by T. R. Ragan
“Okay. You can follow the Kia Soul, but no speeding.”
“Got it.”
When the light turned green, the truck in front of them turned left, leaving two vehicles between them and the Kia. One of the cars pulled into a Safeway parking lot. The other went straight. The Kia was in the left-hand turn lane.
As Lennon drew closer, the Kia jerked to the right, cutting off oncoming traffic, making more than a few vehicles swerve and honk.
Before Sawyer could catch her breath, Lennon jerked the wheel to the right and put on the gas.
“Slow down!”
“No way. The Kia is way ahead. We’ve got to catch up.”
“Your mother would kill me if she saw us now. Pull over.”
“There it is!”
The excitement in his voice reminded Sawyer of the time she’d taken Lennon to a Sacramento Kings’ game. Every time his favorite player made a basket, he went berserk.
But he was right. The green Kia Soul was up ahead. The car made a left into an alleyway.
So did Lennon.
He slammed on the brakes. He had no choice. They watched the Kia speed through the narrowest alleyway she’d ever seen, one side lined with dumpsters, making it impossible for them to follow without destroying Sawyer’s car.
“Looks like the Kia lost us,” Lennon said excitedly. “At least now you know someone is definitely following you.”
“Yeah,” Sawyer said. “Looks that way.” She just couldn’t muster up the same excitement Lennon was clearly feeling.
She waited for Lennon to back up and get out of there, but he simply looked at her with a silly grin on his face. Was he waiting for a compliment? “You did great. Let’s go home.”
“I got it,” he said, still smiling.
“Got what?”
“The number. It’s 6TYV303.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Sawyer dropped Lennon off at his house and was about to drive off when Aria ran out of the garage apartment where she lived.
Sawyer rolled down the passenger window.
Aria said, “I’m going to pick us up deli sandwiches on my way over to your place, so don’t make lunch. I’ll be right behind you.”
“Sounds good,” Sawyer said. There was a lot of work to do, and she needed all the help she could get. A second later, Harper exited the house and waved a hand to stop Sawyer from driving off. “I was wondering if you guys wanted to have lunch. I’m making grilled cheese sandwiches and green salad with pears.”
“Thanks,” Sawyer said, “but we’re heading back to my place to get some work done.”
Harper looked at Aria. “You’re working on the Black Wigs story with Sawyer?”
Aria nodded. “It’s fun. All I do really is use the internet to help her search for information.”
Sawyer wondered if Harper was feeling left out. “You can join us if you’d like.”
Harper’s face reddened. “No thanks. In fact, I think you should drop the story altogether.”
Sawyer frowned. “Why?”
“Because the whole thing is getting out of hand. Copycats are coming out of the woodwork. Maybe if everyone wasn’t writing about the Black Wigs and making them into larger-than-life heroes, people would forget about them and kids would stop trying to emulate them.”
“If anything,” Aria chimed in, “Sawyer will dig deep, pull back the curtain, and find out who’s behind the Black Wigs.”
“I don’t like it.” Harper pursed her lips. “The vigilante craze has gotten way out of hand, and the press isn’t helping matters.” She gestured toward the house. “You heard Ella this morning. Your niece wants to be a part of this circus. I’m begging you to let the story go.”
Surprised by her sister’s passionate plea to let the story go, Sawyer said, “I’m not the one who makes those kinds of decisions. And even if I did, I wouldn’t back away from the story. People are tired of molesters and rapists walking free. Society should be targeting these perpetrators and holding them accountable. Instead, women are blamed for being ‘vulnerable.’ According to RAINN, the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network, out of a thousand sexual assaults, nine hundred and ninety five walk free. That’s unacceptable. People, men and women, need to be aware of what’s going on around them. So my answer is no. I will not walk away from this story. But I appreciate your concern.”
“Are you talking to victims of sexual abuse?” Harper asked.
Sawyer sighed. “Yes. Of course.”
