She switched topics, “Hey, I saw an apartment for rent today. Ashley Commons, on Harris Trail. Know anything about them?”
Chad frowned. “They’re kinda old.”
“I can’t afford much until I get some regular paychecks, and hopefully a raise.” Katie walked across the room, effectively taking Chad’s attention away from the television. “I certainly can’t stay here. I’ll be broke in a week.” Katie spun out the lie. She had no intention of moving into a nearby apartment.
“I get off at five. I could go with you and take a look.”
Thinking ahead, Katie kept her options open, “Sounds good, but I think they'll be closed by then. I need to look at it this afternoon, but I’ll keep you in the loop.” She gave Chad a wink. “Maybe you could put in a good word for me?”
“Sure, I can.” He’d cut off his left arm if she asked.
“Do you have a business card or something?”
Chad dug one out of the register drawer, and Katie hurried away.
Fifteen minutes later, Katie banged back into the motel office, talking to Chad immediately, “Well, the apartment manager can show it to me today at twelve-fifteen, but I can’t get ahold of my brother. Is there a local cab company?”
“A cab?” Chad’s forehead creased. “You can't go over there in a cab.”
“I don’t have a choice until I get a car.” Katie plopped down on a hard, plastic chair and adjusted her shorts. “The manager said he has two other showings today,” Katie whined as she ran her hands up and down bare thighs.
Chad followed the movement. “You could take my car.”
“I couldn’t. That’s too much.” Katie feigned surprise despite the fact she’d been hoping for such an offer. She couldn’t let Chad see her truck, and the apartment manager needed to remember her in a different vehicle, as well. It wasn’t much, but she hoped the little deceptions would help hide her real intentions.
They argued back and forth until Chad pressed his keys into Katie’s hand. “I insist.”
Jack was home well before noon. He poured a drink and stood in living room nursing the Jameson as he watched the latest news broadcast featuring footage of his car racing away. Shit. All eyes were on him.
The Savannah officers hunkered around the TV in the conference room watching the noon news, too. Most of it was repeat information except for Jack Werner racing away from the house in Middleburg.
“There’s nothing else we can do until tomorrow,” Darrow announced firmly. He had a suspicion Hopkins would stay all day picking through each minute detail.
Chapter 41
Katie drove through the cracked parking lot of Ashley Commons and entered the rental office right on time. The manager wiped the remnants of his greasy lunch onto his pants and offered a limp handshake. “You here to see the studio?”
At Katie’s nod, he lumbered to a cabinet and pulled out a set of keys. “Follow me.” He didn’t bother to hold the door for Katie. “Had several people looking at this unit.”
She rolled her eyes behind his back, recognizing a sales job when she heard one.
The apartment was dated, but not horrible. A tiny table and two chairs crouched in the kitchen, while a lumpy couch shared the living room with a cheap set of end tables.
“Wow. This is considered furnished?”
“It doesn’t take much to fill a one-bedroom place.”
“True. How about the bedroom?” Katie peeked inside. “No furniture?”
“We’ve found people prefer their own mattress and box spring.” The manager continued in a conspiratorial voice, “You never know what’s happened in a bed.”
Katie took a step backward. “How much is the rent?”
“Five-hundred, including water and trash. We require a two-hundred-dollar deposit, and the first and last month’s rent would be due this Friday, provided the background check is clear.” The manager stuck his left index finger into his ear and then examined it for treasure.
Disgusted, Katie turned away, talking over her shoulder, “I just got a full-time job at First Bank of Atlanta.”
The manager wiped his finger on his shirt. “You got anyone to verify that? It is Sunday.”
Katie handed over the four business cards she’d picked up at both bank locations: Branch Supervisor, Angela, who’d grilled her on the security questions, James, the finance consultant, and tellers Bethany and Alicia. Katie pointed at Angela’s card, “She’s the boss.”
The manager noted the same bank, the same logo. Katie hoped it was convincing enough. He frowned, trying to decide. “Is there anyone we can call now?”
She handed over Chad's card. “Well, this is where I’m staying. It’s across from the bank branch here in town, where I’ll be working.” She injected pride in her statement, praying it would be enough to convince this man. Katie tapped Chad’s name. “He already confirmed my employment when I rented a room.” Katie held her breath.
The manager squinted, rubbed his chin, and slowly shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Desperate, Katie let her purse fall open where her cash was visible.
The manager noticed the stack of bills. “Let me make a call. I think we can work this out.” He really didn’t care. The deposit was non-refundable. If she didn’t stay, or couldn’t pay, he’d start over and be fine.
“Today? Can we work it out today?” Katie needed this to fall into place. An address was vital to her plan.
“Yeah, if he can verify the job.” He took out his phone, dialing Chad’s number.
“City Manor Motel,” Katie heard Chad answer.
“This is the Manager of Ashley Commons. Got a young lady here, goes by Anne Morrison. She says someone named Chad Richardson can verify she works at The First Bank of Atlanta?”
Chad swallowed once before giving an answer that wasn’t quite a lie. “Yeah, she’s staying here until she finds her own place. I can verify that.”
