The Girl and the Unlucky 13 (Emma Griffin™ FBI Mystery)

by A J Rivers

  “Bullshit, I can’t,” I say, reaching into my pocket for my badge and holding it up so she gets a clear view of it. “Agent Emma Griffin. FBI.”

  Her face goes pale and then red, and she stammers for a few seconds. “I’m so sorry, Agent. I didn’t recognize you.”

  “Where is the officer in charge?” I demand.

  She points me toward the door and I duck under the police tape to go across the yard. Two large investigative trucks parked in the driveway blocked the view of the garage when I was out on the street and crossing the yard, but now I see the door clearly.

  Bright red paint forms a “13” in the middle of the door, the long drips sliding down toward the pavement like blood.

  “Agent Griffin,” calls a detective with whom I’ve interacted several times before, as he comes toward me.

  “What is this?” I ask before he even gets to me.

  “The house was broken into and vandalized,” he says.

  “I can see that,” I say. “Why wasn’t I informed of what was going on? This is directly involved in my investigation. And where the hell were the officers assigned to monitor the house and the family?”

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “Everything happened so quickly. A neighbor noticed the graffiti and called emergency dispatch. When they got here, Ashley came stumbling out with a wound to her side. They found broken glass and other signs someone got inside.”

  “You mean the injured girl wasn’t enough of an indicator of that?” I ask. “I want to know why I wasn’t notified and had to find out about this on the news.”

  “The scene has been extremely chaotic. Two ambulances were necessary and the neighbors were all coming over here…”

  “Two? Two ambulances?” I ask. “Who else was injured?”

  “No one. A woman identified as Mary Grey, Misty’s mother, collapsed and needed to be taken to the hospital as well,” he says.

  I let out an exasperated growl. “This is ridiculous. I should have been notified immediately. The scene better be thoroughly documented and all information sent to me. I also want a full explanation of why the surveillance team didn’t stop this from happening.”

  “Are you leaving?” he asks as I turn away.

  “I need to get to the hospital and find out if she is alright. I’m already behind,” I say, storming back to my car.

  When I get to the hospital, it’s in an uproar, the way it had been the day Ashley reappeared. Media swarm the area in front of the doors. I have to force my way through to get inside. I flash my credentials to the security guard and head up to the floor where Ashley was kept before going home.

  “Where is she?” I ask without stopping as I go past the nurse’s station.

  “Same room,” they call after me.

  “Convenient,” I mutter.

  As I turn down the hallway, I see Misty coming around the corner on the opposite side. She notices me and gasps.

  “Emma.” She rushes toward me, reaching out to latch onto my arm. “How could this have happened?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m trying to find out. Catch me up on what’s going on.”

  We hurry toward Ashley’s room. I don’t know what to expect, but when I get in the room, I find her sitting up in bed, her head rested back against a pillow. She has a line in her arm again.

  “Honey, she’s here,” Misty says. “Emma just got here.”

  “Hi, Ashley,” I say. “I’m so sorry it took me a while to get here. No one got in touch with me.”

  “You didn’t call her?” Ashley asks, sounding stunned as she looks over at her mother.

  Misty stammers for a few seconds, then gestures out through the door.

  “I’m trying not to worry about you and my mother,” she explains. “I thought it was the responsibility of law enforcement to ensure everybody who needs to be here is here.”

  Ashley nods and I step up between her and Misty.

  “What happened, Ashley? Tell me everything. Was it Wolf?” I ask.

  She nods, swallowing down the emotion that seemed to swell up in her throat.

  “I was sleeping. A sound woke me up. It was a dog barking. It took me a minute to realize I was actually hearing it because I had been dreaming about a dog track. Isn’t it strange, the kinds of things you dream about? What do you think that means? I was at the dog track and there was a dog named Wiseacre who I put my entire bet on.”

  Misty stiffens beside me, her arms moving to wrap more tightly around herself. I step closer to the bed, but she stays where she’s standing.

  “Alright,” I say. “But what else?”

  “The dog was in thirteenth place. But I was still rooting for it,” she says. “I just couldn’t let go.”

  “I mean this morning, Ashley. What happened this morning? After you heard the dog barking and realized you were awake.”

  “I didn’t want to get up yet. I just wanted to go back to sleep. So I rolled over. But before I could fall asleep again, my window exploded. Glass went everywhere. I screamed and jumped up, and there he was. He tried to get me and cut me.”

  She indicates her side, then pulls the side of her gown around to reveal a bandage across a large portion of her pale skin.

  “What did you do?” I ask. “How did you get away?”

  “I pushed him away and ran out of the room. I went right to Leona’s room. I figured Wolf would be right behind me, and her room is the closest. But he wasn’t there. Leona was terrified when she saw me and we screamed for my parents until they came in. My dad ran outside to look for him, but he wasn’t anywhere and the police were already there. Apparently, someone had called to tell them about the writing on the garage door. That must have been what the dog was barking about.”

  “But no one saw Wolf?” I ask. “No neighbors saw him come to the house or leave it?”

