Hooked

by Jaime Maddox

  Death was imminent, and Derek didn’t look back as he walked out the door. He hadn’t touched anything except the money, so he wasn’t worried about fingerprints. As for other evidence, like hair, or fibers, he had to keep his fingers crossed that he’d left no DNA. It took two trips to haul the money to his trunk, and he washed up with the baby wipes he kept in the car. He had a few stains on his shirt that could pass for gravy, but after a little attention with water from the bottle in his car, they nearly disappeared. He stuffed the paper towels and the baby wipes into one of the bags of money, closed the trunk, and hopped back into the car. He intentionally left Dr. Ball’s garage open. The murderer had to get in the house somehow, right?

  It took only a minute to drive the few hundred yards to Lucy’s house. When he looked at the clock, he was startled to see he’d been gone only fifteen minutes. It seemed like hours had passed since Dr. Ball had run his fingers across the smooth surface of the Mercedes’s hood.

  Lucy was standing in the driveway, smoking a cigarette. She didn’t seem suspicious at all, and he kissed her, both to calm his nerves and to give an appearance of normalcy. He always kissed her when he saw her.

  “Did you get to see the car show?” she asked.

  “Yeah. He talked for a minute, but I wanted to get back. I didn’t want to leave you in the middle of the real-estate hunt.”

  After blowing a ring of smoke, she smirked. “It’s worse, now. They’re looking at the sale papers, planning their Black Friday attack on the malls.”

  “Will you go with them?”

  She shrugged. “I try not to rock the boat too much, you know? I’m doing well in my classes, hanging out with my sister a little bit.”

  Derek knew she’d gone to Philadelphia with her mother the weekend before, and she’d seemed to enjoy herself. They’d texted a few times, and though she’d complained a bit, her overall mood seemed to be good.

  “Wanna swing?” she asked.

  Derek hesitated for a moment. He was sure the police would question him when the body was found, and it was crucial that he had an alibi. Should he go into the house so the others could see him or just rely on Lucy? He debated as they walked, then made his decision. The bench-style swing, hung from a large shade tree, could be seen from the great room where the football played on TV. As they walked by, Derek innocently knocked on the window and waved to everyone inside.

  “They’re pretty obnoxious, aren’t they?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. They seem okay.”

  “What’s your family like?” she asked.

  Derek hesitated but decided this was just the sort of conversation he should have with Lucy now, a genuine one, one that would make her think it impossible that he’d just murdered her neighbor.

  “I’ve never met my biological father, but I’ve always had a sort of stepfather. His name is Tim, and he’s a big, flaming fag, but a good guy. He’s always looked after me.” Derek was quiet for a moment as he thought back at his life with Tim. He was frugal but still good to Derek. His first bike was from the flea market, but it ran well, and Tim had taught him how to oil the chain and tighten the bolts while holding the tires fast, how to patch a tube and fill the tire with air. There was the bat and ball, similarly appropriated the year Derek decided he wanted to play Little League. And money, small amounts here and there that allowed him to rent a tux for the prom and go on the senior class trip to Florida. And always, always, always, there was a roof over his head and food on the table. Derek shared it all with Lucy. It was the first time he’d ever told anyone how he felt about Tim.

  “What about your mom?”

  Derek swallowed hard, real tears. What could he say? “She’s an alcoholic. She tries to be there for me, but it’s hard for her. When I was little, she’d get me on the bus to school and then go back to bed. I know this, because in the summer, and on weekends, that’s what she did, too. She wakes up around two in the afternoon, does what she has to do. She made me do my homework and made sure I did my chores for Tim. Then she’d play board games with me. Every night, I was in bed by eight, and at five after, I’d hear the door close as she left. Sometimes, I’d hear her come in, but mostly I fell asleep wondering if she’d be home in the morning. On a few occasions, she wasn’t, and that’s when Tim really took over.”

  “It sounds like Tim’s a good guy. I’d like to meet him.”

