He pulled the phone away from his ear, looked at it in disbelief, then threw it on the ground again. This time, he stomped on it and kept stomping. “That son of a bitch!” he shouted. “That stupid son of a bitch!”
“Georgie! What the hell is going on?”
“That no good asshole ditched us! He told me we’re on our own and then the little prick hung up on me!”
“He left?”
“Yes, he left! We’re trapped in this damned truck!”
“What are we gonna’ do? What are we gonna’ do?”
He didn’t answer. Lucy pulled herself tighter against the side of the truck and reached for Diane’s hand. She held on tightly and squeezed when she heard something that sounded like a lot of people yelling outside, and then a series of muffled bangs. Then, there was silence.
After a few seconds, there was a loud knocking on the back of the truck.
“This is the police. If there’s anyone in there, you need to open up immediately. I repeat, this is the police. Open this door immediately, or we’ll use force.”
“Georgie?” Dorrie whispered.
“I know,” he answered softly. “Just…let me think for a second.”
“It’s over, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Guess so.” Lucy saw him reach out and touch Dorrie’s face. “It was fun while it lasted,” he said as he reached behind him and removed his gun. “Dorrie? Sing me that song I like so much. Please.”
She nodded and began to sing. “Three blind mice…three blind mice. See how they run…see how they run. They all ran after the farmer’s wife. She cut off their tails with a butcher knife. Three blind…”
Georgie fired twice. “Thanks, Dorrie. That was real nice.” Then, he placed the gun to the side of his head, and fired again.
***
“Toby, wake up.”
Toby burrowed deeper in the covers, ignoring the voice.
“Toby! Come on. You need to wake up.”
“Why?” he grumbled.
“It’s Melba. She needs to talk to you.”
“I just saw her…”
“That four hours ago, Toby. Come on,” urged the voice Toby finally recognized as belonging to Jon. “You need to get up.”
He rubbed his face and rolled over, throwing the covers back and sitting up in bed. “Where is she?”
“On the phone,” Jon answered.
Holding out one hand, Toby rubbed his face again. Jon gave him the phone and sat down beside him. Toby suspected it was to keep him from crashing back down into the warm nest of blankets more than anything else. “What?” he mumbled into the phone, not caring if he sounded grumpy and out of sorts. He was. “When?” He listened for a minute more. “All of them?” He sat up a little straighter, more awake now. “Did you call Moon?” Glancing over at Jon, he mimed his urgent need for a huge cup of coffee. “Ummm…yeah, okay. Give me thirty minutes. I need a shower and some caffeine.” After ending the call, he looked back at his pillow with regret, then forced himself to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom.
Jon opened the shower door a few minutes later and handed him a mug. Toby took a gulp, and then another, before turning off the water and exchanging the coffee for a towel. “They found the kids, Jon. All of them, but one.”
“Moon’s daughter?”
“No. Diane was one of the ones they found,” Toby answered as he scrubbed water out of his hair. “She’s okay.”
“Who’s missing?”
“Jessica. Jessica Fields.” He grabbed the mug and took another drink. “Thanks. You make good coffee.” He handed the mug back and ran a comb through his hair. “We’re supposed to meet across the street in a few minutes. Melba’s already there, and Edmondson should be there by nine-thirty.”
“Are you sure I’m supposed to go?”
Toby nodded as he made his way back into the bedroom to retrieve some clothes. “She said you were. Madame Zhou’s coming too.”
“In that case, I’d better go on downstairs and wait for her. I don’t want her crossing the street by herself.”
“Hey!” Toby called out before Jon made it out of the room. “I think you forgot something.”
Jon turned and walked back, then leaned down and gave him a kiss.
“Thanks. That was nice, but I meant you forgot to leave me the coffee.”
Jon smiled. “I know.”
Toby finished dressing while Jon headed downstairs. He pulled on a jacket, then locked up and hurried down the stairs, hitting the sidewalk in front of Green Dragon just as Jon and Madame Zhou were exiting the shop.
