by Jaime Maddox
A minute later, a hearse appeared at the garage entrance, and the driver carefully backed it in. When it was in place, the driver killed the engine, opened the door, and stepped out of the car. Edward closed the garage door and walked toward the car.
“Hi, I’m Wendy. I’m from the funeral home,” she said and extended a hand in greeting.
His was sweaty, and he wiped it on his slacks before extending it. “Edward.”
“Where is she?” Wendy asked, wasting no time.
“Oh, in the autopsy suite. Do you want to follow me?”
“Just let me grab my stretcher,” she said.
Wendy walked around to the back of the hearse, with Edward beside her. She turned to open the rear door, and Edward chose that moment to lunge at her, depressing the sux into her upper arm before she had a chance to fight him. No one was near enough to hear her screams, but he quickly covered her mouth to keep it that way. Just like with Jess, the medication began to take effect within a minute, and soon Edward had her positioned on the concrete garage floor, where he breathed for her with the mask and bag. He briefly explained the situation. “I may need your help to convince Jess to tell me what she knows. She trusts you, I think. If you convince her to cooperate, I’ll let you live.”
After a few minutes, Edward left the garage bay and walked quickly to the closet where he found Jessica bound and looking quite anxious. “You have a visitor,” he exclaimed.
He used his utility knife to cut the tape holding Jess’s chair to the storage shelving, then quickly pushed her back out the way they’d come in. The autopsy suite was just across the hall from the garage where the hearse and Wendy were waiting.
He left Jess at the doorway and hustled back to Wendy, who’d gone without oxygen for a minute or so while he’d been gone. She pinked up after a few breaths, and with both of them listening, he began to explain his plan. A few minutes later, Hawk put down the bag and pulled the stretcher from the hearse, then wheeled Jess next to it. He paused his project to breathe for Wendy for a few minutes, then cut Jess’s bindings and lifted her onto the stretcher. Her mouth, hands, and feet were still bound, and she landed with a thud when Edward pushed her backward. He breathed for Wendy for a few more minutes, then lifted her onto the stretcher next to Jess.
It was a tight fit, but he made it work. “Breathe,” he ordered her as he carefully watched her chest for signs of movement.
“Remind me not to use sux when I’m in a hurry,” he said as he resumed the monotonous, rhythmic squeezing of the bag.
After a few more minutes, Edward stopped his efforts and watched Wendy’s chest. It was moving. “Good enough. Now, ladies, I know you like being close to each other, so this will be perfect for you. We’re going for a little ride.”
Edward pulled on latex gloves before touching anything else. He loaded the stretcher in the back of the hearse, closed the door, and opened the hospital’s garage door. After pulling the vehicle out of the garage, he ran back inside, closed the door, and hurried back outside before it fully closed. His car was parked at the apartment, which wasn’t convenient, but it would have to do. For now, he was leading the funeral.
The hunting club was only twenty miles out of town, but on the dark, winding roads, the trip seemed twice as long. Careful to adhere to the posted speed limit, he found himself parked at the cabin forty minutes later. Edward appropriated the key from the fake rock in which it was stored, and after unlocking the door and verifying that no other members were lurking about, he picked up his cell phone and called the sheriff.
“It’s Dr. Hawk,” he said when Zeke answered. “I need you to come out to the cabin at the hunting club. It’s Jessica. She’s having some sort of crisis and I think she needs you.”
“Thank the Lord she’s with you. They told me she didn’t show up for work, and I’ve been lookin’ for her since. What kind of crisis is she having, Doc?”
“I think she had a fight with the coroner. A lovers’ quarrel. Can you come right away?”
“Ah, jeez. Of course. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Perfect. And Sheriff, keep this under your hat. I’m not sure she’d want the entire hospital knowing why she didn’t show up for work. It’s rather unprofessional.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Altitude Sickness
Ward tried to suppress a grin as she successfully eliminated the X from her rack of Scrabble tiles. Triple-word points coming her way.
