by Ranae Rose
Rising on shaky legs, she went to the kitchen and popped a mug of water into the microwave before picking up the telephone.
She didn’t try Sarah’s old number this time. No, that ship had sailed. Instead, she dialed the Quick Stop & Shop along the highway between Cypress and Wilmington.
“I’m taking a sick day,” she told Marty, her supervisor. “I’ve got some sort of nasty stomach bug.”
He tried to talk her into showing up late, but she refused. She couldn’t work today – she had more important things to do.
After hanging up, she lowered a tea bag into her microwaved mug and left it on the counter to steep.
She poured a bowl of cereal and milk, then delivered it to Sarah’s bedroom, where the ungrateful girl she’d brought home the night before still sat curled in one corner of the bed.
Not a word was spoken, and Beverly was careful to re-latch the door. She’d deal with the girl later.
For now, she had more pressing matters.
Sarah’s computer was still sitting on the floor in the hall. Piece by piece, she carried it to the kitchen table and plugged it into the nearest outlet.
She’d learned to use the thing years ago in order to find and monitor the social media accounts Sarah had made, against Beverly’s clear instructions to avoid such things.
Not that that monitoring had given her any clue as to where Sarah had gone. After her disappearance, Beverly had searched for the accounts only to discover they’d been deleted.
Her mind was elsewhere, now. Sarah had talked her into buying the computer so that she could use it for her schoolwork. She’d hounded her, telling her time and time again that ‘you could find out anything on the internet’.
Now, she was counting on it. Last night had shown her that she was stronger in mind than she was in body. She’d barely managed to get the girl home, and had had to leave a witness behind.
Fortunately, there were ways to overcome her physical weakness. She didn’t have to use her body to fight evil and stop girls like Sarah from making terrible mistakes. Her mind would do just fine.
* * * * *
After the assault, Lucia took the rest of the week off work. The aquatic center had a rule against entering the pool with open wounds.
Sitting around at home, constantly wondering about Olivia, was brutal on her nerves and her conscience. In an attempt to help, she interviewed with the police yet again, doing her best to relate every detail she could muster.
What they seemed most interested in was what she’d seen of her attacker’s attire – black women’s tennis shoes, and dark-colored athletic pants.
She was glad to help, but nothing erased the guilt raging inside her. She’d done what little she could: called Olivia’s parents and apologized profusely, and told the police she’d assist in any way they could come up with. Still, there was no sign of Olivia, and it was burning a ragged hole in her heart.
* * * * *
On a day he’d asked to have off work, Jeremy inhaled the antiseptic scent of the hospital as he walked down a white and maroon tiled hall. Over the years, he’d escorted plenty of arrestees through the doors, even sat with them in their rooms when the law dictated that he do so. It wasn’t hard for him to navigate the building.
Still, he didn’t like it. There were shitty memories around every corner, from sitting with mentally disturbed arrestees to rushing to see his father before he’d died – and being too late.
The only good memory he’d ever made in the place was seeing Paige come into the world, but that seemed a million years in the past. The lonely nights spent rocking and feeding her while she’d cried for a mother who’d disappeared were much more vivid.
He stopped in front of a partially-open door and rapped on its surface.
It squealed a little on its hinges as Amanda appeared. “Sergeant Connor – come on in.”
She looked more put together than last time, in khaki shorts and a green top with fluttery sleeves. Still, her make-up didn’t quite conceal the dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was in a ponytail.
He tipped his head as he entered. “How’s it going?”
Richardson sat propped up in bed, his eyes on the door. A crumpled fast food bag rested on the bedside stand, and a melodramatic cop show was playing on the TV.
“You’re just in time for the dramatic conclusion,” Richardson said, nodding toward the TV, “but you missed the part where the good guy shot a .38 right out of the murderer’s hand from two blocks away, in the dark.”
“I brought you something.” Jeremy raised the bottle of Dr. Pepper he’d carried from a vending machine in the lobby.
Richardson reached for it with his good arm – the other was heavily bandaged. “Thanks.”
“How’s the shoulder?”
“Could be worse, although it’s definitely been better.” He tried a half-hearted shrug, then winced and swore. “Surgery went fine. I’m getting out of here today.”
“That so?”
He nodded. “By this evening. All I’m doing around here anymore is taking up space. I might as well go home and be useless there.”
Amanda laid a hand on Richardson’s arm and gave him a look that was half-sympathetic, half-reproachful. “You’re not useless. I have every intention of putting that good arm of yours to work.”
A big, dopey grin spread across his face, and he waggled his eyebrows. “I look forward to seeing how creative you can get.”
She blushed. “I was thinking you could fold laundry.”
“I hope that’s a euphemism for something a lot more interesting.”
The pink hue in her cheeks deepened to red. “Don’t pay him any mind; it’s the pain medication.”
“I’m used to him. Anything I can do for y’all while you’re still here?”
“We’re fine,” she said.
“I could pick up some food and bring it back.”
“Just ate,” Richardson said.
“As if that ever stopped you before?”
