to Steve.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
A Little While Ago
The little boy isn’t little anymore. But he still feels like a little boy. That’s what his sister calls him even now. She calls him the little boy. That’s all he’s ever known. To be the little boy. To live in the haunted shadow of his sister.
He had to take care of her.
He had to protect her from the world.
Or maybe it was to protect the world from her…
The steam dances from the coffee cup.
It’s two in the morning.
The little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) hasn’t slept in three whole days. Just one hour after another, colliding into each other, knowing what was happening.
He brings the coffee mug to his lips and takes a sip.
The coffee is black, bitter, burnt.
When he hears a groan from the corner bedroom on the first floor of the old house, he puts the coffee down.
There’s six mugs on the counter.
Each with coffee in it.
He never gets to drink an entire cup of coffee.
The one mug is white. And there’s a flower on it. And the middle looks like a woman’s private area and there’s text that says to wake up and smell it. It makes the little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) blush when he sees it.
That mug has been sitting so long there’s mold floating on the coffee.
The little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) hurries to the bedroom.
His sister has a skeletal hand in the air, her boney fingers wiggling as she gags.
All the little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) can do is watch.
There’s no more medicines. Or doctors. Or nurses. Or money.
It’s all over now.
It’s all over, Frank.
That’s what his sister told him.
She was just going to rot and die.
And he has to watch it happen.
The room smells terrible.
His sister messes the bed all the time. And he just can’t keep cleaning. So he does it once a day. Until then, she just rests in her own filth.
Flies buzz around the room.
“I’m here,” the little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) says.
“Come close to me,” his sister says in a weak voice. “Look me in the eyes.”
He hates this part. His sister’s eyes are gray and milky. They’re scary. But if he doesn’t look, she will grab his arm. She will dig her dirty, yellow-ish nails into his arm and scratch. She’s strong even though she’s dying.
And she knows… everything…
“You’re the only one to live,” she says with a toothless smile.
She tries to laugh but it’s a wheezing sound. It’s death. And it smells like death.
The little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) loves his sister so much though.
“You’ll be okay,” he whispers.
“I’m going to find them,” she says. “I’m going to find them and do it again. I’m going to find Milton and push him again. I want to kill him again. And I’m going to find our mother and I’m going to cut her wrists. Okay, Frank?”
The little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) swallows hard. “Please…
Cindy…”
“Our father drank himself to death,” she says. “Remember that, Frank?”
“I remember,” the little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) says.
“He started coughing,” his sister says. She smiles. “He started choking. On his own whiskey. And we held his arms down. Remember that, Frank?”
“You told me to do that,” the little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) says.
“He had to die,” she says.
“I know,” the little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) says. “I know.”
He touches his sister’s forehead. Her skin is grainy, papery, and sometimes her skin actually peels away. Not on her forehead, but other parts of her body.
There’s nothing anyone can do for her. Not even when this first began. It was death from day one. Which was kind of like life. You’re born and then you begin to slowly die. Each second moving closer to being in a grave.
The little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore)’s sister takes a deep breath.
Her eyes shut.
“Frank… I’m a terrible person… do better than me…”
She whistles out a breath and then nothing happens.
The little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) stands up.
His sister can no longer hold his hand. Her stomach isn’t moving. He puts his finger under her nose and there’s no air.
“She’s dead,” he whispers.
The little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) is supposed to cry… but he doesn’t. Not yet. Not now. He has an idea.
His sister ruined their family. She killed Milton. She drove Mama to kill herself. She made their father drink and then she made the little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) help to hold their father’s arms down so he choked to death on his own whiskey and vomit.
But she was his…
“Cindy,” the little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) whispers. “I’ll fix all of it.”
The little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) shuts his eyes.
He pictures Cindy when it all went wrong.
That day she killed Milton.
When she looked back that day in the woods.
Her bright blue eyes. Her pretty blonde hair.
“I can fix this,” the little boy (who isn’t a little boy anymore) whispers.
I. Can. Fix. This.
Chapter Seventy