by Kira Chase
Frankie immediately sat up straight. “I was a little kid when he was convicted. What could he possibly want with me?” She felt Johanna's hand tremble on her shoulder and she turned her head to look into Johanna's worried eyes. Johanna's beautiful auburn hair hung loosely in front of her shoulders. It didn't matter how many times Johanna shoved it behind her shoulders, it still managed to fall forward. Frankie wondered why that thought had occurred to her right now. Such a trivial observation. Was it her mind trying to prepare her for what Sheriff Ryker was about to tell her? Johanna's frightened green eyes penetrated Frankie's eyes.
Frankie turned her attention back to the sheriff. “If he'd made threats against those who were responsible for putting him away, then why the hell wasn't he thrown back in prison immediately or better yet, why was he released in the first place?”
George slowly shook his head. “His former cellmate received a letter from Fellows outlining in crude graphic language what Fellows planned to do. By the time the letter was turned over to the authorities, Fellows was long gone. He probably mailed the letter right before he ran. That was the last contact anyone had from him.”
“Didn't anyone find it suspicious when a letter came to the prison from Fellows? Wasn't the letter even checked before being turned over to the former cellmate?”
George shook his head. “I don't know how it slipped through. An investigation is in progress.”
“I still don't see what any of this has to do with me.” Frankie rubbed her cheek. “What the hell do I have to do with this? Enough beating around the bush, George. What's going on?” she demanded. “Enough games, dammit!”
Johanna patted her hand. “Calm down and let George explain.”
George took a swallow of coffee. “This isn't easy, Frankie,” he began. “Fellows has spent a good portion of his life in prison. He's had all that time to plan his revenge.” He looked hard at her. “And his last known address, before he was convicted, is only a few streets away from your mother's trailer park in Bradford. That much I do know.”
Frankie's jaw dropped. “How do you know my mother's address?”
George tilted his head toward the file. “It's in there.”
“Why would my mother's address be in the file?” The blood rushed to Frankie's head and for a minute she thought she'd pass out. She gripped the edge of the desk until her knuckles showed white. Johanna's soft hand immediately brushed her cheek. “Does Fellows have family in Bradford? Is my mother in danger?” Frankie choked. “If that bastard lays a hand on her—”
George held up a large hand palm out. “No. As far as anyone knows, what family he had moved away years ago. We're trying to locate them. And as for the names on his list, none of them live in Bradford any longer.” He cleared his throat. “Your mother's name wasn't on his list. But she might remember the family.”
“What does that matter? How am I connected to this?” Her eyes grew dark. “Why the hell is my name on his list? You haven't answered that question yet. You keep avoiding giving me a straight answer, George.” Frankie wasn't a patient person by nature and what little patience she'd managed to hold onto was quickly evaporating.
“Maybe you should call Selma,” Johanna suggested as she anxiously looked from George to Frankie. “See if that name is someone she might remember or may have known years ago.”
“That's what I was going to suggest, Frankie. But first, I think you need to read the rest of the file before you call your mother. It might shed some light on a few things and it will definitely answer all of your questions.” He looked uneasily at her. “As I said, there are some disturbing facts in there. Brace yourself. It's very unsettling.”
Frankie drew a sharp breath. “I don't think I'm going to like the answer.” Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up the file. Johanna moved her chair closer, so Frankie positioned the file making it easier for them both to read. She read for a few minutes, then stopped. She looked at Johanna. “My parents’ names are on a list. This doesn't make sense. It looks like everyone from the surrounding neighborhoods from the trailer park is on this list.” She squinted. “Was he targeting everyone from the neighborhood? Or were these people who'd had a run-in with him?”
“The list in the police file is different from the list he sent to his ex-cellmate,” George replied.
Frankie screwed up her face then continued reading.
Johanna had still been reading while Frankie and George were talking, but now stopped abruptly and sat with a shocked look on her face. “What a complete waste of a human being! Selma obviously knows about this. She's lived in Bradford her entire life!”
