Out of Her Mind

by Ragan, T. R.

  The stabbing pain in her gut told her it might be too late to save anyone at all.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Palmer sat at his desk, pondering everything Sawyer had told him. She never slowed down, and he was beginning to realize she never would. Her compassion was matched only by her boundless energy. He glanced at the pile of papers that needed to be looked over and signed, then swept them to the side and opened the file Sawyer had left behind.

  As he read her neatly compiled notes that included a summary of Deena Finlay’s history, Paige Owens’s report of what she saw, and an account from a man named Bob Upperman, who had seen a woman fitting the description of Melony Pershing wearing a sling and getting into a car in front of Mark Brennan’s house the day Riley Addison went missing, a fire stirred within. Sawyer was onto something.

  He shut down his computer and sent Cindy, his editorial assistant, a message letting her know he was following a lead and would be out of the office for the next hour.

  Palmer slid behind the wheel of his Jeep, cursing under his breath as his gaze fixated on his granddaughter. He opened Sawyer’s file, found Melony Pershing’s address, and logged it in to his car’s navigation system. His plan was to simply take a look around the residence and knock on the door. If no one answered, he would take the file to Perez and let him take over from there if he saw fit to do so.

  The woman lived in West Sacramento. Because of traffic, it took him fifteen minutes to get to the cozy yellow house with regular square windows and a covered porch on both sides of the bottom level. He continued on to the end of the block where he found a parking spot and climbed out.

  As he walked toward the house he enjoyed the warm sun against his back. A woman and her son exited the house next door. The kid was probably nine. He wore a blue-and-yellow soccer uniform with the number ten.

  “You’re not the plumber, are you?” the woman asked.

  It took Palmer a half second to realize she was talking to him. He rested both hands on his chest, looked around, and said, “No. I’m not a plumber.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad. Melony told me she’d hired a plumber to fix her pipes in the upstairs bathroom, but as soon as she drove away this morning, I heard some clinking and clanging coming from up there again.”

  She glanced up at the side window visible from the woman’s driveway.

  The window was tinted, probably to keep the heat out and the cool air in. “So you never saw the plumber coming or going?” Palmer asked.

  “No. I never saw a truck either. But my son swears he saw someone through the upstairs window that looks into our backyard.”

  “Mom,” her son called, “we’re going to be late.”

  “I better go,” she said. “If you see Melony, will you tell her that her pipes are still making noises?”

  “I’ll do that,” Palmer said as he headed for the front door.

  Bubbles drew the curtain shut.

  With all the hoopla happening at the school between stupid Amy Lennox and the media, she’d realized this morning that the walls could very well be closing in on her. Timing was everything. If she’d known Cora’s bones had been discovered, she would have waited before she went searching for Molly.

  She never should have left the envelope or slashed the idiot reporter’s tire. Completely unnecessary, but oh, so fun. A giggle erupted at the thought. She slapped her hand over her mouth. The second time she giggled, she grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked hard until the pain made her eyes water.

  “You dumb bitch!” That’s what her mother would have called her if she were here now. “You stupid, stupid girl.”

  Bubbles looked over her shoulder at Molly. It saddened her to think she had to get rid of her so quickly. Molly could have been the perfect daughter.

  She sighed and tried to cheer up by telling herself that if she and Molly had spent another year or two together, the child would only grow older, and maybe she would even leave her. She couldn’t let that happen.

  She had to take care of the problem now so that Molly could be remembered as the perfect child for eternity.

  The first thing she’d done upon returning home was dissolve a pill in Molly’s water. That’s when she’d heard voices outside. A peek through the window revealed her nosy neighbor talking to a man Bubbles didn’t recognize.

  She walked back to the bed. Molly looked so peaceful. Her eyes were shut, her breathing even.

  But all good things must come to an end, she thought when she heard the dreaded knock on her front door. Scooping up the syringe and pills on the bedside table, she shoved it all into the top drawer of the high dresser and then exited the room.

