Ten Days Gone

by Beverly Long

  “Ferguson is watching Marie. She doesn’t have Tess. But I’m betting she knows something and we’re going to find out what. Call the sister while I drive. I want to know what really happened in that apartment. It might help us understand where he took Tess.”

  Rena found Gracie’s number in her phone and dialed. It rang three times before it was answered. “Gracie, this is Detective Morgan. I also have Detective McKittridge on the line. We have a few more questions for you.”

  “I don’t know what more I can tell you,” she said.

  “You can tell us what really happened that night in your apartment,” A.L. said. “We know your brother, Sean, was there, even though you and your mother both lied about it. And we want to know why.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Gracie,” Rena said. “This is important. A woman is missing. She’s in grave danger.”

  “And I’ll be in grave danger if I tell you. He’ll kill me. Like he always said he would. Like the way he killed my mother and my stepfather. But ever since you told me that four women have died in Baywood and it might have something to do with the Gizer Hotel, I just knew it was him.”

  “Fuck,” A.L. said, his voice a bare whisper. He gave Rena a quick glance. “Sean fired the gun that night, didn’t he? He’s the one who killed your father.”

  The minute he said it, Rena knew he was right. And Gracie evidently also knew it was time to stop lying.

  “Yes,” Gracie whispered. “Oh, God, my family was such a mess. Such a horrible mess.”

  “Why? Why shoot him?” A.L. demanded.

  “My father was not a good man. He never beat me, but he hit my mother. And Sean...well, he didn’t believe that Sean was his son, and... I think he did things to Sean that were bad, really bad.”

  Rena felt as if she might vomit. “Sexual things?” she asked.

  “I think so. One time I saw something. Sean’s bedroom door was open a crack. He was standing next to the bed. Naked. Crying. Folding his clothes. Dad was standing there, watching him. I don’t know what happened then because the door got closed.”

  A.L. and Rena exchanged glances. Naked. Folding his clothes. Well, that explained a great deal. “Did your mother know about it?” Rena asked.

  “Yes. And I think she tried to protect Sean, but then my father would turn on her. But Sean didn’t see that. He hated both of them. Hated him for what he was doing and hated her for not stopping it. I just hated it all. Being there. Being part of that awful family. And as soon as I could, I left and never went back.”

  “What happened that night?” Rena asked.

  “My father got home and kicked off his boots by the front door. Then he headed for the kitchen, like he did every night. Sean was waiting there, gun in hand, and shot him without a word. Then he wiped the gun of his fingerprints and told my mother to pick it up and fire a second shot. He said if she didn’t do it, he’d kill her next. Then me. My mother did it. In a way, I think she was glad to do it, glad to be rid of my father. But she also did it because she was scared of Sean. Then Sean told us what we were going to say to the police and he left the apartment.”

  “He was ten years old. How could he have held that kind of power over you and your mother?” Rena asked.

  “Sean was never a child. Not really. He was...always just different.”

  “You said you believe he killed your mother?”

  “I do. My mother was happy when she met Jonas Mallor. I think he was a good man. Adopted both Sean and me. Tried to make friends with us. Sean seemed to tolerate Jonas. But I think it made him crazy that my mother was happy. I don’t think he thought that she ever deserved to be happy because of the things she’d allowed to happen. But Sean never did anything that wasn’t to his benefit. Their car accident happened four months after Sean graduated from college. He didn’t need their financial support any longer. We both inherited a little money from their deaths. Not that much, maybe twenty thousand dollars or so, but I think Sean thought it was money due to him.”

  “Gracie,” A.L. said, “do you have any idea where Sean could go in or around Baywood where he might feel safe?”

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t. I hope you find the woman. I hope she’s okay.”

  A.L. didn’t answer.

  “Thank you, Gracie,” Rena jumped in. There was no need to add that if Gracie had spoken up earlier, they might not be in this position. She probably realized that. Might not be thinking it through to know that she could be charged as an accessory to murder, or at the very least, impeding a police investigation, but there was no use going into that right now.

  * * *

  Tess felt as if her heart was going to leap out of her chest. And she was terribly afraid that if she suddenly couldn’t breathe through her nose, that she would suffocate because of the duct tape on her mouth. And that made her think about the fact that in just a little while, this man was going to put a pillow over her face and she would be dead.

  “The police are stupid,” he said smugly. “I killed four women before they finally came to talk to me. But I was ready. Had my story. Always have to have a story. Knew that from the beginning when I was just a little kid.” He paused. “And the women, they were hardly even a challenge. One eight-by-ten glossy of their kid and you’ve got their attention. They open the door and let you in. I’ve got one for you, you know. In my backpack, with the others. But when you left town and nobody knew where you were, you were ruining everything. I was going to have to go on to number seventy. But I didn’t know anything about him. There wasn’t time. And I needed one more. Five. Five is half of ten. The math has to work.”

  He had absolutely no remorse. A psychopath for sure.