Frankie's throat constricted. “Oh my God! I can't believe they let this monster out of prison after committing such a brutal murder. He should have gotten the death penalty or at the very least life with no parole! What the hell is wrong with our justice system?”
“I agree.” George nodded. “He plea bargained. I'm just as disgusted as you are, Frankie. Once you read the whole file you'll see that he'd molested over thirty kids from the time he was fifteen years old until he was imprisoned. And who knows how many more that never reported it.”
Frankie's jaw twitched. “How many victims are there since his release?” She stared into the sheriff's eyes. “You know as well as I do, George, that rehabilitation for those perverts is a joke. It's just a waste of taxpayers' money. Those depraved bastards can't be rehabilitated. They're always on the prowl for their next victim. And now with the Internet, it makes it so much easier to prey on innocent children. But we keep throwing good tax payer money into programs that will never work just because some bleeding heart thinks the freaks can change and believes they deserve a second chance.” Frankie's body shook with fury. “Those same bleeding hearts don't think about the victims. They've had their childhoods ripped away from them and are forced to suffer the rest of their lives because some evil predator stole their innocence. Then these predators are thrown back out into society just sitting and waiting for their new victims.” Her face turned beet red with rage. “And to add salt to the wound those same bastards end up having more rights than the honest, law abiding, tax paying citizens!” She slammed her fist on the table. “It pisses me off!”
Johanna grabbed her arm. “Frankie, please calm down. No one disagrees with what you're saying. It's horrible and I wish the laws would change. We know the system is screwed up.”
“Let the perverts live next to the judges and defense attorneys who think the scumbags deserve a second chance. Do you think they'd let these defects of nature live in their wealthy neighborhoods near their children and grandchildren? No, they wouldn't, but it's okay for the freaking pedophiles and sex offenders to infiltrate everyone else's neighborhoods putting all these innocent little children at risk.” She gritted her teeth. Her head pounded. She felt like she was about to explode.
George shook his head back and forth. “I agree with everything you've said, Frankie, but we don't make the laws. We only enforce them.”
“Well, it's time someone takes a stand and makes some changes.” Frankie clasped her hands tightly together. “Those bastards should never be let out of prison. And quit pampering them with computers, cable TV, and conjugal visits once they are inside. Quit making concessions for them. I am so sick and tired of hearing how they were raised in poor neighborhoods and didn't have any advantages. There are a lot of success stories about people raised in the same conditions and they don't turn to crime, but instead become successful, respectable, law abiding citizens.” Tears stung her eyes, but they were tears of anger and frustration. “The criminals will never take responsibility for their actions because someone convinces them that it's not their fault and a couple of years inside pays their debt. That's bullshit!”
“There will always be someone taking pity on them and insisting they can change once they are reintroduced back into society.” George folded his hands. “You don't know how many times I've had to stop myself from pulling the trigger when I've encount
ered one of them,” George admitted. “We've taken an oath to protect all of the citizens…including them.” He grunted. “But whenever I come in contact with one of them, especially with no one else around, I'm ashamed to admit that the temptation is there, but of course, I'd never act on it.”
Frankie scowled. “That's one of the reasons I couldn't stand being a cop any longer. We work our asses off and risk our lives and a couple years later we're picking up the same bastards.”
Johanna looked at the folder. “Who was the woman Carson Fellows murdered?” she asked, scanning the thick file as Frankie once again began turning the pages.
George took a gulp of coffee. “The mother of his only child. She lived a few towns away from Bradford. She'd moved to get away from him. They weren't married, but the courts allowed him visitation with his child and he'd pick up his daughter twice a month for weekend visits.”
Frankie felt sick to her stomach. “And he molested his own child,” she spat out. “What the fuck is wrong with these judges?”
