Code PINK_A Novel Of Suspense

by Erica R Stinson

  In all honesty, it helped him to be away from the house.

  Of course, the news media continued to make their presence known. Their bright lights and cameras everywhere as they repeatedly knocked on the door or called for them to come out and make a statement.

  Countless friends had stopped by or called, urging him to seek legal action against the hospital for negligence. But the case was still up in the air, and he didn’t know what to do or which way to turn.

  Unashamed, he’d cried the night before as he stood in the doorway of the beautiful nursery Carrie had put together. His vision blurred as he looked at the tiny shoes, socks and other items they’d gotten at the surprise baby-shower just a few weeks earlier, thrown by Carrie’s many friends.

  It had been fashioned to accommodate either boy or girl, and he’d loved it. They had stood in front of that crib for hours, imagining their child growing up in such a warm and loving home, the three of them the perfect family unit.

  More than once he started to go over to Joan’s house. He had sent the police, as well as the media, over there but she never came out. And when he thought about how he hadn’t laid eyes on her since that day in the hospital, his suspicions grew.

  Where the hell had she disappeared to after he had her thrown out of the hospital?

  Why had she picked the precise moment after Carrie had the baby to suddenly leave the maternity ward?

  Did she really think that he was supposed to believe that she wanted nothing more than to be a good friend?

  Then he remembered something Carrie had told him about Joan having a miscarriage some years ago. Apparently, she didn’t like to talk about it and it was obvious Carrie hadn’t meant to let it slip out. But what other reason would Joan want their baby? And as close as his wife had been to this nut-bag, he was sure that Carrie was beside herself.

  Right now he was calling the house, in the hopes that she would pick up the phone this time.

  Lately, she’d been getting in these ‘zones’ where she wouldn’t even respond to him when he spoke to her. She spent a lot of time writing in the weathered pink-and-white composition notebook, unleashing her most private feelings in that book.

  She’d cry sometimes while writing in it, and he knew that she was suffering. Other times she’d have a thoughtful expression on her face as she read it, sometimes even smiling as she relived a memory or two.

  She’d hide it away somewhere in their bedroom, and he never tried to find it because it was a part of her meant to keep to herself.

  He respected that.

  The phone rang and rang, but she never picked it up.

  Checking his watch, Ryan decided to make a quick run home on the guise of wanting some lunch; something that a lot of the other guys were slowly getting around to since they had worked most of the morning already.

  He cleared it with his boss, and hurried to the old-battered grey Saturn VUE he’d been driving around since before he’d left Connecticut the first time ten years ago. He’d only been twenty-three then, just wanting to live his life in New York, a place he’d always dreamed of living.

  The SUV was still in great shape, despite its body damage, and he didn’t mind parking it at any of the construction sites he worked out. Now, his Chrysler 300? That thing he all but rubbed with a diaper, and that’s the car he normally drove when he wasn’t on site. Carrie had one of those little cutsey-pie cars that looked like a golf-cart. He had laughed when she’d come home with the little red car last year, but she was adorable in it and it fit her personality to a tee.

  Ryan made it to the house in fifteen minutes, relieved when he saw Carrie standing outside the house, pulling the mail out of the mailbox.

  She looked surprised to see him as he pulled into the driveway and shut the engine off before getting out of the car.

  “Ry.....” she said, softly, her deep brown eyes red-rimmed as he reached her in three steps.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, engulfing her in his arms and squeezing tight. “I’ve been calling you...”

  “I took a walk.” She apologized, “Forgot my cell phone.”

  “It’s fine. It’s fine.” He assured her, pulling her closer as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you....”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m just glad to see you getting some fresh air.” Ryan admitted, as she walked into the house with the mail and he followed.

  Carrie didn’t respond, but he knew that she would eventually start to come around.

  She had to.

  Chapter Four

  Millie rapped her knuckles on the weathered door, as Sandy looked around at the shabby front lawn and general disarray of Joan Addams’ house. It seemed to take forever before the front door finally opened and a lone, brown eye peeked out at them.

  “Joan Addams?” Sandy asked as the woman continued to stare at them without answering.

  “Are you Joan Addams?” Millie repeated, slowly, as if speaking to a child and finally they got a nod.

  “I’m Detective Harvey and this is Detective Chandler.” She continued, moving closer to the front door. “May we come in for a moment?”

  “Why?” Joan asked, the surly tone to her voice not missed by the pair.

  “We have a few questions for you regarding the Ashbys.” Sandy said, and then quickly added, “We won’t take much of your time.”

  The front door swung open and as the detectives moved towards it, Joan stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her.

  “House is a mess.” She said, staring hard at them. “We can talk out here.”

  Sandy nodded, while Millie pursed her lips, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something.

  Five minutes into meeting this woman, and already Millie could tell they were going to have their work cut out for them.

  “We spoke to the hospital staff, as well as to Detective Anson, and we understand that you were in the cafeteria at the time of the incident?”

  “Are you asking me or telling me?” Joan said, her dead-eyed stare on them as Sandy nodded.