After her conversation with Jess, Ward had been stressed. She and Abby had changed their dinner plans and had take-out pizza on the deck, and Ward shared her conversation with Jess and gave a brief synopsis of their history. Afterward, Abby had hugged her and suggested a game of Scrabble to help them relax. It was working splendidly.
“I don’t think you should be able to use medical words,” Abby complained, referring to the word axon, which netted Ward forty-nine points.
“It’s in the dictionary. Suck it up.”
Ward’s phone interrupted their banter. The call was from the ER at Garden. Why was Jess calling? Hadn’t she made her point when she’d berated Ward earlier?
“Would you mind if I answer this? It’s Jess.”
Abby’s eyes flew open. Clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that call either. “Please.”
“Hello.”
“Hi, Dr. Thrasher. It’s Deb Carver, the nursing supervisor at Garden Memorial Hospital. I’m sorry to bother you, but do you know where Dr. Benson is?”
“What? Isn’t she at work?”
“No, she didn’t show up tonight, and we’re all worried about her.”
Ward’s heart had stopped beating and was now correcting that pause by pounding at lightning speed. She’d just talked to Jess a few hours ago, and other than her anger, she’d seemed fine. Glancing at her watch, she grew even more alarmed. She and Abby had managed to burn three hours eating and playing Scrabble. That meant Jess was three hours late for work. Jess was never late. Something was wrong.
“I have no idea where she is, Deb. I talked to her about four o’clock and she seemed fine. Did you try the sheriff?”
“Yeah. Zeke doesn’t know where she is either.”
“How about the coroner, Wendy? They’re friends. Maybe she knows something.”
“No. Wendy hasn’t heard from her.”
“Well, Deb, I don’t know who else you could call. I’ll try some of our friends in Philly, but you know more about Jess’s friends in Garden than I do.”
“Okay, Dr. Thrasher. If you talk to her, tell her we’re all real worried about her.”
“I’ll do that.”
Ward looked to Abby, who seemed to know what was going on even though she’d only heard Ward’s half of the conversation.
“Jess is missing?”
“Yes. And I don’t feel good about this. What if she confronted Hawk and he did something to her?”
“Don’t think the worst, but you’re right to worry. Jess doesn’t seem like the kind of person to skip work. Is it possible she had her schedule mixed up?”
Ward shook her head. “When I talked to her she told me she was working tonight.”
“What should we do?”
“Well, since her father is the sheriff, I’m sure he’s handling this. But, truthfully, I think he’s getting a little confused. I don’t trust him. Should we call the state police?”
“I’m not sure. They’d probably defer to the locals, especially if the sheriff is territorial. They won’t want to step on his toes until they have to.”
“I better go to Garden. I still have a key to her house. Unless she changed the locks.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, Abby. That’s not necessary.”
Abby grabbed Ward’s arm and searched her eyes. “It’s late. You’re going to drive too fast, on dark country roads, and you’re stressed. Who knows what you’ll find when you get there. I want to come with you. I want to be with you, Ward.”
Abby’s gesture a
nd her touch comforted her. She nodded. “Thank you. I could use the company. And I probably should get coverage for tomorrow.”
“We’ll phone from the car.”
Both of them packed overnight bags and were in Ward’s car fifteen minutes later. Abby took the wheel while Ward took the phone. She called Jess’s cell phone first. It went unanswered. Next, she dialed the house in Philly. Why did they even have a house phone? That was the first thing she’d get rid of when she got back home. Michelle answered on the fourth ring.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard the house phone ring. It took me a few seconds to find it.”
“Jess didn’t show up for work tonight. Did she drive home?”
“No. I’ve been here all day. She hasn’t been here.” After making a few suggestions and wishing Ward well, Michelle said good-bye.
Zeke’s was next. Ward dialed his house number, but he didn’t answer. “He’s probably out looking for her,” she murmured, and Abby reached through the darkness to place a warm hand on her jeans-clad thigh. Ward placed her hand atop Abby’s, thankful for the contact. She willed her heartbeat to slow, willed the breath to make it to the bottom of her lungs.