  “No,” she shakes her head. “We asked everybody, but no one noticed him.”

  “There’s only woods behind the house,” Misty says. “He could have easily gone into the trees and pretty much disappeared in a matter of seconds.”

  “What about your grandmother?” I ask.

  “She was visiting,” Ashley says. “She came over last night and said she had baby pictures and things she wanted to show me today. After the police came and were going through the house, she collapsed.”

  “She had a heart attack,” Misty says. “All the stress of everything finally got to her.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” I say. “How is she doing?”

  “She’s alive,” she says, brushing tears away from her cheeks. “Unconscious right now. They have her sedated and are going to leave her that way until they think her heart is strong enough for surgery.”

  “I think that’s why I was having the dream about the dog track,” Ashley adds as if the realization just dawned on her. “Before bed last night, Gran was telling me about how she used to go to see the dog races all the time. She loved betting on them.”

  Misty narrows her eyes at her daughter. “What are you talking about?”

  “When Gran and I were talking last night, you were in the kitchen getting dessert, she was telling about when she was younger. She said one of her favorite things was going to the racetrack and betting on the dogs. She said it always made her want a greyhound as a pet. I love cats, but if I was to get another pet, maybe I’d try a dog. When she gets better, I’m going to go with her.”

  Her thoughts seem to be jumping around, but I attribute it to the stress she’s under and the repeated trauma she’s experienced.

  “No,” Misty says, shaking her head. “Your grandmother never would have gone to a place like that.”

  “She did,” Ashley says. “I guess there are things about her before you came along you didn’t know.” Her eyes snap over to me. “Emma, have you ever been to Vegas?”

  “Las Vegas?” I ask, as if there is another Vegas that might be a viable option in this scenario. “No.”

  “I want to go there. I
hear it’s so much fun. All the bright lights and shows. And of course, the casinos. I’ve heard some people go there and lose a lot of money, but they just can’t get enough of it. This will make sure I have plenty to bring me with me, though.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “When I sue the police department,” she says. “They were supposed to be watching and they weren’t. So, this happened to me, and my grandmother had a heart attack because of it. That should be a decent payout. I’ll probably put some of it away, but I’m booking a high roller trip. We’ll just hope I have better luck there than I did with Wiseacre.”

  She laughs slightly and I look over at Misty.

  “Where are John and Leona?” I ask.

  “John went to get me coffee and Leona is with her grandmother. They have her in the next hallway so we can be with both of them,” she says.

  I nod. “I need to call the rest of the team and let them know what’s going on. If you’ll excuse me.”

  I step out of the room and call Dean to give him a brief overview of what’s happening. As I’m getting off the phone, I get to the room where Ashley’s grandmother is under care. Even from outside the partially open door, I can hear sobbing. I step inside and find Leona sitting beside the bed, her head buried in the bedding beside her grandmother. She’s holding the woman’s hand and crying so hard her body shakes.

  “I don’t know what’s happening, Grandma,” she whispers. “I don’t understand why she’s here. She can’t be. I saw her standing there bleeding and I just…”

  She dissolves into sobs again.

  “Leona?” I say, getting closer.

  She gasps as she lifts her head. “You could have knocked.”

  “I’m sorry. I heard you crying and wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

  “No, I’m not alright. Do you see my grandmother?” she asks.

  “I do. I heard and I am so sorry. But they have her under really good care,” I say.

  “Spare me,” she mutters.

  She stands and starts for the door of the room, brushing past me. Something catches my eye on the bedside table and I go to look at it. The gold bracelet has a plaque in the middle, embedded with small colored stones.

  “Don’t touch that,” Leona snaps.

  I look over at her, surprised she’s still in the room. “Is this your grandmother’s?”

  “Yes. She’s worn it as long as I can remember. It has our birthstones in it.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  I take another look at the bracelet, then walk out into the hallway to go back to Ashley’s room. Leona goes in the opposite direction, but my attention isn’t on her anymore. As I approach Ashley’s room, I see John coming down the hallway.

  “Hi, John,” I say.

  “Agent Griffin,” he says. “Good to see you. I know having you here will reassure Misty. She was very agitated this morning.”

  “I can imagine,” I say. “Can I speak to you for just a second? About Ashley?”

  He nods. “Absolutely. How can I help?”

  “I’ve just noticed something and I wanted to know if it means anything to you.”

  “Alright.”

  “A couple of times now, Ashley has mentioned things like playing lotto or going to a dog track. She was just talking about how she wants to sue the police and use the money to go to Vegas. Every time she talks about it, Misty seems to get really uncomfortable. I know it’s an unusual thing for her to be focused on right now, but the mind works in strange ways sometimes. It might be an escape method for Ashley to think about exerting her adulthood through activities like that. But Misty seems really distressed by the idea. Is that just her protectiveness worrying about Ashley, or does it mean something else to you?”

  John lets out a breath, his shoulders dropping as he looks down into the coffee cup in his hand.

  “Misty always worried it would pass down to the girls. Leona seems to have escaped it, but maybe Ashley isn’t so lucky,” he says.

