Catch the Girl

by Melinda Woodhall

  The little wooden shed was nestled behind a cluster of ancient, moss-covered oak trees. Angel ducked inside, pulling back a makeshift cover to reveal a long tray of delicate purple blossoms. She surveyed the elegant, trumpet-shaped flowers and the deadly pods resting below them, gathering a few leaves and one plump, walnut-sized pod. Hiding her stash in a shoulder bag under her shawl, she hurried back into the sunny morning.

  The two-mile walk through the woods to the Little Gator Diner usually provided Angel with a welcome break from the bustle of the compound’s never-ending chores. It was her time to think and plan. A chance to drop the act she was forced to maintain when at the commune, where it was getting harder to keep up the pretense.

  I should just burn the whole place down and be done with it.

  But she knew that wasn’t an option. Not while Jacob was there. She had other plans for him. And besides, CSL was the only home she had now. It had become both a prison and a sanctuary.

  But that is about to change. I’ll do what needs to be done, and then I’ll be the one calling the shots around that place. Things will be very different.

  Her legs ached as she walked through the boggy woods toward the diner, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the sign up ahead. Chester hadn’t turned on the lights yet. Although he was still smiling, the alligator on the sign seemed sad without the neon to liven him up.

  Chester appeared at the door, squinting into the morning light, his pale eyes translucent. He waved and limped forward, leaning on his cane for support.

  “Thought you weren’t comin’ today.”

  Angel ran a hand through her dark hair and forced herself to take a calming breath. It was time to fall back into character.

  No use letting the old cripple get under my skin.

  “I’m here now.” She held up the heavy basket. “And I have plenty of eggs for you.”

  Chester led her inside. He watched as she lifted the heavy basket, noting the grimace of pain that crossed her face.

  “Sorry, I’d offer to help, but my damn leg’s actin’ up again, and that new doctor at the clinic doesn’t know why.”

  He started counting the eggs as Angel stretched her arms and rolled her shoulders, not bothering to respond to the old man’s usual complaints about his prosthetic leg.

  “Everything okay? You look a little under the weather.”

  She bristled at his words, offended by his prying, but attempted a neutral smile.

  “Everything’s just fine, Mr. Gosbey.”

  The old man studied her with his curious, baggy eyes, then turned to the cash register. He inserted a key and the drawer popped open. Taking out a small stack of bills, he licked his thumb and began to count.

  “You know,” he said, his thumb pausing over a ten-dollar bill, “CSL hasn’t been the same without Jed.”

  Angel stiffened with resentment, but didn’t respond, her eyes resting on the cash in Chester’s hands.

  “No offense, or nothin’,” the old man continued, “but Jacob isn't the man his father was. There’s no denying that."

  Sticking out a hand for the payment, Angel allowed a sharp edge to enter her voice.

  “Things are good at CSL. No need for you to worry.”

  He handed her the stack of bills and sat back on the stool behind the counter, watching as she stuck the money into her shoulder bag.

  “I was surprised that Jed wanted Jacob to take over,” Chester rattled on. “Although maybe it’s not appropriate for me to say. But I always thought Tobias would be the natural choice. Him or one of the older men with more experience.”

  Rage transformed Angel’s face into a distorted grimace. She leaned over the counter, staring into Chester’s shocked face, her eyes blazing with contempt.

  “You’ll stay out of our business if you know what’s good for you.”

  Chester’s hand instinctively tightened around the head of his cane, and Angel followed his gaze to the heavy stick. Her mouth widened into an ugly smirk as their eyes met.

  You don’t have the guts to use that, old man, and we both know it.

  She walked to the door, then stopped and turned around.

  “What do you know about Sister Marie?”

  Her voice matched the ice-cold look in her eyes as she waited for his response.

  “Who? Sister…Marie?”

  Angel paused, studying his confused reaction.

  “The girl that worked here as a waitress,” she said, her voice calmer now. “The young one that went to school with Candace.”

  The confusion on his face was replaced by a look of concern.

  “Ok, yeah…Marie. She’s a good girl. Why do you ask? She okay?”