Zeke didn’t answer his cell either. That wasn’t unusual. Next Ward started scrolling through the contacts on her cell phone, dialing each in turn. No one had seen Jess in ages—some since she’d left Philly, some when they’d come to the mountains for her mom’s funeral the previous winter. Each of them had suggestions, but after twenty minutes of phone calls, she’d proved most of the theories wrong.
Forty-five minutes after they left Abby’s house, Ward directed her into the driveway of Jess’s house in Garden. The landscaping lights were on, as expected, and a light above the kitchen sink leaked through the large window into the night. Ward hopped out and checked the garage. Jess’s car was parked safely inside. Racing up the stairs, she tried the door handle and found it locked. Her key remedied that problem, and with Abby right behind her, she walked into Jess’s kitchen.
“Jess? Jess, are you here? It’s Ward.”
From room to room they walked through the immaculate house: kitchen, dining room, den, family room, sitting room. Nothing was out of place, and they saw no sign of trouble, no evidence of struggle, no sign of Jess. They mounted the stairs and headed for Jess’s bedroom. This room was also in order, except for some rumples on the patchwork quilt Jess’s mom had made for her. Ward picked up the orange prescription bottles on the bedside table. Was Jess sick? Ward had never known her to take any medication.
“Jesus,” she said as she read the first bottle. Xanax, 0.25 mg tabs, three daily. It was a low dose but a very addicting medication used to treat anxiety. Was Jess anxious? Fuck, Ward thought. Did my phone call push her over the edge? Then she looked at the date on the bottle. It had been filled three weeks earlier and still had twenty pills inside. Jess hadn’t overdosed.
Ward picked up the second bottle, speechless. The huge bottle had once contained Oxycodone, one hundred and eighty tablets. Ten milligrams each. That was six tabs a day. What the hell was Jess doing taking that much oxy? Nothing was wrong with her! At least, nothing Ward knew about. Obviously, she didn’t know Jess as well as she once had.
They briefly searched the rest of the second floor, then the third-floor attic, finding nothing.
“What now?” Abby asked.
“Would you mind a midnight visit to the funeral parlor?”
They pulled up to Wendy’s a minute later. The old colonial’s first floor housed the business. Security lighting shone from within, but the lights in the apartment upstairs were out. Abby pulled into the circular driveway and parked before a four-car garage. Ward jumped out and peeked through the glass. A jeep occupied the end space. The next space was empty. The third and fourth spaces housed limousines.
“The hearse is missing,” Ward said. “At least, I assume a funeral home should have a hearse.”
They rang the bells to be sure, but Wendy wasn’t home.
“Let’s try Zeke’s place,” Ward suggested. Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the long driveway of his house on the outskirts of town. Every light in the house was on, but Zeke didn’t answer his bell. “He must still be out looking for her,” she said again. Another call to his cell phone went unanswered, though.
“What now?”
“Should we stop at the hospital?” Ward asked.
“Will it look strange that you’re here?”
“It might. Maybe I’ll just call. How about heading over to Frieda’s? She’s only about twenty minutes from here. Maybe we can crash there. It beats driving an hour back to your house.”
Twenty minutes later they were sitting in Frieda’s kitchen. It was just past midnight, yet Frieda poured them all coffee, and they all drank it as they sat around her kitchen table. Ward filled Frieda in on their suspicions about Edward Hawk and Jess’s disappearance.
“Should we call the police?” Ward asked. “I mean, other than the sheriff?”
“Why don’t we ask my nephew? You know Kathy, the nurse? Her husband’s a statey.”
“Should we bother him at this hour?”
“Oh, he’s workin’. He won’t mind.”
A minute later, Frank Henderfield was on the phone. Ward relayed all the details. “And now you can’t find the sheriff, either?” he asked.
“That’s right.”
“Let me look into this.”
Fifteen minutes later, Frank was on the phone again. “I just talked to Zeke. He says he’s headin’ out to the hunting cabin to talk with Jess and her friend. They had some sort of argument, and he’s helping them straighten it all out, but everything’s fine.”