  “I’d like a couple of oxys. You in?”

  She smirked. “I’m always in.”

  He slipped four tablets from his pocket and popped them into his mouth. He kissed her and passed two of them to her. They both swallowed without the benefit of water.

  He enjoyed the quiet time with her, and when they grew cold, they walked inside. Lucy made him coffee, and they had seconds of pumpkin pie before Derek made his excuses, telling them he had to get back for dinner with his family. And truthfully, he did. He was taking Tim and his mother out to eat.

  At home, he threw all of his clothes into Tim’s washer, then changed into a nearly identical outfit. He owned two button-down shirts and two pairs of chinos, so that was easy. He had only one blue tie, so on instinct, he checked Tim’s closet for something that looked similar to the one he’d worn earlier. If the police came looking for him, he’d appear as if he hadn’t changed.

  In Tim’s shower, he scrubbed himself clean and then quickly changed his clothes. While the laundry dried, he tidied up Tim’s place and helped him dress. On the way to the pancake house, he stopped by a clothing box and threw in the freshly laundered shirt, tie, slacks, and shoes. He had a few million dollars in his trunk to buy more.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Cold Turkey

  All the relief Jess had felt after finding Hawk’s briefcase dissipated on the Sunday after Thanksgiving as she stared at the TV screen, facing a new crisis.

  Dr. Ball was dead.

  His murder had consumed the local television stations since she’d awakened and turned on the five o’clock news. He’d last been seen alive on Thanksgiving Day, and his wife had found him dead in their home that day after returning from her parents’ house. The Ball house was in the woods, and the doors had been left open. Animals had wandered in, devouring his body and contaminating any evidence that might lead to his killer.

  It was horrible. Jess hadn’t particularly cared for the doctor, but still, he was a human being. And her doctor. Where was she going to get her bup?

  After the news sank in, the first thing Jess did was sit down and count her medication. She had a week’s supply. If she was lucky enough to move from the waiting list to the active patients, she might get in with one of the doctors in the area. But many other people would be jamming the phone lines in the morning, all with the same sob story. Her odds weren’t great.

  Jess sat on her comfy queen-sized bed, then collapsed all the way back and stared at the ceiling. It was already dark outside, and only a bedside lamp and the small television screen lit the room. The darkness was closing in on her. She’d come so far, made so much progress in getting her life together. How could she lose it now? But if she couldn’t find another doctor to refill her prescription, eventually she’d run out. Then what? Faking injuries so her colleagues would prescribe her oxys or buying them from her patients? Maybe she’d take a ride to Philly and see how the supply on the street was flowing. Philly…yes, Philly. Dr. Gompers! Surely the doctor would take her back. But what if she couldn’t? What if she had her hundred patients?

  She’d always felt the same panic about her drug use. Because she had the money, she was able to buy large quantities of drugs at a time and showed remarkable restraint in using them judiciously. Yes, sometimes she took way too many, but usually she budgeted them, often for a couple of weeks at a time. Then something would stress her, and she’d pop pills by the handful and find herself scrambling to get more. Now her fix was a strip of medication, but it was just as hard to get as—no, harder than—the drugs she’d used before. Because only a few doctors could prescribe bup,
she couldn’t get an appointment. And because it was long-acting, and therefore less expensive, it had come into favor with everyone on the street trying to save money or avoid withdrawal.

  If only she’d taken the prescription for the three strips a day Dr. Ball had tried to push on her. But she’d wanted to do her sobriety the right way, and she’d told him she wouldn’t take any more than the twelve milligrams a day she’d been taking when she walked into his office. He’d acquiesced, reluctantly, and now Jess felt like an idiot. This was why people keep extras, she thought. Your doctor could get murdered any day and leave you stranded.

  Rolling onto her side, she stared at the television set, the images no longer registering in her brain: the driveway of Dr. Ball’s house flanked by trees and guarded by two police officers; the coroner’s car pulling out of that driveway, carrying his body; a photo of Dr. Ball taken from one of the television commercials for the nursing home he owned; interviews with shocked neighbors, employees, and the state-police officer assigned to the case.