  She ignored his question.

  “What do you know about her? Other than she went to school with your granddaughter? She have any family around here?”

  Chester dropped his eyes, revealing his impending lie.

  “I don't know nothing, why? She in some sort of trouble?”

  Without another word, Angel pushed through the door and walked back toward the woods. She knew she should never have revealed her true face to the old man. After this he would no longer trust her. He might even tell Jacob what she’d said.

  Maybe I’ll have to pay the nosy bastard another visit. Make sure he doesn’t cause any trouble. But I have other things to take care of first.

  First she needed to find out where Ruth had gone, and then she needed to uncover Sister Marie’s true identity. She could tell from Chester’s reaction that Marie was not the girl’s real name, and Angel wasn’t surprised.

  She knew firsthand how convenient it was to use someone else’s name. She’d done it herself most of her life, and now using her real name was no longer an option anyway. But she always thought of herself as Angel. And after her first kill, she began to pretend she was a real angel. Of course, she was an angel to some, the angel of death to others. It depended if they were useful, or if they were in her way.

  And Sister Marie and Sister Ruth are definitely in my way.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The door to the office opened, revealing Ruth Culvert’s thin frame. Reggie jumped up and crossed the room, noting with relief that a crisp cotton blouse and black jeans had replaced the thin, homemade dress Ruth had arrived in the day before, and that her red hair had been brushed back into a loose ponytail.

  Reggie’s relief vanished when she saw the fading bruises around the girl’s pale neck and the angry welt on her forehead.

  It’ll take more than a good night’s sleep and new clothes to help this one.

  “Come in, dear,” Reggie said, motioning for Ruth to take a seat in one of the comfortable armchairs near the window.

  Ruth hesitated, hovering in the doorway as Eden Winthrop’s familiar voice sounded behind her.

  “It’s okay, Ruth, go on in,” Eden coaxed from the hallway. “Reggie’s the director here, and a really good therapist, too. She just wants to talk to you. She wants to help.”

  Hurrying toward the chair farthest from the door, Ruth lowered herself onto the seat, keeping her back straight and her hands clasped in her lap. She searched the room with nervous eyes as Eden followed her in and stopped beside Reggie.

  The anxious expression on Eden’s face was mixed with hope, and Reggie wished she could reassure her that the girl would be fine. Truth was, healing took time and patience; there was no guarantee that Ruth would ever recover her peace of mind or her memory.

  “Don’t you worry, now,” Reggie said, reaching out to give Eden’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll take good care of her. We’re just going to talk for now.”

  “I can’t remember anything, you know.” Ruth’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. “I’ve tried to remember, but everything’s…foggy.”

  Fear clouded Ruth’s wide, gray eyes, confirming Reggie’s worry that it wasn’t going to be easy to get her to open up.

  The poor girl doesn’t want to remember, and I don’t blame her.

&
nbsp; Reggie wasn’t sure if Ruth’s physical head injury was causing her memory loss, or if she was subconsciously blocking the memory of the abuse she’d suffered. Some things were too painful to remember.

  “Eden, why don’t you go and get some work done? Ruth and I will be fine here. We’ll get to know each other and talk a little.”

  “But…I was hoping…”

  Eden bit her lip, searching for the right words.

  “It’s just, shouldn’t we try to get a description of the person who did this to her? So that we can tell the police?”

  From the corner of her eye Reggie could see Ruth’s legs begin to jitter up and down. She understood Eden’s desire to catch the perpetrator who had hurt Ruth, but it wasn’t the right time to put pressure on the girl. Forcing her to relive the details of the abuse before she was ready would only cause further distress.

  “It’s possible Ruth won’t be ready to remember anything today,” Reggie said, hating the crestfallen look that appeared on Eden’s face at her words. “But we’ll see what we can do.”

  She turned and moved toward Ruth, realizing only after she’d sat down in the chair across from the girl that Eden hadn’t left the room. Reggie raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes, Eden, is there something else?”

  “Well, I know I’m not the expert here-”

  “That’s right, you’re not,” Reggie said in a patient voice, glancing over at Ruth, then back at Eden. “So, please, leave it to me.”

