"I can show you where he lives," she finally agreed.
Tingo looked at Carr. This was long overdue. Find Emerich and they would find Danny Soulé. They were sure of it.
Carr called up Danny's picture on the terminal in their police car. He turned to the young girl. "Seen this one?
The girl squinted at the picture, studying the woman's face.
"She's too old. You won't find her going on dates with men. I have never seen that one."
Carr switched to another digital image of Jane Doe 235. "How about now?" he asked.
"No," said the Vietnamese. "Never have I seen that one."
"All right," said Tingo. "We're going to have you direct us to your pimp's house. Then we'll bring you back here. Can you do that for us?"
She nodded and took a swallow of her coffee. It had turned cold while she shook and cried.
"I can do that," she said, steeling herself. None of the girls liked to be near the two pimps. Never.
And so they drove out of East St. Louis toward Alton.
It was a tough neighborhood, inner city and black but the detectives understood the rationale for living there. They would be basically left alone, neighbors wouldn't snoop and if anyone ever saw anything they'd never admit it. Calls wouldn't be made to the police, no matter how many underage girls came and went from the pimp's house. Heads would turn away; it was just another white devil selling girls. It was totally ignored by all.
The girl directed them to a side street where a white Victorian rambler was set back from the roadway behind a chain link fence. Two ferocious looking Dobies prowled the yard looking for an arm or a leg feast. So the detectives, returning to the home after returning Ling to her street corner, didn't try to enter into the yard. In fact, they were stumped. The dogs ruled the yard. A discussion was held and it was finally decided they would call animal control to come get the dogs while they cordoned off the house so that no one could come or go until the dicks had entered and searched for Danny.
Calls were made and additional Alton police came to their assistance. Four police cars, lights flashing, took over the street in front of the house. Uniforms surrounded the dwelling; the dogs were caught and placed inside an animal control truck; and the two detectives made their way to the front door. They knocked. No answer. They shouted. Still no answer.
At just that moment, around the corner rolled Emerich and Danny in their Cadillac, returning from an hour at a local restaurant. Danny was all but asleep in the passenger's seat as they drove quickly past the house, not stopping, not slowing down as the occupation of his property registered in Emerich's mind. Luckily for them, no cops had been posted to control traffic in the roadway, so passage was possible with no questions.
Emerich wheeled the Caddie around the cul-de-sac and back down to the corner and floored it.
Another house lost to the cops.
But he had his laptop with him. He never went anywhere without it.
Danny came awake long enough to see the police presence. Her first thought was of the knife hidden inside the Chagall cloth. She knew they wouldn't be returning here. She knew the knife was lost to her.
She closed her eyes and appeared not to notice anything. There would be other houses, other knives. The way would be made clear.
Out of the corner of her eye she studied her captor's throat. How sweet it would be to draw a sharp blade across that pale skin. Just to watch the line of blood erupt and course down his neck.
She dreamt of blood that night in the Holiday Inn Express where they crashed.
He climbed in beside her just after two a.m. and raped her.
The man meant to get rid of her. She was certain of it.
She fell back asleep. Dreams were troubled and she cried out twice in the dark. Both times he shushed her and raped her again. Jana was out of control with her. He couldn't leave her alone. Every time she turned around—in her room, in the kitchen, in the family room—he was there, studying her, his eyes moist with lust. She withdrew further inside each time. She prayed for Gunnar to come around. Gunnar would definitely know what to do.
After the third rape, if she'd had her knife, he wouldn't be breathing.
Morning couldn't come fast enough.
40
Danny
It was no secret from me that it was coming. But I still wasn't ready.
It was Friday night and he said he wanted to take me to dinner.
"It's time to make some friends and find some favorite places where we like to eat and maybe return with another couple or two."
Which sounded totally phony and put me on the highest alert.
So I sat at the poorly lighted dressing table in our hotel room and thought about what I might do to cover the love bruises on my face. Tears came into my eyes—and had been all day long—when I studied myself in the mirror. What was I to do? If I went out with no makeup, people would turn away, maybe upset them and ruin their dinner and I certainly didn't want that for anyone. I decided to send Jana out for some foundation makeup. He was surprisingly willing to help and left the room immediately when I explained what I needed.
"There's a CVS two blocks back, I'll go there."
He had been patient with me all day and had demonstrated terrible anguish for what he had done while he raped me. He couldn't apologize enough but, I realized, he also wasn't letting me out of his sight. While he was gone from the room I had no doubt that Niles would be lurking. I knew my husband way too well to believe even for a second that he would leave me alone untended. Not going to happen.
But I wasn't buying any of his remorse. I knew it was all an act. I knew Jana had no feelings for anyone ever, that he was what I had learned was sociopathic. While he was gone to the drug store I was feeling terribly lonely and afraid. It occurred to me that I should call the hospital and ask for help. So I found their number, got an outside line, and placed my call. I asked for Dr. Thomas but it was Friday night and I was told he was no longer in the hospital that day. So I asked for Reggie Ewald, my social worker. Reggie was gone for the day, too. I finally reached the nurse I knew only as Trang on the head injury floor. She came on the line and struggled for a just a minute to remember who I was. Then I reminded her I was Jane Doe 235 and Trang instantly connected up the woman with the name.
