Freak

by Jennifer Hillier

  “Cross your fingers she’s there,” he said, and left.

  chapter 32

  SUPERINTENDENT ELKES CAME through with an address.

  It took Jerry an hour to arrive at Grove High School, where Abby Maddox’s Be Smart group was speaking. As soon as he saw the chaos in the parking lot, his heart sank.

  A cluster of inmates, maybe a dozen or so, all dressed in bright blue button-down shirts and thick black slacks, were standing by the front entrance of the school. Abby Maddox wasn’t among them.

  Torrance hadn’t arrived yet, and might not, depending on what the police officers here had to say to Jerry. Flashing his temporary police ID, which had expired a few days ago (not that anyone would notice), he headed toward a senior officer. Not senior in terms of authority, senior as in he had thinning steel-gray hair. Guy probably should have retired a few years back.

  “Hey, Jerry!” Bill Wozniacki said, shaking his hand. “I heard you were consulting for the PD. Good to see you.”

  “Hi, Bill.” Jerry forced a smile. He liked Bill, they’d worked together a long time back in the day, but he was in no mood for pleasantries. “Good to see you, too.”

  “How long you been retired now, bro? Three years?”

  “Two.”

  “How’s Marianne? I was just saying to the wife the other day—”

  “Whatcha got for me, Bill?” Jerry said in his best no-nonsense voice. There was plenty of time for catch-up later.

  Bill was a seasoned cop and he didn’t blink. “The school called us about thirty minutes ago, telling us they lost one of the Be Smart inmates. We didn’t even know it was Abby Maddox until we got here. Apparently someone set off a flare in the auditorium during the talk, which caused a ton of smoke and set the fire alarms and sprinklers off. Three hundred kids panicked, everybody rushed the doors, she slipped out.”

  “She slipped out?” Jerry repeated in disbelief.

  “Heads are gonna roll, I know.” Bill shook his head. “Anyway, she’s gone, Jerry. We found Maddox’s shirt, pants, and shoes stuffed into a trash bin behind the stage.”

  “So she had help,” Jerry said. “If she’d ditched her prison garb, then someone brought her clothes. Shit.”

  “Not just clothes. A guard’s uniform. Couple of the kids we questioned said they saw a CO slip out the back entrance, but they didn’t realize it was Maddox.”

  Jerry strode over to where the rest of the Be Smart group was standing. There were seven inmates and two guards, one male, one female. “Which one of you is in charge?” he said, flashing his consultant’s ID.

  The male guard stepped forward. “I am.” His name tag read DOS SANTOS.

  “How could you lose her?” Jerry said, the rasp in his voice so pronounced he sounded strangled. “How the hell does that happen?”

  Dos Santos looked helpless, his hand over his stomach. Jerry would be very surprised if the man still had a job tomorrow. “I had to step out to go to the bathroom. It was an emergency. That only left Officer Solomon to watch the group. The program’s underfunded.” He looked down and muttered, “I knew something tasted funny with the eggs this morning.”

  “Then you should have stopped after the first bite,” Torrance’s dry voice said from behind Jerry.

  He turned to find his former partner looking slightly more disheveled than usual. “About time you got here.” Jerry quickly relayed what they knew about Maddox, which wasn’t very much.

  “I already have an APB out on her. We’ll find her.” Torrance led Jerry away from the crowd a little. “And you’ll never guess who else is missing.”

  “I don’t know if I want to know.”

  “Mark Cavanaugh, the corrections officer from Maddox’s first prison. I called Rosedale to talk to Maddox’s cellmate about the phone, and she mentioned Cavanaugh got fired over a week ago and nobody’s heard from him since. Apparently the CO and Maddox were intimately involved. Didn’t you mention they were eye-fucking each other when you were there?”

  “You have such a way with words,” Jerry said drily, nodding.

  “Anyway,” Torrance continued, “Cavanaugh has two residences, an apartment near the prison and a larger home in Concrete that’s been in his family for a long time. Guess what the family name is.”

  “No idea.”

