Ripping Abigail, a Quilted Mystery novel

by Sullivan, Barbara

  Chapter 41

  At twelve thirty-six the doodoo hit the fan. For ease and efficiency, Luis went on Twitter.

  Louie_Louiee lookng 4 sub at locker.

  12:36 am Oct 29

  Louie_Louiee still looking. Noise round bend.

  12:37 am Oct 29

  Louie_Louiee kids chantng. fight! am movng. no sign of indian.

  12:38 am Oct 29

  Louie_Louiee tchers runnng away. not gud.

  12:38 am Oct 29

  Louie_Louiee in nxt hall. am movng. crwds thck.

  12:38 am Oct 29

  Louie_Louiee sum1 on the grnd. gang boys fists n screams.

  12:39 am Oct 29

  Louie_Louiee krst its her! they have her dwn, im movng in, send will.

  12:42 am Oct 29

  They have her down!

  I let Matt call Will, and raced to the garage. As I drove up the driveway there was one last message.

  Louie_Louiee gang leadr sez how come u no learn lil 1? nice kds hlped. sub up but hrt. gang leadr oldr. sum1 calld hm Manada.

  10:43 am Oct 29

  I took off from the house in Escondido like a Peregrine falcon in a hunting dive. Twenty-three minutes later I was in Pinto Springs. I was setting new records on the winding back road. More than once I came close to running off the road into oblivion.

  Almost as bad was navigating the suddenly protective high school campus. I had to pass through three layers of security before gaining access to the administration area. Fortunately, people knew who I was and quickly accepted that I was there in lieu of Abigail’s mom. I hoped it wasn’t Luis who’d smoothed my path. I wanted him to stay under cover as long as he could.

  For all I knew, his cover was already blown.

  When I met up with Abigail she was in worse shape than I feared. Sitting on the little bed at the back of nurse Kaplan’s office, Abigail was bloodied and still blubbering. Her blouse had been torn so badly she had to hold it together with both hands. One knee was bandaged with the pant leg rolled up. One eye was swelling. A trickle of blood still oozed from one nostril.

  She was alternately sobbing about how the other kids had seen her breast and growing agitated that the Indian girl was still missing.

  She burst off the bed and into my arms. This time she would let me take her home to her grandmother for the rest of the day. The vice principal was nodding his head as I led her away.

  I’d searched for the infamous Learner and Mosby, aka Pestilence and Famine, on my way in and again now as we scurried down the empty halls. Unfortunately, I distrusted the two Pinto Springs detectives as much as I did Eddie Stowall, and I was afraid they’d take her from me.

  This was all way over the top and I knew it. But after the scene at the hospital with Abigail when Jimmy died I may have needed to redeem myself to Gloria.

  I wasn’t surprised the detectives weren’t here. This case hadn’t risen to a level where they would’ve been brought in anyway. But I wasn’t relieved at their absence. Their appearance on the scene would have meant the invisible wall that universally separates municipal jurisdictions had been breached. And that would be good because the school officials were clearly overwhelmed by their gang troubles.

  School systems are leery of police involvement in their affairs, because as recipients of vast amounts of property tax dollars they are very invested in maintaining the story (fiction?) that schools are doing a fine job of educating and keeping our kids safe.

  When I got to my car Luis was standing by it, thankfully unscathed. I put Abigail in the car, and closed the door so we could talk.

  He then told me what I already knew.

  “The Pinto Springs cops are here. They’re in the office with Forsythe discussing the missing Indian girl. One of them is a captain, maybe now we’ll get some real protection on campus. The principal has a lawyer standing behind the desk with him.” He shook his head and made a disgusted face. “What’s the damn world coming to?”

  I couldn’t tell him. He seemed relieved but I couldn’t support his reaction either.

  “That Indian girl is still missing. I’m going out after her as soon as Will gets here.”

  “Matt approved that?”

  He wouldn’t make eye contact.

  “That’s not our job, Luis.”