"How are you, Danny?" Trang wanted to know. "Is everything all right with you?"
I broke down and was instantly awash in tears and a runny nose. I described the living conditions, talked about the diary, and confided in Trang about the rapes and then cried through the story of the latest rapes and fists. Trang was angry and got my address and room number. She told me she was calling the police and reporting what was going on. She told me not to move.
But I didn't have any choice in that. Jana arrived and immediately went to the room phone and called the front desk and got a list of outgoing calls. He redialed the hospital and instantly understood what call I had made. Furious and shaking, he turned away from the phone and laid me out on the floor with a backhand across my face. The bruises broke open and the blood began streaming. Jana knelt over me and placed his knee in my chest to stop my wriggling. My cuts were laid wide open and bleeding profusely.
"No," I cried, turning my head back and forth, "I haven't hurt you. Please just let me go and I'll not tell anyone anything. Please!"
But it was no use. Jana let himself down on my abdomen and planted his knees on my arms. Just then, the door flew open and Niles hurried inside.
"Sirens!" he cried. "Let's move."
Together they jerked me up off the floor and carried me kicking and screaming out to Niles’ SUV. They tossed me in the backseat and Jana climbed in and sat on me. Niles started up the engine, wheeled away from the parking slot, and raced out of the parking lot.
"You know where I want to go?” Jana asked his driver.
"Hundred and Third Street, right?"
"Exactly."
They raced through sharp turns and sped up on straightaways. Weeping
and swaying the whole time, I became carsick and vomited on the carpet of the back floor. Suddenly the SUV slowed and pulled over to the curb.
"This okay?" asked Niles.
"Perfect. Help me with her."
Niles came with a length of rope and bound my ankles together. The men then carried me into the crosswalk and stood me upright. While I was poised in the crosswalk, Jana ran back to the SUV, backed it up, and slipped it into low. Then he stomped it and drove straight at me. When his front bumper made contact with my body, the SUV was breaking thirty-five miles per hour. I flew up and over the hood and he immediately hit the brakes, causing me to slide off the front end. He then drove over my still body and stopped just beyond.
I was aware. I hadn’t died. At least not yet.
Jana ran up to me and removed the length of cord from my ankles. He then ran to the SUV and climbed in the passenger seat. Drawing abreast of my still form, Niles paused the vehicle while Jana rolled down his window and tossed a woman's purse at me. The driver's license and Social Security card and credit cards clearly identified me as Dania Emerich. Then the car sped away from the dark intersection into the night. During all of this, not one other car passed in either direction. My body was there in the roadway for the next motorist to run over.
At the next stoplight the SUV's brake lights flared and the driver made a screeching right turn and then the vehicle was gone.
As far as my husband was concerned, I was just a statistic on some actuary's spreadsheet.
A statistic worth five million dollars. Dead.
41
Tingo
Tingo and Cash were only minutes behind Niles’ SUV. They had fallen back on purpose, making sure they weren't spotted following. At a drawbridge they had just missed the raising of the bridge and sat watching helplessly as the SUV made it across at the last second and left them behind.
Several minutes later, the bridge was back in place and Tingo floored the accelerator in the Ford Interceptor. The car leapt ahead, swinging out into the no-passing lane as Tingo switched on the red-and-blue lights and began running Code 3. Two blocks further on, they headed west on Turlock Road, a quiet street that led into the countryside. Then, at the first intersection, Tingo slammed on the brakes and almost ran over the clump in the crosswalk.
Both cops jumped from the black Ford and rushed to what was evidently a body. Flashlights shining and headlights on high beam, they immediately identified the person who lay broken and bleeding and clinging to life. "Make the call," Tingo said quietly, kneeling beside Danny's head and feeling for a pulse on her carotid. "Stat!"
Carr returned to Tingo's position on the road.
"Give traffic the go-around," Tingo ordered.
Carr went back behind their vehicle and waited there in case cars should come. With his flashlight he would warn them into the oncoming lane and keep them there until they were past Tingo and Danny.
Minutes later, they heard the far-off howling of the emergency vehicles. The sounds came nearer. But now, Tingo was administering CPR. Carr peeked around at him.
"Anything?"
Tingo didn't stop to respond. This girl was very special. He wasn't going to lose her.
Minutes later, the EMT's were rushing from their vehicles to the victim. Other patrol units were fully into traffic control even though only two other cars had made their way past the scene.
Tingo was ordered to stand down as the EMT's took over. Vitals were taken, fluids infused, and a backboard was used to load her into the ambulance. Then off they wailed into the night, Tingo and Carr bringing up the rear. A police vehicle was running interference and two others followed. Tingo's hands were locked in a death grip on the steering wheel, white knuckles shining in the dashboard lights.
"That bastard did this," Tingo said under his breath.
"He sure as hell did," Carr agreed. "We take him down. Today, we find him and run him to the ground."
"And put a bullet in him."
"Did you see that face? Battered by fists.”
"Didn't notice. She was run over, though. Her bottom half didn't match her top half."
