by William Cain
The killer needs something. It’s called insurance. It’s necessary to have the location of the two women verified before any new steps are taken. Finding out is one thing, making sure is another. Today is the day their location will be made certain. Reggi Thomas and Madison Bouknight will be found soon, and their nightmare will continue. How much fun will that be? Relishing on the future is a selfish plate of fine food.
Now, to find Greg. He’ll hold the key to the women’s exact whereabouts. No need to scour and search. Just use Madison’s handler in the Underground. If he’s as dumb as he looks then it won’t be hard. Diligence will pay off, though. No mistake will be made as long as Greg is used to provide the answers needed.
Still, precautions need to be taken. This man, Greg, didn’t rise to his level inside the Network because he’s a bumbling idiot. It won’t be easy to make and gauge his reaction. It won’t be easy to follow him. It will be tricky breaking into his apartment. This is not his home, Asheville. If Greg is here today, then he’s living in an apartment provided by the Underground while he does his work here. Knowing the Network owns it means the Network has prepared it. It’s been outfitted and made secure, most likely, and a little luck will be needed.
Pulling up across the street from the shelter, the waiting game begins. A tall man emerges. Not that many men go in and out from there – it’s mostly women. There’s a high probability this man might just be Greg. He is followed as he walks along the bustling streets. At a key moment, the killer says, loudly, “Hello Greg!” and waves in a direction adjacent to him, toward a group of people. The man’s reaction, as he turns around, is a sure indication that Greg has been found. Greg, seeing that he himself is not being sought out, turns away and walks on.
Continuing to follow Greg as he enters a grocery store and pulls a cart from the rack, the killer quickly decides what’s next. It’ll take just a bit more breaking and entering to find out where he has been lately by going through his things. After Greg checks out with his groceries, he returns to his car to take the short drive to the Network’s apartment. The waiting game begins again until Greg emerges, when a car arrives and pulls up to the curb. After they drive off, the killer decides it must be dinner time for Greg and his companion, and looks over to the apartment door he emerged from. Plans begin formulating as to how to get in and find what is needed.
Care will be taken to not disturb anything. The ‘tell’ will be looked for. Paranoid people like Greg always leave a ‘tell’ or two around. This is usually something unnoticeable that would easily be unknowingly disturbed by an intruder. When Greg returns home, he’ll examine his ‘tell’. It will ‘tell’ him if he’s right to be paranoid. If someone has broken in.
Once there, inside, soft steps are gingerly made to the desk under the window. Drawers are gone through quietly, searching for receipts and itineraries, meetings past and present, identification cards, and bills. Frustrated after going through the desk and then the contents of the kitchen, a different tact is taken. The killer finds a blank sheet of paper and a pencil, then walks over to a pad found on the desk. Placing the sheet over it, the pencil is used to lightly shade the paper, back and forth, revealing the most recent note taken there. It’s just a meeting time and date with someone at the shelter.
Disappointed, but not ready to declare defeat, another pad is remembered, tucked away inside the desk. When retrieved, the same technique is used. When done, it’s revealed as ‘Garden St Inn, San Luis Obispo’. Bingo. This confirms what is needed and now it is time to go.
Leaving the apartment and double-checking everything is in its place, the killer stoops. Picking up the small piece of yellow paper, the ‘tell’. Almost the size of confetti, it’s then licked lightly and pasted onto the inside door jamb. It will stay there until the door is opened, telling Greg he has been safely away once again. His secrets are secure, and he can sleep well tonight, peacefully.
Finding Greg’s passport or other papers didn’t pan out, but it didn’t have to. The location of the girls has been confined to a four or five block radius. There are other ways, but it’s easier to just walk the neighborhood and find them. Remembering to be incognito, no person-to-person discoveries will be made. Everything will be done from a distance.
