She's Not There

Home > Other > She's Not There > Page 6
She's Not There Page 6

by Marla Madison


  They’d agreed to keep the investigation to themselves as much as possible. From TJ’s point of view, they had to keep it from the MPD for now. The last thing she wanted was for Richard Conlin to find out—at least until the search bore fruit. She had no doubt that it would.

  19

  The next morning Lisa met Amanda Hawkins at the Women’s Center in Oconomowoc. They shared small talk over a cup of coffee before Amanda handed Lisa a folder containing the list of names Lisa had asked for.

  “I reviewed the statistics before I met with the directors of all the Centers.

  Your grad student did an excellent job; I couldn’t fault her work. I don’t know if she told you that she used to be an intern here. I had to have a talk with her before she left. Her extreme shyness makes her a poor candidate for counseling. That’s probably what kept her from coming to us with what she found.

  “The meeting went surprisingly well. The powers-that-be are behind you one-hundred percent.”

  Relieved, Lisa said, “I can’t thank you and the others enough. This file will be an immense help in finding out what’s causing the disappearances.” She accepted the file. “I was afraid you might have gotten some resistance.”

  Amanda said, “I expected at least one of them to have reservations, but then we’re a group of women who’ve had a lot of experience with abuse. Some of us even have first-hand experience, unfortunately.

  “The centers are going to revise the pamphlet they hand out to women, adding a section cautioning them about new relationships and acquaintances. It’s been long overdue for a rewrite, and now they’re going to rush it to print. That’s as far as they’re willing to go right now.”

  Lisa couldn’t have asked for more from the Centers. “That’s wonderful.”

  Amanda’s smile faded. “Right now there’s no certainty what we need to warn women about. And from the reaction in that room, they’ll have no reservations about putting out a more explicit warning if and when you learn more.”

  Lisa met TJ for lunch in a McDonald’s near the bank where TJ worked. They were discouraged to see the list contained more than forty names.

  TJ griped, “Man, I hope some of these ladies are back home by now. I know Rollie won’t have that many we can cross off.”

  “Are we still meeting him tomorrow night?”

  It was obvious TJ was upset about something. Her usual snappy talk was absent and her infectious smile missing. “I got some bad news today. Charles Morgan, Rollie’s partner, is in the hospital. He got mugged the other night outside their place and he’s real messed up. Rollie’s out of his head, not sure he’ll be up to meeting us. Don’t think he’s left the hospital since it happened.”

  “My God, that’s terrible! I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah. Talked to him this mornin’. Don’t know when we’ll be able to meet with him now.’

  Lisa hated to start without Roland’s input. “TJ, why don’t we go to him? We could meet him at the hospital cafeteria, give him some moral support and maybe bring him some decent food.”

  TJ took a bite of the cheeseburger she’d set aside. “You’re right. Might be good for him to see us.” She grinned. “Let’s bring chicken soup.”

  20

  Saint Mary’s hospital sat on a small bluff above Lake Michigan, just east of downtown Milwaukee. Late Thursday afternoon Lisa met TJ outside the hospital cafeteria. They bought sodas and walked over to a table where Roland sat reading a newspaper.

  When he looked up, Lisa’s heart went out to him. Dressed in a loose sweatshirt over old jeans, he looked nothing like the animated man with the flashing smile she’d met on Saturday. His eyes not only had dark circles under them, they had the aching look of someone fearing they could lose a loved one.

  “I promised to do this, so let’s get it done. I want to get back upstairs. Charles is still critical and they told me tonight will be the turning point.”

  When TJ put her arms around him, he clung to her with tears streaming down his face. “How can this have happened? He’s always so careful!”

  TJ asked, “Did they catch the guy?”

  Roland’s face hardened. “No. And they probably never will. You know how the cops feel about us.”

  TJ sighed, sympathetic. “I’ll make some calls. See what I can find out.”

