It's Not Over

by Willow Rose

  Roy stared through the crack in the door and saw his father put a hand on Pamela’s stomach with a deep exhale.

  “I’m ready to start over. Luckily, we have another boy coming. Hopefully, this time, it’ll be better. I know I’m going to do differently by him. I’m ready for a second chance.”

  Pamela chortled, and his father put his head on her stomach. “Thank you for making me so happy,” he almost groaned. “You and this baby here make me happier than I ever thought I’d be, happier than I have ever been. With her, I never was, you know? She never made me happy the way you do, and I am not going to let anything or an angry teenager get in the way of that. That’s for sure.”

  “Don’t say stuff like that,” Pamela said with a whisper. “What if he heard you?”

  That made Roy’s father laugh. “That would be the first time Roy heard anything I said. He never listens; all he does is play Gameboy. He never listened to me, even when he was younger; he just hung on his mother’s skirts. I messed up with him, Pam, I really did. But not this one. With this boy, it’ll be different. I promise. We’ll be so happy once he gets here.”

  Chapter 28

  Mary’s former doctor was all over the news this morning, getting his fifteen minutes of fame, talking about her and how sick he believed she was, and how he definitely believed it was possible she could have harmed all her children.

  “He’s not allowed to talk about his patients like that,” I said and turned the sound off in the suite after listening to him smear poor Mary, who had gone back to the bedroom to rest. “He’s breaking his confidentiality agreement.”

  “He’s retired now,” Brad said. “Guess he feels he has nothing to lose.”

  “They ought to sue him,” I said. “The Marshalls should.”

  “I think Peter is talking to his lawyer about it as we speak,” he said and nodded toward Peter, who stood by the window, phone clutched against his ear. “I found the breach, by the way—a local boy, Deputy Woods. He admitted to having let Fischer in last night. According to Woods, Fischer paid him a hundred dollars to let him walk inside. It was a busy time when many people came in and out, so he slid in without being seen. We sent Woods home. Sheriff Blair will deal with him. “

  “Good work. But it can’t happen again.”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I pulled it out as Brad went back to work. It was the director.

  “Isabella?”

  “Eva Rae. What am I watching on the news right now? Please, explain?”

  I exhaled. Of course, she reacted to this. “It was a misunderstanding from a few years ago. It was investigated back then, and nothing came of it. The kid was lactose intolerant, but the doctor thought she was harming him, giving him medicine to make him sick, to get in contact with the doctors. It wasn’t the case.”

  “But it does make her look like a suspect,” Isabella said. “Are we investigating her as such?”

  “Not right now, no. We’re still searching for Schultz. I hope to hear from local law enforcement soon. It can’t be long before he’s caught.”

  “I am aware of that, but what if he doesn’t have Cole?” she asked. “Then we’re gonna look like idiots because we didn’t look at what was right in front of our own noses. The media is going to slaughter us.”

  I sighed and looked at Peter, who was obviously fuming with anger as he spoke to his lawyer. This wasn’t exactly what the two of them needed right now, this extra pressure on top of not knowing what happened to their son. I was especially worried about Mary. We risked that this would break her.

  “I need them questioned as suspects, Eva Rae, do you hear me?” Isabella said. “We have to react to this. Separate them and grill them till we’re absolutely sure neither of them took the boy.”

  I nodded. I knew it would come at some point; I had just hoped to be able to postpone it, and maybe—just maybe—we’d get to Schultz beforehand, and it wouldn’t be necessary at all. Naturally, it wasn’t going to be that easy.

  “Of course. I’ll see to it being done.”

  “Keep me updated.”

  “Will do.”

  I hung up, then looked at Brad, who was eating one of the croissants that had come up with breakfast. Seeing him eat, I felt a pang of hunger, then grabbed one myself. I almost swallowed it whole, then grabbed two more.

  “What did the director want?” he asked and washed his down with coffee. I did the same, then looked up at him.

  “She wants the Marshalls separated and questioned as suspects. Tell Peter to get that lawyer of his over here asap, then make sure it is done. But keep it respectful. Please tell them to be gentle with Mary, okay? She’s fragile.”

  “And what about you?” he asked. “What are you going to do?”

  I grabbed my purse and put my phone inside.

  “I’ll pursue another angle.”

  Chapter 29

  “At least this one looks better than your last one.”

  The blinds were closed inside the dirty condo. The guy looking down at Jessica smelled of alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat. Behind him, more men sat by computer screens in the living room, while smoking. On the table, more than a dozen phones rang, buzzed, and vibrated constantly. Girls wearing almost no clothes came and went between the rooms.

  The guy who brought her there, the one with the crooked nose, leaned forward and grabbed her shirt. He ripped it off of her, and she was left sitting on the dirty, stinky couch, only in her bra. The guy with the cigarette dangling from his lip nodded.

  “She’ll do.”