“I just wanna get out of here. Having you bring food would be like admitting I’m not about to leave. I don’t want the nurses to think I’m getting complacent.”
“Suit yourself. Amanda, you want anything?”
“No thanks. I’m anxious to get home too.”
“Hey,” Richardson said. “I heard all about the latest shit that went down in the park on the news. Texted Langley, and he said they’re pretty sure the attacker was female. Can you believe that?”
Jeremy fought to maintain a neutral expression. “So much for our asshole boyfriend theory.”
“She must be off her rocker. I’d say she was an addict looking for some quick cash, but she hasn’t robbed anyone. It’s gotta be pure craziness, then.”
“Won’t know until we catch her.” Jeremy felt the mental itch, too – the urge to know why. He could understand crimes motivated by greed, a desire for vengeance, a lust for power… Those were a dime a dozen. But this was bizarre.
Richardson was probably right; the woman was probably mentally unbalanced. Either that, or just cruel – pure evil.
“You’re bothering him, Matt.” Amanda tapped Richardson on the shoulder. “He doesn’t want to talk about this – not on his time off.”
Richardson snorted. “Believe me, he can’t stop thinking about it, even when he’s off duty. Not while that bitch is still running around out there and that girl is missing.”
Amanda frowned, and Richardson looked to Jeremy, as if seeking back-up.
“He’s right; I can’t turn that part of my brain off. Knowing someone capable of the things that woman has done is still out there is like a bad itch that won’t stop ‘till she’s caught, especially since a minor is involved now.”
“See?” Richardson raised his eyebrows at Amanda.
Jeremy made the decision to come clean in a split second, without even really deliberating.
“Last Tuesday, at the park, it got personal. The victim found at the scene is my neigh
bor. We’ve been dating.”
“You’re serious?” Richardson’s mouth hung open. “Shit!”
Jeremy nodded.
Amanda offered her sympathy, and he thanked her.
After that, conversation on the matter stalled. There was an awkwardness in the air, and Jeremy figured he might as well take advantage of it – say what he’d come to say.
“Look, Richardson – Amanda. I want you both to know I’m sorry. For not taking down Sharp before he put that bullet in you.”
“Shit,” Richardson said, “it wasn’t your fault, Sarge.”
“If I’d had my weapon out before he’d drawn his, I might’ve been able to stop him.”
Richardson shook his head and grimaced. “You take aim at everyone who moves too fast? Come on – you know it was just shitty luck. How were you supposed to know? He’s been arrested a dozen times before and never pulled anything like that.”
It was true, and it was the same logic that had guided his actions on that day.
“Sergeant Connor, we don’t blame you,” Amanda said. “You did all you could, and you probably saved Matt’s life. Who knows what would’ve happened if you hadn’t stopped Sharp and called for help? We’re glad you were there.”
Jeremy exhaled, his chest tightening. No matter what they said, his guilt was a burden. But as he bid them goodbye and left the hospital, it was a little lighter.
* * * * *
“You’re spoiling me,” Lucia said.
Jeremy set the casserole dish down on her kitchen counter. “I am not. My mother made this; I’m just the delivery boy.”
“Free hot, homemade food delivered by a handsome man in uniform? That should be the new dictionary definition of spoiling.”
He shrugged. “She would’ve brought it over herself or sent Paige, except she’s hell bent on trying to make sure we see as much of each other as possible.”
“Well, it was really nice of her to make this for me. Especially since I’m perfectly capable of cooking for myself.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” He popped the lid off the container, revealing a lasagna that permeated her kitchen with heavenly scents of tomato, cheese and spiced beef.
When he turned on his heel to fetch a plate from a cabinet, her gaze gravitated to his ass. His uniform pants molded to its tight muscle in a way that made her sigh again. He’d make a great traffic cop – all he’d have to do would be stand with his backside to traffic, and it would stop.
Meredith’s lasagna tasted every bit as good as it smelled.
“Your mom is amazing,” Lucia said. “Hands-down the second best neighbor I’ve ever had.”
“I’m not sure whether I’m afraid to ask who the first is.”
She cut another bite from the square he’d served her. “Oh, he knows who he is. I only hope the feeling is mutual.”
“I told you the last person who lived in this house was an old man with a penchant for mowing shirtless, right? There’s no contest. Seriously, Lucia…
“There haven’t been any other neighbors. There haven’t even been any other women – not really. What we’re doing isn’t a first for me, but it’s damn close. I want to do this right. I want to be good for you, and not just when we’re in bed.”
Heat radiated from the center of her chest out into the rest of her. When Jeremy had spent the night at her place a few days ago, it’d been a turning point of sorts. He’d taken the next three days off work, and they’d seen each other every day. There’d been no more talk of taking a break.
And when he was around, the dark cloud of her guilt had a way of lifting for minutes at a time, allowing her to enjoy his presence.
Not that the effect was complete, or that it lasted for long. Olivia was still missing, and that fact was as corrosive as acid, burning her up from the inside out. It had been a week, now.
Lucia barely slept anymore.
