by catt dahman
“Try to explain by gentle touches.”
“ ’Kay. Ummmm, be still, Owen, okay? Trust me, Dude.” Reaching into his cage, Terri felt Owen’s face. She sighed loudly and said, “His forehead is cut open and is wet. It hurts. His nose is big-time popped, and he’s bled out a lot down his shirt, but I think it’s done quit bleeding, mostly. His hands are oozy raw from trying at the bars, yanno, and the cuff on his ankle done something. Hang on.”
Terri whispered, and Owen ‘s voice became a low whine, and he said something back. Terri spoke louder, “Does it hurt? Yeah? Tell me. Shhhh, tell me just that. I can’t do anything to git ya out right now. Calm down.” She turned away from Own to say, “His ankle is bleeding, he thinks. It’s wet and sore.”
“Keep checking, okay, Terri?” Jake asked.
Terri swallowed her fear of blood and felt Owen’s scalp. “He was hit and knocked out. Oh, oh damn. He’s done got a broken pinky finger, Jake, from trying to get free. It don’t feel good, and it hurts him fierce.”
“You can get cloth, gently set the broken finger next to the good finger, and lightly wrap them so they can’t move. Ok?”
“Awe. Nah. Me? You hate me, Nick?”
“No, Terri. I like you fine. You can do it, Terri.”
They heard her following directions, pleased she wasn’t falling apart again. Cloth tore, Owen hissed and moaned, and she called back that it was done. She had yanked off a piece of her own tee shirt and used it; luckily Owen didn’t bite or flail at her. She wasn’t a nurse, but she did the best she could.
“Owen, you can’t do that again. Please be calm and strong for Terri. Okay, man? Can you do that? She needs you.”
“Umm, ’kay,” Owen said softly. He patted Terri’s foot like he would a kitten. He felt reality slipping away and was so relived.
“What do you remember last, Owen?” Mike asked.
Terri listened and called back, “He was takin’ the dog for a walk. He’s kinda worried what happened to his dog.”
“I bet they let it go back home,” Nick said absently.
“Uh-huh,” Terri agreed, unsure, “I’m taking care of him.”
“Good job,” Jake called.
Mike turned and touched the hand in his cell and asked, “Can you say your name? Please don’t get upset, but tell us your name?”
“I’m Mattie, and that’s all you needs to know.” Her voice was full of anger and distrust.
Lovie jumped as she responded, “Oh, I know that voice and that particular saying. You say it all the damned time. You’re Mattie, the gal who wears short shorts and bright colored halters, tall, high-heeled boots to your thighs, and you hook down to the truck stop? I see you there all the time.”
Mattie yelled back, “Shut up, ya slut. You just jealous you aint’s making money I makes. You is green with envy.”
Lovie cackled, “Fine, whore, say what you will. As mean as you talk to everyone, it’s hard to believe you ever get customers.”
Mattie let loose with a barrage of obscene name-calling at the top of her lungs, using words that were vile and disgusting. Any sympathy for her waned. “I get all the mens I want.”
“I just bet you do…all day long. All night long. You scum. I know for a fact you have robbed men because guess what? They talked about it where I work. You thief.”
“Who cares? You think they don’t deserve what they gets? They done deserved what they gots.”
Lovie sighed and replied, “Amazing. We get locked up and find our cell mates are pure trash whom we know. I can’t believe I did anything bad enough to be here…WITH YOU,” Lovie yelled the last words.
Jake talked her into calming down and said there was no reason to cause more issues. His soft, reassuring voice settled Lovie, but Mattie yelled out a few obscenities until she finally went quiet.
Mike regretted having Mattie speak at all. She was high strung and as bad as Skot at the other end. In fact, they were at opposite corners. What did that mean? Was it part of something or a coincidence? He ignored Mattie and let go of her hand. “Hey, Lady, between Jake and Skot, we’re here if and when you want to talk. Just rest some. I get that maybe you’re too scared to talk or don’t want to share just yet. We’ll wait for you, Hon.”
There was no answer.