George's eyes narrowed and Frankie watched as his hands curled into tight fists. “Like I said, I hate those bastards as much as you do. They should rot in prison. Especially someone like Fellows who not only destroyed all of these children's lives, but also murdered his child's mother when all the woman was doing was trying to protect her daughter from him.” He nodded to the folder. “Read the list of victims.”
Chapter 3
Frankie scanned the list of victims, and then drew a sharp breath. “I still don't understand how I—” Her eyes stopped scanning and stayed focused on one name. It seemed to jump off the page at her. Her eyes blurred. Her hands shook uncontrollably and she dropped the file folder. Her head swam and nausea overtook her. She gripped the arms of her chair to steady her shaking until her knuckles turned white. “My name is on this list of victims, George.” She could barely choke the words out. Her stomach twisted in knots. “That's why you called me down here. I'm one of that bastard's victims!”
Johanna grabbed Frankie's arm and held it tightly like she was hanging on for dear life. Frankie's insides froze. Her head was swimming.
“This list contains everyone he either molested or tried to molest, Frankie. I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I don't know if you were actually molested by Fellows. I don't have all the information yet. What I do know is if Fellows sticks to his threat, he'll be looking for you either way.”
“Why is my name on his list?” she stammered. “If he didn't molest me then why is my name here?” She pointed a finger and then jabbed it at her name on the report. She placed her hands on either side of her head. “I can't believe this is happening. Why didn't my mother ever tell me? Why would she keep this a secret?”
George's face softened as he looked at her. “Frankie, I'm sure your mother was only protecting you. Why would she bring it up if you had no memory of it?”
Johanna gasped. “Frankie, please call your mother. Find what she knows about this piece of garbage.” She bit her bottom lip. “Please call her now. You need to know one way or the other.”
Frankie didn't miss the trembling in Johanna's voice or the tightening of her hand on Frankie's arm. She had to come to terms with the realization that this monster might have violated her in the worst possible way when she was only a little kid. She had no recollection of it. Why couldn't she remember? Had it been so horrible that she'd entirely blocked it out of her memory? Was that even possible? Still, when she was older, why hadn't her mother ever mentioned it to her? But then again, why would she? George was right. Selma had probably been grateful that Frankie had no memory of that horrific time and felt it best to never mention it unless Frankie did. Selma had probably assumed that Fellows would never make it out of prison alive and life would go on without Frankie ever knowing what had happened to her all those years ago. But Fellows had been released, and now he was on the run. She shuddered. He could be anywhere…watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. “Do you want me to call her now, George?”
“Yes, if you don't mind, Frankie. I'd also like you to put it on speaker if that's okay with you.”
Frankie rubbed her temples again. “I need to know one way or the other if that bastard touched me.” She paused. “There's one thing I don't understand, though.”
“What's that?” Johanna asked softly.
“Why is he targeting his victims and not our parents? Wouldn't you think they'd be the ones he'd have a grudge against? They were the ones who filed charges on our behalf since we were just kids. It doesn't make sense.”
“Who knows what goes through the mind of an animal like Carson Fellows.” George grunted. “All we can do is hope he doesn't get to any of his victims before he's apprehended. A nationwide alert has been put out and the authorities are contacting all of the victims in their jurisdictions.” Instinctively he reached across the desk and patted her hand. “Frankie, you know we'll do everything possible to keep you safe. I've filled Deputies Paton and Allen in.”
She touched her shoulder holster. “I appreciate it, George, but I'm not afraid. Johanna and I can protect ourselves.” She flashed a weak smile. “But it's always good to know that backup is at hand. Just hope that I don't find him before you do.”
“Thank you, George,” Johanna said. “Extra protection never hurts.”
Frankie saw the tension in George's face. Over the years, she and Johanna had developed a deep fatherly affection for the gruff, over-weight, gray haired Sheriff, seeing the softer side that lay beneath the core. He'd never admit it outright, but they both knew he felt the same about them. And Deputies Arlan Paton and Kate Allen had become good friends of theirs and always had their backs when one of Frankie and Johanna's cases took a dangerous turn, consequently saving their lives on more than one occasion.