“You are good for me. And I want to be the same thing for you. Which is why I feel bad sitting here having you wait on me hand and foot.”
“Do you ever let anyone do anything for you?”
“Of course.”
He shot her a look of disbelief, one eyebrow rising. “I’m not convinced, and for Christ’s sake, I’m a grown man – it won’t kill me to put some lasagna I didn’t even make on a plate for you.”
She shifted in her seat, spearing the last bite with her fork. Her heart felt suddenly heavy, along with the rest of her. Every time she thought of Olivia, it was as if the blood in her veins turned to wet cement: a thick grey sludge that weighed her down.
“Can I get you another slice?” he asked.
She eyed the dish on the counter in front of him. “Why don’t you sit down and eat?”
He obliged, settling into the chair across from her.
“Before you got hurt, Paige was talking about joining your teen class.”
“She mentioned that to me, too.”
He nodded. “I figure I can drop her off and pick her up on days when I’m off, and my mom has agreed to handle the rest.”
“When I go back to work, I can give her a ride home. The teen class wraps up my workdays on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”
He was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Appreciate it.”
She paused, second guessing herself. “Are you sure you want me to? I mean, if you don’t, I understand.”
“What do you mean?”
“After the way I messed up with Olivia, I’d understand if you didn’t want me in charge of Paige.” Her eyes stung. Why had she even suggested it?
“Hey.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “I agreed, didn’t I? And listen – the woman who attacked you will be caught soon, probably before you return to work. We’re gonna find Olivia, too.”
She shook her head. “It’s been a week, Jeremy. I know what that probably means.”
Guilt and grief formed a collar of pressure around her throat, so that suddenly, she couldn’t swallow. There were times when this still all felt so surreal: like a bad dream she’d wake up from at any second.
Other times, the reality of it was crystal clear and crushing.
“How’s your head?” he asked.
“A lot better. I’ll be having the stitches removed in a couple days.”
Silence reigned for a full minute.
“I’ve had my ear to the ground for the past week,” Jeremy eventually said. “I want to know where Olivia is just as badly as you do. As soon as I hear anything worth telling, I’ll let you know. Meanwhile, we can get you out of the house if you want. I’ve been thinking of taking Paige to the beach – I haven’t done anything fun with her since that day we all went.”
“You should go, just the two of you. I’ll sit this one out.”
“You sure?” Lines appeared between his eyes.
“Yes.” She couldn’t stomach the thought of lounging in the sun, enjoying a sea breeze, while Olivia was still missing. There was just no way.
And despite what she’d said to Jeremy, there was a part of her that was holding out hope that Olivia was somehow okay. If she wasn’t – if she was found hurt, or worse – Lucia couldn’t imagine ever enjoying much of anything again.
CHAPTER 22
Beverly didn’t need much, and she found what she did need at a hunting store, a hardware retailer and a farm supply store. She had to drive all the way to Raleigh to get to the hunting store that’d sold her what she’d needed, but that was just as well. After the incident several days ago, she couldn’t risk being recognized locally.
Still, leaving the girl behind had been nerve-wracking. Before leaving she’d reinforced the door with a second lock and nailed boards over the window. Luckily, it had held up – the girl had been there, sulking, when she’d returned.
It was the first time Beverly had left her house since bringing the girl home, even for work. Her manager said she’d need a doctor’s note when she came back, so she’d have to get one so that it didn’t seem suspicious.
Maybe she could complain to the doctor about female troubles. No one would suspect her of lying about that.
She couldn’t afford to think too deeply about it now – she had far more important things to do.
Her fingertips left sweat on the keyboard as she sat down at the kitchen table, logged on to Sarah’s computer and re-read the instructions page she’d studied the night before and again that morning before leaving on her shopping trip.
Within a minute, she’d confirmed what she already knew: she had everything she’d need.
At the hunting store, she’d been a wife buying powder for her husband’s rifle.
At the hardware store, she’d been a wife buying the pipes her husband had sent her to pick up for their bathroom remodel.
At the farm supply store, she’d been a hobbyist buying fertilizer for her modest homesteading farm.
Now, she was a woman with a purpose. It’d been far too long since she’d been able to claim that, since Sarah had robbed her of her rightful role in life. The exhilaration caused sweat to collect at her temples as she examined her purchases, turning the pipe pieces over in her hands.
The metal shone, making her heart beat faster.
Everything was finally coming together. She’d suffered so much – had lost her way for a while. But now, she was finally being restored. Rewarded.
Everything happened for a reason. The struggle she’d had with the two women at the fountain the other day had been an opportunity.
An opportunity for her to realize that she could fulfill her purpose more quickly if she applied the strength of her mind instead of her body.
Also, she had the girl. She’d barely managed to force her into her vehicle, but she had her. If keeping her caged was what it took to protect the life she had so little regard for, then so be it.
Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and thought of her first life – her childhood, and her passage into womanhood. Years had passed since she’d lived on the retreat, but for the first time since she’d been forced to leave, she felt the sense of safety that’d cloaked her there.