She pulled a tissue from a box on her desk and dabbed her eyes. “No.” Her voice choked and she blew her red nose.
Doris creaked a long, mournful yowl.
“It’s okay, baby.” Wanda stroked the ancient cat. “No parent should ever be put through the agony of outliving their child.”
“Oh, Wanda. I had no idea.” I tossed my portfolio on the counter and ran around the counter to the chair next to her and sat down, taking her hand in mine. “Why are you here? You should be home in bed.”
“Life has to go on. The living must go on. It’s what he would have wanted.” She lifted her head and looked around the shop. “This place meant everything to him. It will be so empty without him.”
“How old was he?” I asked, without thinking whether it was any of my business or not.
She broke down into gut-wrenching sobs. “One hundred and twenty-five.”
It was Dave who’d passed. Good old Dave.
“His heart gave out. I tried to revive him, even called the paramedics, but it was too late. He died in my a-a-rms.”
Doris leaned forward and gave my hand a half-hearted chomp that broke my heart. I needed to let these two mourn in peace, so I told her I’d call in a few days.
I had the rest of the afternoon free and after hearing about Dave, I honored his memory by taking my best furry gal-pal, Daisy, to the park. We hadn’t been there in a while, so when I said, “Wanna go to the doggie park?” she went berserk. Of course, using the right tone, I probably could have said anything and she would have gone berserk, like, “Wanna go to the mall and watch Mommy try on bathing suits and cry?”
Usually we go to the large regional park just off Highway One, but I changed it up and drove to the one at Lago Park on the west end of town. As I drove in, Daisy noticed the ducks hanging out in the lake skirting the road and her tail thumped against the seat in anticipation.
“Oh, darn it. I forgot my shotgun, so I guess you won’t be jumping in the lake and retrieving dead ducks. Poor Daisy.”
After releasing my squirming girl from her backseat tether, she dragged me to the entrance gates. The first gate was no problem, but the second was blocked by the dogs inside who couldn’t wait for Daisy to enter. Finally, she was free to romp, and I collapsed on a bench next to an older man doing needlepoint.
He saw me glance at his project. “It was the one thing I simply could not give up after my sex change operation.”
I had nothing to say to that, so I smiled and nodded like a bobble-head.
“I’m kidding,” he said with a devilish grin. “I do needlepoint to calm my nerves. Beats the hell out of Xanax.”
I looked at his project, a cute puppy chasing a ball.
“I make them into pillows and give them to kids at the women’s shelter.”
“How nice,” I replied, thinking what a dear man he was.
“It’s the least I can do,” he said.
Daisy ran to me and gave my flip-flopped feet a lick, then dashed back to her new best friends.
“Nice dog,” said my bench mate.
“Which one is yours?” I asked.
“Don’t have a dog, just like watching them play. I used to go to the park and watch the kids, but some of the parents started giving me odd looks, like I’m a predator or something.” He sighed. “I understand where they’re coming from given how many I defended through the years, but I’m just a grandpa who misses his grandkids. So now I watch the dogs, soak up the sun, and do my needlepoint.”
“Ever think about getting a dog?”
“One of these days, I will. This is like window-shopping for me. Right now, I’m leaning towards a Labrador. Never met one I didn’t like.”
I figured it was time to introduce myself. “My name’s Katy and that’s Daisy.”
She heard her name and streaked over to say hello to my new friend.
“Hello, Daisy.” He scratched the scruff of her neck. “I’m Ben.”
Daisy gave him an appreciative kiss on his hand and dashed off to wrestle a Boxer.
“I take it you’re an attorney.”
“Was. Retired now and glad of it.” He did a few delicate stitches to the puppy’s nose and then continued. “I was a criminal attorney in Los Angeles for over forty years. The sad reality of the job is that most of the people you defend are guilty as sin.” He paused, resting his handiwork on his lap. “Somewhere in the midst of all that, I lost my humanity. It all became a game for me. A game I had to win, no matter how heinous the crime was. My wife kept begging me to stop, said I was no longer the man she married. After forty-five years of marriage, she gave up and left me.”
