by DJ Owen
“Do you remember anything else about the car?”
“I think it was a Ford, maybe an Explorer or Expedition? Ex-, Ex- ... something like that.” Rebecca was trying hard to help.
“Do you remember any letters or numbers from the license plate? Was it a Rhode Island plate?”
“Yeah, I remember seeing the wave on it. The first two letters were RP. I remember because those are my initials. Hey! I didn’t know I remembered that!”
“Do you remember anything else? Any of the numbers? Was there any damage to the car? Anything that stands out at all?” Rebecca was doing so well, Alex pushed as gently but firmly as she could.
“No, no numbers. Sorry.” Rebecca thought for a moment. “Wait a minute. This guy had a bumper sticker on the back. It was torn and I couldn’t really read it, but it was one of those ‘My Kid is an Honor Student’ ones. I couldn’t see the school, though.”
“Can you describe the red color of the SUV? Was it maroon? Tomato red? More orange?”
“It was hard to tell. It was dark and Justin’s headlights weren’t aimed high enough. I would say more maroon than orange, though.”
“You’re doing great, Rebecca. Now, walk me through what happened when you pulled up. What else did you see?”
“When we were driving up, the passenger door flew open and a woman fell out of the car. And then a guy crawled out the same side and would’ve landed right on top of her but she had rolled over and was trying to get away. She saw us and started waving us down. Then the guy came up behind her and started to strangle her. That’s when Justin slammed on the brakes and grabbed his tire iron from the back of truck. He told me to lock the doors and stay inside, and then he started running toward them and yelling for the guy to back off. The guy saw Justin and pushed the woman toward him and ran to his car and drove off. Justin tried to catch the woman but she kind of knocked him down. He got her up and helped her to the truck, and we drove her to the hospital. She had some bad scrapes, and was having trouble catching her breath.”
Alex was getting quite a bit of information from Rebecca, and tried for a bit more. “Try to picture the man. Describe him to me as best you can, okay, Honey?”
“Well….,” Rebecca hesitated. “He looked a lot like my dad, but not so much.”
Alex was confused. “What do you mean, Rebecca?”
“He looked, you know, ... old.”
Trying not to chuckle, Alex asked, “Okay, but can you tell me anything else? Did he look like a weightlifter, for instance?”
“No way! He had a beer belly, but not a big one. He wasn’t real tall, but bigger than the woman. And his hair was dark but I couldn’t see the exact color. He was wearing old blue jeans, and a button-down shirt that was maybe white or light blue or yellow. That’s all I remember, really.”
“Did you see his feet? What kind of shoes was he wearing? Was he wearing a watch? A ring or other jewelry?”
“Oh! He was wearing tennis shoes, but I don’t remember what brand. I couldn’t see enough of them to tell. And I didn’t see any other jewelry, but he was wearing a bulky watch on his right arm. I thought that was odd because most people wear them on their left. Does that mean anything?” Rebecca’s eagerness to help had become an eagerness to learn more.
“Probably not, Rebecca. You’ve been a really big help though. You have my phone number if you do remember anything else. Just give me a call, okay?” Alex knew when it was time to cut loose a source. Writers walk a fine line trying to get information without giving any.
“Well, okay, Ms. Carroll. You helped me remember a whole lot more than I did when the police came by. Do you think I should call them and tell them?”
Alex thought hard for a moment. She suspected that in the police world, all that was out there right now was a BOLO, short for Be On the Look Out, for the red SUV with an older white guy. She really didn’t want them to start investigating deeper, looking for someone with the specifics Rebecca had given. However, telling Rebecca to not report it would make Alex look suspicious and may lead back to “Phyllis Carroll”. Once they found out Phyllis didn’t exist, they may start looking at similar crimes across the country. Alex couldn’t take that risk.
“I’ll tell you what, Rebecca. Rather than you having to explain why you didn’t tell them this up front, I’m meeting with Ms. Meadows later and I’ll drive by the police station after that. I’ll give them the details and not let them know where they came from. That will keep you from looking like you withheld information, and keep you out of trouble. How does that sound?”
