Predator

by Linsey Lanier

  “We’ve been bracing ourselves for another episode for a long time,” Orson said.

  “Ella has a condition,” Kelly said. “She was diagnosed as bipolar a long time ago. When she was ten.”

  Miranda didn’t know what to say to that.

  “We’ve been explaining about Ella to Hosea here. There’s a lot to tell. You see, she isn’t our daughter.”

  Miranda swallowed a gasp. “You mean she’s adopted?”

  Pressing a tissue to her eye, Kelly nodded. “She’s my sister’s child. My poor miserable sister.”

  Miranda glanced over at Parker. This was getting personal.

  “If you’d rather not tell us any more, Kelly—”

  “No, Wade. You and Miranda have gone to all this trouble. You deserve to know the truth. Please, sit down.”

  Kelly didn’t seem to be the type of person you said no to, so Miranda took a seat beside her, while Parker settled into one next to Erskine.

  Miranda waited until the woman had composed herself.

  After a moment, she began. “You have to understand what type of person my sister, Cassie, was. We were five years apart, and we weren’t at all alike. Growing up I had my moments, but I was always bookish and I liked sports. In other words, overall I was a good student and a pretty normal kid. But Mama always called Cassie her wild child. She had a hard time in school. She was always getting into trouble. In high school, it got worse. She even got suspended a few times. I think that was when she started using.”

  Kelly reached for a cup of coffee on the round table and took a swallow.

  “By that time, I was busy with college and then law school, so I didn’t pay much attention. That was Cassie, I told myself. I wish I had. But maybe it wouldn’t have mattered.”

  Orson reached over and squeezed her hand. “You did your best for her.”

  Kelly drew in a breath. “Cassie was a senior in high school when our father died. It hit her hard. She dropped out of school and started hanging with a bad crowd. The type of people I prosecute now. I tried to help her. I told her she could stay with me for awhile. Our mother had kicked her out of the house when she found drugs in her room.”

  She looked down at her hands. “That was when I learned Cassie was living with some guy. I looked him up and discovered he had a record. He was a coke dealer.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  “I went to see her. They were living in a horrible little apartment outside Macon. Cassie was strung out, lying on the couch, cussing me out. I tried to talk her into getting help, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She told me she was having a baby, and she and the coke dealer were getting married. I told her I’d believe that when I saw it, and she got angry and told me she never wanted to speak to me again.”

  Kelly paused to stare at the coffee cup, fighting the emotions from her past. Then she took a deep breath and went on.

  “I tried to call her when she had the baby, but she wouldn’t talk to me. We were done, I decided. So I lost myself in my work and tried to forget I had a sister. I had just started at the DA’s office and it was easy to stay busy. Then I met Orson, and we got married about a year later. I tried to contact my sister then, but there was no response.”

  She pressed the tissue to her lips. Again she took a breath before she continued.

  “And then a few years later, I got a call from her. Cassie was desperate and needed money. She couldn’t pay her rent. Apparently the drug dealer had left her a long time ago, and she’d been trying to take care of herself and her baby on her own. She’d had a string of waitress jobs, but she kept getting fired because she couldn’t stay off the drugs. And so Orson and I went down to that same little apartment in Macon.”

  She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.

  Miranda braced herself for something even more horrifying.

  “The thing was, my sister wasn’t there. We had to get the landlord to let us in, and he told us she’d left a week ago after he’d threatened to kick her out.”

  “The apartment was in a deplorable condition,” Orson chimed in. “Dirty dishes in the sink that had been there for days, insects everywhere, unmade beds. The place smelled awful.”

  Kelly gave him a sad look. “We looked around, trying to find something to tell us where Cassie had gone, but all we found—” she sucked in a breath, “was a little four-year-old girl hiding in the closet. She was so frightened. She was dirty and hungry and thirsty.”

  “We had no choice,” Orson said. “We had to take her with us.”