  Jessica was then dragged into a room and asked to sit on a red satin sheet on the floor. The guy pulled off her jeans as well and threw them in the corner. Jessica cried, covering herself when a camera on a tripod was brought in, and the guy with the cigarette took pictures of her.

  “That’s it, sweetheart. Yes, look sad; pout at the camera. I like that, yes.”

  The camera clicked endlessly, and the sound made Jessica feel sick to her stomach.

  “From now on, we shall call you Ramona,” he said from behind the camera. “You’re Ramona from Poland, yes?”

  Jessica stared up at him while trying to cover herself with her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Where am I?” she asked.

  That made the guy with the cigarette laugh. He took a few more photos, then let go of the camera. He leaned over her, placing his hairy hands on her shoulders.

  “You, my darling, is everywhere and nowhere.”

  “I need to go somewhere,” she said. “It’s important.”

  That made him laugh again.

  “Do you, now? Well, you’re not going anywhere for a long time, sweet girl.”

  She looked up at him. The smoke from the cigarette stung her eyes. “But…I have to. It’s important, please.”

  The guy slapped her across her face. Jessica fell backward from the force of the slap and landed back on the satin sheet. He pointed at her.

  “You belong to me now. This room here is where you live and breathe. It’s where you eat and sleep, and where you perform your duties. You do as you’re told.”

  A video camera was carried in by the guy who had taken Jessica in his van, and she was told to sit in the middle of the satin sheet. The guy with the cigarette looked in the viewfinder, then pressed a button.

  “All right, little girl. This is it. You’re live now. Cry or pout, do what you want, men will pay to look at you anyway.”

  The two men then turned around and left, closing the door behind them. Jessica sat in front of the camera, crying, not knowing what to do. She cried hard for at least an hour or so, not so much because of herself and the situation she had wound up in, but more because of the boy. With her being stuck where she was, there was no way she’d be able to save him in time.

  Chapter 30

  Florida State Prison, commonly known as Raiford Prison, was located in Bradford, a two-hour drive away from Orlando and housed one of the state’s three death row cell blocks a
nd the state’s execution chambers. It hadn’t been in use since August last year when Gary Ray Bowles was executed for the murder of six men in 1994, also known as the I-95 killer since most of his victims lived close to the Interstate Highway. It was also known for having housed and executed the famous Ted Bundy.

  This week, they were preparing it for the execution of Mike Odell for the murder of two children ten years ago—the very guy I had helped put away.

  Now, I was facing him again, sitting in a small room with barren walls, separated only by a table between us. When he was brought in by the guards and he saw me, he smiled. Seeing that smile, I was immediately pulled back to that time when we had questioned him over and over again. He had worn that exact same smile like he carried a secret and that we’d one day learn what it was, only to regret it for the rest of our miserable lives.

  “If it isn’t Agent Wilson,” he said as he had sat down, his chained hands rattling.

  “It’s Thomas now,” I said.

  “Right. Because of the divorce. How is Chad, by the way?”

  I exhaled tiredly. “He died last year, but somehow I get the feeling you already know that.”

  That made him giggle. His pale skin pulled back around his mouth and revealed his teeth that hadn’t grown less yellow while on the inside.

  “I have a lot of time to keep track of old friends and their lives,” he said. “He was killed on Amelia Island during a hurricane, huh?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “Because it was your fault he got killed, right? People get themselves in trouble around you, Eva Rae Thomas. That’s what you do. You bring misery into their lives.”

  “Cut the games, will you? You only have a few days to live; try and make yourself useful.”

  He leaned back. The chains rattled. “Ah, and help you find the boy, I assume.”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned forward again. His piercing gaze felt like it could cut through my bones.

  “And just how do you suppose I should do that?”

  “Maybe, just maybe it could be in your own interest,” I said.

  “Feeling the doubt nagging, are we, Agent Thomas? Are we having a bad day because we might have put the wrong criminal behind bars?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. There was nothing I’d rather do than keep this guy behind bars. But I had to look at the facts, and right now, it looked a lot like the guy who had taken Cole was the same as the one who had taken the twins back then. That meant Odell had been telling the truth all along.

  On the other hand, it did come awfully convenient just a few days before his planned execution. I kept wondering if this guy could have orchestrated this entire charade from his prison cell, to make us doubt his guilt and maybe pardon him.

  “You know there are ways for us to find out who you’ve been in contact with from the outside, don’t you?” I said. “We know who visited you, and I’ll be getting the list as I leave here. We also know who you call and will be in contact with them. If you somehow got someone on the outside to kidnap Cole, then you might as well tell me so now. If you help us locate the boy, then maybe I can get your sentence reduced to prison for life instead of execution.”

  He stared at me, his eyes hollow and dark. “We both know you’re in no position to do that. I’m not biting, Thomas. Gotta bait me better.”