  Before shutting the bedroom door, she looked back at Molly and felt her chest tighten.

  This was Molly’s fault. She had made a racket and managed to get the attention of her nosy neighbor. As she fought the urge to march back inside and strangle the girl with her bare hands, there was another knock.

  Quietly she shut the door, hurried down the stairs, and then came to a lurching stop. What if the man was here about something that had nothing to do with Molly? He could be a neighbor from across the way for all she knew.

  Another knock got her moving. Straightening her spine, she opened the door.

  Palmer hadn’t expected the door to open, but it did, and the woman staring out at him reminded him of his third-grade teacher. The one who’d thrown an eraser clear across the room, hitting him squarely between the eyes. There was something overly authoritative about the woman. Maybe it was the way she held her head painfully high, as if she were straining to do so. Her big round eyes looked even bigger set beneath overly plucked brows. High cheekbones and a straight nose made him think she might have been a looker in her heyday.

  “I’m with the Sacramento Independent,” he said, “and I was wondering if I could talk to you about your friend, Amy Lennox.” The lie came easily enough.

  “Now is not a good time. Amy is at the school. If you hurry, you might catch her before she leaves.”

  “Help!”

  The cry for help came from the second floor.

  “I’ve got to go,” she said. “My daughter isn’t feeling well.”

  Before she could shut the door, he lodged his foot next to the frame, preventing her from doing so.

  “Leave now,” she said in a rumbling voice, “or I’ll call the police.”

  There was no mistaking the call for help. His insides tingled in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while. He didn’t need that good old intuition Sawyer used at full throttle every day of her life to know that something was horribly wrong. “Your daughter is in Minnesota,” he said flatly. “Who is upstairs?”

  “Don’t leave me!” came another weak cry for help.

  Wild elephants couldn’t pull him away. There was no turning back now. He’d never barged into a person’s house uninvited in his life, but to hell with it. He was going in.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Sawyer left her sisters at Harper’s house and drove to Ella’s school. Harper had called the school office and was told that Ella got on the bus with everyone else, but Sawyer wanted to personally check the school property. Aria would drive to Ella’s friend’s house while Sawyer headed for the school. Harper would stay home in case Ella showed up.

  Sawyer had a call coming in from a number she didn’t recognize. She picked up.

  “This is Bernie at Little Starfish Swimming School. I finally got a minute, and I think I found the video footage you were interested in seeing.”

  Sawyer had visited the swimming school when she’d trekked across the field next to Mark Brennan’s house. “Was there anyone on the video the night before I talked to you?”

  “Yes. There sure was. A woman parked her car across the street at two in the morning, then got out and made her way across the field. Less than ten minutes later, she returned to her car and drove off. The car is silver. I’m guessing if you know someone with the right equipment they might be able to m
ake out the license plate or maybe even zoom in on the woman’s face.”

  “Thank you, Bernie. If you could hold on to that until I can get there, I would appreciate it.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Sawyer ended the call before arriving at Ella’s school. On any other day and in any other moment in time, she would have been racing to Little Starfish Swimming School. But her niece was missing and nothing else mattered.

  She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of Ella being taken. She drove through the parking lot. There were a couple of kids sitting on benches, waiting to be picked up, but for the most part, the school grounds were empty.

  Sawyer parked, climbed out, and hurried to the front office where two women were closing shop for the day. One of them was Nurse Amy. She looked up and scowled. “Your sister called here already. Ella took the bus.”

  “How do you know for sure?” Sawyer asked.

  “Mrs. Kerry, Ella’s math teacher, was here when your sister called. Mrs. Kerry saw Ella get on the bus.”

  “I’d like to talk to Mrs. Kerry.”

  “She’s gone for the day. Perhaps your niece got off the bus and walked home with a friend.”