  “Wheaton.” Torrance paused to let it sink in, but Jerry was blanking on the significance of this. “As in, Doris Wheaton. As in, the name of the old lady whose grave we dug up at Heavenly Rest to find victim number three.”

  Jerry’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”

  “She was Cavanaugh’s grandmother. The house in Concrete was hers. She had no other family, so Cavanaugh inherited it when she died.”

  Jerry closed his eyes, trying to process it all. “Where is Concrete, anyway? I’ve never heard of it.”

  “I had to Google-map it myself,” Torrance said. “It’s north. East of Mount Vernon. Population is like, less than a thousand. Anyway, I’ve got an APB out on Cavanaugh, too. For sure he’s helping Maddox. She didn’t escape by herself, and it’s way too convenient that we can’t track him down.”

  Jerry began to pace. First Jeremiah Blake, now Mark Cavanaugh. Was there anyone Maddox hadn’t manipulated?

  “I’d better call Sheila.” Jerry’s heart grew heavy as soon as he said the words. “Let her know that Maddox is out there. Christ. Morris is gonna flip.”

  He scrolled through his phone until he found Sheila’s contact info and called. A moment later, he got her voice mail. He left a message, then tried her at the university. Finally he sent her a text message. The text would be the first thing she’d see when she finally checked her phone, which would save time.

  “You should try Morris,” Torrance said. “He’ll know where she is.”

  Jerry hesitated. Things were good with him and Morris right now, and this one phone call was certain to shoot that all to hell. But of course Torrance was right—if anyone knew where Sheila would be, her fiancé would, and he was going to find out about all this, anyway. Jerry called Morris at the investment firm. Marcy, his executive assistant, answered and within a few seconds he was connected with the big man.

  Jerry got right to the point. “Do you know where Sheila is?”

  “Why?” Morris’s deep voice was instantly wary.

  Jerry took a deep breath and braced himself. “Abby Maddox is gone. Today was her first day with the Be Smart program, and, well . . . they lost her.” He quickly explained what the program was about.

  He heard Morris suck in a long breath and he steeled himself for the barrage he knew was about to come.

  “They lost her?” Morris hollered in his ear. “They lost her? Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m so sorry—”

  “You’re sorry? You’re goddamned sorry?” Morris shouted, and Jerry winced. “I told you that this would happen. I told you she couldn’t be trusted. Now what? She’s coming after my fiancée? Did you try calling Sheila? Goddamn you, Jerry!”

  “Well, that’s just it, I can’t seem to get ahold of her.” Jerry spoke rapidly, hoping in some ridiculous way that talking fast would minimize the impact of his words.

  A pause. Too long. Finally Morris spoke and Jerry could hear the forced control in his friend’s voice. Not a good sign. Morris yelling meant Morris was still in control. Morris calm at a time like this meant the man’s huge head was about to burst. “Did you try her cell?”

  “Yes. Twice. And I’ve texted.”

  “Her office?”

  “Yes. Also twice. And I’ve left mess—”

  “I’ll call you back.” Morris disconnected.

  Shit.

  “He’s pissed?” Torrance said, stating the obvious. “I could hear him from here.” He pulled out a pack of gum. It was Nicorette; his former partner was trying to quit smoking again. Jerry was betting it wouldn’t last, not with everything going on right now.

  “What do you think? Maddox has been missing for going on two hours now and
we can’t get ahold of Sheila. Forget pissed. He’s about to blow a gasket.” Jerry’s phone rang. It was still in his hand and he looked down to see Morris’s number. He took the call. “Hi, Morris.”

  “She didn’t answer.” Morris heaved in Jerry’s ear. “I’m only gonna say this once, Jerry, so you listen up, my friend. You had better find my fiancée. Breathing, and in one piece. Because if something has happened to Sheila, if she’s been snatched by that psychopathic bitch—who, by the way, I warned you both about—I will personally detach your head from your skinny, turtleneck-wearing, badly scarred neck. You got me, amigo?”

  “I got you.”

  Click.

