The door to the bedroom was open, and I could see Kenny and Eula inside, packing up their materials and kits.
“What have you got for me?” I asked as we walked in.
Eula looked from me to Joyce.
“It’s okay, she’s with me,” I assured her.
“Fine. Here, you’ll need this.” She handed me a small ultraviolet light and pointed to the bed. “Look under the bed.”
Eula Thompson was in her mid-forties, with streaks of gray highlighting her raven hair. Resolute and no-nonsense, she preferred to show rather than tell, and I preferred the summary. I humored her because she was the best at finding clues no one else would find.
The bed was a twin bed and didn’t appear to have box springs. Joyce and I knelt down, and I pulled up the bedspread. Eula lifted the bedspread from the other side. We looked at the floor but there wasn’t anything, not even a dust bunny.
“I don’t see anything,” Joyce said.
I looked at Eula and realized it wouldn’t be that easy. If there was nothing on the floor, then… Several slats had been moved to one end of the bed frame which I thought odd. The bed would sag in the middle. I shined the light on the mattress and my jaw dropped. “Fuck me!”
Chapter Fifteen
What is His Game? – Trina Wiles
“What is it? What do you see?” Joyce asked.
More trouble than I thought possible. “It’s semen,” I said, leaning back on my knees.
Joyce leaned back and looked at me. “I don’t understand. How’d it get under there?”
I didn’t answer her, but she saw it in my eyes.
“Oh, my God! No. Oh, no, no, no,” she wailed.
“Now, hold on. Don’t jump to conclusions. Let’s get the details first,” I said, hoping to calm her down. I put my hand on her shoulder and made her look at me. She met my eyes and finally nodded. Standing up I looked at Eula. “Can you tell how old it is?”
“My best guess right now, probably a week, maybe two. I’ll know more when I can analyze it back at the lab.”
“Okay, let me know as soon as you get the results,” I ordered.
“Copy that,” Eula affirmed and picked up a knife from her toolbox.
They flipped the mattress over, and Eula began cutting a swathe from the material.
“Come on, let’s get back down to the conference room. I’ve got to let the Sisters know they’ve got a pervert on the lose.”
As we walked back down the stairs, I noticed that Joyce wasn’t saying anything. I was ready for her to ask the same questions I had, but she was quiet and remote. I’d preferred the angry fighter.
We walked back into the conference room, and I shut the door behind us. Joyce took her seat, but I remained standing. “Sister TJ, you’ll need to find another room to sleep in tonight.”
“Why, what’s happened?” Sister Teresa Marie asked.
“Someone has… uh…” I couldn’t find a gentle way to tell them. “There is semen under Sister Emily’s mattress. The room is now a crime scene related to the attack on Joyce… I mean, Ruby Grace.”
Joyce looked at me with such sorrowful eyes that my heart stopped. She was giving in to all of this, and I was afraid she might give up. I needed to get her in the boxing ring and help her find her anger again. Unfortunately, I had to wait for another prayer session to be completed. Sister Teresa Marie had immediately bowed her head, followed by the other two nuns, and began praying.
Before she could start crossing herself again, I pulled out my notepad and pencil and sat down. “Did Sister Emily receive any packages over the last couple of weeks that would require someone to enter her room?”
“No, none that I saw,” Sister TJ responded. “But I’ve been gone, so…”
“Harold, our maintenance man was working on the heating units recently. But he worked in every room and—”
Harold? I cut Sister Mary Elizabeth off. “What’s Harold’s full name and is he here now?”
“Harold Rogers. He’s not here right now that I’m aware of,” she replied.
“How long has he worked here?”
“Surely, you don’t suspect him?” the second-in-command asked. “He’s a nice man, always willing to help out.”
“How long, Sister?” I asked again, jotting down his name.
“Not long. Six weeks give or take a day,” Sister Mary Elizabeth replied. “But we ran a background check on him, and he came highly recommended.”
