by Peggy Dulle
“Yeah, well. You try being the daughter of the local police chief. Everyone's always watching and waiting for you to screw up.” I tilted my head at him. “I obliged them at every opportunity.”
Jake laughed out loud. “Now those are the stories I'd like to hear.”
I patted him on the arm. “Later, buy me a drink and I'll tell you all about my sordid past.”
William frowned at me, then continued. “It lists your summer jobs: card shop clerk, music teacher, coffee shop clerk, and dancer?” His voice went up with the last word.
Jake smiled. “What kind of drink would you like, Connie?”
“Later, Jake,” I whispered. “Let's just concentrate on the coffee shop clerk.”
“What about the names?” John asked. “Do the names Sarah or Jane mean anything to you?”
I shook my head.
“Is there a follow-up article by the same newspaper?” Ed asked.
“I can go and look. What's the name of the paper?” Sheryl asked.
“The National Inquisitor,” William replied.
“That rag?” Jake scoffed. “It's the worst of all the trashy newspapers. They'll print anything, regardless of its basis in fact. I'm surprised it doesn't say you were abducted by aliens.”
“I'll check for other articles.” Sheryl went back to the computer and began to type on the keys.
While Sheryl searched, we looked at all the articles that she had printed out. None talked about my summer jobs, nor was there a Jane or Sarah quoted in any of the articles.
A few minutes later Sheryl came back. “I found two other articles published by the National Inquisitor after the first.” She handed the printed pages to John. “They include more quotes from the people in Arroyo.”
I held out my hand. “Let me see them.”
“We'll all take a look.” John handed each of us a piece of paper to check.
“Fine, but I want the entire article when we're done,” I huffed.
“Here's a quote from a Jane Cummings. She used to work at the card shop,” Jake said.
“She didn't work there when I worked there,” I said.
“What does it say?” John asked.
“It says that you were a terrible employee, never showed up on time, and that some money went missing while you were there.” The edges of Jake's mouth turned up in a small smile.
“What!” I screamed.
“Don't take it personally, Connie.” Jake patted the seat of the chair I had just leaped from. “It's a rag. If they don't get the quote they want, they make it up.”
“Fine, but I'm thinking about suing them for defamation of character.”
John looked around the room. “Anyone have a Sarah in their article?”
“I have a Sarah who took the guitar class that Connie taught.” Ed held up his paper and smiled. “She said that you were a terrible teacher and that you couldn't play the guitar any better than she could.”
I shrugged and slumped down into a chair. “Okay, that one's true.”
William found the next one. “There's a quote from a Pamela who worked with you at the coffee shop.”
“I remember Pamela. She was a very nice lady.” I leaned forward and sighed. “Please don't tell me that she slammed me, too.”
“Nope, she said that you were a very conscientious employee.” Then he smiled. “Although she does say that you were addicted to the cinnamon buns they made at the shop.”
“Oh, they were fabulous.” I closed my eyes, inhaled, and remembered the aroma. “Totally covered with a sugary white frosting.” I opened my eyes. “She was right. It was an addiction and I'm proud to say I still haven't gotten over them. Occasionally I still stop by the coffee shop and get an entire box. God, they are so good.”
“Okay, enough traveling down memory lane,” John said. He glanced at his watch, then turned to Sheryl. “Let's start the research for a Pamela who works at a coffee shop. It's almost eleven. We've got five hours left on the original ten hours. I want everyone to get some rest. Sheryl and I will stay here and work. Everyone else needs to be back here in four hours.”
We all got up. Ed went to let his chief know where we were on the investigation. William glanced at me, but then Jake grabbed my arm. “Come on, Connie. I'll buy you a late snack and you can tell me your life story.”
“It's really boring,” I said as he dragged me from the room.
“Somehow I doubt that,” he said and glanced back at William. “Can we take your car?”
William hesitated for a second, then threw his keys in the air and Jake caught them. “Thanks.”
I had a feeling this would be a very interesting meal!
Chapter 18
I flopped down into the passenger seat. Jake drove.
“Where are we going?”
“A place Ed told me about. He said they have the best barbecued ribs in town.”
“It's going to be open at eleven o'clock at night?”
“He said there's a bar that serves food until two in the morning. I asked the piano lady about it and she agreed with Ed.”
“It sounds like you and Sarah got along very nicely.”
He smoothed the lapels of his frumpy jacket as his eyes glistened. “She insisted I stay with her while she was at the station, so I took her into one of the interview rooms. She's a great lady and doesn't act anywhere near her age.”
“Maybe she's wife number three?” I teased.
“You never know.” He smiled.
Ten minutes later we pulled into the parking lot of Johnny's Hot and Spicy Barbecue.
“I'm not a big fan of hot and spicy. Do they have a mild sauce?” I asked, thinking about the entire bottle of antacid I would have to take after eating so late at this place.
“Don't know, but I'm sure they do.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “The juvenile delinquent dancer doesn't like hot and spicy?”
“I was not a juvenile delinquent,” I huffed.