“Would you? That would be terrific. I don’t want to get into any trouble.” Rebecca was relieved. Alex knew this tactic seldom failed. If she suggested someone would be in trouble for doing something and offered them a way out, they usually took it.
“I would be happy to help you out. You’ve really helped me, you know. One good turn deserves another.” Alex was pleased with how helpful Rebecca had been. More importantly, she was going to keep quiet.
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It was around noon when Alex left her Winnebago. She waved to several campers as she left the park. They thought nothing of the blond girl going for a jog. As she neared the trees where the motorcycle was stashed, she looked around and saw a car coming toward her. She slowed down and let it pass by. Once it was over the next rise and could no longer see her, she dashed into the trees and knelt beside the motorcycle. She unfastened the fanny pack around her waist and pulled out the curly wig. She put it on, pushing her blond ponytail underneath. She checked how she looked in the mirror of her compact and made a couple of quick adjustments before anchoring it in place with bobby-pins. She added a baseball cap turned backwards, the wig barely peaking out around the edges. She pulled some speaker wire out of her fanny pack and circumvented the ignition. The two-wheeler coughed and sputtered a moment, then roared to life. She checked the road, which was still clear, and walked the motorcycle out of the trees. She threw her leg over the seat and lifted the kick-stand with her heel. Taking another quick look and seeing no traffic, she rode the motorcycle up onto the street and headed toward Narragansett.
A GPS would have been nice, but Alex had looked up the directions to The Towers before she left her Winnebago. As she neared the beach, The Towers were easy to spot. The granite turrets with their shingled spires stood royally above the surrounding terrain. Alex parked along Ocean Road, took off the cap and stowed it in her fanny pack. She made sure her wig was still in place and headed toward the fountain. She admired the view of the pristine grounds leading toward the Atlantic. Sailboats filled with families and couples skimmed the white-tops with the aid of the ocean wind.
Finding Ms. Meadows proved easy since it was the middle of the week. There was a family of five on one side of the fountain and a woman seated alone on the other side. The woman looked to be in her forties. Her white blouse and yellow capris were a little tight, but she looked like she made a good effort at keeping the mid-life spread at bay. The woman’s red hair hung in waves down below her shoulders. As with most red-heads in spring, the woman’s skin was pale. Alex double-checked and the woman was wearing an almost fluorescent green scarf around her neck. She pulled out a micro-recorder and took a few deep breaths as she prepared herself for the coming interview.
“Ms. Meadows? I’m Phyllis Carroll,” Alex tried to look both friendly but concerned. “I’m so glad you came. I know how difficult this is for you.”
“Do you, Ms. Carroll? I’m not sure you do.” Meadows used a rough approach to keep Alex at a safe distance. Alex was not surprised.
“Ms. Meadows, I’m sorry. You are absolutely right. There is no way I could know how you feel about what happened. I do know, however, that I am appalled that the scum who hurt you is free to hurt other women. I do know you didn’t deserve what happened to you. And I do know that other women need to learn how to avoid being attacked. But you are right, I don’t know how you feel.”
Alex could see a slight shift in Meadows’
demeanor as she relaxed her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“That’s okay, Ms. Meadows. Every woman I’ve met under these circumstances has been a bit less than open and friendly. No offense taken.” Alex paused and looked directly in Margaret Meadows’ eyes for emphasis. “Would you like to sit here or go elsewhere to talk?”
The family of five must have overheard some of their conversation and started to leave. Meadows looked around and saw them walking toward the beach. “We can stay here, at least for now.”
Alex turned on the recorder and set it down between them. She looked expectantly at Meadows, and received a nod of agreement to record the interview. She began by telling Meadows about other attacks to help her feel less self-conscious about having fallen victim. She asked how the man had approached her, how he had managed to slip something into her drink, and for any identifying marks the man might have had. Alex also asked about the vehicle and how she managed to escape.