  “Thanks, TJ. But in all honesty, it was late when it happened. The street is dark along that part of the block. Charles didn’t see who attacked him because they came at him from behind.”

  Lisa served the hot chicken noodle soup and put out a bag of biscuits. The three of them ate in silence.

  When Roland finished eating, he said, “Thanks, I actually feel better now.” He took a deep breath. “Ok, show me what you brought.”

  He pored over the names on the two sheets. “It's funny. I wouldn’t have had to worry about this at all.”

  "What do you mean?”

  “I had qualms about telling you which women I helped. There are some on this list that I helped, but there are also some that I happen to know aren't missing. The dates they went missing are next to their names and I know I’ve seen a few of these women since then. So I’ll draw lines through them too, and you won’t have any way of knowing which are the ones I helped out and which are the ones I’ve seen around.” He took a few minutes to peruse the list and handed it back to Lisa.

  Lisa looked it over. “This leaves us with only thirty-six names to check out. It’s good of you to take time out to do this, Roland. Please let us know if there is anything we can do for you two.”

  TJ turned to him. “Rollie, let me stay with Charles for a couple hours so you can go home and change. Maybe grab a nap.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not going anywhere till he’s out of danger. His brother and some of our friends are going to be here soon. Thanks for the offer, but don’t worry about me, I’ll have lots of support.”

  “We’ll be prayin' for him.” TJ hugged him once more. After Lisa followed suit, they walked out of the cafeteria.

  When they reached the parking lot, TJ asked, “Wanna go to Vinnie’s?”

  “Sure. I’ll meet you there.”

  Vinnie’s bar, located on the east side of downtown Milwaukee, catered to the working crowd during the week and the clubbers on the weekends; it had been a popular spot since the ‘60s.

  A buffet bearing a huge spread of hot and cold hors d'oeuvres was displayed across from the bar. Lisa spotted TJ walking away from it carrying a plate heaped with its offerings. “You just ate.”

  “Forgot to tell you—I got great metabolism—one of those folks that pisses everyone else off cause they can eat anything they want.”

  “That does piss me off,” Lisa muttered.

  They carried drinks to a booth in the back. TJ raised her glass. “Here’s to catching that son-of-a-bitch.”

  “I’ll drink to that. But keep in mind, you and I won’t be doing the catching.”

  “Yeah. But I been thinking and there’s something botherin’ me. Richard says any serial killer thing goin’ on is a fantasy of my overactive female imagination. But I can feel it in my gut—this ain’t some online thing like the cops are pushin’. If we was goin’ out on that limb, we’d have to ask, what would we find perched there?”

  Lisa sipped her drink. “Just speculating, I’d wonder how he’s singling them out, finding abused women to prey on. Do you think it could be a cop?”

  “Sure. Or someone who works for one of the Centers, the police department or emergency services, or even a 911 operator. Or anyone with a police scanner.” She picked up a chicken wing, pointing it at Lisa. “Narrows it down to thousands.”

  Lisa took out the two copies of the list. They divided the list with a minimum of squabbling, assigning half of the names to Lisa and Eric, and the other half to Jeff and TJ.

  “Rollie didn’t narrow it down a whole lot,” TJ grumbled.

  “Stay positive. There are eight fewer than we had before.”

  TJ dabbed at her lips
with a napkin. “Been thinkin’. What if Rollie’s not the only one helpin’ women out?”

  Lisa took a deep breath. “I doubt that’s likely, but only because I haven’t gotten wind of even one in the area. Do you think it’s worth calling James Wilson? Feel him out on whether he knows more about it than he told me?”

  TJ snickered. “Lotta women would like to feel him out. Least they would if he wasn’t such a prick.”

  “Can’t hurt to try. I’ll give him a call.”

  21

  The weather turned cold and drizzly. By evening, the snow threatening to fall on the city of Pewaukee had only managed to mesh with rain, forming a thick sleet. A wind reported to be over thirty miles-per-hour drove it to the ground, coating everything in its path.