“Good morning, Madame Zhou.”
“It is indeed, Toby.” Her dark eyes glittered as she took Jon’s arm. “Shall we? I would hate for us to be late.”
They walked to the crosswalk, against the formidable lady’s objections, and made their way to the other side just as Edmondson pulled into the small parking lot adjacent to Zhou Li’s shop. Madame Zhou tugged on her nephew’s arm.
“Slow down, Jon. We can wait for Special Agent Edmondson. It is only polite to do so, since we are all headed to the same meeting.”
Jon exchanged a quick grin with Toby. “Sorry, Auntie. I was just making sure we wouldn’t be late.”
She merely tilted her chin stubbornly, and withdrew her hand from where it had been tucked under his arm, as Edmondson jogged across the street. They exchanged greetings, and Madame Zhou asked the agent to lend her his arm to prevent a stumble. Edmondson promptly complied, while the rest of the party kept their faces carefully blank. Toby opened the door and ushered them all inside, and then took their respective scarves and jackets and pointed them down the hall to the conference room. After hanging everything up, he joined them. Garfield was already present and was opening a large box of pastries while Melba fiddled with the coffee and tea things. Soon, they were all settled around the table, and Edmondson cleared his throat and brought them all up-to-date.
“Any word on Grokov?” Melba asked when he paused.
“No. Although, Toby was right. There is another way out of his apartment. A service entrance leading to the stairwell apparently failed to make it into the official plans filed with the city. We have bulletins out on all the wires, but…”
“Vassily Grokov will not be found so easily,” Zhou Li interjected. “He is as cunning as he is evil, and I suspect he is well-prepared for any eventuality. He did, after all, survive the worst that Russia had to offer.”
“Perhaps,”” Edmondson acknowledged. “But we’ll keep trying. He’ll make a mistake eventually.”
“Has anyone determined who owns the house where the girls were held?” Toby asked.
“Not yet,” Garfield answered, in between bites. “We’re working on it.”
“I believe I can put that item to rest,” Zhou Li offered. “It belongs to Jocasta Anthony and her two children.”
“Told you so,” Toby said to Melba.
“Are you positive?”
“Yes, Agent Garfield,” Zhou Li replied serenely. “I am positive.”
“If she says she’s positive, then you can take it to the bank,” Melba affirmed. “Speaking of Jocasta…”
“I sent an agent to her residence right before I headed here,” Edmondson answered. “I should be hearing back very shortly.”
***
The woman in question was hunched in her first class seat on her way to Dallas. She pointedly ignored the other passengers, content to fume in peace. Against all expectations, Jake had failed to meet her at the airport. After trying to reach him by phone, she made her way through security and boarded the flight. She’d try again before her connection to Venezuela. After having rehearsed what she would say to him a dozen times, she finally rang her call button.
“Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”
“I would like another Bloody Mary.” This would be her third.
The flight attendant removed the glass from the tray. “Certainly. I’ll be back with it in just a moment.”
; A few minutes later, the requested refill appeared. “Would you care for this morning’s paper, ma’am?”
Jocasta nodded and took the paper from the attendant’s outstretched hand, folding it and placing it next to her cocktail. “Thank you.”
She gave the lime a squeeze and then stirred it into her drink. She tasted it, and immediately wished for more vodka. She petulantly finished it and placed the almost empty glass back on her tray and picked up the paper. She discarded the first two sections by habit, and turned immediately to the entertainment news. Her eyes widened as she read the headline.
“No…no!” She read it again. “This is lies…lies!”
The cabin’s passengers shifted in their seats, straining to see the unexpected drama.
The flight attendant reached her just as Jocasta threw herself across the tray table, splashing the thick remnants of her drink across the discarded page. The news announcing “Jake Anthony Killed in Tragic Accident” was now spackled with bloody-red cocktail mixer.