She gleaned a few tidbits of information only someone at the bar or in the SUV would know. The discussion was worthwhile, yet Alex felt Meadows was holding back. Alex understood that victims had a difficult time coming to terms with their attacks, especially if it came from someone they knew. There was always self-doubt, a niggling thought that perhaps something they had done had caused the attack. Telling them it wasn't their fault seldom helped.
Alex still wanted to hear from the victim herself, though this was not always possible. She had been surprised when she first started looking into crimes at how many women are killed by their attackers. Rape by itself seemed to be less frequent these days as rapists turned to murder in hopes of avoiding prosecution, or perhaps that was just Alex's interpretation of what she saw reported. Only Meadows’ attacker knew whether he initially planned to kill her or not, or if the attack simply escalated because she had broken free before he did what he wanted to her.
Ms. Meadows showed Alex the reason she chose a scarf as the way to be identified. She loosened the scarf and pulled it down so that Alex could see the bruises. Fat stripes of blue, purple and green wrapped around Meadows’ neck. Alex winced and subconsciously swallowed hard as she couldn’t help but imagine how it must have felt to have her airway cut off by a madman, her lungs screaming for air.
“I am lucky to be alive, Ms. Carroll. If those two kids had waited even five minutes before driving down that road, I wouldn’t be here to speak with you.”
CHAPTER NINE
Alex rode the motorcycle around Washington County looking for out-of-the-way bars and roads trying to figure out where Meadows’ attacker would strike next. She then rode inland toward Kingston. She found a wig shop and purchased a shoulder-length, wavy red-haired wig this time, again “for her mother who has cancer”. It was getting late in the day as she neared her campsite. Alex hid the motorcycle in the stand of trees, removed her curly dark wig and stashed both wigs in her fanny pack before jogging back to her camper. She saw only one person outside and was pleased it wasn’t anyone she had seen hours earlier as she left the campground.
Entering her Winnebago, she freshened up and started dinner. As the can of soup was heating, she checked her cell phones for messages. There was nothing on the burner phone, but she had two voicemails on her permanent phone.
“Hi, Mom!” Amy’s voice always sounded so cheerful when she left a voicemail message. “I know you’re busy, but I wanted to say hi and see how your article is coming along.” She followed that up with some unexpected news. “You should see Aunt Monica! She is really happy with Mark. He is taking her out three times this week.”
Alex still had mixed feelings about Monica’s love life. She was glad Monica had found someone, but maybe they were moving too fast. Mark had gone from not asking her out to three dates this week. Alex made a mental note to do some more checking on Mark's background.
Amy ended her message in her usual fashion. “Bye, Mom. Love you!”
The next message made Alex’s heart skip a beat.
“Ms. Warren? Alex, I mean?” She recognized the voice immediately. “This is Officer Buckley.” Alex had stopped breathing for a moment. She sat down to listen to the rest of the message, afraid of what she might hear.
“I just wanted to check back with you to make sure you are okay.” Good, Alex thought, maybe he just took my flirting a little too seriously. Alex relaxed a bit as the message continued. “I’m at a seminar and thought we might get together for dinner or a drink tonight. I’m only in town the one night. I’m sorry for the short notice but another officer was supposed to attend and got sick at the last moment. I volunteered to take her place. I was hoping maybe you would agree to see me while I'm in town.”
Oh, crap! Buckley must be in San Francisco. If he goes by my old address and starts asking questions…. Alex couldn’t finish the thought. Another thought came to her just as quickly. Darn! He was really cute! I wish I could have been there!
Buckley left his phone number and Alex found it on her cell’s call log. She had missed his call by about a half hour. She took a deep breath to calm herself and hit ‘redial’ on her phone. The first ring had barely started when she heard an anxious, “Hello?”
“Officer Buckley? It’s Alex Warren.” She wasn’t sure what voice to use, so she went with polite. “I just listened to your voicemail. I’m so sorry I missed your call.”