  Shannon had been in the office all day with papers spread across the conference room table, organizing Earl’s real estate transactions before he left in mid-November to spend the winter months in Florida.

  Not long after taking a quick dinner break, she heard the wind beating at the walls of the old building, howling softly, eerily insistent. She shivered, wishing Lisa were working tonight. Just as she moved a stack of files to the file-cabinet, she heard a noise coming from Lisa’s office. She put down the files and went for the Tasar she carried in her purse.

  Weapon in hand, she opened the door to Lisa’s office. Nothing appeared to be amiss. Through the large bay window, she saw the oak trees straining against the wind, a stygian scene highlighted by the dim light in the parking lot. The wind must have tossed something against the building. Spooked, but not enough to curtail her progress, she went back to her work.

  It was still sleeting a half hour later when Shannon left the building. Though not easily frightened, she was glad she’d parked on the street so she could avoid the parking lot. Grateful the nearly deserted streets had been salted, she scraped at the ice that had built up on her windshield until she’d removed just enough to see out.

  Secure in her locked vehicle, she drove into the parking area behind the building. Her blood froze when she saw a shadowy form moving through the oak trees, vanishing so quickly she wondered if she’d really seen it.

  She turned the car around, making sure that everything appeared to be in order as her headlights lit up Lisa’s rear entrance. Nothing looked like it had been disturbed. She decided it couldn’t hurt to drop in at the police station on her way out of town. She knew most of the Pewaukee police from seeing them in the deli across the street. She’d tell them what happened and ask if they would check the place during the night.

  When TJ left Lisa in Vinnie’s parking lot, she walked across the street to her apartment. The building, nearly forty years old, was past its prime; no longer considered an elite address, but still respectable and well maintained. Years back, after so many newer places sprang up on the east side, the managers started making tenants super offers on long-term rentals. TJ had negotiated a sweet ten-year deal.

  As she walked into the apartment, she noticed a message on her landline. It was from Jeff Denison. Crap. She’d promised to call and set up a time to meet him on Saturday, the first day of their interviews. Even though it made sense, the buddy system still irritated her, and she’d put off calling him. She picked up the phone and dialed his number.

  The phone rang so many times that TJ was about to hang up when he finally picked up. “Jeff?”

  “Yes,” he said, his voice thick and a little breathless. Did she wake him up?

  “This is TJ. Sorry I didn’t call sooner, but been busy.”

  “Can you hang on for a minute?”

  She thought she heard him blow his nose. Damn. Had he been crying?

  “I’m back. Sorry for the interruption.” He sounded better, but nasal.

  “No problem.”

  TJ wasn’t quite sure what to say. Should she ask if he was okay? Lisa was the one who should be working with this guy.

  “Just met with Lisa and we divided up the list. Gonna call a few tonight and see if I can get us some appointments lined up for Saturday. Most of ‘em will be in this part of town, so why don’t we meet somewhere ‘round here for coffee at about eight and go over the schedule.” She mentioned the name of a pancake place across the street.

  He said, “I’ll be there. I could make some calls for you, if you want to give me some numbers.” His voice sounded quivery and he asked her to hang on for a minute again. TJ was in no mood to play therapist to a grieving husband. Maybe he was just getting a pen.

  When he picked up the phone, his voice froglike, TJ sighed and said, “What’s your address, Jeff?”

  After he gave her his Brookfield address, she was somewhat relieved. At least it was close to the interstate. If she had to drive in this crappy weather, at least it would be on a salted highway. “Tell you what. I’ll be at your place in thirty minutes. We can get things set up for Saturday.”

  The relief in his voice when he said he’d put on coffee and have the outside light on should have made TJ feel good about her offer. Instead, she felt a twinge of guilt. She understood how important it was for him to be able to participate, but she still felt like she’d set herself up for a caretaking gig. Grudgingly, she put her coat back on and left her apartment before she changed her mind.