  “And that was Ella,” Miranda said.

  “Yes.”

  “You adopted her?”

  Tearfully, Kelly nodded. “We went to court and got custody of her. We gave our name and took care of her. We raised her as our own. We couldn’t have loved her more if she were ours.”

  “Did you ever find your sister?”

  Kelly shook her head. “About four years later I was notified my sister had died from a drug overdose in a hospital in Savannah. She’d been running with another drug dealer, and it finally caught up with her.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s been hard for Ella to deal with,” Orson said. “Not long after we found out about her mother, she started having hallucinations. We took her to several doctors and psychologists.”

  “And the conclusion was she was bipolar?”

  “Yes. Her medication helps keep her stable, but every once in a while, she decides not to take it. And then she does something like this.”

  Miranda’s sat back, her heart breaking for these two. This went way beyond high school peer pressure. She glanced over at Parker and saw he felt the same.

  “So Ella was off her meds.”

  “Yes. We realized she hadn’t taken her medication for two days this morning.”

  That explained why she was so upset at school on Friday.

  “Does anyone at school know about her condition?”

  “The principal, of course. But none of the students. We tried to keep it quiet.”

  It might have gotten out. Miranda wondered if Rachel Alex was mean enough to taunt Ella about it. And what about Mackenzie? Only one way to find out.

  Miranda shot Parker another look and he nodded.

  She turned to the parents. “I’m wondering if there’s any way we could speak to Ella.”

  Kelly seemed surprise. “We saw her for a few moments before we talked to Hosea. She’s pretty sedated.”

  “Do you mind if we try? We just need to wrap up a few details for our report. We won’t upset her.”

  Kelly studied her a moment. As a sharp DA’s attorney, she knew there was more to it. “No. Not if it will help. Will you tell me what she says?”

  Miranda got to her feet. “Of course, we will.”

  Chapter Eleven

  With Parker behind her, Miranda tiptoed through the glass door and into the room where Ella Skinner lay.

  The smell of antiseptic, the chilly air, the beeping of the monitors, the mass of tubes, none of those nausea-inducing things bothered her more than the sight of the form under a blue blanket on the bed.

  She lay motionless.

  But as Miranda stepped closer, she could see the girl was breathing.

  Her poor little body was covered in splints and bandages. Oxygen tubes had been placed over her face. A blue net cap on her head hid her hair.

  Miranda eyed the IV tube coming out from a bandage on one of her arms. The other arm was bandaged as well. The forearm. Was that where those scratches Erskine had seen were?

  Miranda stood watching her breathe for a long time. Parker laid a hand on the bedrail over hers. Maybe they should go. If she tried to wake the fragile thing, she might break.

  But just then the girl’s eyes fluttered open.

  “Hello,” she said weakly.

  “Hi, honey. How are you feeling?”

  “Not so good.”

  “Do you know where you are?”

  She blinked and looked aroun
d. “In a hospital. Oh, right. Mama and Daddy were here. Are they still around?”

  “They’re in the waiting room. They’ll come see you in a bit.”

  “Okay.” She peered at Miranda a long moment. “You’re Mackenzie’s mother, aren’t you?”

  That question surprised her. Most people didn’t know she was Mackenzie’s real mother. “Yes, I am.”

  “I’ve seen you in the newspaper.” Her gaze moved to Parker. “And you, too. You’re Wade Parker.”

  “That’s right. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

  “Mackenzie talks about you, both of you all the time. She’s really proud of you.”

  Now Miranda was truly shocked. She’d had no idea Mackenzie felt that way.

  But she still needed information. “Can you tell us about what happened today? Do you remember anything?”

  “Yeah. I jumped off a bridge.”

  Miranda waited for more.

  “It was so stupid. As soon as I jumped, I knew it was a mistake. And when I hit the pavement, it hurt so bad. Worse than when I fell off my bike when I was six. I thought all my teeth were falling out. I could hear my bones crush. I was so sorry for doing it. For hurting Mama and Daddy. They’ve been so good to me.” Her eyes began to tear up.