“Call me Kyle, and that’s okay, Alex. I know you weren’t expecting me to call, let alone for me to be in town. Heck, even I didn’t expect it.”
Alex chuckled appropriately. “Well, that’s the thing. I wish I had known you were visiting the San Francisco area. I would have made sure I was in town. You see, I’m in Chicago right now. There’s no way I could meet you for dinner. I’m so sorry.” Thank goodness for cell phones, Alex thought, he has no idea where I really am.
“Oh.” Alex plainly heard the disappointment in his voice. “I understand. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have expected you to be here. I’ll let you go.”
“Maybe next time, okay?” Alex could have kicked herself for speaking before she thought it through.
“Sure, but I don’t know when that will be. You have a good evening.”
“You, too. Hey, Kyle! What part of town are you in? Maybe I could suggest a restaurant near you.” Again Alex couldn’t believe what she was saying. Could it be she really liked this guy?
“That’s okay, I’ll just grab some room service or something. Thanks anyway. It was nice speaking with you again. Take care.” Alex heard a click and then her display went blank.
Whew, catastrophe averted, Alex thought. Her soup was beginning to scorch.
After he hung up, Kyle looked at the notepad where he had written Alex’s contact information. He decided he didn’t want to miss the perfect opportunity to surprise her and picked up the keys to his rental car. He had passed a nursery on his way to the hotel, so he headed back in that direction. He picked out a rosebush with peach buds, placing it in the floor of the passenger side. He typed her address in his GPS and headed there.
He arrived at the house and carried the rosebush to the back patio. He was startled when he saw a little boy’s face in the window. “Hello, there!” Kyle didn’t want to frighten the boy.
“Mom!” Kyle heard the little boy scream at the top of his lungs as he dashed somewhere inside the house. A few moments later, a woman appeared in the window. It certainly wasn't Alex.
“Who are you? Get off my property!” The woman was frightened. “I’ll call the cops!”
“Ma’am, I’m so sorry. I am a policeman.” He had raised his voice to be heard through the window. He took out his police ID and held it up for the woman to see. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Ma’am. I had this address for a friend of mine, Alex Warren, and was just bringing her a gift.”
“Alex Warren? She hasn’t lived here since her husband died. My husband and I bought the place from her years ago. You’ve got some really old information there, Officer.”
The woman shook her head. “Sorry, last I heard she was moving back home. East, somewhere. Illinois? Ohio? That’s it! Ohio. No telling where she is now, though.”
“I am so sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for your help. Please, keep the rosebush as my apology.” He turned and left, a million questions buzzing in his mind. Who was this Alex Warren, and why would she lie to the police?
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Alex ate what she could of the scorched soup. She called Amy to stay in touch, and asked if she had heard anything more about Mark's background. Monica hadn't told Amy anything new, but Alex still wanted to dig a little deeper into Mark's past.
She decided she needed to earn her keep and spent the next few hours creating content for several clients with blogs. She had three emails requesting articles. Two were for travel agencies and one was for a chain of RV parks. Oddly enough, the chain owned the park where she was currently a guest. It didn't take her very long to find the information she needed online. A little condensing and rewriting, and new content was ready for submission.
It was only 9:00, so Alex set an alarm for an hour and dozed off.
Strains of "We Are Family" woke Alex just after she dozed off. "Hi, Monica! I hear you and Mark are becoming quite an item!" Alex turned off the alarm. No need for that now, she thought.
"Hey, Alex! How's it going?" Monica's voice was just a little too upbeat for such a mundane topic.
"I'm fine. Work is fine. I hear you and Mark are fine, too." Alex hinted again, hoping Monica would provide additional details about the new lawyer.
"Well, that's sort of why I'm calling. Everything is going great with Mark. We've gotten to know each other a lot better, and it's amazing how much we have in common. It is wonderful to have someone to share my hopes and dreams with!"