  “Right. Well, we have video footage that shows you going into a stairwell after leaving the cafeteria. We’d like to ask you a couple of questions about that.”

  “Sure.” Joan replied, coolly.

  “Why were you in the stairwell, Ms. Addams?” Sandy asked.

  “I made a phone call.”

  “To who?” Millie asked, adopting the same cool tone that Joan had, which made the woman look at her in amusement as a hint of a smile played across her lips.

  “Called Ryan to find out where he was. I had already called him once and told him to come to the hospital because Carrie was having the baby.” She said, folding her arms across her bony chest.

  “And did he answer?”

  “No, went straight to his voicemail.”

  “Did he ever call you back.”

  “Not that I’m aware, but he was there once I got back to Carrie’s room.”

  “And that’s when he attacked you.”

  “Yes.” She said, “Look, I didn’t do anything wrong. I got my friend to the hospital when she needed help. And as usual, Ryan was nowhere to be found.”

  Sandy nodded, as he watched Millie jot information down out the corner of his eye.

  She was about to go in for the kill.

  “You and Ryan aren’t exactly friends, are you?” Millie asked plainly, as Joan shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Not really, no.” Joan said, staring over their shoulders at the neighbors who were suddenly involved in doing things outside their homes. All eyes trained on her and the two detectives.

  “Have you spoken to him any more since they’ve been home?”

  “Hell no. Why would I go over there? I have nothing to say to that drunken asshole.” She said, her voice full of contempt while shaking her head.

  Millie gave Sandy a look as she could see that Joan was getting agitated.

  “We don’t mean
to upset you....” Millie said, sweetly as she wore a sour look on her face that belied the tone of her voice. “But we’ve spoken to Ryan and he’s not exactly a fan of yours either.”

  “Look, he was the one that got drunk one night and said that the baby was a mistake, started yelling at her and stuff.” Joan snapped, the most animated they’d seen her yet.

  “How did you get this information?”

  “Carrie called me over a few weeks ago because he was drunk, as usual, and she was afraid for her safety. She ended up staying with me that night. You see how easily he hit me, didn’t you. Open your eyes.”

  Millie stared at Joan, unwavering and then she nodded slowly.

  “Okay.”

  “We done here?” Joan asked, petulantly.

  “For now.” Millie said, as Joan pivoted on her heel and stalked back inside of her house, slamming the door.

  “I think that went well.” Sandy quipped, as Millie smirked and shook her head.

  ***

  Joan watched through the slats of the blinds of the front windows as the two detectives started talking with the nosy fucking neighbors who had all but swarmed them on their way back to their car.

  That blonde Barbie-doll had worked her last nerve.

  “Bitch.” She said, aloud as she continued to watch.

  Snorting a derisive laugh as she shook her head, she watched as Mrs. O’Reilly, an old Irish woman who’d been living in the neighborhood for more than sixty years, spoke to the black guy.

  The blonde was now talking with Destiny Rivera, or at least trying to. It was obvious that Destiny wanted nothing to do with this and apparently had nothing to say to the police, even though Joan knew she was telling anyone who would listen that she’d had something to do with the Ashby baby’s abduction.

  They didn’t know, not a one of them, that she would never do anything to harm a hair on that baby’s head.

  She loved it, because it was a part of Carrie.

  Joan moved away from the windows, her dull eyes washing over the unkempt living room that hadn’t been cleaned since her mother had died.

  She just hadn’t felt like it.

  She could almost hear the old bag banging her stupid cane against the wall that they shared between their bedrooms, yelling at her to get off of her lazy ass and clean up the house or go fix her a meal.

  “Do you think you can at least do that?” she’d rail and rag at her, still banging the cane. “Worthless girl...”

  So Joan had done her best to keep the peace by doing as her mother asked. All she wanted in return was for Doris to leave her alone and stop nitpicking her over every little thing all of the time.

  It was her mother’s own fault, what had happened.

  Doris just kept on, and kept on.

  Bitch never knew when to fucking quit.

  Joan squeezed her eyes shut as she thought back to that fateful day six months ago.

  All she wanted was for Doris to be quiet. To quit banging that cane against that stupid fucking wall and screaming at her.

  Her own mother treated her like a servant, never giving love or kindness, just spiteful, raging hate.

  Joan recalled the look of surprise on her mother’s face as she’d barged into the woman’s bedroom, snatching the cane out of her withered hands.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Joan!?” she’d raged as the water glass on the nightstand had fallen over, the glass crashing against the wooden floor as the water seeped everywhere. “Oh, you idiot...stupid, worthless girl....”

  The first blow had taken Doris quite by surprise, as well as the second one. Joan had hit her mother with that fucking cane again, and again, and again and again.

  Even once her mother’s body had gone limp, Joan kept at it.

  She didn’t stop until she felt better, tears of relief rolling down her cheeks and she began to laugh as the wooden cane actually broke in half across Doris’ back.

  She had sat with that bitter old crone for hours before getting a washcloth, pail and soap to clean her up.