  “All right,” I said. “You called my bluff; now, I’m calling yours. I don’t think you’re smart enough to orchestrate anything like this. I think you want me to think so because then maybe we’ll keep you alive at least till the boy is found. I still believe you killed Blake and Maggie, but we both know this guy is just copying you, right? How did he know about the secret spy? I mean, we both know you were the one who told Maggie that you were a secret spy. You’re the one who told us about it when we took you in. You said you had spoken to the girl at the pool and she had asked about your name and then you told her it was a secret. Then she asked you if you were a secret spy. You told us all this in the very first interview we conducted with you. But no one knew about it. How did the kidnapper get this information?”

  Odell laughed and shook his head at me again. “I also told you I didn’t kill the children, remember? Over and over again. I might have wanted to touch Maggie, to lay my hands on her tiny body, but I never did. Someone else did. I was just framed for it because I like to go fishing at the very same lake where they were found. Because I spoke to the kid and maybe stole her swimsuit to have a memory of her. I didn’t kill her. I am not a murderer. The thing is, I wouldn’t have killed her. I would have kept her with me as my slave. I would have had my fun with her for a very long time.”

  Odell laughed. His voice was low like a rumble while he moved in his chair, restlessly like a snake.

  “But now you’re wondering if he struck again, aren’t you? How does that feel, Agent Thomas? To have sent an innocent man to prison and death row? To steal ten years of someone’s life? How do you sleep at night, huh? Like a baby? How do you look at your own reflection in the mirror, huh? You like what you see? ‘Cause I don’t like what I am looking at right now. Your face makes me want to throw up. You ruined my life, Thomas. You destroyed it. And now you have the audacity to come here and expect me to…to help you out? The boy is dead, Thomas. Just like Blake and Maggie are. Because you got the wrong guy. The irony of it is almost sweet if it weren’t for the fact that I’ll be killed in three days.”

  I slammed my fist onto the table in front of me.

  “Then help me find this guy, dang it. Then you’ll probably go free if it turns out he also took Blake and Maggie. Don’t you see that? Tell me who you ever told about the secret spy detail. Who did you tell?”

  Another smirk grew across his nasty face. I really hated this situation more than anything. I wanted Odell to remain behind bars. I knew of his attraction to children, which he had admitted to me back then when I interviewed him. He had cried and told me he had it under control, but yes, that’s what he was, and we had found child porn on his computer. For that alone, he would have gone to prison, but if he were pardoned now, he’d be a free man. A sexual predator, yes, and a registered sex offender, but free to roam and glare at children on our playgrounds and beaches.

  It made me feel sick.

  “All right,” he said, smiling. “I’ll play along. I did tell one person.”

  Chapter 31

  The boy was whimpering while he filled the tub with water. He felt the temperature as it poured down from the faucet. The boy was sitting on the bed. He could hear him whimpering even though the boy tried to suppress it. When the water reached the edge, he turned it off.

  He stared into the clear water where he was certain someone stared back up at him from under the surface. The eyes were looking at him accusingly. Tears spilled from his own eyes as he looked at the body in the water and the face looking back at him, the eyes torn in disbelief like were they asking him: Why? Why did you do it?

  “I don’t know,” he whispered.

  He wanted to tell the child in the water that he was sorry, but he couldn’t because he wasn’t. Now, as he stared into the tub, another face appeared next to the first one. Both sets of eyes stared up at him just like they had done in those last seconds before they died, while he held them under, pressed their small faces under the surface and kept them there till they stopped jerking.

  “I don’t want to take a bath.”

  He turned his head quickly and saw the boy standing in the doorway.

  “I don’t like baths.”

  “Go back to the bed,” he said while everything screamed inside of him. All the voices yelled at once.

  Do it now! While they’re all looking for him downstairs. Grab him and push him under the water. Hold him till he doesn’t move anymore. Send him to the others. They need their brother; they demand to have him!

  A burning, warm sensation rushed through him and overwhelmed
him. He panted agitatedly, and his nostrils were filled with the sweet stench of death. It was like he was burning up from the inside.

  You have to do it. You must do it now!

  He rose to his feet, hurried to the boy, and placed a hand over his mouth. The boy’s big blue eyes stared back at him with deep fright while he undressed him, then carried him to the tub. The boy was crying but didn’t disobey him by making loud noises. He smiled and caressed his hair gently, then kissed his forehead before placing him in the water, supporting his head as he slid him under. As his face was pushed down under the surface, his eyes shot wide open, and he began to fight. But of course, he was no match for a grown man. The warm water caressed his arms and elbows as he kept his tight grip on the boy, and he jerked underneath the water. He took in every second of it, holding his breath while the magic happened, while death had its way.

  “Only a few seconds longer, then it’ll be all over,” he whispered to the water while the boy’s spasms became fewer and fewer. “Then you’ll be with the others. Then you’ll finally have peace, my boy.”

  The boy’s jerks became less frequent and less forceful as his body soon gave up. He stared at him in the water as the surface grew still, and he looked into the boy’s eyes, sucking out the last of the life from him. The faces of the others appeared behind him, and he smiled at the sight of all of them together.

  “There you go,” he whispered. “Give up. Let them take you now. They’ll bring you home.”