  “I called your parents, pretended I was a newspaper reporter, looking to do a human interest story. They weren’t helpful. But then I heard today from the good people at Hampton’s Title that you were back from your vacation and would be in on Monday. You see, I’d called them earlier in the week and told them that I specifically wanted to deal with you. Didn’t use my real name, of course. I got in my car and drove to Baywood. Followed you to Baywood Historic Preservation. Christ, I hate those people. So stupid for thinking that the Gizer Hotel should be saved. No one should have to look at that building. No one.”

  He let out a big sigh. “Lucky for me, I’d scanned your daughter’s photo. She’s a lovely girl, really. I’m sure she’ll miss her mother. I hated to send it via email. It was always so much better when I could see their faces, to know that they were going to have to choose between themselves and their children. But I had to do what I needed to do. The clock is ticking. I need to get back to Chicago. There’s a woman in my bed right now who’ll be able to substantiate I was there the whole night. Of course, she won’t remember that I wasn’t there. I really need to be home by three. I’ve got a seven o’clock meeting, and I need a couple hours of sleep beforehand so that I’m sharp.”

  Crazy sharp, she thought. He was acting as if it was her fault that he was missing sleep.

  “But it won’t be long now. Forty-three minutes. Then it’s back into the van for you, and somewhere outside the city limits, I’m going to roll you out of the back. It’s not my preference, but I’ll do what I need to do. Maybe they’ll find you before the coyotes do. Maybe not.”

  Forty-three minutes. She was going to be dead in forty-three minutes.

  He stared at her. “The Gizer Hotel should be mine. I was so close. But no worries. I’ll find a way. It’s just a matter of time. In the meantime, it’s been fun making you all pay.”

  You all had to be her and the dead women. Oh, God. She felt helpless. At least with the shark attack, she’d been able to fight back. But now?

  He walked out of the room and she started to pray.

  * * *

  On the way to Marie Wallace’s house, A.L. called Kelly Peach, Sean Mallor’s assistant. He thoug
ht it was possible that she’d be in bed and maybe let the call go to voice mail. But then again, late-night calls had the best chance of being answered. Everybody was always afraid it was bad news and they didn’t want to miss it.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Kelly, this is Detective McKittridge. We spoke in Sean Mallor’s office last week.”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “This is important, Ms. Peach. You told me that Sean Mallor was in his office, participating on a conference call for several hours on the afternoon of Tuesday, May 10. Do you know that for certain?”

  “I...well... I’m sure he was.”

  “Do you know?” A.L. asked again, trying to hold his frustration in but not succeeding. He was driving very fast, using both lights and siren.

  “I had a couple drinks at lunch. It was my birthday. And when Sean and I were walking back to the office, I got so tired. I could barely stay awake. And he told me that it was okay if I lay down on the couch in the conference room. That he would wake me if he needed anything.”

  “Did he wake you?”

  “I woke up about seven that evening. I couldn’t believe that I’d slept for more than six hours. Even then I didn’t feel very well. It was kind of embarrassing. The office was dark, and Sean had already left for the night. The next day, I apologized, and he told me not to worry about it, that his conference call had gone well, he’d worked on a few other files and left shortly after six. When you asked me about it, I didn’t tell you the whole truth. Sean is more understanding of things than Dwayne, and I didn’t want him to find out what happened. I was afraid I might lose my job.”

  “So you never saw Sean after what time?”

  “I guess it would have been about one-fifteen.”

  “Thank you,” A.L. said, and hung up. “He drugged her. Probably called into the meeting from his car on his cell phone. Gave him plenty of time to drive to Baywood, kill Jane Picus, return to the city and take the train home.”

  * * *

  “Call Ferguson,” A.L. said as they turned on to Marie Wallace’s street. “Let him know that we’re going in.”

  Rena made the call. A.L. didn’t bother to park, just beached the SUV in the street. Then they were up the sidewalk, pounding on Marie Wallace’s door. “Police. Open this door,” he yelled. It was an apartment building, and no doubt everybody in the apartment could hear him.

  The door swung open. Marie was in her nightgown.

  Rena stepped in, forcing Marie to step back. A.L. followed. He didn’t waste any time. “We know that Sean Sands Mallor is responsible for the deaths of four women in Baywood. We know that you were his childhood friend, and we believe that you were the person responsible for showing him the petition with the signatures of those supporting Baywood Historic Preservation’s efforts to save the building. He’s taken a fifth woman. If that woman dies, I will do my level best to make sure that you’re charged as an accessory to her murder. Now, tell me where the fuck I can find Sean Mallor.”

  Marie’s eyes filled with tears. “I hadn’t seen him for years. But I was so happy when he looked me up last fall. He was my best friend. And I... I thought maybe there could be something...between us.”

  “Where did he stay when he was in Baywood?” A.L. asked.

  “I don’t know. He didn’t stay here. And you have to believe me. I didn’t know that he was killing those women. And then there was Jane.” Marie’s lips trembled. “I started thinking about how angry Sean had gotten when he found out that I was using my maiden name again. He said that anything connected to our time in the Gizer Hotel had to be wiped away. Cleansed.”

  “There has to be someplace in Baywood that he’d feel safe,” Rena said. “Someplace you went as children?”