  I couldn’t believe I was even saying this, but I had to. Luis could run into things he was in no way prepared for, and Sandy was figuratively lurking at the back of my brain--looking over my shoulder to make certain I didn’t imperil her man.

  “So you be certain to wait until Matt arrives too. Okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s just, every minute counts in kidnapping cases.”

  I glanced at Abigail. She was half sleeping, her head against the car window, unaware of Luis comment.

  “We don’t know she’s been kidnapped, Luis. Maybe she just ran off embarrassed. Maybe she’s back home with her parents as we speak.”

  But she wasn’t.

  Chapter 42

  8 pm, Wednesday

  Matt arrived home long after I’d eaten. He looked at me, still sitting at the dining table, and silently went away down the hall. Fifteen minutes later he came back with a change of clothes and his hair wet.

  His absence at my table had brought back lonely memories of the years we’d been separated during our marriage. He’d been sent away on Med cruises, a second tour in Vietnam and finally Iraq, all of which had accumulated to about five years of our marriage.

  I couldn’t imagine how young military people were coping today. Iraq and Afghanistan were pulling families apart at least fifty percent of their lives.

  I reheated Matt’s meal and placed it before him. He poured himself a large glass of red. I was doing hot tea tonight. I still had a few calls to make.

  “They can’t find her. She’s obviously been kidnapped. Her parents don’t know where she is and they insist she isn’t a runaway. But the goddamned authorities won’t call in an Amber Alert. Some bullshit about waiting twenty-four hours. The school is holding them back.” Matt took a bigger sip of wine.

  “I wondered why I didn’t see it on the news. Are you going around them?”

  Wrong question. He was already seething. He choked down some chicken. I waited. Finally he shook his head.

  “Too costly. I need them right now for Abigail. Besides, I don’t think it’ll help tonight anyway. Not up in those mountain towns. Will and Luis canvassed the surrounding neighborhoods of the school, did a little door-to-door. But they’re white collar. She won’t be there if she’s still alive. We need to get into the barrio.”

  “You think…” I couldn’t even say the word ‘dead’ lest I make it true.

  “No, no, of course not. I’m just pissed. Damn principal is the worst bureaucrat I’ve seen in years. His job consists of do nothing and look busy.”

  He sipped some more wine. Finally I added my two cents worth.

  “Abigail told me she knows Betty Wolftooth.”

  “Yeah? How long has she known her?”

  “She met her yesterday and had lunch with her today, just before they were jumped in the hall. She also told me girl gang members were involved in the attack. But it was all Hispanics. The white girls she’d overheard in the bathroom were nowhere to be seen.”

  “The worst thing is the teachers did nothing. They ran the other way.” Matt stuck a couple of fries in his mouth.

  “I know. I read Luis’ online stuff. Abigail doesn’t know any of this—that Betty is missing or that the teachers turned their backs--but maybe she should.” My voice trailed off, unable to censor my fears.

  “You’re thinking she shouldn’t be there?”

  “I don’t know what I’m thinking, Matt. I’m just frightened for her now.”

  “Yeah. But it isn’t all bad. Luis told me three of the school soccer players helped him rescue Abigail--a Hispanic kid, a black and a white. Will’s got their names so he can connect with them, maybe tomorrow. They might come in handy later--help us reach int
o the different neighborhoods.

  He finished his meal and retreated to the living room. There was nothing more to say. I went to the kitchen to finish cleaning up.

  Around nine my cell phone rang. It was Andrea Kelly and I braced for an onslaught of swear words. But she was calm.

  “I tried reaching Abigail. Nana answered, said something in Ukrainian I took to mean Gloria was at the hospital and Abigail was in her room. Then she hung up. What gives?” The pixie was abrupt when she wasn’t being dirty mouthed.

  But I was wondering why she’d called me.

  “What have you heard?”

  “Well, Mary said something. She’s heard there was a fight on campus.”

  Mary was one of the three daughters of Victoria Stowall who owned and operated the Apple FIXation store in Julian, California, to the north of Pinto Springs.