I looked up from my notes. “Who recommended him?”
“I used one of those online reference checkers,” Sister Mary Elizabeth explained.
I made a note to get the link and follow up with the owner of the website. If it was what I thought it was, anyone could go on line and leave a reference.
“Have you ever done that before?”
She looked at me with a mixture of fear and confusion. “No. We haven’t needed to hire anyone in a very long while.”
“I would suggest that you find another way to vet your employees. What happened to your last maintenance man?” I continued probing.
All three nuns crossed themselves again. “He died, suddenly,” Sister Teresa Marie said. “A heart attack.”
“Oh, I am sorry. Your new man, did he like Mexican food?” I asked, looking at Joyce. She looked so lost, and I wondered what was going through her mind.
“Oh, he loved the spicy foods,” Sister Mary Elizabeth acknowledged. “He would always smell like he had just come from a Mexican restaurant. He told me that someday he hoped to own his own Mexican restaurant.”
I pulled out my cell phone and tapped on the photo of the dead rapist. “Is this him?”
All three nuns gasped at once and did the sign of the cross… again. “That’s him,” Sister Mary Elizabeth confirmed.
I tapped a number in and called Eula, asking her to check all the beds on that floor. Then I put my phone away and turned my attention back to the nuns. “I know all this must be a shock to you, but I need you to tell me everything you know about Sister Emily. Starting with, do you have a way of reaching her in South Africa?”
Joyce’s face perked up at the question. Talking with her sister would probably go a long way to solving a piece of the mystery and placating Joyce’s apprehension.
“Has no one told you?” the vice-provincial asked. “She never made it to South Africa. When we filed a missing person’s report, we were told that she never boarded the plane. I just assumed that’s why you were here, Detective, but when I saw her…” she pointed at Joyce, “and learned what happened to her, losing her memories, we thought our wayward child had found her way home. Now we know it wasn’t her.” The disappointment in her voice was tangible.
“I promise you, I’ll find Sister Emily.” I wasn’t boasting, I was determined. Something bigger than just the rape was going on with these two sisters, and I was not giving up on either one of them. I glanced at Joyce and saw a tear glinting in her eye
I questioned them for another forty-five minutes, but it didn’t produce anything of value. Just as we were finishing up, Eula called to say they hadn’t found any other semen on the nun’s beds. That was a major relief to the sisters, and Sister TJ was audibly relieved when I told her she’d have to sleep in another room for a while. Can’t say that I blame her.
Joyce was quiet.
As we drove away, I couldn’t handle Joyce’s silence any longer, so I put on a smile and asked, “Ready to get me on the ropes and—”
“Would you mind if we just went home?” she asked. “I’m pretty tired.”
I glanced over at her, and she did look tired. But I didn’t think it was a physical tiredness. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she replied and looked out the window.
“Okay, then I’ll talk. You’ve given up on your sister, so I guess that ends that.”
“What?” She glared at me. “No, I have not given up on her. It’s my fault she’s missing.”
“And how do you know that
?”
“My heart is telling me that.”
“Well, I have a new theory. Want to hear it?”
She looked out the window again and shook her head. “All we have are theories. Hasn’t helped us find my sister.”
Undaunted, I pressed on. “I believe that you were the target all along.”
“Then where is my sister?”
She wasn’t playing along like I’d hoped she would. “Maybe she’s breaking her vows and—”
“You’re full of bullshit,” she snapped, glaring at me again.
Ah, there’s the anger. I smiled at her and started to respond, but she reached over and turned on the radio. I opened my mouth to speak again, and she turned up the volume. “Rise Up” by Andra Day came on and I had an idea.
“Have you heard this song before?” I shouted to be heard over the music.
She wouldn’t meet my eyes, but she shook her head.
“Listen to the lyrics. That’s you she’s singing about.”
