by B Anders
“Well if you need to know,” Jessie began cheerfully as she eyed the taller woman, “I spent the night in here naked and chained to the plumbing while you were snoring and dead to the world. Thanks a lot for forgetting and leaving me here alone in this rat-hole, by the way. Just the sort of professional conduct, I’ve come to expect from you, Officer Willis. Oh, in other news, the ceiling has seven hundred and twenty two stains on it and could really do with a fresh coat of paint.”
Colby flashed a quick look at the naked woman sitting in the dry tub with a bloody ankle where the shackle cut into tender skin. She would have to see to that ankle later. Despite, whatever happened between them over the years, she hadn’t meant to hurt Jessie. Colby didn’t consider herself cruel. She was no monster.
“I didn’t mean you. You were here. Nothing happened to you. I meant, what happened to me.”
“Damned if I know. You got me naked, chained me up, set a booby trap with that stupid radio, and went on your merry way. It was hours before you came back. You didn’t say shit to me when I shouted for you to let me out. I assumed you were dead drunk and just passed out.”
Giving Colby a wicked smile Jessie asked slyly, “What’s the matter, Officer Willis? Another rough night with a bottle and a woman whose name you can’t remember?”
Colby shook her head and turned her face away. She didn’t want Jessie to see the fear in her eyes. She had enough on her plate with keeping herself together as it was. Jessie was baiting her again like always but this time she was cutting it too close to home.
When Jessie saw that she wouldn’t get an answer out of Colby, she taunted again, rubbing salt deeper into the raw, angry wound, “Can’t even remember where you put your tongue, Officer Willis? Figures. You could never say no to a bottle or a pussy. You were always such a friggin’ loser.”
Colby remained silent. She wished for once Jessie was right. The morning would be far less complicated if all this was the end result of a one night stand and a bottle of Jack. If she merely drank her way into oblivion then it would mean there was a logical explanation for the missing time however pathetic. But, Colby was certain there was no booze. The last thing she remembered was coming around on the lobby floor after the seizure. Another fit, a bad one, left her feeling so sick she had to close her eyes for just a minute and … then nothing. Nothing she could remember, nothing to explain the missing hours of her life.
“Fuck, what happened to me?” Colby muttered suddenly distracted. She needed to get away from Jessie Walsh. A migraine was fighting to get a foot hold behind her eyes. She needed to go lie down.
“Um, Colby you don’t look so good maybe you could unlock the cuffs before you croak? It would be really shitty to starve to death in a tub. What with the easy access to water and fairly protected surroundings and everything, I’d last for weeks.” Jessie pleaded this time sounding nervous.
The Colby she knew was always in control, all spit and polish from her neat pressed pants and tailored jacket to her shinning black boots. Jessie hated the sight of her father’s protégée, the spitting image of him with his stupid starched whites. But this was a new Colby, one that was angry and out of control with a wild light in her eyes Jessie liked even less. This Colby was beginning to frighten her. This unpredictable Colby reminded her too much of herself.
Colby gave her a puzzled look.
“What? Don't you know anything? It's basic biology. Mammals can survive on water for weeks without food. I put myself through college, remember? Got a full scholarship. I’m very, very smart, not like some dumb ass cop I know.” Jessie replied with a cocky grin trying to reclaim her edge.
Colby shook her head with a sad smile, “I know. You did the pre-med track. You wanted to work with sick kids. I was there when you graduated and what a fuckin’ waste you turned out to be.”
For a brief moment Colby thought Jessie looked hurt, her loss stripped bare and exposed like a deer caught in spotlights, before her eyes clouded over in a familiar expression of rage.
“If I want your opinion about my life, Officer Willis, I’ll ask for it. Otherwise, shut the fuck up. Your compassion is reminiscent of my father’s limited empathy. That fuckin’ shit, may he rot in hell.”
“You have no idea,” Colby mumbled with a vague memory of Marty.
Trying to shake off an ominous feeling of doom, she pulled her shirt off, almost tumbling head down onto the bathroom floor in the process. It took a hand against the wall to steady her. Taking a deep breath, Colby let her eyes drift shut swallowing down the bitter taste of bile at the back of her throat. Her head was spinning. She needed to lie down.
“Oh no, wait, don’t faint, hey, Colby! Wake up!”
“Give me a second,” Colby grumbled as she struggled to open her eyes. She was so tired.
“No fuckin’ way! You’re going to pass out and if you smash your head on the floor. You’ll bleed like a heparinized pig and die right in front of me. Then I might need to eat your skinny ass to keep from starving to death very, very slowly. So, no way I'll give you a minute! Fuckin’ wake up!”
In the back of her mind, Colby could hear Jessie’s screams and the loud persistent rattling of the shackle as she began to yank furiously on her chains. The voice calling out in perfect timing to the sound of metal clanging against metal. She wondered how something so small could make such a din. Steadying her breathing, she began to collect the scattered pieces of herself. It was slow at first, but then, as the throbbing in her head began to die down, her thoughts began to line up in proper order. She opened her eyes. She was not named among the dead. Not yet, anyway. She‘d been spared and would live for now.