During the return trip, leaving Asheville city limits, the killer imagines a long drive ahead. Later, after arriving home, the killer sits in darkness, chewing on the pencil used at Greg’s apartment, having absentmindedly pocketed it along with the paper. Hatred is stirring and reliving the killings in Florida and Texas causes daydreams and images to form. A new killing will be made soon. The swing of the bat will bring a crushing end to a life. A rising rage will surface, terrible and horrible, feeding the killer. Swinging the bat down ever harder. Laughing and taunting the victim. Slowly bring the killing to an end.
Then another sad victim, and then one more, maybe more than one. On and on. Unstoppable. Making Reggi’s life miserable, the hatred never ebbing.
Sweating now, awaking from the daydream – the nightmare – the killer feels for the pencil and finds it’s been snapped in two.
Tomorrow, San Luis Obispo.
It’s time.
The fun will begin tomorrow.
8
I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship. Louisa May Alcott
It’s been many lazy, sunny days for the two women. Their new town agrees with their disposition, warm and friendly. It’s a beautiful place, San Luis Obispo. The Pacific to their west, rolling hills to their east, the people there happy and the food plentiful. It all leads to a more relaxed feeling of belonging they haven’t felt in a long time. Madison didn’t feel at home in Asheville any longer, after her nasty breakup. Reggi, well, she was incarcerated, so her mood is quite cheerful.
From sun-up to sun-down the two women become more and more at ease, no longer looking over their shoulder or being suspicious of each passer-by. When they walk in their new neighborhood, they are no longer reluctant to make friends. Feeling safe is becoming the new normal. Within a short time, their neighbors know them by name – Madison and Donna – waving and greeting as they meet each other on the street or driving by to their unimportant errands.
Madison and Reggi have begun a new habit, too. Playing bridge with the couple on the next block, Nancy and Kevin, began innocently enough when talking casually about spending free time, which is most of the time for some people. The girls have never played bridge before. Their new friends spent the time to introduce them to the art of card play. Quick learners, both found they liked the game. Nancy and Kevin were pleased. Even more pleased when they could switch teams. Kevin is a lousy cheater. The group thinks he does it purposely as a joke because he never gets away with it. They end up laughing and making fun of him. He takes it, appearing pained, making it more funny than it really should be.
As days continue on, sometimes their bridge sessions last longer than a few hours, stretching into dinner time or late night. This would normally be exhausting as Kevin and Nancy aren’t seniors, but they are retired, living comfortably on their modest city job pensions and savings. The group finds Reggi, the oldest, has the most stamina and easily stays up well past midnight. To merge their bridge playing with their active lives, they’ve decided on pot luck dinners or lunches. The time spent together is very casual, not draining as would be expected. Often, other neighbors will join in and two or more tables carried in and played at.
Taking a break in the game, when it’s just the four of them, means playing with the dog in Nancy and Kevin’s back yard, sipping light cocktails while seated on the patio. Conversation freely flows back and forth as each talk about their past and their future. Madison and Reggi have to be careful during these times and have practiced the art of ‘glazing’. Talking about their past without being specific. This way, they can add to the conversation, talking about their real experiences without lying. No one knows who they really are, being just Madison and Donna, granddaughter and grandmother.<
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Greg has made himself neatly absent, not having shown an interest for a while now. Reggi’s fine with this. She doesn’t like the man anyway. Madison is indifferent, knowing the Underground is their lifeline. For now, all things are quiet and that’s the way she wants it. If Greg returns, that would be unusual. Handlers don’t normally interact with their wards. Still, her relationship with him is different. Since he had to show his face in New Mexico, it’s been a different type of Network affiliation. Inwardly, she doesn’t need more time with him, and she knows it. Her mind is on Jimmy.
Her conversations with Jimmy are never awkward with those boring fill-the-space moments. He always has something to say, and his words are kind without dripping with some school-boy compliment. He suggests she might let her hair grow out, then adds he might do the same. It’s just silly things like that that make him interesting, adding new light to his serious moments when he talks about her, him and her, and them. Last night he told Madison he loves her. When she didn’t say anything, it didn’t bother him. At the end of the call, he told her he knows she loves him, but is afraid to say it. She remembers.