  But more importantly, Mary was also aunt to Eddie. Eddie shot me a couple of weeks ago.

  “Are you living with Victoria now?”

  “What? No. I just visit. She’s got Sarah living there now.”

  Sarah was Victoria’s fourth and youngest girl, the one who was brain damaged in early childhood—and therefore did not work with her three older sisters.

  I remembered hearing Sarah and the other Stowall daughters making noises out in the hall during the prior bee. Sarah had been upset at the time and her complaints sounded more childlike than adult.

  “So are you gonna’ tell me?” the Pixie demanded.

  “Abigail had a run-in with the Pintos gang at school today. She got hurt. I took her home.”

  The conversation lagged for a minute. I out-waited her.

  Finally Andrea said, “Why don’t you try? Nana can cough up a couple of English words when she has to. Try to reach Abigail. She trusts you, Rache. She told me you were a straight shooter and you were good to her. You did what she asked and didn’t rat on her.”

  Matt was the only one who ever called me Rache—at least that I’d noticed. I tried to remember if Andrea had ever even met Matt. I didn’t think so. I smiled.

  “Okay. I’ll give her a try.”

  “I keep looking for the Amber Alert on that Indian girl. What’s up with that?”

  So Andrea knew that the Native American girl Betty was missing. Then she must have known about the fight. She was testing me to see if I’d be straight with her, too.

  I began to feel manipulated.

  I looked over at Matt and took a few steps out onto the back deck. It was chilly but not cold down here near sea level. Wisdom accompanied me. It was his job to protect me from the wild donkeys, baboons and opossums that hang out in our neck of the woods.

  I stroked the silk behind his large ears as I talked.

  “Cops won’t call it in.”

  “Shit!”

  Okay, I knew sooner or later she’d start talking like a Marine. Just cover your ears.

  “Can Matt..?”

  I cut her off.

  “I already went there. He says it’d damage his relationship with the cops and Abigail needs all the connections she can get.”

  “Fuck. What if I call Gerry and she calls her son Tom?”

  “Still might backfire. Matt thinks we wait until morning and then act. I want you to trust his judgment, Andrea. But if you can figure out why the cops won’t act on these cases, let me know.”

  “Me? Figure out cops? Well, of course there is the ever virulent Stowall clan influence in and outside of the cops and sheriffs. But that wouldn’t be it.”

  “No. Maybe the school is dragging their feet to keep the truth out of national newspapers. This one is sure to go there eventually.”

  “Oh yeah. Bad press.”

  My dinner was turning in my belly, a sure sign I wasn’t making the right moves. But I hadn’t a clue what the right moves were right now.

  Matt blew me off the deck with a quiet voice that stirred my hair and sent chills down my spine.

  “Hang up.”

  I said a quick good-bye to Andrea and turned to face him.

  You might think I find it frightening when he acts real tough like that. I don’t. I find it sexy. I controlled the inner grin overlaying my anxiety at getting caught sharing our business with Andrea.

  But Matt’s mind was elsewhere.

  “You’ve got to convince Abigail to stay home tomorrow. I’m going around them in the morning. That girl deserves an Amber Alert.”

  “You’re going to confront the cops?” He didn’t answer me.

  “I’m going to bed. I’m beat. Come in from the cold.” My libido limped back into its hidey-hole somewhere in my brain.

  I sighed and stepped back into the kitchen. I really didn’t believe I could talk Abigail into anything. And I was beginning to fear that she had arrived on campus at the beginning of a serious sociological change in the Pintos Gang.

  Social Worker Latisha—who’d been cooling her heels in the Prince’s outer office--made a point of telling me she’d never seen the gang so brutal, adding that there were no other missing children. She hoped we could nip the problem in the bud.

  I was thinking we had a full grown Venus Flytrap on our hands.

  Chapter 43

  I called Abigail to see if she was okay. Nana handed her the phone immediately. Guard dog Nana. Good for her. But then the dog in Peter Pan came to mind and all sense of security evaporated.