Thirty minutes later, the captain received a notification from Dallas air traffic control. He buzzed the shaken first class cabin attendant and spoke with her briefly, directing her to detain all passengers until the FBI boarded and took one person of interest into custody.
She indicated her understanding, and then hung up the phone and placed the ruined newspaper in with the rest of the trash.
***
“Found her,” Edmondson informed the group after he hung up the phone. “She’s on a flight to Dallas with a connection to South America. She’ll be met by agents when the plane lands.”
“Do you think she was in on it?” Toby asked.
Garfield nodded. “You better believe it. It wasn’t a coincidence she was on her way to South America this morning. Other than tracking down her brother, all the chickens are home to roost.”
The minute she heard the words, Melba bolted upright in her chair. “What did you just say?”
“I said it wasn’t a coincidence that…”
“No! After that! Something about chickens.”
Garfield glanced at her boss and shrugged. “I said all the chickens are home to roost.”
“That’s it!” Melba exclaimed. She closed her eyes, trying to remember where she’d heard that phrase before. A million images flooded her brain. Paint, and bolts of fabric. All kinds of junk spread out on the floors and the crowded work table. Jill telling her about her mother sewing for her. Jocasta’s hard, angry voice as she admonished her daughter for sharing family secrets. “Damn! We were looking at this the wrong way!” She could just spit with frustration. “All the pieces fit,” she told herself. “Right down to that damned constructed profile we worked on!” Recalling their one lunch together, she ground her teeth. “She even has weird eating habits —all of the food she ordered was white.” She pushed her chair back from the table and headed to her office. Grabbing her purse off the desk, she dug out her phone and scrolled through the contact list. She wanted for the call to connect. “Come on, answer! I know you’re there.”
Edmondson, Garfield and Toby crowded around her as she listened to the ringing on the other end of the line.
“Tom?” she spoke quickly when Anderson picked up. “Do you have the items found at the house with you in the office? Good. I need you to find the clipboard and look on the back. Tell me if there’s anything on it.”
She turned her back to block out the questions coming at her from all sides. “Hurry.” She refused to look at the group in case she was wrong, and was ready to scream with impatience. “What’s it say?” she asked when he came back online. She listened and didn’t know whether she was more relieved or upset when he finished. “Thanks, Tom.” She ended the call, dropped her phone back in the bag and hoisted it up on her shoulder.
“We need to go,” she told the waiting group.
“Where?” Toby asked.
“To the puppet theatre.”
“I’ll drive,” Edmondson offered.
Melba nodded as she headed to the door. “Call for back-up. Agent Garfield, send someone to Jocasta Anthony’s home. See if they find any fabric.”
“Fabric? What kind of fabric.”
“Fabric that matches the smocks the children were wearing.”
Garfield pulled out her phone as Edmondson rushed to the front of the office, Melba and Toby close behind.
“Jon!” Toby shouted. “We’re headed to the puppet theatre. Agent Garfield can explain.”
Without waiting for an answer, he slammed out the door. Seconds later, they piled into the car, while Melba gave directions. When Edmondson pulled up at the address, Melba started to unbuckle. Edmondson stopped her before she could open the door. “Hold on! You had me call for back-up, and we’re damned sure waiting until they get here before rushing into that building.”
“He’s right, Melba.”
She wanted to argue, but knew better. “Okay, but I have to get out of this car. We can wait on the sidewalk.” She flung open the door and bolted from the car, feet hitting concrete as the first cruiser pulled up. Toby joined her by the entrance to the theatre as Edmondson filled the officers in on the situation. She reached for the door, but was stopped by Toby’s hand.
“We can’t just bust in there, Melba. We’ll probably have to get a warrant.”
“Toby’s right,” Edmondson agreed as he joined them. “However, there’s no harm in knocking first.” He indicated she should step back, and motioned one of the officer’s forward.
“Wait! What if the door’s unlocked?” she asked.
“What?”
“If the door is unlocked, we don’t need a warrant, right? This is a place of business, not a private residence.”