Skot felt of the hand and talked as he did so, “She’s got some long, pointed nails...like talons. They must be six-seven inches long and curled under. That is just nauseating.” Skot felt of her arm and hand, trying to check for rings or anything because he didn’t like the idea of a final stone being unturned or a mystery that was right next to him. “Feels like a skull ring…and…Holy shit….” He dropped her hand. “Oh, damnnnnnnn,” he moaned the word for a long time, dragging it out.
He wanted hot water and soap because he felt dirty.
“What?” Nick asked.
“She has six fingers. Nasty.” Skot shivered and shook with revulsion. “Damn and I touched her.”
“Skot. Really?” Ruth sighed. “You can’t catch an extra finger, you idiot.” She wondered just how stupid and thick-headed a person could be. Skot was offensive to her.
Owen began banging his head again and wailing.
“What’s wrong, Owen? Owen?”
He managed a gasp between wails, “It’s Prissy. That’s my sister.”
Chapter Four
Ruth had been thinking when she could, when the screaming and fighting wasn’t going on. “This is really crazy, and Julia is a common name, but Kim and Mike, you said she is very pretty with long hair, and that’s not unusual. Your description could be of any beautiful woman with dark hair named Julia.”
“Okay, what does that mean?” Mike asked.
Ruth decided to just blurt it out, “I think I know her.”
“You’re in on this?” Skot countered.
“Shut up. You are beyond stupid. No, I teach psychology, and in my department was an open position. Next semester, we will have to add an adjunct faculty member because of all the students, follow me?”
“Go on,” Mike encouraged her.
“I only met this woman once, the one they hired for the new semester. I know her name is Julia something, she’s very pretty, and she has long dark hair. She’s a psychologist with us. I mean, she will be with us, but she would know who I was as far as knowing I work there at the school and what I teach. It may not be her….”
“My, God, Dr. Summers? Julia Summers? “ Lovie ran her words together as she joined in the conversation.
“Yeah. Summers. How did you know, Lovie? I had forgotten her name,” Ruth admitted. “Does she look like that?” Ruth asked, but she already knew. She knew that it was the same woman who was hired to teach.
“Yes. She pulled her hair back all the time, and she’s very classy looking. Elegant. It could be her, I mean. Who knows? But that’s the psychologist I saw after Kenny died, and I have done better over the years since, but….”
“Are you still seeing her?”
“Yes! My, God. I still go once a month just to check in and make sure I’m not…you know…trying to kill myself.” She knew that shocked everyone, but she wasn’t ready to share her story.
Mike told them, “I met that woman that fits the description, and her name was Julia. Kim was picked up by a woman named Julia. Ruth, you know a woman that fits the description and who is a psychologist, and Lovie knows the same one. The odds are not big that it would be another woman. I think it could be the same person.”
“Julie. Dr. Julie, we call her. Holy shit,” Jake exploded. “A year ago a few of us handled that explosion outside town, remember? That daycare and the gas leak? My God, but those kids….” He shuddered as he began to tell them the story.
He and the rest, firemen, police officers, EMTs, all of them took that call, and when they arrived, it was a nightmare. People were lying on the ground. Children were burned and sprawled across the ground, but some of the workers went in, while others tended the victims they could see.
It was
a large daycare, and it was burning, and the windows were gone, pieces of the walls were thrown yards away from the building, and trash was burning everywhere. It looked like a third-world combat zone. Jake took one side, shadowing the fire fighters who fought the blaze, and as they tried to find survivors, Jake and the firefighters found the nursery.
They hurried to help survivors, but they had to dodge burning rubble, and it was too dangerous, and yet, they went in, searching and looking, hoping for miracles. Plastic pooled into puddles that they avoided. Papers, decorations, and cute things the kids made were all hot ashes. Metal was twisted and had to be sidestepped. The roof was caved in and on fire, but was being soaked by fire hoses held by the firemen, yet it burned defiantly.
There was a charred leg. Jake jerked to the left, pretending he didn’t see it because there was nothing he could do, and maybe it was something else anyway, and not a little leg: he lied to himself. Some had gotten out with burns and were being treated; they were in serious condition. No one was going to get out if he had a charred leg.