  The timidity in Abigail’s voice told me the extent of her trauma. The vivacious, outgoing Abigail was submerged, held down by emotions I needed to help her understand. So I probed her for facts.

  “Tell me what happened, Abigail. Tell me everything you remember because we need to solve this puzzle.”

  She paused then haltingly answered.

  “They whispered to me. They kept whispering to me as they tore my blouse off, disgusting things.…” Her voice melted away like a pale fog.

  “What did they say, hon?”

  “Awful things. What they wanted to do. What they would do soon….”

  “Go on, hon. Tell me specifically. They may have let something slip, something we can use.”

  The silence extended to minutes, then hours. I thought she’d hung up. But finally she went on.

  “I won’t repeat it, it was disgusting crap!”

  Anger. Good.

  “But, all the while I heard their sister group, a gang of Hispanic girls, beating on Betty. I…I turned…they beat her face….” She started sobbing again.

  My heart was in my throat. I thought to stop but knew if I let Abigail go on she’d better avoid a deeper slide into depression later. She needed to talk it out and I might be the only one she could do that with right now.

  “Did they say anything about who they were? Did they mention gang names? Try to remember their exact words, Abigail.”

  “The one…the one on top….”

  “The one on top of you….” I repeated her words slowly.

  “He was older. He wasn’t a boy.”

  This was what Luis had implied in his urgent message to us. He’d also given Matt a brief description of the guy as they began searching for the girl--a Hispanic male, medium height, medium weight, black hair, no facial hair, no visible scars.

  It could have been any Hispanic male on earth.

  “How much older?”

  “He was a man. An adult. Maybe in his late twenties or thirties. And he smelled bad. Like his insides were rotting. And…there was something else….”

  She stopped again. I didn’t think in the middle of this trauma she would have noticed much more. She continued without my bidding.

  “I can’t remember. I think…I don’t know, maybe I saw a tattoo, because the letter H keeps popping into my mind. I remember! He’d rolled down his eye lid, pulled down like he was trying to remove a particle of dirt, but then he held it there so I could see…I think…I think it held tattooed letters, M and H—really close together. Is that possible?”

  MH. .Luis had said his name was Manolo. So now maybe we knew
his last name started with H.

  From my many hours of research I knew tattoos could be done anywhere on your body if you could endure the pain. But I didn’t need to share that with her.

  “I don’t know, Abby.”

  And finally the dam broke and the timidity was washed away.

  “I hate him! I’ll always hate him. I’ll never let him have power over me, or any part of me!”

  “Good girl. You keep saying that to yourself, Abigail. Say it aloud, so you can hear the affirmation in your own voice. He is nothing more than a piece of evil you bumped into. And that is over.”

  “Yes. But Betty, have they found her? I’m so terribly afraid for her.”

  I thought about dodging the question, but trust was vital.

  “Not yet.”

  I hoped Matt was in the other room working his way around the blockage in the PS cop shop, getting the Amber Alert up as I spoke instead of waiting for morning.

  “What else did this bad dude say?”

  Abigail grew more thoughtful. “I’m not sure if I heard him right, but…when one of the others, one of the high school gang members, reached over and started…started playing with my…I can’t…my breast. He played with my breast with his filthy fingers.”

  She stopped.

  “More crap,” I said. “What did you hear,” I encouraged.

  “Okay. I get what you’re doing. I’m okay. Anyway, the guy on top of me, he barked at the high school kid.

  “That’s just what it sounded like too, not words, a sharp bark sound. Then he sneered at the gang member and told him…he said, ‘Never mess with the merchandise, cacahuete.’

  “I looked it up, that means peanut. Peanut is what they call a beginner gang member, but the high school guy was the leader of the gang, of the Pintos. It should have been a real insult to him but he just jumped back like he’d been slapped, you know, by a parent taking a swing at him.”

  A sudden sense of urgency filled my chest. There was definitely something more serious going on here.