“You know Madison, you’re making me wish you were here. When you talk like that, it makes me miss you more than ever. I love you Madison.”
When Madison didn’t reply right away, Jimmy said something that made Madison think, and think hard. “Remember this moment. This conversation. This point in time. It’s important. And it’s ok if you don’t feel the same way. I’ll wear you down and I won’t run away. It doesn’t bother me. My skin is pretty thick.”
But she thinks it does bother him, and she wanted to say it back. Because she does love him. Grandmother knows it, too.
Later, when they ended the conversation and before they said their goodnights, Jimmy just paused, saying, “I think you do, too.” They both knew what he was talking about.
And he was right. She’ll remember this conversation, these defining moments, for the rest of her life. A life she wants spent with him.
◆◆◆
Today, Madison and her grandmother are walking peacefully along in their neighborhood, arm in arm, talking to people they pass by. This is therapeutic for Reggi. Madison has seen signs that her grandmother is slipping into her mental state from years ago. The reason the old lady committed that crime in the first place. What Madison is now witnessing isn’t a lot, but it scares her. It looks like how she behaved then – talking to herself while staring at a blank wall, lost in some fantasy. What did they call it? Madison wonders, trying to recall the term. Maladaptive Daydreaming? Yes. In any case, her grandmother doesn’t do it a lot, from what Madison can tell, but she has seen it recently. These walks, engaging with other people, keep both of them grounded. Reggi needs it now more than ever. Madison is lost in thought over this when her grandmother breaks the silence.
“Did you talk to Ken and Barbie?” Reggi asks.
Madison looks at her grandmother with a comical, indignant glance. “You mean Nancy and Kevin? Yes. Well, kind of. We texted. Ha ha, they do remind me of Ken and Barbie.”
“You kids. Always texting with your phones. What did they say?”
“They said to get ready. Bridge at four today. Other people will be coming. Nancy told them to bring their own table and chairs. We’re going to play out back, under the trees. Kevin and one of his friends will be grilling burgers, dogs, and marinated chicken. She asked if we could whip up one of your pasta salads. She calls them RossanaDonna-pastas.”
“Sure, if we make it by two p.m. then it’ll be chilled by the time we eat. Let’s make a bunch. Maybe leave some home for ourselves.”
When they stop to speak with a friend who’s doing some light weeding, Madison begins to speak but stops when she notices someone in the distance with binoculars. Apparently, they are aimed at them, and they aren’t moving. Reggi sees Madison’s frozen look. Even when Madison has sunglasses on Reggi can feel something is wrong. Reggi turns to see what she has found. At that moment, the person points the field glasses into the air, towards the treetops. Then, begins to take baby steps and points them upwards again after stopping.
Madison is unafraid, suspicious, and a little ticked off, “I’m going to see who that is.”
Reggi, however, is afraid. “Madison, don’t. It’s nothing.”
The neighbor follows their line of sight, “Probably just a birder. This is a sanctuary. We get that a lot.” He’s puzzled over the strong reaction Madison has had. “Is everything alright? Why you so worried? I mean, it’s just a birder.”
Madison doesn’t want to look like she’s hiding something. “They were looking at us. Oh, forget it. It’s nothing. I’m overreacting.”
The three of them have a short conversation. The women break off and continue their walk. The birder is gone.
“What do you think that was, Madison?”
She doesn’t want to worry her grandmother. “It was me, just me. Let’s forget it.”
For Reggi, the damage is already done. She won’t be forgetting it.
And neither will Madison.
Their walk continues, both women trying to break free from concern and worry. Each is trying to make this little incident smaller. Each is trying to not let fear inside. But, it’s hard. What they’ve been through the past few months would make it hard for anyone. Resolve is an important emotion. And that’s what saves them. Madison resolves that they not turn back or give up. They know they can’t turn every little disturbing situation, like a birder, into a reason to withdraw. After a few more blocks, it’s been compartmentalized. They want to turn their attention to this afternoon’s card game.