“And it always will be.” He pushed the phone towards her.
“I was going to use my cell.”
“This one might give you a clearer signal in here.”
She frowned. “Okay, but believe me this phone can do everything.” She slipped her cell phone back into her pocket.
“It better be able to for what you paid for it,” Johanna teased.
“What can I say? I love my toys.” She squeezed Johanna's hand. Johanna was trying to lighten the mood. She appreciated it, but knew they couldn't avoid the inevitable. They both needed to know the truth. Not that it would affect their relationship, but Frankie knew that if she had been molested it would be a bitter pill to swallow and she wasn't certain how she would cope with that information. She glanced at the wedding ring Johanna had placed on her finger when they'd taken their vows and knew that no matter what the outcome, Johanna would be with her through it all. And if it turned out badly, she'd need Johanna's strength more than ever.
Frankie took a deep breath, glanced at Johanna, and then with jerky movements punched in her mother's number. Absentmindedly she drummed her fingers on the desk as she waited for Selma to answer. She needed to know the truth, but at the same time dreaded hearing what the answer would be. She held her hand over the receiver. “She may not pick up if she doesn't recognize the number.” The words were barely out of her mouth when Selma Barker's voice came over the line.
George leaned over and pressed a button to put the phone on speaker. Frankie set the receiver down.
“Hello?”
Frankie cocked an eye at the cautious tone of her mother's voice as she answered the phone. “Hi, Mom, it's me.”
“Frankie? Is everything all right? The Caller ID is showing a number I don't recognize,” she demanded in a high-pitched tone of voice. “What's wrong? Are you okay? Has something happened to Johanna?”
Frankie's eyebrows arched. “Calm down, Mom. We're fine. We're at the Sheriff's Office,” she replied quickly hoping to calm her mother. “We have you on speaker phone. Okay?”
“Of course. What's happened then?” she insisted in the same shrill voice. “Why are you
at the sheriff's office? You two haven't been arrested for interfering with the sheriff's work, have you? Is that why you're calling…for bail money?”
The women chuckled and a broad smile broke out over George's face.
“No, Selma, the girls are here because I've asked them to come down to discuss a case that happened near Bradford over three decades ago. I think you might be able to shed some light on a few things for me if you don't mind.”
“Just so my girls are safe. I'll be glad to help, Sheriff. What do you want to know?” Her voice took on its normal tone.
He leaned forward in his chair. “There was a horrific murder committed in a small town near Bradford over thirty-five years ago. Does the name Carson Fellows mean anything to you?”
There was a sharp intake of air and then an ominous silence at the end of the line.
“Mom, are you still there?” Frankie asked worriedly after several seconds had elapsed.
“I'm…I'm here.” Selma cleared her throat. “It's all over town that the murdering rapist son-of-a-bitch is out of prison. We'd have never known if he hadn't violated his parole. Out only six months. He never should have been released after what he did.”
Frankie and Johanna looked at each other in shock. Selma rarely uttered a curse word, but when she did, it meant her normally pleasant, slow to anger demeanor had reached the boiling point and control was no longer possible.
“Has anyone in Bradford spotted him?” the Sheriff asked. “Has he tried to make contact with anyone he might have been acquainted with from his past?”
“No. I doubt he'd dare show his face here again. He wouldn't last a day. Actually, there's no reason for him to come here anyway. He has no family or friends left here.”
“That's what I thought,” George answered quietly. He ran a large hand over his jaw. “Selma, I have to tell you something, but I need you to promise me that you'll stay calm.”
Frankie looked at Johanna. They both knew that Selma would remain anything but calm once George told her what was going on. She also dreaded her mother's reply as to why she was on Fellows' victims list. The pain in her stomach worsened as she waited to learn the truth as to whether that animal had sexually molested her or not. She grabbed Johanna's hand and held it securely. With baited breath she listened, dreading her mother's response.