It wasn’t a leg, he yelled in his mind.
He wasn’t the only one who vomited as they walked over hot coals, hoping their boots would protect their feet, and they tried to check the babies and get them out of the fire, but it was with wet eyes that they worked. Surely the fire wasn’t where the smallest babies were sleeping. They would find them dirty, maybe singed, soaked by the water that jetted from the hoses, but still safe. It had to be okay.
It wasn’t okay. As they managed to get to the back room by skirting the burning rubble, Jake and the rest were horrified to see so many little babies who had died, burned by the fire and suffocated. More workers had to come in later because the group Jake was with ended up sitting down, drinking water, and crying over what they saw. They claimed the men had to sit down because they inhaled too much smoke and they had tears streaming down their faces because of the irritation, but that was only half true.
It was the worst thing Jake and the other responders had ever seen. They broke. Jake had tried to work through that bad incident. “Me and about ten others…we all went to a psychologist to deal with that call. See, the babies, my God, but they weren’t all…not all dead…but….” He stopped speaking and cried in hitching gulps as the memories flooded over him.
Mike and the rest waited. Mike gently asked, “And her name was Julia? The psychologist you talked to?”
“I called her Julie. Julie Summers. I saw her four times a week for months, same as a few others. The bosses were afraid we had PTSD or Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. They made us go to counseling. The way you describe her, yeah, it’s her.”
“That’s pretty solid,” Mike said, “so it’s got to be her.”
“Skot, you know that woman sits in the back and always drinks alone. I’ve talked to her. You know the chica, I mean,” Carina said.
“Yeah. I know who you mean. She comes to the bar almost once a week. What a bitch,” Skot said.
“She never said much,” Carina corrected him.
“She had a snotty attitude like she don’t need anyone and was better’n us,” Skot added.
Owen listened and grew more nervous. He and Prissy still saw a therapist once a week for the trauma they suffered after their father’s death. Owen spoke about the car wreck, but he never talked about the other things. Prissy usually sat and didn’t talk much, but she went anyway to see Dr. Summers.
“I’ll be damned. I just been listening and thinkin’ that this ain’t real. It can’t be right.” Terri was hesitant to talk. She felt what she was thinking was impossible; there had to be two Dr. Julia Summers.
“What is it?” Mike asked.
“It ain’t the same chick, okay, or I’ll start screamin’ and kill someone all over again.” Terri kind of chuckled with nervous anxiety. ”I clean houses for money. I ain’t nothing at all, but my friend Shelly, she gets these jobs, like to clean a fancy house once a week or twice. Whatever. Maybe just a deep cleaning once a month or every so often.”
“And?” Lovie was interested.
“And so Shelly got this job for a medium-sized house, but it was fancy, and the owner, she was a head shrinker named Julia Summers. We cleaned her house like once a month. We cleaned the ceiling fans and the kitchen stuff, like cleaning the oven and the bathrooms, and sometimes we cleaned the windows. I helped Shelly. Hell, it was like good money and cash, so I ain’t gotta do taxes on it, yanno.”
“And?” Lovie pushed.
“I’m getting’ there. Anyways, so we done been cleaning her place for like two years or so. Done it twenty times or more, and sometimes, we took a break, and the owner, she was cool and easy to talk to. Well, cause she was a head doctor, she knows how to talk, but we always chatted a while. Her name was Julia Summers, and she was pretty and classy. I think Julia is like a classy name. I liked her name.”
“Did you ever see her car? Is it a red sports car?” Nick asked.
Terri groaned, “Damn. Yeah, I guess I ain’t gonna be doing her house no more, huh?”
“I guess not,” Mike said.
“Ya think it’s the same one?”
“I don’t see how it wouldn’t be.”
“I cleaned her house good. Why’d she wanna do this? That’s crazy.”
“I agree that it’s crazy,” Mike said, “okay, that’s twelve. Andre?”
“I am sitting here in shock, listening,” Andre said. He always listened and took in the information and then forgot to add to it. It was hard to hear all this. “Back when Goldie was dying, we had a therapist to help us in the process. Guess who?”