  Of course, Doris had voided both her bowels and bladder, Joan disgusted at having to take care of it, but it was a small price to pay.

  She was free.

  “Don’t worry, Mother.” She’d giggled as she stood over the body, her smile a mile-wide, “I’ll get right on cleaning up the mess you made. Yes, ma’am....”

  After she’d straightened up the room and changed Doris into a clean nightgown, she had called the police.

  They took her word that Doris had died peacefully in her sleep sometime in the night, carting the body away as onlookers gawked at the scene.

  The bruises on the body were explained away as Joan told them that her mother had mobility issues. The whole neighborhood could vouch for this, since Doris was a regular sight trying to take her daily walks. More than once, an obliging neighbor had gotten her up off the ground when she’d taken a spill.

  Carrie had been the only one to approach her as she stood outside and watched them load Doris’ body into the ambulance and take it away.

  Only then, had she let herself cry. Not in sorrow, but in relief.

  She was free.

  ***

  Ryan was at the windows, his brow furrowed as he watched a heavyset woman get out of her car and make her way towards Joan's house. It was the first activity he'd seen at Joan’s house since the police had talked to her outside about a week ago..

  At the advice of the police, he had stayed away from Joan and they had promised him that they were looking into things.

  He made his way to the front door as he saw the woman begin to take photos of Joan's house with a small camera.

  "What in the hell...." he muttered, opening the door and going outside.

  Ryan looked back over his shoulder at his own house, knowing that Carrie was still in bed. The same bed she'd been in since this whole thing happened. She barely spoke these days, but she was slowly starting to come around.

  The media had subsided somewhat over the two weeks they’d been home, and of that he was glad.

  He watched the woman take more pictures and make notations on a small notepad.

  “Excuse me.” Ryan said, as the woman whirled in surprise with a little yelp.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed, and then laughed as she put a hand to her ample bosom. “Hello!”

  “Yeah, hi.” Ryan said, his eyes on the notepad and then on the logo from a local real estate office on the sides of her car. “Are you looking for Joan?”

  Her brow furrowed for a moment as recognition of the name set in and she smiled again.

  “Joan? No. We’ve done all that we had to with her contract.”

  “Contract?”

  “Yes, we will be listing this house on our web site now that she’s gone...”

  Gone?

  Ryan felt his heart hammer as his world spun out of control. Joan was gone?

  “Hey,” the woman said, looking at him warily, “Are you feeling okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “When?” he managed.

  The woman looked at her paper, and then back at him.

  “A few days ago. She came into the office and stated that she needed to sell. Of course, that’s what we love to hear....”

  “Did she say where she was going?” Ryan interrupted as the real-estate agent pursed her lips, eyes rolled up in her head as she struggled to remember. But he knew that there was no way anyone would remember old, bland Joan.

  “I don’t think so.....” and then she looked over his shoulder. “Is that your house over there? You know, we are always in the market....”

  Ryan pivoted on his heel and walked away, slamming into the house.

  Wait until he told Carrie this shit.

  ***

  Joan checked behind her carefully before going into her room at the La Quinta Inn. She had taken the Long Island Expressway all the way out to Bohemia and checked in under a fake name, as she’d been instructed to do. No one had paid any
attention to her as she carried her solitary bag to the elevators and then went upstairs to the top floor. She had seen a few places to eat along Veteran’s Memorial Highway, just off of the hotel’s location on Aero Road. She would order something from there and then wait.

  The sudden ringing of her cell phone startled her and she jumped. After it rang a third time, she answered it to keep it from going to voicemail after seeing who it was.

  “Hi.” She nearly whispered, her lips spreading in a happy smile, “No, I’m fine. Just fine. What do you want me to do now?”

  ***

  Ryan smiled as Carrie came to the kitchen table. She looked fresh and clean, having just taken her shower. The police had exhausted all leads, but were optimistic on a new lead they had just gotten. Carrie had cried when she heard that Joan had vanished.

  “How can she just leave like that?” she had asked, as Ryan held her in his arms. “Did she really sell her house and just leave? What about our baby?!”

  He didn’t have an answer to that one and stood feeling helpless as his wife continued to cry.

  After he had gotten Carrie calm, and ordered a pizza from Papa John’s, they had dinner and sat quietly watching the news.

  Carrie shivered as a diaper commercial featuring a cute and smiling baby came on and Ryan felt his heart break as he watched his wife’s eyes fill with tears.

  “I have another appointment with Dr. Cooke tomorrow.” Carrie announced suddenly, and Ryan nodded. “I want you to come with me this time, Ry.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea and hell, he could do with talking to someone as well. Carrie had been going to this therapist for a few weeks and it seemed to be doing some good, slowly but surely.

  “If you think it’ll help.” Ryan answered, snaking his arm around her as he pressed a kiss on top of her head. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  And it was just a few days later that they sat in a doctor’s office in one of the medical complexes on Lakeville Road. The whole street was lined with medical offices and were all just a stone’s throw from Long Island Jewish Hospital.