  Jeff’s townhouse was half of a large brick duplex that sat on the edge of a cul-de-sac lined with stately homes. When she arrived at his door, he appeared to have pulled himself together, but she was sure he’d been crying.

  She followed him into a pleasantly decorated living room furnished with soft, warm-brown leather furniture, beige shag carpeting, and bright red accents strategically placed throughout the room. A floor-to-ceiling fireplace flanked with bookcases and a large entertainment center, covered one wall. The bright fire crackling in the fireplace made the room warm and inviting.

  They made calls, drank coffee, got some appointments set up for Saturday, and made a separate list with names of anyone who refused to make an appointment. Those were the people they would just drop in on if time permitted. Their calls ended on a high note when one of the ‘missing’ women answered her sister’s phone. TJ crossed her off their list.

  Jeff offered, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  Probably a stalling technique. He wasn’t ready to be alone. Well she’d known what she was in for. “Sure.”

  Jeff was the first to break the silence as they drank their wine sitting in front of the fire. “You know, I was pretty upset when you called.”

  TJ gulped a mouthful of wine. “Yeah, thought so.”

  “Today at work someone started playing songs from the ‘60s and ‘70s. I like all kinds of music, and I was into it for a while.” He paused, looking down into his glass.

  “One of them got to you.”

  “I’d heard the song before, but it didn’t have any meaning for me until now. It’s from the ‘70s I think. It’s called ‘She’s Not There.’ Have you heard it?”

  Recalling the lyrics, a tingle spread over her skin as she realized how well—or how creepy really—the song described Jeff’s situation. She said, “Yeah, by the Zombies.”

  “The music was so haunting; the words sounded like they’d been written for me. By the time the song ended, I had to leave my desk and walk around for a few minutes. You know how a song keeps running through your mind when you don’t want it to.”

  He put down his wine and took off his glasses. Staring into the fire, he rubbed his eyes. “Tonight the song came back to me again and sent me into what Jamie used to call a pity party. I had a good start on it when you called.” He looked over at her, “Thank you for coming over; it really helped.”

  TJ, who didn’t do well with things like gratitude and compliments, said nothing. They finished their wine in a comfortable silence. She stood up to leave, and wondered why she hadn’t noticed his boyish good looks. His deep-set, gray eyes behind the wire-rimmed glasses were fringed with thick lashes and his light-brown hair, curly and neatly styled. He seemed to bring
out what little maternal instinct she had—even though they were probably about the same age.

  Jeff walked her to her car and helped her scrape off the layer of sleet that had accumulated on the windows.

  Impulsively, she hugged him when he opened the door for her and said, “I’m sorry about your wife.”

  He clung to her for a moment as she’d known he would, then pulled away and walked back toward the house.

  22

  Six years earlier

  She was the one—the woman of his dreams—the one woman he could trust. Her name was Allyson.

  Intrigued by the anonymity and simplicity of meeting women online, he found her in a chat room for singles. They exchanged emails for weeks before their first meeting late at night in a small coffee shop. Thrilled when Allyson turned out to be as lovely as the picture she’d sent, he suspected his own good looks put her off—she’d been nervous and shy the entire time they’d been together.

  Two more such meetings ensued, both under the cover of night, both in out-of-the-way places. He decided not to pressure her for more; the right time for them to be together would come soon enough.

  He’d wait.

  The next time she wanted him to meet late at night, he asked if she was married.

  ”I’m not. But there is something I have to tell you. I’m going to my class reunion Saturday. If you can pick me up after the dance Saturday night, we can spend some time together and I’ll explain everything.”

  Anticipating an intimate evening with her, he sloughed off her mysterious words and booked a hotel suite near the college. He imagined her in bed with him and could almost feel her silken skin against his; hear her crying out his name when he made love to her.

  But another, darker, image kept imposing itself over the bedroom scene—an exciting image, enticingly wicked. He couldn’t wait to be with her.

 

‹ Prev