The Bear

by Dustin Stevens

  In the time since, barely a word had been said between them, Trixie no doubt left to her worst fears, Reed playing the situation back through his mind, trying to work out the next steps.

  Speaking with the woman was necessary, an absolute must in the name of conducting a thorough investigation. Serena Gipson was known to frequent only three places. Leaving one of them out would be an unforgivable faux pas, regardless of how much or little might actually be gained from the visit.

  The bigger question was how to proceed afterward. Already, Reed had a pretty good idea of the information the meeting would reveal. Every person he’d spoken to thus far painted the girl in the same way.

  For Trixie to suddenly reverse course on that would go against years of investigative experience.

  “I’m so sorry,” Trixie said as they arrived. Dropping down into the same spot she’d occupied earlier, she placed the pile of folders and papers onto her lap, returning her arms to her torso. “Classes aren’t going on right now, but with the big finals tomorrow and Tuesday, most everybody is still around.”

  “Don’t be,” Reed said. “With everyone inside, we can speak just as easily right here.”

  The veracity in such a statement was something for debate, though Reed couldn’t allow any more time to pass in the name of finding a quiet corner. Thus far, every single person he’d seen since pulling up was seated inside the buildings behind them, the lone exception being Trixie.

  So long as he remained reasonably vigilant, he couldn’t see there being much concern for being overheard.

  Turning his body at an angle, his knees almost touching Trixie’s, Reed leaned in slightly. Sacrificing a bit of personal space in the name of maintaining privacy, he dropped his voice just slightly and said, “The reason Officer Wyatt asked to speak with you was because two nights ago, Serena Gipson was taken.”

  Careful to avoid using the words kidnapped or abducted, he watched as the woman drew in a sharp breath, her entire body seeming to clench as she stared back at him.

  “And by taken, you mean...” she managed, barely more than a whisper.

  “Yes,” Reed replied.

  Pulling in more breath, Trixie’s shoulders rolled back slightly. A sheen seemed to cover her eyes as she glanced down to Billie, her body perched just inches from Reed’s toes, her dark eyes staring up at them.

  “Are you sure?” she whispered. “I know Serena was under a lot of stress, with school, and her home situation, and everything.”

  “Positive,” Reed said. Not wanting to get into the full backstory - as much for the sake of minimizing what was shared as for the time it would take to do so - he added, “There were reliable witnesses.”

  Snapping her right hand up from the crook of her arm, Trixie covered the bottom half of her face. More moisture collected along her eyes, threatening to stream south, her face locked into a stare.

  Recognizing the pose, having seen it innumerable times before, Reed added, “I know this is difficult to hear. Believe me when I say, delivering this sort of news is the absolute worst part of our job.”

  Twisting his head slightly, he moved so he was on the edge of her peripheral vision, present without being imposing.

  “We wouldn’t be here now if we didn’t think it was important.”

  Remaining locked in position, Trixie took a moment. Her nostrils continued to flare as she drew in air, red tinging the nostrils.

  Once she had processed the initial statement, she slid her hand down from her mouth, resting it at the base of her throat.

  “But you think she’s still alive?”

  “We do,” Reed said.

  That much was absolutely true. There was no doubt at this point that the girl was alive, the way she was snatched and the pattern in the area too much to suggest she was targeted for the purpose of being killed.

  Not until she had served whatever purpose she and the others were meant to, anyway.

  At the same time, that did little to provide Reed solace, the visual of Darcy Thornton that morning at the coroner’s office giving credence to the statement that sometimes there were worse things than death.

  “You are a professor of Serena’s here?” Reed asked, nudging the conversation forward. As much as he recognized how traumatic the news he’d just shared was, he needed to push on before it really had a chance to resonate.

  Before he ran the risk of Trixie shutting down, unable to be of further use to anybody.

  Drawing in deep breaths, her entire body moving from the effort, she nodded.

  “Instructor,” Trixie corrected. “I’m here part-time, help run some of the practical training. The rest of the time, I’m on the floor up at Saint Francis in Muskogee.”

  The schedule was certainly borne out by the signs of fatigue on the woman’s features, she was no doubt as ready as the students to see the semester draw to a close.

  Nodding slightly, Reed said, “Is Serena one of your students now?”

  “She is,” Trixie replied. “It’s not a very big program, so I work with everybody that comes through.”

  “Just this semester?” Reed asked.

  With each question, the visible shock she had displayed a moment before ebbed away. The moisture resting over her eyes dissipated, her focus moving to what was being said, her mind formulating answers.

  The very reason Reed had needed to push ahead, no matter how indelicate it might have seemed.

  “Actually, all this year and last,” Trixie replied. “Because of, well, everything-”

  “Right,” Reed interjected.

  Casting a quick glance his way, Trixie nodded, adding, “Because of all that, she wasn’t able to take a full load, so she’s going a bit slower than some of our other students.”

  Beside Reed, Billie raised her backside from the ground. Moving an inch closer, she again settled, her weight resting against his foot.