The manager smiled. “Thanks. I'll keep your card as a reference.”
Katie, eager to avoid more questions, announced, “I’ll take it! For six months, anyway, then maybe I can move up to something bigger.” When Katie pulled crisp green bills out of her purse, it sealed the deal for a man used to receiving bounced checks. Katie filled out the application form and handed over Cassie’s Social Security card.
The manager scowled. “You said your name was Anne. This says, Cassandra.”
“My middle name is Anne.” Katie pointed to the social security card, proving her point. “I don’t go by Cassandra.”
The manager shrugged and logged into the computer to start the preliminary background check. He frowned at the credit number. “This shows you’ve only got a six-hundred score.”
“No kidding. I don’t have any credit.” She opened her wallet, “See? No credit cards.”
The manager scrolled to the next credit report page, saw no overdue bills, or delinquent payments. “You’ll be paying the entire amount on Friday, right?” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for confirmation.
When Katie nodded enthusiastically, he filled out the lease agreement, stamped the date and handed it to Katie with the receipt of deposit. This was the last piece of the puzzle before she could move on to her final destination--an address different than the Morrison’s.
Katie shook his slimy hand; grateful she’d never see him again. She sped out of the parking lot, ever conscience of time.
Making a quick stop at a CVS near the motel, she purchased a box of address labels and whiteout.
When Katie returned to the motel, she went straight to the lobby and laid Chad’s keys on the counter.
He popped out of the back office. “How'd it go?”
“Thanks to you, I got the apartment!” She waved the lease papers at him.
“So, dinner?” Chad raised his eyebrows.
“Well, umm…” Katie slid away. “Sounds great, but maybe later this week? I need to call home. I’m so excited! I might have a car and a new apartment tomorrow. I owe you
more than I can say.” She gave Chad a long, hard hug, on purpose. “We’ll practically be neighbors. Maybe I’ll make you dinner at my new place, later in the week.” She didn’t wait for his reply and angled toward her room.
The hug and the idea of them alone in her apartment had the teasing edges of a fantasy forming. “I’ll look forward to it,” Chad called out, feeling good about his place in the world.
Katie let herself into her room and let out a whoop. “It’s working!” She ate the rest of her food staples, leaving half a bag of trail mix and one breakfast bar for the morning. “Get to work, girl!”
Sitting at the kitchen counter, Katie began making alterations to her paperwork. First, she carefully changed the date on the lease from 9/8 to 8/8. Next, she pulled out her bank statements and compared the address section to the address labels she’d purchased. They didn’t entirely cover, but it was close. The whiteout should take care of the rest.
Ten minutes later, Katie bounced back into the lobby. “Can I use the computer one more time, Chad?” Even though she hated to do it, she let her tank top slip, showing cleavage.
Chad naturally agreed and followed her inside the office.
Without even asking, she made a copy of the bank statements in case she messed up. “I want to make labels with my new address. I’ll need them for work tomorrow” She sat at the computer, pulling up templates.
Chad didn’t consider whether making labels made sense or not. He was angling for a better view of Katie’s chest. The lobby bell rang, and Chad reluctantly turned away.
Katie printed out a sheet of labels with the Ashley Commons address. Spying Chad’s gas bill mixed among the papers on his desk, she snatched it up and added it to her pile. It might be just the insurance I need. She waved at Chad, who was registering a new guest.
Back in her room, she carefully placed the printed labels over the address field of the bank statements. “Shit.” The last page had gone on crooked. Pulling out the extra copies she’d made, she found the correct sheet and tried again. Her tongue stuck out a tiny bit as she carefully put it in place. “Whew! Got it!” She dabbed whiteout lightly at the few letters still showing on the side of each label, blowing on them and holding them up to the light. She did the same to Chad’s gas bill.
“I need to make copies of these again, so the label doesn’t show.” I can’t keep using Chad’s office. She frowned until she remembered seeing a copy machine inside the door of CVS.
Avoiding Chad, she ducked around the back of the motel and beelined toward the pharmacy two blocks away. She made copies and then copies of the copies until the bank statements looked older, and the label was no longer visible.
Katie snuck back to her room and spread out all her paperwork. She piled Jack’s bribery information on one pillow, and Cassie’s documents on another. The last stack held the documents necessary for Katie’s new life: truck title, lease agreement, and the data she’d compiled for White City, Florida. She’d memorized the information months before but poured over it once again. It had more significance since she was heading there tomorrow.
At five p.m., Katie turned on the news, anxious for updates. Lindsey Shepard happily showed footage of the house where Katie had been dropped off by the cab driver. The reporter had done her research. “There is no connection between Kathryn Werner and the Lockheeds. Local authorities contacted them in Florida and verified the couple has never heard of or seen Kathryn Werner. No business dealings. No shared friends. No Christmas cards exchanged.”
The screen flashed briefly to the officers exiting the house and shaking their heads, confirming there was no evidence of Kathryn having been there.
“Why would this well-loved woman end up at an unknown home in Mid-Savannah? Was she invited with a false claim?” Lindsey expounded on ideas and suspicions.
Katie fell back against her bed in disbelief. “I picked a house where no one was home?”