  Sawyer looked around the office. On the coat hook at the far end of the room was a red cardigan with ladybugs. Her stomach tumbled and turned. “Where is Melony Pershing?”

  “She went home early,” the other woman said. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

  Sawyer left the office and ran back to her car, her heart racing. This couldn’t be happening. Ella, where are you? Tires screeched as she pulled out of the parking lot.

  She called Palmer in hopes he’d taken time to look at the file and call Detective Perez. His editorial assistant answered the phone and told her he’d left the building thirty minutes ago to follow a lead.

  Where would Palmer have run off to? There had been a stack of work in front of him, which told her he had no plans to leave the office early.

  Sawyer drove another two blocks, then pulled to the side of the road to send Palmer a text: Where are you?

  About to drive away, on the sidewalk up ahead she saw a young boy and girl sitting on a retaining wall. From where Sawyer sat it looked like Ella and her friend George. She merged onto the street. As she drew closer she saw that it was definitely Ella, smiling and laughing. Not a care in the world.

  Relief flooded through her, and the tears came fast. There was no stopping them. Again, she pulled to the side of the road. Leaving the engine running, she jumped out of the car and ran toward her niece, shouting, “Ella!”

  Both Ella and her friend froze when they spotted Sawyer.

  Ella jumped off the wall to her feet. She looked especially worried, maybe even slightly terrified when Sawyer wrapped her arms around her and held tight.

  “What’s wrong?” Ella asked.

  Sawyer stepped away. “You weren’t at the bus stop. Your mother has been looking everywhere for you. What were you thinking?”

  “It’s my fault,” the boy said. “I talked her into walking home with me.”

  “You’re grounded,” she told Ella. “And you too,” she told the boy. She stared Ella down. “Get in the car. Now!”

  The two kids exchanged worried glances.

  “Do you need a ride home?” Sawyer asked.

  He pointed to a brick house nearby and shook his head. “I live right there.”

  “Come on,” Sawyer said to Ella, ushering her niece to the car. Once she was buckled in, Sawyer called Harper. The line was busy. She called Aria next.

  “I’m back home with Harper. We still haven’t found her,” Aria said. “None of her friends know where she is.”

  “Ella is here with me,” Sawyer told her. “I’m bringing her home.”

  “Oh, my God! Harper! Sawyer has Ella! Where was she?”

  “I found her walking home with her boyfriend.”

  Ella moaned. “He’s not my boyfriend. And what is wrong with you? You hugged me. You never hug anyone.”

  Sawyer ignored her.

  “Ella, are you really there?” Harper asked.

  Harper was on the line now so Sawyer handed her niece the phone.

  “I’m here, Mom. Geez. Why is everyone making such a big deal out of my walking home?”

  “Don’t ever do that to me again,” Harper said in a tearful voice. “Do you hear me?”

  “Yes,” Ella said. And then she began to cry too.

  Sawyer dropped Ella off at home. While Harper simultaneously lectured her daughter while holding her close, Sawyer thought about Melony Pershing. Why had she gone home early? Had the swarm of media at the school scared her? Her stomach quivered as she called Palmer’s office again. He still hadn’t returned. Fuck it. She was going to Melony Pershing’s house. She’d found one girl, and now it was time to find another.

  Aria stopped her as she made her way back to her car.

  “What is it?” Sawyer asked.

  “You’re going to that woman’s house, aren’t you?”

  Sawyer shook her head, not wanting to drag her sister down with her if she decided to break and enter.

  Aria reached into the front pocket of her sweater. “You’re a horrible liar. Take this.” Aria slipped her gun into Sawyer’s hand, careful to keep it pointed downward. “It’s loaded and ready to go. That woman is out of her mind. If things get out of hand, hold firm and then just aim and shoot.”

  Sawyer nodded and then took off again, this time for Melony Pershing’s house.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Palmer pushed his way into Melony Pershing’s house and went straight for the stairs. By the time he reached the top, he was winded and wishing he was in better shape. He looked down at the landing. The woman was gone, probably in her car ready to take off. The police would have to catch up to her later.