“Is that why you retired?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat and pinched his tear ducts under his wire-rims. “So, Katy, my dear, what is it about you that just made me unload on you?”
I considered his question a moment. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a complete stranger about your troubles than to tell a friend.”
“Or a shrink. I tried that and was given antidepressants, which made me feel worse.”
“So you do needlepoint—”
“And volunteer at the women’s shelter and do pro bono work. I’ve got a lot of making up to do.” He smiled at me. “I feel like Jacob Marley dragging around a heavy chain of sins.”
Daisy came to me panting and collapsed at my feet. “She’s done.” I leaned down and clipped her leash to her halter. “How often do you come to the park, Ben?” I asked as I stood to leave.
“Oh, three, four times a week, around this time of day. Maybe I’ll see you again.”
“I look forward to that.”
He gave Daisy another scratch behind the ears and we went to the gate, this time to fight our way out of the park without releasing the other dogs crowding us.
Walking back to the car, I thought about Ben. Silver hair, wire-rimmed specs, goatee, snappy dresser, and somewhere around Ruby’s age. That’s right, I was thinking about doing a little matchmaking. But first I’d need a few more visits with him to see if I get any red flags.
NINETEEN
Friday, May 10
1996
Seventh period was study hall for Lindsay and Jenny. In her former life, they would have been whispering, stifling giggle fits, and passing notes, but now she felt claustrophobic in the crowded, stuffy room and longed to be out in the fresh air. She whispered to Jenny to take her backpack home, telling her she’d pick it up later, then asked the teacher’s aide for permission to go to the bathroom, which she did so she wouldn’t be lying. Afterward she went out to the flagpole where her mom would be picking her up in thirty minutes. She sat on the lawn and leaned against the pole, using her purple cardigan as a back cushion.
No one was out there, and Lindsay wasn’t worried about getting into trouble; she figured she was due some slack after what she’d gone through. She wished it were already tomorrow when her hypnotherapy session would be behind her. She closed her eyes and tried to think happy thoughts.
The flag snapped in the light breeze, its rope clanging against the hollow metal pole. A chain-link privacy fence about thirty feet behind her shielded the swimming pool and she heard cheers and whistles blowing for a swim meet in progress. Next year she wanted to join the swim team, but with cheerleading and yearbook committee, it might be too much. Keeping her grades up was critical. She was thinking about becoming a vet or a marine biologist, but she really liked fashion design, too.
Lulled by the warm sun and the familiar, comforting sounds around her, she dozed off.
Phil drove into the high school parking lot at 2:37 and stopped under an oak tree at the edge of the lot near the street. “I don’t see any empty spaces.”
The school, originally built for a maximum student body of 1,500 was now educating over 3,000. Cars crowded every conceivable spot and school officials had long given up handing out citations.
“I don’t believe it. There she is.” Erik pointed towards the flagpole on the other side of t
he lot.
Phil checked the dashboard clock. “Why is she out there already?”
“Who the hell cares?” Erik punched Phil’s arm. “This is our lucky break. Let’s go.”
“Maybe we should wait,” Jake said from the backseat. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“I agree,” said Phil. “What if her mother’s picking her up early? This is a stupid idea. We should just go.” He put the car in gear.
“And lose a perfect opportunity? This could be our only chance, and we’re sitting here wasting time.” Erik turned in his seat, pinning Jake with an icy glare, each word enunciated slowly. “Let’s just do this like we planned, okay?”
Jake squirmed under Erik’s defiance. “You’re probably right.”
“Damn straight, I’m right.” He turned to face the front. “Let’s quit wasting time and do this.”
Phil put the car in gear and creeped through the parking lot, slowly closing the gap between him and what he knew could only be disaster. His eyes darted around the lot, searching for a car coming that could be Lindsay’s mother.
“You’re driving like an old lady,” snapped Erik, smacking the dashboard. “Let’s move it.”