"Torqued. By the impact of that SUV hitting her."
"Motive?" Carr asked.
"Probably insurance money. He kidnapped her from the hospital and he insured her. Pretty obvious, partner."
"Bastard. Today's his day, though, I mean that," Carr vowed.
The two cops fist-bumped. They had serious pain planned for Jana Emerich and his cohort.
42
Danny
The surgery and recovery room took up the first twenty-four hours. Tingo and Carr dozed, paced, drank lousy coffee and ate peanut butter crackers from a machine, while waiting to speak with me.
They came alive when the ICU nurse came to tell them I was awake. She said they could have five minutes with me. They followed her back to my bed in the large ICU suite.
"We've got uniformed officers watching you," were the first words Tingo spoke to me.
I didn't speak. Clearly coming and going under the veil of the anesthetic, I nodded—or Tingo at least thought I nodded.
"We won't leave you alone until they're taken into custody and put away."
"Attempted murder," Carr told me.
Tingo gave him a look that said "Seriously? Shouldn't we get the facts first?"
"We've done more checking around," Tingo said. "I ran missing persons for the whole state but this time I've searched by scars and tattoos and got a hit. Seems there was a woman matching your description from Chicago. Married to a Michael Gresham."
I reached for Tingo's jacket, trying to pull him down. He leaned down.
"Don't call him," I whispered. "No one can know."
Tingo didn't understand but he knew he wanted to keep my confidence, so he agreed not to make any calls to any names.
"I won't," he promised. "You and I will talk first before any calls are made."
I then passed out again. Tingo waited five minutes to see if I came back. I did not, so he and Carr left the hospital.
I underwent three more surgeries, two on my crushed pelvis. One month after the last time in the OR, Tingo and Carr visited again. This time I was sitting up in the hospital bed, staring at the TV. Jeopardy was playing and I seemed to be following along.
"Hey, Danny, Detective Tingo. Remember me? Detective Carr is with me."
I looked them over and smiled.
"Yes, I remember. You came one day."
"We did. We tried to talk to you. Your surgeon told us to stay away for at least a couple of weeks and we have."
"Good. I didn't have any idea who or where I was there for a while."
"So we were told. Is this a good time to update you?"
"Okay. Update away."
"First, we've made some calls and we think we've located a man you might know. He might even be your real husband."
I gave him a puzzled look. I looked at Carr, too, who only shrugged.
"All right, I'm game," I finally said. "Who is this man?"
"His name is Michael Gresham. He's in Chicago. He is married to a woman named Dania, goes by Danny just like you. Any of this ring a bell?"
"Wait. Does she have children?"
"Boy and girl. There's more about that when you're ready."
"Wait, wait. Slow down. Was I—was I taken from a hotel room?"
"Yes! You remember any of it?"
"Something is coming back. A vague memory of being at a hotel with a man. Then another man took me away. That's all I can remember."
"Well, are you ready for this? Your memory matches up with the way Michael Gresham's wife disappeared. From a hotel room. The Palmer—"
"Palmer House! We were spending the night at the Palmer House. Oh, wait! I'm a lawyer! Oh, my God! And I have two children. My name is Danny. And my little boy is—Michael, like his father. Only we call him Mikey!"
Tingo looked at Carr. They were elated because their hard work was paying off.
I reached to my bedside
table for a Spiral Notebook and pen. I scribbled down some notes. "Other images are coming back, too. I'm writing everything down that I can!"
"Wonderful," said Tingo. "Now for the big question. Do we call your husband—the man who just might be your husband?"
"Absolutely not!"
"Why is that, Danny?"
"I remember how I got here. Jana tried to kill me. He ran over me in someone's car."
"Yes, but that's not the same man we're talking about. The man who tried to kill you isn't actually the Chicago man. He's not your husband."
"Not the same man?"
"Not at all. Near as we can figure out, you were driven from the hotel by a man named Niles Scoburg. He works with Jana Emerich. That's who took you, Scoburg and Emerich."
"Why would they take me?"
"Emerich is the father of your little boy, Mikey. He wants that boy."
"How's he the father? I thought you said I'm married to Michael?"
"Emerich raped you. He raped you and got you pregnant. Now he wants his son. You need to know, this man is as crazy and violent as they come. You and Michael had been fighting him to keep Mikey away. So he decided to come after you. We think he was looking to trade you for his son."
"Oh, my God! That's what this is about? But how did I have my first accident? How did that happen?"
"We don't know. We know you were taken away, the accident happened, it affected your memory and the hospital sent you home with Emerich. He convinced them he was your husband."
"He is my husband. I don't think the man in Chicago is my husband at all." I couldn't be with Michael just then. So I made the case that Jana was my husband.
Tingo looked at Carr, whose face reflected Tingo's own confusion.
"Let me see if I understand you. You believe Emerich is your husband?"
"It's coming back to me. He got me from the hospital. He showed me pictures. He showed me my sewing stuff. I found this other woman's diary. This Dania you're talking about—I read her diary. That's not me at all."
Voices In The Walls: A Psychological Thriller (Michael Gresham Series) Page 16