Colby recovered her bearings and began to unhook her sports bra. “Relax, nothing’s gonna happen.”
“Easy for you to say, Officer Willis. You haven’t been chained naked to a pipe for hours sitting in your own shit.”
Colby grinned for the first time that morning at the smile hidden in Jessie’s voice.
“Don’t be so sure. Besides, we know this ain’t the first time you’ve been chained up for the night. Hey, wait. I thought you were some kind of Houdini of restraints. Why didn’t you just pick the cuffs open with your teeth or something equally amazing?”
Jessie remained sullen as Colby stood up. She scowled as she watched the taller woman shuffle over to the clock radio on the bathroom floor and tug the cord out of the socket. Without warning, Colby hurled the electrical device like a projectile over her shoulder smashing it with a loud violent crash against the wall above Jessie’s head, showering the shell shocked woman with bits of plastic and wire. When Colby stepped closer to the tub Jessie started crying.
“What are you going to do? Where are the keys? Just let me get out of the tub, ok? Shackle me to the bed but let me out of the tub, please.” Jessie blubbered like a frighten child, “Please, Colby, don’t hurt me.”
Colby chuckled softly. “So Ms. Walsh, I’m Colby now, not Officer Willis. Why would I hurt you? Oh yeah, right, I forgot. You stabbed me. Don’t worry; I’m not the vindictive sort.”
Colby leaned over Jessie and turned the shower on full blast. Cold. Jessie screamed as the freezing water hit her naked body.
“Well, not too vindictive.”
“Bitch,” Jessie hissed as she tried to squirm away from the spray of pelting water. Colby ignored her as she adjusted the water temp. Once it was warm enough, she eased her wounded leg over the tub edge before dragging in the rest of her aching body. She used the bar of soap which she’d given to Jessie earlier to lather everything including her hair. She kept a toiletry pouch in the gym bag but she didn’t have the time or patience to search for shampoo right now. She didn’t care how she looked. She just needed to be clean. Ivory Soap would work fine for that.
“You fuckin’ enjoy humiliating me, don’t you? You sick piece of shit,” Jessie snarled while hunkering down away from Colby trying to limit their body contact.
“Yep,” Colby hummed happily as she finished washing her h
air.
“I hate you.”
“Funny, I hate you too. See, we do have something in common after all these years.”
Colby quickly finished up her shower with a full body rinse and a mouthful of water. She swished the tepid water around her cheeks before spitting it out like a fountain.
“Shit,” Jessie cursed as the water sprayed her.
“Oops,” Colby said and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Sorry, didn’t actually mean to do that but I can’t say I regret it.”
Jessie just glared daggers at her while rinsing the spit out of her hair, too angry to even say a word. Colby gave her an extra couple of minutes before shutting the water off. Then came the hard part, easing herself out of the tub. Her leg was throbbing and needed attention. No choice but to limp back to the bag. She grabbed a towel and began to dry off when the sound of clanging drew her attention back to the bathroom.
Jessie climbed out of the tub. She stood staring at Colby in an awkward but defiant pose. Her arms neatly folded over her small, hard breasts. One foot planted firmly on the tiled floor. The other still stuck in the tub tethered to the short chain holding it there. Colby pointed to her clothes on the floor. Jessie looked at them and then stared back blankly.
“Wash ‘em then I’ll let you get dressed.”
Jessie’s arms came down by her side, hands clenched tight into fists, “What the fuck? Am I some kind of slave now? Barefoot, shackled, forced to work. What are you gonna do next? Tie me up like a prize cow and screw me up the ass? You’ll enjoy that won’t you, you freak.”
Colby made a grimace, “Screw you? Are you kidding me? Why would I want to fuck the cunt that killed my buddy?”
“Because you’ve always liked fuckin’ me, you filthy dyke. You've been sniffing around my skirts from the first day we met … my father never stopped warning me about you. You should have heard some of the things he said. Said you were a …”
“I’ve never touched you without you begging for it in my life and you know it. Shut the fuck up or so help me I’m going to blow a big fat hole in your head,” Colby screamed livid with uncontrollable anger. “Now, wash my clothes!”
“With what?! You freakin’ bitch!!!” Jessie shouted back as she picked the soiled clothes up off the floor.
“A little water, a little soap, a lot of elbow grease. I don’t care the fuck how! Just get to it!”
“How ‘bout a rock to beat them against then I can brain you with it when I’m done, you fuckin’ asshole!”
Slamming the bathroom door hard enough to rock it off one of its hinges, Colby stalked over to the far side of the bed and took a deep breathe. The door drifted back open behind her. She hated it when she lost control and Jessie Walsh was oh-so-good at pushing all her buttons. Colby decided the faster she got what she wanted out of Jessie and the faster she got that witch off her hands the better. The woman was driving her crazy. Even just looking at her was making Colby nuts.
“Pay backs are a bitch,” Colby mumbled.
She turned on the TV before rummaging for fresh clothes in her bag. The sound of running water and television commercials filled the air. She needed to re-bandage her wound before she got dressed. There was an old tank top in the bag which was soft enough to double as a dressing. Still her leg was feeling pretty good considering a pen was sticking out of it less than eighteen hours ago. Jeans and a black tee shirt quickly followed. Underwear, apparently, was a luxury item on this trip.