The constant news feed was problematic, though. A dull headache was building, and Katie massaged her temples. Get the driver’s license changed, Katie. It’ll be all right. To truly start over, she needed the license to show a new address. She needed to register the truck too. An accident? A ticket? Everything would unravel.
Jack sat in his chair, drinking whiskey and watching the news story, too. He dreaded going to work tomorrow and decided to call his boss, Barry.
“Good God, Jack. Did you find Katie? The story’s all over the television.”
“No, and I don’t know what to do.” Jack’s voice broke, surprising them both.
“The police will figure it out soon. If you need time off, I understand.”
Barry’s response was unexpected, and, like everything else currently happening in his life, it threw Jack for a loop. “Thanks, but I think I’m better off working. I’m going crazy here. I wanted to run it by you first. I don’t want a lot of questions. Hell, I don’t know how to answer them anyway.”
Barry considered the problem. Human nature would have the office workers gleefully discussing the details. “You’re right. It’s going to be a zoo at the office. Why don’t you come in at ten instead of your regular start time? It’ll give me a chance to have a meeting and calm down the troops.”
Jack spent the rest of the evening, considering his next move in his search for Katie.
Katie fell into an exhausted sleep but woke with a start an hour later. She couldn’t chance leaving the truck, with its temporary license plate, at the strip mall. She’d be towed. She relocated the vehicle to the street closest to the motel, and hauled her earlier purchases down the stairs, filling the passenger seat and floorboard. She’d done all she could.
If the police followed her route to Georgetown, they’d lose time looking for Anne Morrison, working at the bank, driving a Nissan Sentra, and leasing an apartment nearby.
Chapter 42
Katie rose early on Monday morning. She left the television off. Today was going to be tricky enough without the added stress of the news.
She showered, leaving her hair loose again. She put in her contacts and stowed the hated glasses. Scrubbing down the counters, and emptying the trash, she took one last look at the room to ensure she hadn’t left any clues, even swiping the hotel notepad where she’d taken notes on the truck.
She headed out well before Chad was scheduled, driving aimlessly and munching on her leftover trail mix. Checking the time, she headed toward the driver’s license bureau.
She chewed off one remaining fingernail as she drove, hoping she was making the right decision. She concluded, months before, it would be far easier to register a vehicle and change her driver’s license in Georgia. If she waited until she got to Florida, she’d have to wait a minimum of thirty to sixty days to prove residency. That was too long to leave clues lying about in the open.
By 9 a.m., bank records were being downloaded at the police station. Jenkins poured over them, cursing under his breath because “The fricking internet is so slow.” He drank his third cup of coffee and scowled at anyone who wandered past.
“I need to update my address,” Katie announced as she handed over the driver’s license showing Cassie’s name and home address. She laid the lease and altered bank statements on the counter as well.
The woman glanced briefly at the license and then Katie. She verified the new address and scowled. “This lease is barely a month old, and the bank statement is only a few days old. Do you have any other proof of address?”
Katie dug in her purse, pulling out Chad’s altered gas bill. “Here’s a utility bill. Will that help?”
The clerk squinted at the earlier date and began typing.
Katie let out a relieved breath. “Can I register a title here too?
The clerk pointed to a door. “Go outside and down the sidewalk. It’s the third door down.” She leaned sideways and gestured the next person forward.
At nine-thirty Monday morning, officers were arranged around Jenkins. Fairchild rested a hip on a nearby desk and dribble
d cookie crumbs all over his pants. Greer stood with his skinny arms folded menacingly across his chest. Rookie Thomas pushed her way forward.
“Anything?” Darrow asked.
Jenkins addressed the crowd, “The old savings account we found? She opened it up more than ten years ago. She never took it out of her maiden name and has been making small deposits to it for years, but a lot more in the last year. Our girl’s got herself almost fifty-three-hundred dollars. Bet old Jack doesn’t know about that.” Jenkins smacked his lips in satisfaction. And…” Jenkins stopped to sip tepid coffee.
“Knock it off!” Greer and Hopkins yelled simultaneously.
Jenkins leaned back in his chair. “She emptied the whole damn thing Friday.”
Katie waited behind four people, watching the clock and trying to stay calm. When her turn came, Katie handed over the $3.50 required for the clerk to go outside and copy down the VIN from her windshield. Katie paid out another $23.00 for the title transfer fee and concentrated on writing Cassandra Anne Morrison on the back of the new title.
“How do you want to pay the taxes?” the clerk asked Katie.
“Taxes? I thought that was only at dealerships.”
“It starts over with each new purchase. It comes to one-hundred-nineteen dollars.”
Katie handed over her precious cash. “Is this where I get the plates too?”
“No, you have to go back to the license bureau.”
Katie let out a long sigh.
Jack squared his shoulders and walked toward his desk. Conversations stopped as his co-workers watched his progress. One brave soul walked over to shake his hand.
Darrow and Hopkins walked into the First Bank of Atlanta Branch in Middleburg just past ten a.m. They drew immediate attention when they asked to speak to Teller #103 and were ushered into a side office.
There Was a Crooked Man: A Psychological Thriller Page 20