  Pulling the pillow over her head, she rolled into a fetal position and stared at the wall, too numb for tears. What if I just quit? she asked herself. She was stronger now than she’d been when she tried before, and so much smarter. She considered herself an addiction expert at this point. She knew all the signs and symptoms, all the treatment plans, all the statistics about success and failure. She wanted so desperately to be a success!

  She was due for her next dose of medication in twelve hours, when she came home from work. In twenty-four hours, she’d be feeling a little sick, and in thirty-six, she’d be in full withdrawal. That would be Tuesday morning. Her next shift in the ER wasn’t until Friday, and she could blow off the committee meeting she had on Wednesday. That gave her body three whole days, seventy-two hours to fight through the agony and start to function without narcotics. Was that enough time? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, she didn’t feel like she had much choice. Even if she found another doctor, she suspected something would always come between her and her fix. The only way to control the situation was to get off the stuff.

  Her decision made, she showered and got ready for work.

  *

  “I didn’t realize it was flu season already,” Mac said. “I mean, usually they warn you about it on the news.”

  “Mac, I really can’t talk anymore. I’ll text you later, okay?”

  Jess heard the disappointment in Mac’s voice as she said good-bye, but she couldn’t worry about it. She had to focus all of her energy inward—on breathing, imagining the lake in summer, a putt rolling into the cup. In an attempt to distract herself from her physical misery, Jess was concentrating on pleasant things. Perhaps it was working, because she’d made it through thirty nearly sleepless hours of withdrawal without reaching for the narcotics in her drawer. It was now Wednesday afternoon, and she figured this was going to be an awful day. If she made it, though, Thursday should be better. By Friday she’d feel somewhat human. At least that’s what she hoped. If not, she’d call on one of her colleagues and have them take her shift. What else could she do? The bup in her drawer would end her misery, and in twenty minutes she’d feel like herself again. But she’d be right back where she started.

  That wasn’t what she wanted. She was not giving in this time. No matter how much pain she had to endure, she would do it. She wanted her life back, the life before narcotics had taken control and changed everything.

  Could that life include Mac? Jess had thought about sharing her secret, but she didn’t feel like it was the right time. It would be so much easier to say “I’m a recovering addict” than “I’m an addict.” If she could make it through this withdrawal and get off the bup, she could tell Mac later, when and if they decided to date or sleep together, or whatever it was they were heading toward. If they reached that point, then Mac deserved to know.

  And it sure seemed they were heading that way. Mac spent more and more time with her, sat beside her as they watched movies, helped her with little projects around the house on their mutual days off. They had many common interests to keep them talking and occupied. Both favored action movies and spicy food, neither of them partied much, and both of them were up before the sun. Both liked to experiment in the kitchen and to take what they’d cooked and eat it outside on the patio. They loved the outdoors and had already logged over a hundred miles on the trails at the local parks and the hunting club, and at Mac’s lake.

  There was a spark of passion there, too, and for Jess, that was amazing. Sex was sex, as far as she was concerned. Her occasional desires had never controlled her, driving her thoughts and distracting her. Yet with Mac, that’s where she found herself. As they watched television, she’d look at Mac’s hands, so strong, the nails clipped immaculately at the ends of her long fingers, and couldn’t help fantasizing. What would they feel like on her, in her? What would Mac’s mouth feel like on hers? Just her breath drove Jess wild, and she pulled away from their good-night hugs feeling urges she’d never experienced before. Hmm. Jess suspected Mac would take her to whole new places. Not just because she was Mac, but because of the person Jess had become in her sobriety. Because of the person Jess was making herself become. New, better, stronger, more fun. More sexual.

  In the end, the thoughts of her and Mac might just turn out to be fantasy. They were powerful visions, though, and they were helping fill the hours while she sequestered herself from the world and pulled her body through this cleansing.