Ward’s entire body relaxed. “Thank you, Frank. I really appreciate it.”
“I feel like an idiot,” she said, shaking her head and frowning. Jess was having a lovers’ quarrel with Wendy, that was all. Ward knew her nerves were fried, but this was a pretty extreme case of jumping to conclusions.
“Who woulda expected that?” Frieda asked.
“I was worried,” Abby said, “and I don’t even know Jess. We did the right thing, coming here.”
Ward was happy to hear their reassurances. Relief swept over her, and over all of them, bringing exhaustion with it, so they decided to spend the night at Frieda’s. Ward had switched her shift for the morning, and Abby had nothing pressing, so they’d awaken and head back to Factoryville after they bought Frieda breakfast. Before they could leave the kitchen, a high-pitched voice from the upper floor of the house startled them.
“Frieda!”
“Oh, no, we awakened the beast,” Frieda said as she lowered her head and cringed.
“Do you have lesbians down there?” Irene screamed.
“Yes, Mother. We’re having an orgy.”
“Well, send them home and come to bed. It’s the middle of the night.”
They all laughed. “Okay, Mom,” Frieda said as she guided them toward the stairs.
“Thanks, Free. You’re a gem,” Ward said and hugged her.
Ward collapsed into the old four-poster bed, thinking about Jess, feeling an odd mixture of sadness and concern. In spite of Jess’s indifference, Ward would always care for her. It had been a rough couple of years for Jess, first with her mom’s illness, then their move and a career change, and finally Pat’s death. But now Jess was taking pills and missing shifts. It worried her, and she wished she could do something to help, but she felt too distanced from Jess to bring it up. Shit, now that she knew Jess was all right, she wouldn’t even tell her she’d been to the house. Jess might file charges against her for entering the house uninvited.
Her sleep was restless, even with Abby’s calming presence beside her. She was startled into consciousness by the ringing phone. It was light outside, and it took her a few seconds to realize where she was and to find her phone in her backpack. The familiar ring tone caused Ward’s heart to race. “Jess,” she said as she answered. “Thank God.” And then she accepted t
he call.
“I’ve been worried about you,” she said, trying to keep the fear from her voice, stopping before she said anything else. Jess already thought she was a drunk, and violent. What would she think if she knew she’d driven to her house, broken in, stalked Wendy’s and Zeke’s place, and spent the night at Frieda’s house? Shit, she’d think Ward was really crazy. Shit. Maybe she was really crazy.
“Hi, Ward. Where are you?” Jess asked. Her voice was far away, like she was talking on a speaker phone, and it sounded hoarse, like she’d just awakened. Well, since it was only six in the morning, maybe she had. But what an odd question, Ward thought. Did Jess suspect? Yes, she’d left Zeke a few messages when she couldn’t reach Jess, and she’d called and texted Jess a dozen times before Frank had put her fears to rest, but Jess didn’t need to know Ward was hovering just a few miles away at Frieda’s place. She still had some pride.
“I’m in Philly,” she lied. “How about you? The hospital said you didn’t show up for work last night.”
“That’s right.”
Ward’s heart stopped. The voice that answered this time wasn’t Jess’s. It was a male voice, and although Ward had spoken to him only once, she had no question it belonged to Edward Hawk.
“Hawk!”
“Very good, Dr. Thrasher. You’re smart. Perhaps too smart for your own good.”
“Jess? Jess, are you there?”
“She’s here, Dr. Thrasher, but she can’t talk right now. I’d like to talk, though. Maybe you should come over and we can discuss your suspicions about me. Your accusations are too serious to discuss over the telephone, don’t you think?”
“Where are you?”
“At the hunting club. In the cabin. When I program your address in Philly into my GPS, it tells me you should be here in two hours and thirty-eight minutes. I’ll expect you then.”
“Hawk, wait. I need to take a shower and eat something. Stop for gas!” Ward was stalling, but she didn’t know what else to do. She couldn’t let him hang up. If she kept him talking, kept him occupied, he couldn’t possibly hurt Jess, right?