  Clearing her throat, Eden gave Reggie an apologetic smile, then held up a single finger.

  “I just want to ask one more thing. You see I was wondering if maybe you could try hypnosis. I mean, if Ruth can’t remember after you guys talk, maybe that would help.”

  Reggie sighed, exasperation mingling with a grudging admiration at Eden’s persistence. Eden didn’t give up if she thought there was the slightest chance to stop another woman from getting hurt; she’d do whatever was necessary to get another abuser off the streets.

  “I’ll evaluate that possibility,” Reggie agreed, gesturing for Eden to leave. “Now, good-bye.”

  Once Eden had slipped out the door, Reggie turned to Ruth.

  “Okay, then. I imagine you want to know who I am before we start talking. It’s never easy to share painful experiences with anyone, so it’s important you feel comfortable with me before we begin.”

  Reggie paused, waiting to see if Ruth would react. When she didn’t, Reggie continued.

  “Well, my name is Dr. Regina Horn. I’m a psychiatrist and the director of the Mercy Harbor Foundation. Most of my patients start out calling me Dr. Horn but end up calling me Reggie, so let’s skip the formality in this case.”

  Reggie watched Ruth’s hands ball into fists in her lap.

  “I don’t need a psychiatrist,” Ruth blurted, her voice shaky. “I’m not crazy.”

  “Of course, you aren’t,” Reggie agreed matter-of-factly. “Psychiatrists provide therapy to help people stay mentally and emotionally healthy, especially if they’ve experienced trauma.”

  Ruth swallowed hard, then shook her head from side to side, a soft whimper escaping.

  “I just keep seeing these…terrible…things.”

  Reggie hastened to bring Ruth’s focus back to their conversation.

  “No need to think of that right now. Tell me a bit about yourself first. All I know is your name is Ruth. What’s your last name?”

  “It’s…Culvert. Ruth Culvert.”

  “How old are you, Ruth?”

  Reggie waited, keeping her face placid and relaxed.

  “I’m twenty-two.”

  Reggie nodded and smiled.

  “Do you live in Willow Bay?”

  Ruth shook her head, her eyes widening in panic. Reggie moved on to the next question, letting Ruth know she wouldn’t be pressured into answering any questions she didn’t want to answer.

  “Is there anyone you want us to contact for you? Anyone that might be worried about where you are right now?”

  Again, Ruth shook her head. A single tear dripped down her cheek as she closed her eyes and let out an anguished sob.

  “I’m…I’m scared,” Ruth whispered, keeping her eyes tightly shut. “I don’t know what happened. I was…I was in my bed one minute, and then the next…I was in the…the woods…”

  Reggie leaned over and tucked a tissue into Ruth’s small hand.

  “Was this yesterday morning when you woke up in the woods? Is that when the mailman found you?”

  Ruth nodded, blotting her eyes with the tissue.

  “When I woke up my head was hurting, and I had…blood on me. I looked around. I didn’t know where I was, but I could see the road past the trees. Somehow I made it through…the trees...to the road…”

  She stared into space, watching the events play out in her mind.

  “And a man in a truck stopped to help you?”

  “Yes. He asked if…if I needed help…where I was going. I opened my hand and showed him the paper with a…a name and address.”

  Reggie leaned back in her chair, trying to rein in her curiosity.

  “And you don’t remember how you got the paper?”

  Frustration passed over Ruth’s face for the first time, and a frown creased the pale skin of her forehead.

  “I’m not sure. Every time I try to remember, I get so scared.”

  Reggie hesitated. Maybe Eden was right. Someone had assaulted Ruth, and that someone was likely still out there free to hurt other women. She had an obligation to try to get details from the girl.

  Maybe then we can file a report in time to save someone else.

  Making her decision, she turned to Ruth.

  “I’d like us to try a relaxation technique. It’ll help you feel safe while allowing you to remember what happened.”

  “You mean, you want to hypnotize me like Ms. Winthrop said?”