  Jerry turned to Torrance. “Put out an APB for Sheila Tao.”

  Torrance’s eyes widened. “On what grounds?”

  “Will you please just do it? After what happened to her last time, I’m not waiting until she’s nearly dead. That’s not happening again.” He felt like he was in shock. “It can’t happen again.”

  “You know I need to have cause to put that kind of—”

  “Come on, man,” Jerry snapped. “You trust my instincts, don’t you? Say whatever you have to say. Think of something.” He softened his tone. “Please, Mike. She’s my friend’s fiancée, and my wife’s friend. Please just do this for me.”

  Torrance nodded stiffly and turned away to make the call.

  Jerry headed toward his car. If Sheila didn’t turn up by tonight, he was fairly certain she was as good as dead.

  And then so was he.

  chapter 33

  SHEILA WAS FEELING mellow. Bruno Mars’s jazzy voice was singing about beautiful girls, the whole coffee shop smelled like cinnamon rolls, and the extra shot of vanilla in her latte was delicious. She smiled at Marianne. The impromptu yoga class they’d just finished next door had been exactly what the both of them needed. There was nothing like endorphins to make the world seem brighter.

  “We should do yoga more often,” Sheila said to her friend, taking another bite of the cinnamon roll they were sharing. “Thanks for talking me into it. I feel more relaxed than I have in months.”

  “That was the point,” Marianne said with a smile. She seemed happy enough, but distracted.

  “Feel like telling me what’s going on?” Sheila said.

  “I ended it with George.”

  “You’re kidding.” Sheila put her cup down. “I thought everything was going well. I thought you said he was . . .” She searched for the word her friend had once used to describe him. “Easy. I thought you said George was easy.”

  “He is. Was.” Marianne sighed, looking frustrated. “He was laid-back, a good listener, easy to please, and certainly not bad on the eyes. When we first started dating, those were the best things about him.”

  “And then?”

  “And then . . . he got really boring.” Marianne clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh God, I know that’s a terrible thing to say. But Sheila, I swear, all he ever wanted to talk about was me or basketball, and both got old really fast. It got to the point where I found myself picking fights with him just so he’d show some personality, some emotion. How juvenile is that?”

  Sheila couldn’t help but laugh. “I understand, I do. One of the things I love about Morris is his strong personality. He keeps me on my toes and never lets me get away with anything. It’s frustrating as hell at times, and we butt heads a lot, but I can’t say we’re bored.”

  Marianne nodded, looking away, falling silent. Sheila decided not to push. Over the loudspeakers, Bruno Mars changed to Adele, who was longing for an old flame who’d married someone else.

  Sheila settled back into her chair, enjoying the low-key vibe. She had turned her phone off before the yoga class, and it occurred to her now that maybe she should check her messages, see if Morris was wondering where she was. She reached into her purse for her BlackBerry, then stopped. No, this was her time with Marianne. Morris and the rest of the world could wait. She let the phone fall back into her bag.

  “I miss Jerry,” Marianne blurted.

  Sheila blinked. “I thought you just saw him a few hours ago.”

  “Yes, and we had a great time. Despite everything, I’d forgotten how much the man makes me laugh.” Marianne looked glum. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still so mad at him, and I needed to get away from him and all his negativity. But . . . he’s still the funniest guy I know. And a hard worker. And a romantic at heart. And I know he loves me. Be honest. You think I bailed on him?”

  “Absolutely not,” Sheila said firmly. “Things were rough for a while and you needed space. I really believe Jerry understood that, and that he still understands it. And you’re right, he does love you, more than life itself.”

  “He said that to you? We didn’t get a chance to get into it at lunch today.”

  “Almost every time we’ve talked,” Sheila said, and it was the truth. “He’d take you back in a hot minute. You just have to decide if that’s what you want, but I know he’s hoping.”

  “How do I make that decision?”

  It was a difficult question to answer. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “We’d need couples counseling,” Marianne said.

  “Who doesn’t? No shame in that.”

  “Things would have to change.”