Harper crossed her arms over her chest. “Who have you talked to?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Aria asked. “When you’re ready to tell us what you’re doing at all hours of the day and night, then maybe Sawyer will tell you more. Until that time, it’s really none of your business.”
Without another word spoken, Harper turned around and stalked back to the house.
“Wow,” Aria said after the door slammed shut. “She and Nate need to make up real quick before her head explodes.”
Sawyer nodded but didn’t say anything more. Something wasn’t right. Harper was the last person she’d ever expect to tell her to back off from a story, especially one involving sexual-abuse survivors.
Back inside the house, Harper went straight to her bedroom and locked the door behind her. With laptop in hand, she sat on the bed, her back against the headboard, and waited for the computer to boot up.
She took in more than one long breath. She needed to calm down and stop her frustrations from getting the best of her.
She logged on to the private group. Since there was no prearranged meeting, she decided to put the question out there and see if any of the other members popped in.
MALICE: I went to the warehouse to see how things were going. Eddie Carter was gone. The place smelled like bleach. What’s going on?
While she waited to see if anyone had information, she opened a new tab and checked out headline news. Right away she noticed the caption: ANOTHER BLACK WIG COPYCAT? Officers responded to a neighbor’s call that an unknown person wearing a black wig and red lipstick was seen leaving the premises of Bruce Ward, a thirty-nine-year-old highway maintenance operative who was found dead in his garage. Detectives are investigating. This is a developing story.
A heavy feeling settled in her stomach. No. Not again.
When she checked back with The Crew, there were two responses to her question.
LILY: I haven’t heard from anyone since I left the warehouse yesterday.
CLEO: I was going to take Eddie Carter to the hospital. When I cut him loose, he took off again. So I let him go. I then followed protocol from the last time we were at the warehouse and scrubbed the place clean.
LILY: What if he goes to the police?
CLEO: Before I cut his ties, he promised he wouldn’t tell a soul. Relax.
Relax? Cleo was lying. Harper was sure of it.
MALICE: I’ll check hospitals in the area and try to locate him.
CLEO: Maybe you should focus on keeping your sister out of our business and let me worry about Eddie Carter.
MALICE: Every newspaper in the county is writing about the Black Wigs. So fuck off and stay away from my sister.
CLEO: Or what will you do? Kill me with one of your long, boring lectures about violence not being the answer? You have been in denial since the beginning. This was never going to end well for any of these assholes. You need to pull your head out of the sand and wake up. Payback is a bitch.
LILY: Enough! What’s next? I want to move on and put this all behind me.
CLEO: I’m glad all of you will simply be able to move on when this is over. I don’t need any of your help. I’m done with all of you. Signing off for good. Peace out.
Harper counted to three. Her hands were shaking. Cleo had lost her mind.
MALICE: Are you still here, Lily?
LILY: I’m here. What do we do now?
MALICE: Check back in a day or two. In the meantime, I’m going to call a few hospitals to see if Eddie Carter
was admitted.
LILY: Good luck. We’ll talk later.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The first thing Sawyer did when she arrived back at her apartment was clear off the coffee table and boot up her laptop. Yesterday, after speaking with Nancy Lay, the woman who had been a cook at the children’s home, Aria had gone to the shelter to work, and Sawyer had spent the rest of her day getting a smog check so that she could register her car. Then she’d run to the grocery store to get cat food and a few other items.
She was eager to get back to work. With two yellow, lined notepads in front of her, she titled one in large capital letters with the word COPYCAT, and the other with the words BLACK WIGS.
To help her stay organized and keep track of all the players involved, she wrote corresponding names underneath the headers in outline form.
Beneath the Copycat header, she wrote the names Nick Calderon and Bruce Ward, along with any notes she’d taken at the scene of the crime or tidbits she’d looked up previously. She also wrote Children’s Home of Sacramento, and under that she jotted down Nancy Lay (cook), and a few other names.