“Wait.” He held up his hand. “I want my food before I get the entire story. And I noticed you aren't denying the dancer part, either.”
I rolled my eyes. Jake wouldn't find my summer stint as a dancer in a local production of The Music Man very exciting. I was sure he had visions of me dancing around a pole - how disappointing for him!
Inside the restaurant, Jake went to wash his hands and I gave the waitress my credit card. He paid for the last meal and I wouldn't allow him to do it again. It was my turn.
Ten minutes later we each had a plate of pork ribs in front of us. Mine mild, his extra spicy.
After he consumed half of his ribs, he leaned back, drank an entire glass of milk, and said, “Okay, tell me about your life.”
“It's not that exciting.”
“Skip the growing up years.” He smiled broadly. “Just tell me about you and William.”
I coughed, nearly spitting my soda all over the table.
He smiled. “Oh, I knew this was going to be good. Spill your guts, Connie.”
“Okay, but I may have to start a little further back in the story or it might not make sense.” I didn't want Jake to think I just had a casual affair with William. I needed him to understand all of the things that led up to it.
“That's okay.” He glanced at his watch. “We've got three hours left.”
“Not if we want to get any sleep,” I pointed out.
“I can sleep later, spill your guts, Connie.”
I told Jake all about Matthew, my marriage, the kidnapping, how William had been the first face I saw when I was rescued, my hospitalizations, and eventual discharge from the psychiatric hospital. I told him how Matthew had reacted to my kidnapping and rape when I went back home. When I talked about my affair with William, Jake frowned but I continued.
When I finished, he asked, “So why aren't you and William still together?”
“I told you. My mom got sick and I had to go home. My dad died and I stayed on as chief.”
“That doesn't explain why you're still
not seeing each other.”
“He doesn't want a relationship with me.”
“He said that?”
“Give me a break, Jake. If he'd wanted to continue our relationship he would have picked up the phone and called me.”
“You could have called him.”
“Why?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Maybe to tell him why you left without saying goodbye.”
“No, if he was interested he would have called.”
“Okay, Connie. Have it your way.” He glanced at his watch. “We've got a couple of hours left. Let's go to the hotel and get some rest before we need to be back at the station.”
“That's a good idea. I have a feeling it's going to be a long day once we get the names.”
Jake tried to pay the bill but found that it had already been paid.
He frowned at me. “Connie?”
“It was my turn.” I smiled and got my credit card from the waitress as we walked out of the restaurant.
At the hotel, Jake and I went to our separate rooms. I didn't bother to take off my clothes, just lay down on the bed and immediately fell asleep.
I awoke to someone pounding on my door. “Stop pounding!” I shouted. “I'll be there in a minute.”
When I opened the door, William leaned against the door jam. He had worn the same suit all day, but it still looked neatly pressed. He smiled and his eyes glistened behind his long lashes. A woman could get lost behind those lashes, swimming in the deepness of his eyes. I had been that woman. My body reacted like an erupting volcano. I felt flushed and was sure sweat ran down my face. Quickly, I turned and headed back to the bed. Over my shoulder, I asked, “What do you want?”
“Jake called and said he had something to do and would get his own ride back to the station. He left my keys at the front desk and asked me to pick you up.” His voice was more tentative than I had ever heard it before, as was his demeanor.
I ignored both and glanced at my watch. It was two forty-five. I couldn't believe that I had slept for two hours. “Okay. Let me wash up a bit and I'll be ready to go.”
“I'll wait.” William sat down and leaned his head against the back of the high-back chair in front of the desk.
I went into the bathroom and took several long deep breaths to slow my pulse and breathing. Damn! Having that man around was good for my panic attacks, but not for the rest of my emotions. After I was calm, I washed the sleep from my eyes and reapplied my makeup for the third time in one day - a record for me.
When I came out, William was sound asleep in the chair. For a minute, I watched him. As I listened to his easy, steady breathing, I thought of all the times his calm voice and demeanor had pulled me back from the brink of an anxiety attack, and how his smile and laughter had delighted and encouraged me. Of course, I missed the physical side of our relationship. That had been like a runaway roller coaster with its peaks, valleys, and loop-de-loops. But more than that, I mourned for the loss of him in my life.
I shook my head and tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped and said, “What?”
“Didn't you get any sleep?”
“No.”
“What about food? Did you eat?”
“No, I wasn't hungry.”
“When was the last time you ate anything?”
“I had something before I got on the plane last night.”
“That was over twenty-four hours ago. I've eaten twice since then.”
He smirked at me. “You were always a bigger eater than me.”
“That's true, but we'll get you something on the way back to the station.” I held out my hand. “Give me your keys. You can rest for a few minutes while I drive.”
“Really, I'm okay, Constance.” He crossed his arms across his chest.
“You were never a very good liar, William. Now, give me your keys or I'm calling myself a taxi. I'm not riding with a starving, sleepy driver.”
He shrugged, then handed me his keys and yawned. “Maybe I could use a little sleep and something to eat.”