"Goin' Commando," she hissed as she tore the duct tape from her skin
It hurt but not as bad as she gingerly pulled the face cloth off the dried wound. Some fresh blood oozed at spots where the material stuck. But, there was no heavy flow. The worst of the bleeding was done.
"Hmm, probably good enough as it is," she decided and tossed the tank top back in the bag before tugging on the worn out jeans.
“Breaking news from Metro West. A murder with an alarming connection to the Ripper’s Daughter serial killings here in Boston. For more on the story, we go to Natalie Wu live in Framingham at the State Police barracks.”
Colby spun on her heels at the news of the killing. This was not happening. He couldn’t be here. He was in Boston. She felt her head suddenly grow heavy. She needed to sit down. Dropping onto the bed, Colby struggled to focus her attention on the flickering screen. The sound of running water abruptly stopped as Natalie Wu began her report.
“Thank you, Joe. State Police are releasing few details of the investigation. What we do know is a body was discovered on a closed access road behind Shopper’s World just before 6 am by an elderly man walking his dog. The scene was so grisly, according to investigators; the man suffered a heart attack after using his cell phone to call the police. Boston Homicide detectives are on the scene due to striking similarities with the long running serial killings in Boston known as the Ripper’s Daughter Murders. No details on the victim have been released pending notification of her next of kin. This is a developing story and additional information is expected to be released during a noon press conference here at the State Police Barracks.”
Colby grabbed her phone. There were twenty two unanswered messages staring back at her. She hit the recall button and waited.
“It is about fuckin’ time!” The Captain barked as he picked up her call mid-ring. “Where the fuck are you, Willis? We need you here now. We have a lead on the fucker.”
“Car broke down. Getting it fixed. I’m at a hotel,” Colby replied careful to avoid giving him a direct answer. Her immediate proximity to the murder scene was too unnerving to mention.
“Faust is on scene with the Staties. Can you guess who else is there, Willis? Hmm, can you just guess?”
“Feds,” Colby swallowed hard.
“Fuckin’ Feds is right! Shit! We’ve lost control of this investigation and now all our hard work is getting gifted to those fuckers and we’ll be out in the cold! And, this is the break we needed! Fuckin’ pissin’ shittin’ suck fest!”
“What break?”
“The victim is still breathing!”
Colby could feel her stomach curl itself tight into knots. It worried her. This uncanny feeling that something was wrong that she could not account for her whereabouts for the last twelve hours coupled with the unwelcome knowledge the latest victim was still alive. Colby looked toward the silent bathroom and the unusually quiet figure standing there for a long moment before returning to her call.
“It’s not like him to leave them breathing. It’s not his MO."
“Oh, the victim will be dead very soon. This is definitely our killer. Massive injuries. Can’t go over it again so soon or I’ll puke—again. But, the body is still warm. Tossing heart beats for now. Brain dead for sure but warm enough to know we aren’t too far behind the muttafucker this time.”
The Captain asked again, “Where are you? I’ll have Faust pick you up. But I’m warning you Willis, don’t fight in the car or I’ll write you up. I don’t have time for your stupid macho shit.”
“I gotta get my car. It should be ready by now … I have Jessie Walsh with me.”
“What? Jessie? The Jessie Walsh? You better have an explanation, Willis.”
“Her new lawyer wanted me to take her back to Boston for a few days while he looked for another place for her. The nut house wasn’t up to snuff. They were using her like a punching bag. You should see the bruises on her. It was bad stuff. But, the car broke down. It was late so I got a hotel room instead of bothering Faust.”
“You are the dumbest fuck I’ve ever met! Jessie out of the loony bin and we score another murder? Fantastic! That’s just perfect! Where the fuck is she now?
“She’s in the bathroom. I have her in line of sight and the door’s open. Look, I was with her all night. She didn’t leave my side the entire time.” Colby looked up and saw Jessie watching her. “Look Captain, there’s no way in hell she could have gone out, thumbed a ride, and killed anybody with me right here.”
As the lie fe
ll from Colby’s lips, Jessie smiled.
*****
Chapter 7
“You are kidding, right?” Colby asked Pickman as she stood staring at the chugging station wagon he arrived in.
The car stood out like a behemoth in the empty parking lot, a throwback from the golden age of cheap gas and huge families. It was an old-fashioned Ford LTD station wagon, with a long heavy body and rear wheel drive typical of older American cars. Despite its obvious age, it was a solid vehicle with no dents to mar its straight unyielding lines. The chrome was still intact, although time had mellowed the original silver finish into a subtle greyish hue. Other than a scattering of cigarette burns in the leatherette seats, there were no rips or tears in the sea blue vinyl.
It was, as far as Rick Pickman was concerned, a gorgeous example of an American classic. He had a soft spot for Ford wagons. He used to drive one round himself as a young man. He even got lucky the first time in the front seat of one. So he was getting real sick and tired of she cop and her skinny, scruffy girlfriend looking down their noses at a decent ride.