  “It’s all right, honey. They understand. Everything’s fine now. You’re going to be all right.”

  “I know. I just have to be careful and take my meds.”

  Miranda wondered if she should leave it at that. But she couldn’t. Cautiously she said, “I’m sorry about what happened with Rachel Alex at school on Friday.”

  Ella wrinkled her brow, then she remembered. “Oh, that. It was stupid, too. Rachel’s pretty stuck up.”

  She got that right. “Mackenzie’s sorry, too.” At least, Miranda assumed she was.

  “I know. She didn’t mean to hurt my feelings. She just likes Rachel a lot.”

  Ella was so sweet and forgiving, it broke Miranda’s heart in two. But she had one more question to ask. “Can you tell me how you got those scratches on your arm?”

  “Scratches?”

  “Right there.” Miranda pointed to the forearm with the bandage on it. “That’s where they are, right?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Okay. It didn’t matter now.

  But Ella blinked as she stared up at the ceiling. “Oh, right. I remember now.”

  “About the scratches?”

  “Yeah.”

  Miranda touched her hand. “I need you to be perfectly honest with me, Ella.” If there was any hint of foul play, Erskine needed to know.

  “Okay.”

  “When you were on the bridge today, did someone push you?”

  Ella frowned. “Push me? No.”

  “How did you get those scratches, then?”

  Without turning her head she looked down at the bandages as if she were trying to remember. Then it came to her.

  “The policewoman.”

  “Policewoman?”

  “She was talking to me, trying to get me away from the barrier. I climbed down and she reached for me. She was trying to pull me back up, but I jerked my arm out of her grasp and fell. I guess that’s when I got those scratches.”

  Miranda let out a breath of relief. Someone hadn’t pushed her. Someone was trying to save her.

  “Thank you for telling me that.”

  “Okay.” She looked like she might fall asleep now.

  “We should let her be,” Parker said softly.

  Miranda nodded and started toward the door.

  But Ella had one more thing to say.

  “Ms. Steele?” she said in a faraway voice.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Tell Mackenzie I still want to be her friend.”

  “I will.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Half an hour later, Miranda was sitting beside Parker on the ice blue sofa in the Chatham’s lofty and elegant living room, explaining everything they’d learned to Mackenzie.

  “So you see? Ella went to the bridge this morning because of personal problems she’s had for years.”

  Mackenzie looked down at her shoes. Her fingers were entwined in her lap, and she looked frail. Her pretty blue eyes were swollen from crying.

  “She’s getting help. Her parents are with her. The doctors say she’s going to be okay.”

  Mackenzie nodded. “No one pushed her?”

  “No. There was a policewoman there who tried to talk her down. She tried to grab her arm, but Ella pulled away, and she lost her grip on her.”

  Mackenzie nodded again and remained silent.

  Miranda glanced at Parker. He shook his head, but she had to tell her daughter what she’d learned. “We went to see Rachel Alex earlier.”

  That got her attention. Her head bobbed up and she glared at Miranda. “You did?”

  “Uh huh. She told us what happened at lunch on Friday.”

  Mackenzie’s head went down again. She rubbed her arms as if she’d just gotten a chill.

  “Ella seemed to be over it. She said she knows you didn’t mean to hurt her feelings. She said she still wants to be your friend.”

  Mackenzie looked stunned by the revelation.

  Colby’s back went straight. “What did Mackenzie do?”

  “It doesn’t matter, now,” Parker broke in smoothly. “It’s over. Ella will be all right and all is forgiven.”

  “Wade—”

  Mackenzie spun around to her adopted mother. “I snubbed her.”

  “What?”

  “Rachel didn’t want to eat lunch with Ella because she’s a freshman. So I went and ate with Rachel.”