It was a wonderful song, all about not giving up. I snuck a peek, and she began to relax to the music. By the end of the song, she was in tears. I wasn’t sure how to react. I turned the radio down and placed my hand on the seat between us. I wanted to reach for her hand, to comfort her, but I didn’t think she would appreciate it. She had set the boundaries, and I respected that, but it didn’t mean I was happy about it.
She looked out her window, wiping her tears with her hand. She used her other hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. Then she laid it on top of my hand. My heart leaped just from her soft touch. I dared not move or say anything. I wanted to feel the warmth of her hand for as long as I could. A moment passed, and her hand was still there. Another moment and I turned my hand over and interlaced my fingers with hers. Her hand was still there.
Finally, she looked at me. Her face was confused, but her eyes held no anger. “They give you five years to decide if you are truly called. Why would she break her vows right after she was confirmed?”
“I told you, it was just a theory, and I’m sorry. I really did not mean to be so blunt. It’s my worst—”
“Your worst trait, I know,” she said, chuckling. “I’m sorry I got so upset. I’m just so frustrated with everything. When will we have some answers?”
“Soon,” I said confidently. “The pieces of the puzzle are starting to pile up and the more we learn, the sooner we can put the puzzle together.”
“I guess, but I need answers now.”
She moved her hand, and I felt a jolt of abandonment. Foolish, I knew. I pushed the feeling aside and listened to what she was saying.
“I can’t bear the thought of my sister out there all alone.”
“If she’s anything like you, she’s strong and has a good head on her shoulders. We’re going to find her, but I need you to do something first.”
She looked at me, one eyebrow arched.
“I need you to rise up,” I said seriously.
“Rise up? Oh, you mean like the song?”
Nodding, I started drumming a beat on the steering wheel and began singing the song. I admit, it was pretty hokey, but she laughed and joined in, clapping her hands. Maybe not so hokey after all. Joyce had a very pretty voice, and I would rather hear her sing than my off-key screeches, so I began lip syncing. We sang the song over and over until we got to my apartment. By then, we were laughing so hard we were mixing the words up. It was so encouraging to hear Joyce laugh, and like her singing, she had a beautiful laugh.
I parked the car and we got out. Almost as if we were drunk, we staggered inside the building and over to the elevator.
Joyce put her hand on my arm. “Thanks, Trina. I needed that more than I realized.”
“Well, anytime you need help rising up, just let me know.”
“I’ll do that,” she said with a lilt in her voice.
We got off the elevator, and I pulled out my keys to unlock the door. Then I noticed that the door was ajar. I turned to Joyce and put a finger to my lips, motioning for her to stand to the side. I pulled my gun from its holster and opened the door wider. “Houston Police Department! Come out with your hands up!”
Chapter Sixteen
They Know Who I Am – Joyce aka Ruby Grace Sutherland
I knew Trina wanted me to stay in the hallway, but I just couldn’t let her go in alone with no backup. Especially if I was supposed to be some kind of cop. As I followed her in, I grabbed the first thing I could find, an umbrella right inside the door. Trina flipped on the light switch. On the living room wall directly in front of us, someone had spray painted snitch across it. Shocked, I let out a yelp, and Trina whirled around and growled at me.
“Damn it. I told you to wait outside,” she whispered.
“Can we clear the apartment first before we have this argument?” I countered calmly.
She knew I was right and turned back to the living room. The gun in her hands led the way into the kitchen and then the bathroom. Finally, as she waved me to the side, she silently opened the door to her bedroom. Feeling for the light switch just inside the door, she turned on the lights. Someone had ransacked the room. Her mattress had been cut open and the stuffing tossed everywhere. The drawers were pulled out of the dresser and their contents scattered across the floor. Trina pointed at the closet door and indicated that I should wait outside. I opted to stand to the side of the closet door and with three fingers held up, I counted down then yanked it open. The door blocked me in the corner, but I could see through the door crack that no one was in there.
“Clear,” Trina announced.
The last place to check was under the bed. I felt a twinge of nervousness as Trina knelt and pulled the bedspread up.