Beneath the Black Wigs header she wrote the names Brad Vicente, Otto Radley, and Myles Davenport. In parentheses next to Otto Radley’s name, she wrote Christina Farro, the woman he’d held captive for three years.
She looked through her notes again and wrote Tracy Rutherford’s name next to Myles Davenport’s since Tracy and her parents had taken Myles Davenport, along with other members of her high school football team, to court ten years ago.
COPYCAT
Nick Calderon (DEAD—person wearing black wig seen leaving)
Bruce Ward (DEAD—person wearing black wig seen leaving)
Children’s Home of Sacramento
Nancy Lay (cook)
Jimmy Crocket (orphan)
Emily Stiller (orphan)
Stanley Higgins (orphan)
Valerie Purcell (headmaster)
Aston Newell (orphan/bully)
Felix Iverson (orphan/bully)
BLACK WIGS
Brad Vicente (in prison)
Otto Radley (MISSING/Christina Farro)
Myles Davenport (DEAD/heart attack/Tracy Rutherford)
Sawyer tapped the pen against her chin as she recalled what Brad Vicente had said about the woman with the markings. Christina Farro had to be involved in the Black Wigs. During Sawyer’s visit with Christina a few weeks ago, the scars had been clearly visible. Sawyer still remembered her fixation with the markings, knowing that every scar on the woman’s body had most likely been the work of a madman. And yet Christina Farro had come across as confident, determined not to let memories of her trauma define her.
But now Sawyer wondered if there was more to Christina Farro’s emboldened attitude. Maybe her overconfidence had been a ploy to shake off Sawyer and convince her she was sniffing down the wrong trail, when in reality, she’d been dead on. It bummed her out that Aria had blown her cover because now Christina would definitely be on the lookout for them. Maybe they could rent a car, find a disguise?
Sawyer envisioned Otto Radley in a grave somewhere, a naked and very dead Myles Davenport in the woods, and finally Brad Vicente, screaming as his penis was cut off with pruning shears. She decided right then to take Christina Farro’s warning seriously and stay away. For now.
Besides, there were plenty of other leads to follow.
She closed the file on the Black Wigs and focused on the copycat murders instead. Maybe she should concentrate on finding Emily Stiller, the girl who stood up to the bullies at the children’s home. Emily must have been sixteen or so when she ran away. Where did she go? What did she do? Had she started the fire? Was Emily out for revenge against these bullies after all these years?
More tapping of her pen.
What about Stanley Higgins or Jimmy Crocket? Where did they end up after the fire?
She typed “Jimmy Crocket” into the search bar and came up with nothing. But when she did the same with Emily Stiller, several links popped up. Most of Emily’s posts on social media had to do with nutrition and fitness, but she was able to garner Emily’s birth date.
Sawyer decided to use a “no hit, no fee” database to do another search, using the birth date and name. Most people had no idea how easy and cheap it was to amass information on a person using the public domain. Like taking candy from a baby.
By the time Aria arrived with sandwiches, Sawyer knew a lot about Emily Stiller. No criminal record. Two speeding tickets. Divorced. No children. And she was currently a trainer at Lifetime Fitness in Roseville.
Perfect. Sawyer grabbed her cell and dialed Emily’s work number.
Aria set the bag of sandwiches on the table in the kitchen nook, then hurried across the room and plopped down next to Sawyer on the couch. “Guess who I’m meeting later today for coffee?”
Sawyer was holding the phone to her ear when she held up a finger, asking Aria to give her a minute.
Aria sat quietly and waited.
Apparently the fastest way to get in touch with Emily was to make an appointment for a consultation at the gym. When Sawyer ended the call, she said, “I can’t believe I just did that.”
“What did you do?” Aria asked.
“I made an appointment at Lifetime Fitness for Monday. An hour with Emily Stiller, a trainer. I need to talk to her, but I really hope I don’t have to do any sit-ups.”