“Julia,” Terri said brightly.
Andre smiled although she couldn’t see him. He was tickled, and despite the circumstances, Terri was pleased she guessed the obvious. “Yep, good guess, Terri. It sure was. Julia Summers. Beautiful lady, well-spoken, and well educated. She was very good at what she did, and I wouldn’t call her compassionate or sympathetic, but she….” He couldn’t explain.
“She listened. She really listened and dragged out and probed for every painful detail,” Jake said.
Lovie said she agreed. She had thought Julia was very professional and didn’t show kind-heartedness, but she really got into the pain and sadness well. Lovie thought her therapist wanted to get those bad things out in the open and banish them, but now she wondered. Maybe Julia Summers enjoyed hearing the hurtful, excruciatingly painful particulars.
“Mattie?” Mike asked.
“No one is talkin’ to me. I ain’t talkin’ to you. Leave me alone. I don’t know the heifer,” Mattie lied. After enough arrests for soliciting, the social workers had made her sit and talk to some white, stupid woman who had a plastic-pretty face and a permanently unreadable expression. Mattie hadn’t spoken to her, and after a few attempts, the social workers stopped making her sit in a room with the silly doctor. Mattie was glad when they stopped trying so hard and left her alone, as she wished to be.
One thing Mattie didn’t like was the woman they tried to make her tell secrets to. Mattie knew the woman smelled all wrong, and despite the fancy clothes and pretty face, she felt as evil and cruel as any hard core pimp or rough dope dealer.
Mike said, “I think we have it figured out.”
“Indeed,” Ruth mused. She was already putting other things together; it had hit her when Vinnie said he worked construction. How typical was that? And there was a smart Asian guy, a dumb bartender, a kind EMT, and the rest. Terri was so stereotypical, and Andre sounded like a voice-over actor. They were all so different that there was a definite theme to it. As far as randomness, it was very un-random. And they all had ties to Julia.
Ruth had been busy the day she met her, and figured that later, she’d get to know her new co-worker. She had said if Julia needed anything to let her know, and she’d help. Looking back, Ruth felt Julia had walked in the halls, in the office area, and around the lounge and workroom they used, like a preying mantis. She had seemed vaguely predatory, but Ruth ki
cked herself mentally for being a little envious of Julia’s perfect white skin, luxurious hair, and her fashionable clothing.
She seethed as she thought of the woman who smiled and acted enthusiastic about teaching a couple of classes. Ruth taught classes about criminals who abducted people and did terrible things to them, but connecting those cases to where she was now and then to a colleague was difficult. She tried not to think of cases she knew, the ones with very bad outcomes, but she knew that Nick was worried, too.
These type abductions never ended well.
Chapter Five
A faint scratching came from behind Lovie’s cage, and then there were foot falls on metal, climbing, and then steps on metal, but above them. A figure stood above and behind Mike’s side of the cage circle on a platform. A pale blue light came on. It was weak, so it didn’t overly hurt their eyes much but allowed them to see shadows. They couldn’t see very well and squinted. Afraid of the darkness that could return, they looked at one another and memorized faces.
There were cursing and begging, screaming, threats, and sobbing that blocked everything out for several minutes, but the figure remained, patiently waiting, until she could speak. Vinnie and Terri did the group proud with the intricate ways of killing they described in vicious threats; the begging from Mattie was kind of irritating.
They knew the woman as Julia. They could just barely make out her features as the light made her hair blue-black and her pale skin a light, bluish marble color. They were able to appreciate that she was attractive as ever. She wore tight pants, high-heeled boots, and a low cut, tight shirt that showed off her curves. Gone were her dark professional and conservative pantsuit and sensible heeled shoes. This was the real Julia.
The way she posed and the way the light came on for her made it seem as if she were on a stage and in some kind of bizarre show. She beamed and disregarded the insults; they didn’t trouble her a bit. She had all the authority, and it showed in the assertive way she modeled. She had a stage, as plain as it was, built of wood and painted slate grey, but it could have been a red-carpet event as she strutted and posed as if she were there for pictures, video cameras, and fans.