  Sipping from a straw, she was careful to take only a small amount of the flat Coke in her mug, and she allowed it to warm in her mouth before she swallowed it. She needed the fluid, but for some reason water wasn’t sitting well in her stomach. Every sip came back up within seconds. The cola was working better and gave her some sugar, too. If she held it down, she’d try some crackers, and maybe a few aspirin for the headache and body pains.

  Her CD of nature sounds had stopped playing, and she slowly raised herself off the couch to restart it. It was all her mind could handle. Television plots demanded too much concentration, and she’d started a few puzzles but wasn’t able to concentrate for long enough to finish them.

  Hobbling to the bathroom on aching legs, Jess splashed tepid water onto her face. Twirling the toothbrush around her mouth seemed to take away some of the grime there. She didn’t even care what she looked like. She couldn’t do anything about it. Grabbing some crackers, she headed back to her couch and collapsed into her comforter. It probably stank, but if it did, she couldn’t smell it. Her nose was too congested to function.

  Jess allowed her mind to drift, this time to a great waterfall. In her kayak, she guided herself toward the edge, and just as the tip floated over the edge, a sail popped out of the frame, and she flew across the great gorge below the falls, drifting slowly down to the calm waters in the distance. The vision was exhilarating, and beautiful and peaceful. The only thing wrong was the ringing sound. The birds and water were soothing, but that buzzing was annoying.

  The buzzing changed to pounding, and Jess opened her eyes. The dream was over, and she was amazed that she must have fallen asleep. Now, though, someone was pounding on her door. Her father was too scared of the flu to enter the house, and besides, he had a key. It must be one of her neighbors or someone from the hospital.

  The temptation to ignore the noise was great, but the buzzing, knocking person was persistent. She forced herself to her feet, shuffled to the back door, and looked through the curtain. Mac was wearing a black knit cap with a Pennsylvania State Police logo, a matching coat, and a smile.

  “Fuck,” Jess thought. Mac was the last person she wanted to see at the moment. And also the only one.

  “I had my flu shot,” she said when Jess opened the door. Then, “Maybe you should give me a key. For emergencies.”

  “Mac, don’t make me talk, okay?”

  A brown paper bag emerged from somewhere, and she dangled it in front of her. “Soup. And fresh rolls. Carbs are good for the flu.”

>   “I’ve never heard that,” Jess said as she turned and walked back toward the couch, with Mac at her heels. She eased herself back into her cocoon.

  “I figured you could use a little company. Or a little help. You’ve been under quarantine for forty-eight hours now. You need human contact.”

  Jess looked up from the couch and frowned. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Jess, you need a shower.” Kneeling beside her, she pulled the comforter toward her nose and sniffed. “And your blanket needs a bath. You both…stink.”

  “Please, be honest, Mac. No need to sugarcoat it.”

  “C’mon. I’ll help you.”

  “A shower would require me to remove my clothing. I thought we were in the platonic phase of this relationship.”

  “I won’t look.”

  “I’m probably not that tempting at the moment.”

  Mac gazed at her, and her eyes warmed, her face softened. “You are the biggest temptation I’ve ever met.” She leaned in and placed a tender kiss on Jess’s lips.

  Jess tilted her head, angling it like a baby bird trying to take the food its mother offered. Mac was offering herself, and Jess wanted her. Their lips met, and lingered, and Jess tingled everywhere for the second they stayed together. For a moment Jess forgot her pain and felt pleasure, and the flash of desire that exploded was more powerful than all the misery she was suffering. Even when Mac pulled back and smiled at her, the pleasant sensations continued.

  “C’mon. Let’s get you naked.”

  Jess allowed Mac to help her up the stairs, but she insisted she could shower herself. Holding on to a little bit of dignity was important. While Jess was in the bathroom, Mac laundered the bedding, and Jess emerged twenty minutes later feeling cleaner but no more human than she had before. The kiss had played through her mind as the water fell over her body, and she’d wondered if this was the time.