  “Of course they would. It takes time and you both have to be one hundred percent committed.” Sheila waved a hand. “What am I saying, you know all this already. No matter what, I want what’s best for each of you, whether that means you’re together or apart. But I do think you two belong together. I’ve always thought that.”

  Marianne took a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll set up another date with him tomorrow. I think it’s time to open up a real dialogue again.”

  “I think that’s wonderful.”

  Marianne glanced at her watch. “Shoot, I have a patient in ten minutes. We should go, unless you want to stick around here? No, wait, your car’s at my office. You’ll have to come with me unless you want to walk back.”

  “No, that’s fine, I need to get going, too,” Sheila said. “I suddenly feel the urge to give Morris a massive hug when he gets home tonight. He’s been really supportive with this whole Abby Maddox thing. Maybe I’ll pick up dinner from that New York–style pizza parlor he likes and surprise him. If pizza doesn’t show him how much I love him, I don’t know what will.”

  It was just starting to rain when they got outside, and they sprinted across the parking lot toward Marianne’s silver Mercedes before either of them could get too wet.

  Marianne stuck her key in the ignition and turned it. The car made a loud screeching sound, and then nothing.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Sheila said.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Marianne frowned. “The car’s only a year old.” Annoyed, she tried the ignition again. Same awful sound, and then nothing.

  A knock on Sheila’s passenger side window startled them both, and she looked up to see a familiar face through the glass. Surprised, she pressed the button to roll down the window. “Hello. What are you doing here?”

  It was Mark Cavanaugh, the ridiculously handsome corrections officer from Rosedale Penitentiary. He smiled at her. “I thought I recognized you. Dr. Tao, right?”

  Sheila nodded, too caught off guard to do anything else.

  “I had some matters over at the federal building to attend to, and whenever I’m up this way, I love stopping in at Java Jungle,” Cavanaugh said. “Noticed you inside but thought it might be awkward if I said hello. However, I couldn’t help but notice your car’s not starting.” He ducked his head a little to smile at Marianne through the open window. She seemed utterly dazzled. “Hi there. I’m Mark.”

  “This is my friend Marianne,” Sheila said with a knowing smile. To Marianne, she said, “Mark and I met at Rosedale Penitentiary, where he works as a corrections officer.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Marianne said when she finally found her voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong
with my car. It was fine earlier.”

  “Try it again,” Cavanaugh said, and Marianne complied.

  “Hmmm. Sounds like it could be the alternator. Want me to take a look? I’m pretty good with cars.”

  “That would be great.” Marianne pulled a lever and then hopped out.

  The two of them disappeared behind the hood while Sheila waited in the passenger’s seat, wondering what the problem might be.

  A moment later, Marianne opened the driver’s-side door and reached for her purse. “He says it’s not the alternator. It might be the engine. Can you believe that? The car’s still new.”

  “At least it’s still under warranty,” Mark Cavanaugh said from behind her. “They’ll fix it, so it won’t cost you anything except a whole lot of annoyance.”

  Frustrated, Marianne nodded at him, then turned back to Sheila. “Mark’s offered to give us a ride back to my office so you can get your car. I’m going to make it back just in time for my six o’clock.”

  Sheila hesitated, feeling a tingle at the back of her neck. Something about this didn’t seem right, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

  “Sheila, seriously,” Marianne said, exasperated. “I am so late.”

  Sheila grabbed her purse and got out of the car, shaking off the weird feeling. She was probably overthinking it. “Aren’t you going to call AAA?”

  “I will when I get back to the office. The car can sit here for a while. I’ll run in and tell the yoga studio not to tow it. I can’t be late for this appointment.” In a low voice, she added, “My six o’clock has issues being left alone.”

  Cavanaugh and Sheila both laughed. Marianne jogged across the parking lot back to Yogalicious and disappeared through the tinted glass door.

  An awkward silence descended. Feeling the need to fill it, Sheila said, “So how are things over at Rosedale?”

  “They’re good,” Cavanaugh said with an easy grin. “Very busy, but I like it that way.”