  An unspoken reminder that she was there, for whatever may be needed.

  “So, she confided in you?” Reed asked.

  Dropping her hand from her throat, Trixie returned it to its former position, folding it into place. The sound of phlegm catching was audible as she coughed to clear her airway, shaking her head as she shifted her focus over to him.

  “No, never. Serena wasn’t the sort to confide, or act like she was put upon in any way. All this I got from other members of the faculty.”

  As if feeling guilty, she pressed her mouth into a tight line, one shoulder rising in a slight shrug. “It’s a small school in a small town. People talk.”

  They did. Just as Reed had found in larger cities, people’s voracity for the salacious knew few bounds in Warner.

  “But you knew her?” Reed asked.

  “As well as any of the students,” Trixie replied. “Like I said, I’ve had her in class four semesters. She’s stopped by a time or two for office hours.”

  “But always business?”

  “Always,” Trixie said, nodding for emphasis. “Extremely focused girl.”

  A trait that fit with everything Reed had already learned about her, not just in terms of her schooling, but the schedule she kept.

  A person with very little time was always the least likely to waste it.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Trixie said. “She was very nice, socially capable, but, just...”

  Again, it mirrored what Reed already knew, matching what both Curt Walton and Maisie Gipson had said. He imagined if he went back into the building behind them and tracked down a dozen classmates, they would – without fail – say much the same.

  It was time to take a different tack.

  Adjusting his body a few inches, Reed turned so his shoulders were facing Trixie. Resting one arm along the back of the bench, he said, “As you can imagine, we’ve talked to her family, her coworkers. They’ve pretty much all told us the same things you are. By every conceivable account, Serena sounds like a wonderful young woman.”

  Dipping her chin, it appeared Trixie wanted to vocalize confirmat
ion of as much, cutting herself off just short of doing so.

  “Which makes the question of why anybody would want to do something like this to her all the more troubling,” Reed continued. “Have you seen or heard anything around here that might help with that?”

  Turning her head so it was staring directly back at him, Trixie’s bottom jaw sagged slightly. Her lips parted, her breathing picking up slightly.

  “No,” she managed to push out.

  “Anybody that might have been lingering after class to talk to her? Ever a case of someone being spotted on campus that shouldn’t have been?”

  Each question Reed asked seemed to spawn another, his mind racing. Picking up on the bodily cues, Billie again raised herself, this time rising to a standing position, pressing tight against his leg.

  Without even looking her way, Reed extended a hand, resting it along her neck.

  “Nothing like that,” Trixie said, her expression bordering on pained. It was obvious that she wished there was more she could do. Waving a hand, she added, “And we would notice. I mean, aside from our affiliate cancer treatment center outside of town, what you see here is basically the entirety of the program.”

  Letting out a sigh, Reed leaned back a few inches. The information wasn’t exactly what he wanted to hear, though he couldn’t say he was surprised.

  The entire town wasn’t much more than a half-dozen square blocks.

  “How about off campus?” he asked. “Do you guys do any kinds of clinics or outreach that she might have been a part of?”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  The initial numbness along the lower half of Serena Gipson’s leg had receded. The seared nerve endings and the flow of blood into the area had only been able to protect her system for so long before the full enormity of the trauma set in, gripping her body in a neurological vise.

  Feeling as if the entire bottom half of the limb was thrust into a furnace, there was absolutely no way to shove aside the agony coursing through, carrying signals to her brain.

  Telling her to get immediate treatment. To use the common sense and insight her training had given her to go to a hospital immediately. To seek something stronger than an over-the-counter topical ointment for what had been done to her.

  Over and over the leg demanded as much, ignoring any bits of logical response, no matter how many times her mind replied that such a thing right now was an impossibility.

  Seated with her left foot on the floor, Serena’s right leg was extended along the bed beside her. Twisted so that the inside of her knee lay flush against the sheets, she squeezed out a dollop of ointment the size of her thumb, leaving it in a glob between her knee and the inflamed skin.

  With her teeth slid out over her bottom lip, she bit down hard enough to almost taste the impending blood, sucking in air.

  Not bothering to put the cap back on the tube, she flipped it to the floor beside her. A harsh contrast to the angered toss she’d made earlier, this one was nothing more than needing to free up her hands, her focus entirely on her charred leg.

  Extending only her pinkie, she slowly moved the gelatinous substance over the top of her skin, muscles twitching at the corners of her swollen and misshapen eyes. A sheen of tears formed as well, blurring her vision as she worked, each touch sending agony pulsating through her.

  Just as she knew it would for the foreseeable future.

  Third-degree burns such as this, ones that seared through the skin and got to the underlying muscle tissue, took weeks to heal under optimal conditions and with proper care.

  She had neither.

  Working as fast as the wound would allow, it took more than a full minute for her to pass the salve over the area. By the time she was finished, sweat had risen to her skin, her breath short from holding it tight, her entire body clenched against the pain.