Aria laughed. “Well, it won’t kill you.” She flapped her hands in the air as if erasing that conversation for now. “You can tell me all about Emily Stiller after I tell you my exciting news.”
Sawyer had a lot on her mind, but she did her best to give Aria her full attention. “Okay. Tell me your exciting news.”
“Remember that guy I told you about?”
“Um, the one who brought a dog into the shelter?”
Aria nodded. “His name is Corey Moran, and he called me back!”
“I didn’t realize you had even called him. I thought you were going to wait until I did a background check on him.”
“Yeah, well,” Aria said with a smile, “I couldn’t wait.”
“When did you call him?”
“Right after you told me you would see what you could find on him.”
Sawyer chuckled. “Wow. He must have really made an impression on you.”
Aria was glowing. Her eyes were bright. She’d never looked so happy.
“I was beginning to think he wasn’t going to call me back. But as I stood in line for the sandwiches, he called. Don’t worry,” Aria said before Sawyer had a chance to worry. “We’re meeting at the coffee shop where I used to work, so I’ll be surrounded by people who know me.”
“Do you still want me to enter his name into one of my databases?”
Aria appeared to think about it before saying, “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”
It took less than five minutes for his name to pop up. “No judgments. No outstanding tickets. No criminal charges.”
“Great.”
“Should I keep searching?”
“No. Let’s eat. I’m starved.”
They both got up and went to sit at the table in the kitchen. Sawyer unwrapped her sandwich, a pastrami on rye, and took a bite. As she chewed and swallowed, she stared at her sister’s face. When, she wondered, had Aria removed her nose ring?
Aria made a face. “What are you looking at?”
Sawyer gestured at her nose and then her eyebrow. “Your piercings. What happened to them?”
“I always thought they were just decorative, but I’m not so sure any longer.”
“What do you mean?”
Aria lifted a shoulder. “Just that everything changed after we got back from River Rock.”
Sawyer kept eating as she waited for her sister to explain.
“After Mom, Dad, and Uncle Theo died, I was worried that all that death and craziness would somehow mess me up even more than I already was. But instead, everything that happened back in River Rock gave i
t all a finality, which in turn gave me closure and made it easier for me to breathe. Suddenly I was able to see life differently—brighter, with more color, a life filled with possibilities.”
Goose bumps sprouted all over Sawyer’s arms. “That’s wonderful.”
“It’s mind boggling,” Aria said. “I thought the feeling and the emotions I was feeling after we returned to Sacramento might go away, but they haven’t. If anything, the spark of hope inside me has grown.”
Sawyer wondered why Aria’s smile suddenly turned to a frown. “But?”
“But a part of me feels guilty that this newfound hope for a better life was triggered by their deaths. Doesn’t that make me as bad as them?” Aria angled her head. “Don’t you worry at times that Mom and Dad’s DNA runs through our blood?”
“No,” Sawyer blurted. “I don’t worry about that at all. Mom and Dad made horrible choices. Each bad choice built upon the next until they had nowhere left to go but straight to hell. As long as we do our best to try and make good choices, I think we’ll be fine.”
Aria didn’t look convinced.
Sawyer couldn’t stand it. “Don’t you dare spend one second feeling guilty about what happened to them. They were evil—Mom, Dad, Uncle Theo. They caused Harper, you, and me, and countless others, nothing but pain. In the end, they all got what they had coming to them. It’s over. They’re gone. Be happy.”
“Thanks,” Aria said. “I must not be feeling too guilty since I’ve been thinking about what I want to do with my share of the inheritance from the sale of Mom and Dad’s house and business.”
“What do you want to do?”
“There’s been talk about the owners of the shelter selling their property. I think it would be a perfect sanctuary for animals that have been abused, neglected, or abandoned. I would call it Forever Sunshine. The animals would be protected for the remainder of their lives.”
“Forever Sunshine,” Sawyer repeated. “I like it.”