They find themselves at their front door. As Madison reaches for the keys, Reggi tells her quietly, seriously, “The front door is open, Madison,” and she gently pushes it all the way. The two girls stare inside.
“Maybe I forgot to lock it. Forgot to shut it,” Madison says softly to herself. Then she looks at her grandmother. “Honest. I can’t remember who was out last, you or me.”
“Me neither. Keep the door open, let’s go in and look around.” When they do, gingerly stepping in unison, they hear a few steps, made louder on the ceramic tile of the kitchen. They freeze, hold their breaths, as the steps become closer and noisier. Madison prepares to defend herself when a man rounds the corner into the hall where they are standing. Alarmed, he stops abruptly and drops his keys. As fast as she clenched her fists, she unclenches them. The guy is one of Greg’s operatives. He was the driver when they fled Las Cruces. Madison and Reggi both let a rush of air out.
“Wow!” Madison exclaims, slightly doubled over, her hands on her knees. “What are you doing here?” she asks him.
He’s just as startled as she is, and it shows. “Sorry I scared you. I knew you were out. This is when we like to drop things off, so we don’t meet face to face. I am so sorry.”
Relieved now, Madison just wants to know why he’s here. The three are amused at this awkward moment. The man adds, “Your passports are in the kitchen. There’s a text on your cell. I should have left fifteen minutes ago. But I, uh, had a problem.”
Madison wants an answer, “And?”
“Got the runs, sorry.” When he says this, Madison pauses, it’s meaning taking effect, and begins to laugh uncontrollably.
He’s visibly embarrassed. Madison doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable, so she asks, “Is everything OK now?”
The man thinks, and he looks from one woman to the other, “No. It’s not.” He turns quickly away, marching towards the bath, tugging at the belt holding his pants up.
“Take your time,” Madison shouts after him, thankful his appearance here is just another false alarm.
◆◆◆
After the man leaves, the two women make the pasta salad, the RossanaDonna-pasta, and chill it in the fridge. They’re both thinking about what happened today, neither wanting to discuss it. But it has to be done. Their state of mind depends on it.
“I think we got a little carri
ed away today, Madison.”
“Let’s calm down. I agree. After what we’ve been through, we’re so on edge. That’s what it is.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Let’s get the pasta and go, and leave all this crazy stuff at the front door. Out of sight.”
Walking to the fridge, Madison retrieves the large serving tin, and the girls walk out the door. This time they make sure to lock it, and the other checks it. It’s a new part of their routine.
When they arrive at Nancy and Kevin’s, a few people are already there. Looking into the back, Madison sees the tables and the decks of cards, ready for action. She’s looking forward to this happy time ahead. As she makes small talk with neighbors, laughing about current events and people they’ve seen, the dark cloud lifts and their troubles are forgotten.
Madison watches her grandmother for a bit while speaking with a small group of new friends. Feeling her casual glance, Reggi looks back and winks. Finally, finally got the monkey off our backs, she thinks to herself. Sighs of relief the two of them make, each reading the other’s mind.
After the games begin, a few rubbers in, and before dinner, they’ve changed partners a couple of times. The group is talking and drinking freely, the mood becoming more lively.
Then it happens.
Madison is speaking with her next-door neighbor, seated across the table, when she sees a disturbance over his shoulder, beyond the fence. It’s an unnatural movement. There is a host of scrub brush, short and tall, blowing gently there in the state land the back yard abuts. She can’t quite make out what the movement is. She’s squinting. Her partners don’t sense her distraction, so she continues to stare. A mild breeze parts the brush, briefly, and she sees someone holding binoculars, pointed at her. Then it’s gone, hidden again. The brush has covered up the person, but she’s sure of what she saw. When the breeze opens up the brush again, there’s nothing there.