“Don’t really think it’s a good idea to call attention to ourselves.” Phil eased the Ford Explorer to the curb near the flagpole. He gazed through the passenger window at Lindsay and was surprised to see her eyes were closed. The rustle of a plastic bag distracted him and he turned to see Jake taking something out of the brown plastic bag he’d been carrying when they had met on the frat house porch. “What’s in the—”
“Look at her. She’s asleep,” Erik whispered. “I can’t friggin’ believe our luck. Jake, forget those. We don’t need them yet. Let’s go.”
Jake dropped the bag to the rubber floor mat.
“Need what?” asked Phil, but he didn’t get an answer because they were scrambling out of the car.
Erik leaned back in and whispered, “Keep the motor running.”
“For God’s sake, we’re not robbing a bank.”
“True. But if her mom shows up, we need—”
“Go.” Phil watched them move toward her. This is wrong. Why did I let myself get talked into this?
His internal alarms clanged into overdrive when he saw them skirting around her and approaching her from behind. “What the hell?”
Lindsay was dozing, when she was suddenly jolted awake and roughly hauled to her feet. Her brain frantically struggled to make sense of her predicament as she found herself being dragged through the grass to a vehicle at the curb. Finally her brain connected with her mouth, and she screamed.
Erik snarled in her ear, “Shut the fuck up and get in.”
From the SUV, Phil shouted shrilly, “What are you doing?”
Lindsay struggled furiously and screamed again. The back door was open and her head was forced down to the seat. Her shins slammed against the steel threshold, pitching her forward, landing hard on the leather backseat. Jake grabbed her arms and yanked her across the seat. She felt her legs shoved into the floor of the car and then something heavy settled on her back, jamming her face into the seat, pinning her head against something soft and crushing the breath out of her.
The doors slammed. “Let’s go!” Erik ordered.
“No. This is wrong,” pleaded Phil.
“He’s right, Erik,” said Jake. He sat to the left of Lindsay, and it was his thigh her head was pressing into. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I didn’t know it would be like this. This is wrong. Really wrong. Let’s let her go and get out of here.”
“Too late now. What’s done is done. Let’s just get the fuck outta here before someone sees us.”
The car started moving and Lindsay felt a soft bump as it rolled over a speed bump before exiting the parking lot. She struggled to raise her head to suck in air and realized Erik was sitting on her back. He punched her hard on the shoulder and told her to lie still.
“God!” shouted Jake. “You don’t have to hit her.”
“Erik,” said Phil, “you didn’t tell me you were going to grab her.”
“Because you never would have agreed. Do you really think we could have stood out there and had a nice little chat with her? Seriously, Phil?”
“Oh God,” said Phil. “What have you done?”
“We’re all in this together so just keep driving, Phil.”
Lindsay panted shallow breaths, trying to silently inhale air. Her heart rate was nearing the explosion point, her vision blurring into a sparkling mist. Starved for oxygen, she finally choked raggedly for breath.
“Erik. Get off her. She can’t breathe,” said Jake.
“Not while we’re in town. Somebody might see her.”
Erik spoke next to her ear. She could taste his whiskey breath as she gasped desperately for oxygen. “When I let you up, you gotta promise not to do anything, or I will fucking kill you.”
“Erik. Cut it out,” said Phil. “No one’s going to hurt you, Lindsay.” A minute later he said, “Okay, we’re on the freeway. Let her up.”
“First we have to put these on,” said the voice to her left, pulling rubber masks out of the plastic bag he’d left on the car floor. “Here, Phil.” He tossed it on the front seat.
“I’m not putting that on. No way, Jake.”
“Do it,” said Erik, “so she doesn’t see your face.”
“I don’t care if she sees my face,” said Phil. “What difference does it make?”
“If she sees our faces she can describe us,” the one called Jake said. “So this is not only for our safety but for hers, too.”
Erik moved to the right and jerked her to a sitting position, giving her a startling glimpse of his masked face. A grinning President Clinton.