  “I don’t understand.”

  His eyes meet mine and I see a wisp of sadness and something like longing in them. It’s like looking at the aftermath of memories.

  “Misty has a gambling addiction. She’s been in recovery for a long time, but it got very bad for a while. We actually met in a rehab center that treated addiction.”

  Fifty-One

  “It looks like a nice facility,” I say, biting the end off a carrot stick. “Not one of those get-back-to-nature retreats or anything, but for what it is, it seems good. A lot of the staff is made up of volunteers from the medical community who want to help people battling their addictions.”

  “Is it only for gambling addiction?” Dean asks, taking a bite of his sandwich.

  This might not be the topic of conversation I’d usually like to have during a summer picnic, but it will have to do. I spent most of the day at the police station and at Ashley’s house, trying to piece everything about this morning’s attack together. I didn’t realize I hadn’t stopped all day until Dean, Xavier, and Ava showed up with a picnic for dinner.

  We’re taking advantage of the long summer day to eat outside, but I’m feeling far from leisurely. The whole time we’ve been sitting here, I’ve been researching the rehab center John told me about. It’s hard to imagine Misty there. But knowing about that time in her life helps give me more insight into some of her reactions.

  “No. The center treats a variety of addictions and compulsive behaviors. They use a lot of social engagement and group therapy settings to encourage accountability. The thought is that the patients will learn to rely on friendships, enjoyable activities, and common interests, and not want to let their friends down, which will help to create strong support systems. Because they don’t all share the same addiction, they are supporting each other in the same even playing field of overcoming the basic idea of addiction rather than the objects of their addictions. That’s how Misty and John met. They were in social groups together,” I say.

  “I’m surprised to hear a facility like this would condone romantic relationships between patients,” Ava comments.

  “They don’t,” I say. “John mentioned that. They actively discourage any kind of romantic or sexual relationship. But the two of them were able to get away with more because Misty was pregnant, so people didn’t suspect anything happening with them.”

  “She was pregnant with Ashley?” Dean asks.

  “Yes,” I say, nodding. “Leona was three. She was staying with Mary while Misty underwent treatment. He said it especially helped because one of the nurses was pregnant, too. So they would commiserate with each other and the nurse would give her a little bit of special treatment because of it. He actually showed me a picture of them with their bellies. One of the other nurses took it and apparently printed out a copy of it to give to Misty when she left the facility.”

  “And he happened to be walking around with it?” Dean asks.

  “No. Years ago Misty almost relapsed. John took a picture of the picture so he could have it on his phone and use it as a reminder to her of what she overcame and where she didn’t want to return. He asked me not to tell Misty he’d told me. She’s really sensitive about it,” I say.

  “Are you going to keep it to yourself?” Dean asks.

  “I think so. At least for now. I don’t see any reason to mention it to her yet.”

  “You know, I never thought of gambling as an addiction the same way I think of something like alcoholism or smoking. Those are seen in patterns in families, but it never occurred to me that something like gambling addiction could pass down to another generation. But it clearly did. Ashley has a strong compulsion toward gambling.”

  I nod. “I know some of it is wanting to act like an adult, but it’s such a draw. She was talking about that with more intensity than she was about her grandmother, who is a few rooms away after barely surviving a heart attack. The only thing she talked about concerning her grandmother was the basic facts about her collap
sing. She was much more animated about going to dog tracks and their going together when she gets better. She even said her grandmother wants a greyhound as a pet and that she might want to try one, too. She’s a cat person, but thinks a dog might be an option.”

  “A cat person?” Ava asks. “Did she tell you that?”

  “Yeah,” I shrug, taking a bite of my veggie-stuffed pita and cramming the wayward ends into my mouth. “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t tell you this because I didn’t want you to get mad. But I talked to Leona,” she says, cringing.

  “What did you find out?” I ask.

  “Use the shovel well,” Xavier says to Ava in a solemn voice.

  “I asked her about Sean and what their relationship is and was. She told me that they are seeing each other and have been for years. They’ve always tried to keep it under wraps a bit because they don’t fit into each other’s worlds.”

  “But what about Allison?” I ask.

  “She didn’t know about that,” Ava says. “But one thing she mentioned was that it was hard back then, because he had a cat and she is extremely allergic. She even hated getting into his car because he would let the cat ride around with him. There was so much fur and dander, it was miserable for her. If she had that kind of reaction to just being near a guy with a cat, there’s no way that the family would own one.”

  “I thought I remembered seeing a picture of Ashley with a cat, though,” I say.

  Ava nods. “It was one of the pictures the news used to publicize her case. Just a random childhood shot. That cat belonged to a friend of hers.”

  This gets my mind turning. Things I’ve heard Ashley say start to bubble up to the surface of my thoughts.

  In the hospital, she asked for a banana split with extra pineapple.

  She wanted lemonade with lunch.

  Wiping off my hands, I pull out my tablet and find archives of the local newscasts. I listen to the statements Misty made leading up to the vigil.

  “What’s going on?” Dean asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “But let’s see if I can find out. Thanks for the picnic.”