“Come on,” I grabbed his hand and tried to pull him up from the chair.
He tumbled out of the chair, lost his balance, and plowed right into me. I flew onto the floor, and since I still had a hold of his hand, he tumbled down with me. He started to laugh and soon I joined him. It felt so good after all the stress of the day.
William rested his head on his bent arm. Then he reached over, smiled, and moved my hair behind my ears. “Hello, Constance.”
I smiled back at him. “Hello, William.”
“It's nice to laugh with you again.”
“Yes, it is. Now can we get off this floor and go back to work?”
His smile was replaced with a small frown. “Are you okay, Constance?”
His eyes were so intense, they sparkled. I wanted to say, “No, I want you to make love to me, right here on the floor.” It would be so easy to just reach out and touch him. But I couldn't. I looked away quickly. He didn't want me and I wouldn't pursue someone who obviously had moved on.
“I'm perfectly fine,” I lied. “Let's go. We've got a killer to stop.”
I got up and William followed me. We hadn't left the hotel parking lot before he closed his eyes and his breathing slowed. I stopped at the only place open, a fast-food restaurant. It wasn't William's favorite kind of food; he much preferred to sit in a restaurant and dine. As a “rich kid,” he hadn't grown up the way most kids had. In fact, I think he went to his first drive-through with me. I wasn’t much of a cook, so I always loved the convenience of food from a window. I ordered William a chicken Caesar salad and milk.
A few minutes later we pulled into the station parking lot, empty except for John's sedan and a few squad cars. Riverbend must have quiet nights. In a larger city, the nights are usually more hectic than the days.
When I turned off the engine, William opened his eyes. I handed him his salad.
He smiled. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” I walked toward the station door, William right beside me.
“What are you so happy about?” I asked when I heard him start to whistle.
“You didn't get me a greasy burger and oil-dripping fries.”
“You don't like burgers and fries,” I said.
He grabbed my arm and stopped me.
I turned toward him, “What?”
“You've barely spoken to me since I got here, so I thought you were mad at me. But if you were really angry, you'd have gotten me the biggest greasiest burger you could find at three in the morning.”
“I would not.”
“Yes, you would. Remember the pizza?” he asked.
I tilted my head. “What pizza?”
“Constance.”
“Fine, I remember it. Now can we get back to work?”
“Sure.” William power-walked through the front door of the station.
Of course I remembered the pizza. I wasn’t senile. It was several days after I had been discharged from the psychiatric hospital and moved into William's apartment. The doctors gave me several pills: one to sleep, one to wake up, and one to handle the stress of the day. I didn’t take any of them because I knew that I couldn't go back to being an FBI agent if I was drug dependent. After three days of absolutely no sleep, I was a little bitchy. William insisted I take a pill to sleep and I loudly disagreed. That night he was very busy working on a case, so I ordered pizza for dinner. I knew William preferred vegetarian pizza, so I ordered a Triple Meat Combo. The grease oozed on the pizza. William wouldn't touch it and made himself a salad. But he never insisted I take any of the drugs again.
I picked up my speed and caught up with William as he entered the conference room. Sheryl and John were working by the computers. No one else was back yet.
John looked up as we came into the room. “You were right about the other women, William.”
William set his food down on the table without touching it. “I was afraid of that.”
Chapter 19
“What's g
oing on?” I asked.
“Jake found Pamela a few minutes ago, and a patrol officer found Desiree an hour ago,” John blew out a loud breath and shook his head.
“Who's Desiree and what do you mean that you already found Pamela?”
John came over to the table. “Have a seat and I'll tell you.”
“Good, because I hate being out of the loop and it seems I've been left out of an important part of the investigation.” I glared at William and then at John.
We all sat down.
John handed me a piece of paper. “This is the newspaper article where we found Pamela's name.” He handed me another piece of paper. “Here's the one about Desiree. She was a dancer with you when you worked on the musical.”
I laid the papers down.
“After you left, we found the second article. William figured since we found Sarah dead earlier than the timeline the Jackal had given us, we'd also find the other women dead. He was right. The coroner thinks all three were killed within an hour of each other.”
I looked over at William. “Why didn't you tell me?”
He shrugged. “I was tired and hungry?”
“I should have gotten you that burger.” My stomach tightened with anger mixed with frustration.
“What burger?” Sheryl asked as she joined us.
“Never mind.” I pushed away both emotions. “So if all the women are dead, why is the Jackal feeding us information on one at a time?”
“He doesn't know that we know about the others, or that we've found them,” John replied. “And we're going to keep it that way.”
“Why bother?” I asked. “They're all dead.” My bitterness spilled through my words.
“It gives us time to search for him,” Sheryl replied.
“It's hard to search for someone when you don't know who or where they are.” I laid my head in my hands, discouraged.
“That's where the computer comes in,” Sheryl's voice elevated with her enthusiasm. “He had to find the victims the same way we did. Going though employment records and making phone calls. I'm tracing all of the inquiries made into those records to backtrack to him.”