Now able to breathe, her head cleared, and she glanced out the window. The car was on 101 heading north out of town to the grade. Where are they taking me? Why is this happening? The man to her left wore a hoodie with a USL logo on it, sending a new flood of terror through her. Oh God, it must be them. She knew instinctively not to let them know her discovery. Lindsay dropped her eyes to her trembling hands on her lap and tried to control her rising panic. Her mother’s voice whispered in her head, “Focus and breathe. Focus and breathe.”
As she willed her escalating blood pressure down, she remembered an Oprah show she’d watched with her mom a few months ago. It was about what to do when you found yourself in a dangerous situation. What did the man say? Don’t act afraid. Tell them your name so it becomes more personal.
No one spoke as the car topped the long grade and began its descent. After a few minutes, Erik said, “Turn at Santa Sicomoro.”
“What exactly is your plan?” asked Phil.
“Don’t worry about it. Just drive through town and I’ll tell you when to turn.”
Lindsay couldn’t stand it anymore and blurted, “Why are you doing this to me?”
“We want to talk to you, that’s all,” Erik said, his voice muffled by the grinning mask.
“Why? I don’t even know who you are.” Tell them your name so it becomes more personal. “M-my name’s Lindsay.”
“That’s a relief,” he said snidely. “It’d be a real bummer if we’d grabbed the wrong girl.”
She didn’t want to cry in front of them, but the tears flowed anyway. Are they going to rape me again? “Please let me go,” she whispered, her voice choking. “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
The boy in the hoodie turned to her. She shuddered when she saw the Arnold Schwarzenegger Terminator mask he wore. “You don’t need to be afraid. We’re not going to hurt you. But no more talking until we get there, okay? Then we’ll discuss everything and you can go home.”
“Yeah, then you can go home.” Erik mimicked Jake, snuggling an arm around her thin, quivering shoulders. “Don’t worry about it. Just chill.” She tried to wriggle out from under his arm, which made him snicker and squeeze her tighter.
Phil saw this in the rearview
mirror. “God. Leave her alone, Erik. She’s just a kid.”
“Not the way I remember it. She wanted it bad the other night.” His hand snaked down her front and pinched her small breast. “Didn’t you, girl?”
She twisted away from him and crossed her arms over her breasts. “I-I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’d recognized Erik’s voice as the creepy guy at the frat party who’d given her a Dr. Pepper.
The SUV drove slowly through the small town of Santa Sicomoro, sticking to the speed limit. As they passed several small businesses and homes clustered within the downtown limits, Lindsay frantically looked about for someone on the street. She would bang on the window and scream, and they would see the license plate and call the police, maybe even get in their car and save her, but the sidewalks were empty.
Erik noticed her eyes darting back and forth and chuckled. “No one out there to help you, Lind-say.”
Jake slammed the front seat with his hand. “Quit screwing with her, Erik.”
“Been there and done that.”
TWENTY
Friday, May 10
1996
At 2:57, Belinda Moore parked by the flagpole to wait for her daughter. The school bells sounded at 3:00, and moments later, students poured through the gates into the parking lot. At 3:10, the school buses were leaving and she was losing patience. She wanted Lindsay to have time for a snack before her 4:00 appointment with Dr. Greenburg.
“She must be talking to friends and has lost track of time,” she said aloud. She got out of the minivan, walked around to the passenger side and leaned against the vehicle, arms crossed in irritation, watching the gate.
A sudden wind gust snapped the flag rope against the metal pole and Belinda turned her head, looking up at the flag. Then she noticed a purple sweater at the foot of the pole. A split second later it struck her that it looked like Lindsay’s favorite sweater. She ran to it, snatching it up, knowing instinctively that something was wrong. She clutched the mohair sweater to her breast and rushed to the school office. The secretary was straightening papers on the counter when Belinda burst through the doors. “Have you seen Lindsay? I can’t find her!”
Pamela Frost Dennis - Murder Blog 01 - Dead Girls Don't Blog Page 12