  Reggie nodded, although she didn’t like to use the word hypnotize; the idea often scared patients and set unrealistic expectations about the process. But if she could get Ruth in a relaxed, receptive state, the girl might allow herself to remember how she’d ended up in the woods, and how she’d gotten Mercy Harbor’s address.

  “I don’t know,” Ruth said, her eyes wide. “I’m scared.”

  “No need to be scared, Ruth.” Reggie’s voice was gentle. “We’ll just focus on breathing. That should induce a state of deep relaxation where you’ll feel safe. Once you feel ready, we’ll talk about the events that led you to Mercy Harbor. If you start feeling too uncomfortable at any time we’ll stop right away.”

  “Okay,” Ruth agreed, much to Reggie’s surprise. “Let’s try.”

  But the raw fear on Ruth’s face made Reggie hesitate.

  “Are you sure you feel ready?”

  Ruth nodded, her eyes wide.

  “Yes. I have to remember. I have a…a bad feeling that if I don’t remember, something…terrible will happen.”

  The tortured words sent a shiver down Reggie’s spine, but she managed to keep her expression calm. The girl was determined, and she wanted to remember. Reggie pushed the remaining doubts from her mind.

  Not the right time to chicken out now, Reggie.

  As she walked Ruth through the initial stages of hypnosis, Reggie was surprised at how quickly Ruth sank into a deep, trance-like state.

  “Now Ruth, I want you to think back to the night before you arrived at Mercy Harbor. You said you remember getting into bed. Tell me about that.”

  Ruth spoke in a soft, melodic voice, her face passive.

  “I remember getting into bed, but I wasn’t comfortable. I had my nightgown over my dress, and it felt strange. I laid there for a while waiting for Candy to come...”

  The words faded, and Ruth’s fingers began twisting in her lap

  “You’re safe here, Ruth. Nothing here can hurt you. It’s okay for you to remember what happened next.”

  When Ruth didn’t speak, Reggie gently prodded.

 
; “So, you’re waiting for Candy? Who’s Candy?

  “She’s my friend. But…she’s in…in trouble.”

  Ruth’s forehead furrowed and her voice deepened.

  “He…hurt her and I’m going to help her. We’ve got to leave tonight.” Ruth’s eyes remained closed, but Reggie saw movement underneath her lids, as if she were watching someone. “Candy’s here for me and we’re sneaking out. We can’t let them see us but it’s dark…”

  “Where are you and Candy going?”

  “We’re cutting through the woods by the swamp. We have to find the road so we can get to Willow Bay. Marie wrote down the name of a lady that can help Candy.”

  “Who’s Marie?”

  Ruth didn’t seem to hear Reggie. She wrapped her thin arms around herself and whimpered again.

  “I hate the swamp at night. It’s so cold. So scary. We can’t find the road.” Panic entered Ruth’s voice. “I see the snake.”

  “What snake, Ruth? What do you see?”

  “The snake on the sign. We’re at the old gas station by the preserve, but it’s…it’s closed down. I think…I think we’re lost.”

  “What do you see, Ruth? Is anyone else with you?”

  “Someone’s here.” Ruth whispered. “We’ve got to hide.”

  Reggie waited, noting Ruth’s quick, shallow breaths, unsure if she should allow Ruth to continue. The girl stiffened, then spoke in a hoarse whisper.

  “Candy? Are you okay? Candy?”

  Ruth’s sudden shriek pierced the air, causing the hair on the back of Reggie’s neck to stand on end. She swallowed hard, then spoke quickly, careful to keep her voice calm.

  “Ruth, listen to my voice. I don’t want you think about the swamp right now. Take yourself back to your room. You’re safe and warm in your bed.”

  But it was too late. Ruth’s eyes opened, glassy with terror as she relived the events in the swamp.

  “No, Candy, run. Please, run…no, please don’t hurt her!”

  Reggie stood and crossed to Ruth, kneeling in front of the chair, her face positioned in front of Ruth. She took Ruth’s hands in hers.

  “Ruth, listen to me. You’re here with me at Mercy Harbor, and everything is okay. We’re fine. Look at me, Ruth.”