“Clear,” she said, holstering her gun.
We walked back into the living room and stared up at the graffiti on the wall. Luckily, Trina had her pictures in frames, so the only damage was to the wall and the glass frames. The photographs were protected. Unfortunately, they also spray painted the TV, but it didn’t spell out anything. It was just for spite.
“They know you’re here,” she said sharply, frowning when she saw the television. “Pack up your things, and let’s get out of here.”
I didn’t understand her reasoning. “They wouldn’t come back, would they?”
“Only a handful of people knew you were staying with me. Maybe we were followed, maybe not, but I can’t risk it. If someone I work with did this, they will come at you again.”
“Wait. You think one of your own broke in here and left that message?” I asked, unable to imagine the possibility. “That’s a really big risk just to scare us, don’t you think?”
“They were looking for something, and someone was letting me know that they know who you are.” She walked into the bedroom and picked up the suitcase Sister had let me borrow. Placing it on the bed, or rather, the box springs, she opened it and stepped back.
“Aren’t you going to call Paul?” I asked as I packed my hairbrush and comb.
She nodded. “I’ll text him before we leave.” She went into the closet and pulled out a duffel bed and tossed it on the dresser. Then she walked back in and brought out a small metal box. She fished her keys from her jeans pocket and unlocked it. “If you really are a cop, you should be able to handle this. It’s a semi-automatic, 9mm, with six rounds.” She handed the gun to me. “This is my boot gun. I carry it when I’m off duty.”
At first I was frightened by the thought of carrying a gun, but then I realized she was right. If I really was a cop, I shouldn’t be worried. But I am.
“Hide it in your jacket pocket, and don’t take it out unless you’re threatened.”
“But I don’t have a…”
She pulled a windbreaker off its hanger and handed it to me. “This was my kid brother’s when he was a teenager. I always meant to give it back to him but now I’m glad I didn’t. Hopefully, it will fit you.”
She was right. It fit me like a glove. It had a gaudy symbol on the back, pr
obably from a rock band. “Thanks. Got any more of your brother’s clothes back there?”
“No, sorry. The only reason I had that was because he wanted to hide it from Mom and Dad.”
“Oh, that bad boy.”
Trina grabbed a few more things, like shirts and jeans, out of the closet and tossed them into the duffel bag. Then she opened a drawer and pulled out underwear and added them to the bag. I got the feeling that we wouldn’t be back here for a long while. That made me sad. Because of me, she was being driven from her home.
“Don’t even think like that,” she said, causing my mouth to gape open.
Can she read my mind now, too? “Think what?” I asked innocently.
“Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m very, very good at reading faces and yours has guilt written all over it. What they did to my apartment was not your fault.” She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder. “Ready to go?”
“Where are we going?” I asked as I picked up the suitcase.
“I’ll tell you once we’re in the car,” she replied soberly. “Just let me send a quick text and we’ll be out of here.”
Trina tapped on her phone, and I heard a whoosh. “Okay, sent a text to Paul,” she said and tossed the phone in the metal box that had held the gun, and locking it up.
“Aren’t you taking your phone with you?”
Shaking her head, she put the box back in the closet. “No. We’ll stop on the way and pick up some prepaid phones that can’t be traced.”
When we got down to the parking lot, Trina walked past her car and over to another car. A sporty blue convertible with chrome wheels. She pulled out a set of keys from her jeans pocket and hit the remote.
“Is this your car?” I asked even though it was obvious.
“Yeah. Company cars have trackers, radios, ID numbers. I don’t want anything telling people where we’re going. Besides, my Mustang is much faster and doesn’t look like a detective’s car.” she explained, opening the door.
“Where are we going?” I asked, as I got in on the passenger side.
“Well, first, I’m going to drive around for a while to make sure that we’re not being followed. Then, after we pick up some phones, we’re going to my ex-girlfriend’s condo.”
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