  Opening her mouth wide, she allowed her upper body to fall straight back, landing flat atop the comforter. Gulping in deep breaths, she stared up at the plain ceiling, pops of light dancing across her vision.

  Filling her nostrils was the combined scents of her own flesh and the barbecue the man had brought her, the choice in food a perverse cruelty, enhancing the smell already filling the room.

  Making it worse was the way she’d been forced to put down a couple of bites in front of him. Seeing the wanton joy it provided, Serena had feigned a coughing spell, repeating what had occurred with the water earlier in the day. Making a show of pretending that her aching throat would allow no more to pass, she’d bent forward at the waist, saliva and half-chewed beef falling to the floor between her feet.

  A display that had finally worked, causing the man to leave in disgust, demanding she clean up the mess as he departed.

  An act that had served the dual purpose of getting rid of him and implanting the impending final she’d been searching for.

  If the current state of her leg was any indication, the odds were strong that the worst still lay ahead. Already it was difficult to even graze the area with her finger. The mere thought of trying to balance weight on the damaged muscle tissue was almost too great to bear.

  Another day, and she might not be able to stand at all.

  To say nothing of whatever other horrors he no doubt had lying in wait for her.

  Each passing moment that she stayed, her odds for survival dropped lower. Every day that came and went brought with it some new form of abuse, the meager rations provided barely enough to fuel basic functions, let alone give the energy needed to make a move.

  If ever she was going to do something, make an attempt to get away - or at least alert others to her presence - it had to be soon.

  Lying flat on her back, staring up at whatever cameras he had planted around her, Serena allowed the idea to resonate, fitting it into the fledgling plan she’d already put together. Pushing past the pain receptors firing throughout her, she worked over each piece as best she could, again and again.

  It was rough - choppy as hell, even - but it was all she had.

  Rolling her head to the side, Serena flicked her gaze to the Styrofoam carton resting on the nightstand beside her. Try as she might, she couldn’t recall any place by the name Cisco’s, a rare misstep that she guessed he hadn’t meant to say, potentially giving her some clue about where they were.

  No matter how little it might ultimately have mattered.

  With the top still open, she could see the random stack of brisket rising above the lip of the container, the edges charred black. It drew a striking semblance to the lower half of her leg; the mere sight of it caused bile to rise along the back of her throat.

  No part of her wanted so much as to even taste it, now or ever again. If given the choice between going hungry and forcing it down, she would gladly suffer the pangs, defying him the satisfaction of seeing her so dependent on whatever he provided.

  But if it meant giving her even the slightest chance at survival, she would force down every last morsel.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Reed Mattox was back behind the steering wheel of his parents’ SUV. The keys were in the ignition, though the engine remained off, his focus on the sheet of paper Trixie had given him a couple of moments before. A handful of places where the nursing program regularly set up mobile clinics, a half-dozen in total, were scrawled across it, all scratched out in green ink.

  Sitting and staring down at them, nothing jumped out at Reed as being especially obvious. There was a county fair and a pair of local festivals. A farmer’s market, a summer 3-on-3 basketball tournament, and the annual Muscogee powwow.

  Trixie had explained that nursing students took shifts working a tent at each of the sites. What they did onsite depended on where they were and the time of year, the summer events spent largely combatting heat exhaustion, while in the fall, they were more likely to be giving complimentary blood pressure checks.

  On occasion, they might go as far as to treat sprains or cuts, anything more serious needing to be stabilized for transport to a nearby fa
cility.

  More than anything, the clinics were meant to get students around patients. They allowed them to work on interactions and deal with the full variety of things they might encounter, as well as putting the program on display for the community.

  A veritable win-win, as she had described it.

  Right up to the part where doing so might have unintentionally subjected one of their students to a predator.

  His mouth drawn into a tight line, Reed stared down at the list. Settling his gaze on each of the items, he worked through what each one represented, his heartbeat increasing the further down he made it.

  Every location was rife with tremendous amounts of foot traffic. Untold people walking past, needing nothing more than a sideways glance into the open-air tents to see Serena Gipson working. Based on the fact that all evidence thus far pointed to her fitting a very specific physical makeup, that would have been all it took to catch someone’s eye.

  A low whine rolled from Billie as she pushed her head up between the front seats. Her wet nose passed just above Reed’s elbow before her chin settled against his arm, the weight of her head pressing against him. Hot breath exited her nostrils, causing one corner of the paper to shift slightly, both considering what had just been shared.

  As best Trixie could remember, never had there been an incident at any of the places. Nobody who was treated and caused a scene, no one who lingered longer than they should have.

  She herself had been at three of the five, saying she would check with some of the other faculty members about the remaining two, though she couldn’t imagine anything happening without immediately sparking a security briefing for the entire department.

  A line of reasoning that Reed couldn’t argue with, especially in a place as small as Connors State.

  Pushing out a small sigh, Reed reached for the middle console. Drawing up his cellphone, he balanced it on a knee, thumbing through his recent call log and pulling up the third entry in order.