  “Oh, honey. You shouldn’t have—”

  “I know I shouldn’t have. But I did. I can’t undo it.”

  Oh gosh, what a mess. “Ella was very forgiving, Mackenzie,” Miranda told her. “She barely remembered Friday. I think she was thinking about her own mother. Her real mother.”

  She’d already explained something about Ella’s horrendous upbringing. She didn’t want to go into any more details.

  “So all’s well that ends well.”

  “Is that all you have to say about it, Mother?” she snapped.

  “Mackenzie,” Colby said.

  “You don’t understand. None of you understand.” A bundle of emotion, Mackenzie shot to her feet. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  And she hurried across the floor, under the tall arch, and up the stairs.

  A moment later, Miranda heard the door to her bedroom slam shut.

  She put a hand to her head, feeling a migraine coming on.

  Parker touched her arm. “It’s been a difficult day for her. She needs time to sort things out.”

  “I’m sorry, Miranda, Wade,” Colby said, looking as if she’d aged a few years in the last hour. “Sometimes I just don’t know what to do with her.”

  Miranda wasn’t done.

  She rose and marched up the stairs to pound on her daughter’s door. “Maybe you didn’t understand me, Mackenzie. Ella forgives you. What happened to her at the bridge this morning wasn’t your fault.”

  There was no answer.

  “Mackenzie?”

  “Go away, Mother. I just can’t talk about it now.”

  “Please, let me in.”

  “Go. Away.”

  The words hurt worse than the blows Leon used to level on her. But there was nothing left to do. Her daughter was as stubborn as she was. All she could do was hope she’d think about what Miranda had told her.

  “Call me when you are ready to talk,” she said to the door.

  Again, there was no answer.

  Giving up, Miranda turned and made her way back downstairs.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Since they hadn’t eaten since Coco’s protein bars, Parker took her to one of their favorite restaurants.

  Her dish was firecracker spicy, which normally would have made her happy as a clam, but today Miranda could only pick at t
he food.

  They drove around the city for the rest of the afternoon. Parker suggested a trip to Fernbank or the World of Coca-Cola as a diversion, but Miranda declined.

  Instead they made their way back to the penthouse.

  Miranda pulled on a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt, and lounged on the sofa while Parker hunted for old movies on the TV.

  A Godfather marathon was playing, and she decided that fit her mood.

  When Corleone got to the, “they pull me back in” line, she reached for the remote and hit the Off button with a groan. “Tell me about it.”

  Her head was resting on Parker’s lap. He ran a hand through her hair. “Not enough of a distraction, was it?”

  She rubbed her face with both hands. “I just can’t stop worrying about Mackenzie, Parker.”

  “I know.”

  Gently he stroked her face, but the anxiety wouldn’t subside.

  She closed her eyes, and the image of that musty dark basement in Jasper County materialized in her mind. She could see the lumbering Tannenburg with his dirty blond hair and sickly green eyes. She could smell his disgusting cologne. When she was in that basement, he’d told her about the young woman he’d fallen desperately in love with, and how Leon had killed her and destroyed his life.

  The words he’d said to her next rang in her ears. He said he had a wife at home who needed to be taught a lesson. He wanted me to rape her.

  And so he had.

  That act, along with what he’d suffered at the hands of his mother had turned him into a vicious, sadistic serial killer.

  The monster Tannenburg had become was Mackenzie’s father. If her daughter knew the truth, would it destroy her, too? Was it destroying her now?

  It would certainly explain her behavior over the past several weeks.

  “It’s equally possible she doesn’t know,” Parker said, reading her thoughts.

  “I don’t know about that. Why else would she behave the way she did today?”

  “It’s only one explanation,” he insisted.

  “Yeah.” She’d been vacillating back and forth over it for weeks. One day she was sure Mackenzie knew the truth, the next day she was sure she didn’t. She was driving herself crazy.

  With another deep groan, she sat up and dug her fingers into her scalp.