  Marie shook her head. “I would tell you if I knew.”

  “Think,” A.L. shouted.

  Marie closed her eyes. “There might be one thing. One time he was late and he said that he’d been at his father’s house. I didn’t think much about it at the time but later I wondered about it. I never knew his father had a house. I thought they always lived at the Gizer Hotel.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you remember?” A.L. asked.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m terribly sorry.”

  A.L didn’t respond. He was already running back outside.

  Rena took a minute to tell Ferguson to continue to watch Marie. Then she joined A.L. in the vehicle. He was staring ahead, into the darkness.

  According to the dash clock, it was 11:46. “If he said father, I think he would have been talking about Fred Sands, not Jonas Mallor.”

  “Agree,” A.L. said. He was already scanning his contacts in his phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Claudia Lawson.”

  When the woman answered, it was clear that they’d awakened her. “Hello,” she said sleepily.

  “It’s A.L. McKittridge,” he said. “This is an emergency request. We need to know if Fred Sands ever owned any real estate in Baywood. He died in 1973 so it would have been before that.”

  Claudia didn’t bother asking them why they needed it. Instead, she said, “I can log in from home. Just give me a minute.”

  They waited. Neither of them saying anything. Watching the clock tick over to 11:47. Then 11:48.

  “I’m in,” Claudia said. “And I’m doing a name search.”

  Rena crossed her fingers.

  “I’m sorry,” Claudia said. “There’s nothing here for a Fred Sands.”

  Rena could practically see the air come out of A.L. “For any Sands?” She turned to A.L. “Maybe it was his father’s house when he was a kid.”

  “Here’s something. From 1946 to 1952 for a Roy Sands.” Claudia paused. “Wait a minute. I need to check something.”

  Rena could feel heat roar through her veins. They did not have any minutes.

  But Claudia was solid. Smart.

  They waited.

  “I’ve got it,” Claudia said, sounding triumphant. “Sean Mallor’s middle name is Roy. Part of the proposal process is a background check on the principals. We needed their full legal name for that.”

  Gracie had said that there was some doubt on her father’s part that Sean was really his. Had he been tagged with a middle name of Roy in hopes of convincing others? Or maybe the doubt had come later.

  “What’s the address?” A.L. asked. He started the vehicle.

  “It’s 704 Fifteenth Street.”

  A.L. pulled away with a jerk and made a wide U-turn in the middle of the street.

  “Thanks, Claudia,” Rena said. “We owe you.”

  “Get him,” Claudia said, and hung up.

  The clock flipped over to 11:52.

  * * *

  A minute ago, he’d left the room but was back fast. He had something in his hands. It was so dark in the room it was hard to see what it was.

  “Had to get a pillow,” he said. “And your gloves. Although,” he laughed, somewhat nervously she thought, “I guess you’ll only need one.” He tossed them and they landed in her lap. “It’s just a few minutes now. You have to take your clothes off.” He came up behind her and used a knife to slice through the duct tape strapping her to the chair. He left the tape across her mouth.

  She shook her head and looked down toward her injured arm. That seemed to confuse him.

  “You have to take off your clothes,” he yelled. “And fold them. Damn it. Do what I tell you. You lazy kid.”

  She made some noise, as if she was trying to talk.

  He stepped close and ripped the tape off her mouth.

  “I can’t,” she said. “With my arm, I need help getting dressed and undressed.” If she could get him close, she was going to kick, hit, bite. Whatever it took.

  He growled and put his hands on the sides of his head in frustratio
n. “You are so fucking much trouble.”

  * * *

  Go. Go. Go. His brain was screaming.

  He’d promised Tess that he’d keep her safe, that nothing was going to happen to her. He could not fail her. She deserved better. Deserved every good thing that could happen to her.

  And maybe she thought that was him. He sure as hell hoped so.

  He swung around a curve. “Call for backup,” he said. “And an ambulance. Just in case,” he added, praying that they wouldn’t need it. That they would be in time.

  He heard Rena call it in. She sounded very far away.

  Seventeenth. Sixteenth. Fifteenth. He turned and floored it, not slowing down until they got to the seven-hundred block. “You take the right, I’ll take the left,” he said.

  “I’ve got it,” Rena yelled just seconds later. “At least I think I do.”

  He saw where she was pointing. Light blue siding. It was a box of a house with a long attachment to the one-car garage. It was very dark. The lawn was weeds, and the bushes weren’t trimmed, and there were knee-high thistles. He swerved into an open spot in front of a fire hydrant. It was 12:04.

  Twenty-Five

  Friday, May 20, Day 10

  “Are you waiting for backup?”

  “Fuck, no.”

  He ran up the sidewalk, opened the screen door, raised his leg and kicked open the front door.

  And saw Sean Mallor trying to smother Tess.

  She was fighting with everything she had.

  “Stop,” A.L. roared, and launched himself at the man. His body slammed into Mallor, and they went rolling. And A.L. started swinging. And kept going.

  And then someone was pulling him off. Rena and another officer. “A.L.,” Rena said. “Tess is alive. Tess is fine.”

  The words hardly made sense.