  The bedroom door to his left was closed. He turned the knob and entered the room. The smell hit him hard, making him gag.

  His heart sank when his gaze fell on a little girl lying on a bed in the middle of the room, her head propped awkwardly on stained pillows. Her wrists and ankles were shackled within metal cuffs. Her hair had been cut off at various lengths and at odd angles. He’d seen Riley Addison’s picture enough times to know it was her.

  As he drew closer, he couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Not until he felt for a pulse and watched her fingers curl around his hand, too weak to lift the heavy chains. The bruises and scratches covering her arms made him sick to his stomach.

  She opened her eyes. Her face was gaunt, her eyes hollow.

  Sawyer had been right; Riley Addison was alive, just waiting for someone to save her.

  He squeezed her hand and forced a smile, afraid she wouldn’t make it if he didn’t get help soon.

  The key.

  He needed to find the key to unlock the cuffs. The drawer to the bedside table was empty. He reached for his cell to call 9-1-1. Before he could press the side button, he saw a look of horror cross over the girl’s face at the same moment someone punched him in the back.

  What the hell? The pain ripped through him.

  He whirled around. The woman hadn’t run off, after all. She held a sharp blade, blood dripping from its tip. She had stabbed him. Her big round eyes gleamed with excitement as she lifted the knife and thrust the blade into his side.

  There was a sickening swoosh as she pulled the blade out. He raised an arm to stop her, but she thrust the knife into his arm.

  The searing pain was white hot. He felt as if he were on fire, being burned alive. Shades of purple and white, red and brown clouded his vision as he stumbled backward away from her, his back against the wall when she came for him again.

  Aided by a single moment of clarity and rage, his adrenaline soared, giving him the strength he needed to lift his leg and jab the hard sole of his shoe into her stomach.

  Melony Pershing grunted as she fought to find balance and instead fell and landed on top of the bed.

  Riley came alive, screami
ng. She sat up like something in a horror movie, her face stained with food or blood, he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t only her arms that were covered with cuts and scratches, her neck and face were too. Her eyes looked momentarily clear and bright as she wrapped the chains attached to her wrists around the woman’s throat, grimacing as she pulled, every muscle straining. It was as if she’d been waiting for this moment her entire life.

  Melony Pershing’s arms flailed like a human windmill, the blade narrowly missing the girl and slicing through the mattress instead. The woman’s face turned crimson with shades of blue and then her body fell limp. The knife slid from her hand to the ground and skittered across the floor.

  Weak from loss of blood, Palmer sank to the ground, wishing he could help Riley escape.

  His eyes closed in a long blink.

  When he opened them again, his vision was blurred, but there was no mistaking the horror unfolding before him as Melony Pershing pushed herself off the bed, found her footing, and went in search of her knife.

  His failure to help the girl cut deeper than Melony Pershing’s knife.

  Riley’s eyes were closed. She’d given it her all, and yet it hadn’t been enough.

  Sawyer’s heart thumped against her ribs when she saw Palmer’s Jeep parked at the end of the block from Melony Pershing’s house. She found a place to park, grabbed the gun Aria had given her, jumped out of the car, and ran.

  Once she reached the front door, she stood quietly on the welcome mat and listened.

  A couple of kids rode by on their bikes. A squirrel rustled the leaves in the high branches of a tree. She grasped the handle, surprised to find the door unlocked. Pushing the door wide open, she stepped inside.

  The front entry was empty. The house was quiet.

  Leaving the door open, she took slow, careful steps into the main room.

  Empty.

  Same with the kitchen.

  Shoulders tight, elbows close to her sides, gun aimed straight ahead, she made her way quietly up the stairs. The temptation to shout Palmer’s name weighed heavily, but calling attention to herself made zero sense until she knew what she was dealing with.