“Why would the door be unlocked?”
“Just answer the question, Special Agent,” she snapped.
Edmondson thought it over, unfazed by her sharp tone. “Well, it probably falls into a gray area, to be honest. Do you have reason to believe the door is unlocked?”
Melba shrugged. “Looks like the lights are on, and it was unlocked the first time I came here.”
He nodded toward the waiting officer. “Give it a try.”
Melba held her breath as the cop tried the door, exhaling sharply when it swung open. She glanced at Toby and stepped back as Edmondson shook his head and motioned the uniformed team forward.
“Let them take the lead. On my command…” he directed as the officers unholstered their weapons. “Go.”
Edmondson was next in, followed by Melba, then Toby. The lobby was empty, as was the small ticket both.
“What’s that noise?” Toby asked.
“Some kind of creepy music,” Melba answered, moving toward the closed curtains.
“What’s through there?” Edmondson asked.
“The theatre.” She took a breath and continued. “There are several rows of seating, then the stage.”
“Okay then. Gentlemen, after you. Be ready.”
The lead officer pulled back the curtain and stepped into the theatre, followed by his partner. Melba could hear them announcing themselves and then heard a shouted exclamation. A few moments later, the music stopped and one of the team came back through the curtain.
“You can come on through,” he said. “But this is a weird one.”
“Holy shit!” Toby’s shocked whisper echoed as they entered the dim space. Just past the dark rows of seating was the brightly lit stage and the puppet theatre Melba had last seen in the back workroom was placed precisely in the center. Hanging from the fly space above it was a solitary figure, dressed in fantastic garb. The heavily painted face hung forward, facing the floor, and the ragged locks of the misshapen, oddly multicolored wig fell forward onto the chest. One hand was covered in a blue glove, but the other was bare and naked. Melba could just make out a thin trail of blood leading down to the floor, and could hear the beaded droplets hitting the wood below. As she approached the stage, the first officer was climbing up on the structure to check th
e body.
The other cop was to the right of the puppet stage, next to what appeared to be a small body lying on the wooden floor. “This one’s alive!” he shouted. “Young Caucasian female. She’s been drugged.”
“This one is too—but she’s bleeding out fast! Her arms are cut up pretty good. Someone call 911, and give me a hand so I can get her down from this thing. We don’t have much time.”
Melba rushed forward, followed by Edmondson. They levered themselves up onto the stage and raced to assist. Melba heard Toby calling for help.
“Any idea who this is?” Edmondson asked as they guided the body down to the floor.
“Yes,” Melba answered as she knelt down and felt for a pulse. “It’s Jill,” she said softly as she pulled the wig away from the head. Jill opened her eyes, trying to focus.
“Jessica…” she breathed out, barely audible.
Melba leaned in. “What about Jessica?”
The dying woman struggled for a minute as the cop tried to staunch the bleeding. “Is…okay?” she asked.
Melba glanced at the small body on the stage before answering. “Yes. She’s going to be fine.”
“Good…” Jill’s eyes drifted shut for a moment, then fluttered open. “Mine.”
“I…I don’t understand.”
“Mother…took from me…”
Melba leaned forward to hear. She was only vaguely aware of the cop by her side saying he was losing her. “Jessica is your daughter? Jocasta took her from you?”
“Yes…”
Melba struggled to make all of the new connections. She remembered thinking there was something familiar about the girl’s photograph, but….she suddenly had a horrible suspicion. “Who’s her father, Jill?” she asked urgently. “Tell me.”
The dying woman smiled sadly as her eyes shut. “Jake,” she whispered. “Raped…she sent me away…said baby died, but….I finally found...to late…” She took one last breath, gathering strength to say what needed to be said. “Don’t want her…to…be like…me. Not…not a………puppet.”
And then, there were no more answers to be had.
***
Five days later, Melba sat at her desk, sipping a cup of tea. She could hear Toby flipping through his text book and grumbling every now and then.
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