Level Five

by Carla Cassidy

  “By your mother,” Edie said, wanting him to separate her from the mother he hated. “Where was your father?”

  “Dead. He died when I was two and left me with her, a woman who shouldn’t have been allowed to raise a dog.” He sat up, tension riding his broad shoulders. “By the time I was old enough to go to school the only hot meal I got was in the school cafeteria. She couldn’t get to the oven. It was piled with her crap.”

  “That must have been very difficult for you.”

  She knew she’d made a mistake as he rose from the chair, his face red with rage and his hands fisted into balls. “Don’t be condescending, you stupid bitch. Difficult? It was agony.”

  His fist connected with the side of her head, shooting stars in her vision. She scuttled backward from him, but he followed, screaming at her as he punched and kicked and beat her.

  Pain. Excruciating pain. It became her thoughts, her entire world. She couldn’t escape it and she didn’t know how to make it stop.

  This was how the others had died, in an unbridled fit of his rage. As he slammed his fist into her head once again she realized if she didn’t do something, say something, then she would suffer the fate of those who’d come before her.

  She found her voice, screaming his name over and over again. Finally he paused, his breathing labored, his shirt splattered with her blood.

  “What do you want from me?” she asked. “Just tell me what you need from me.”

  He cocked his head and stared at her, as if she was something alien he’d found in his yard, as if nobody else in his entire life had asked him what he needed.

  His face was still red and his breaths mirrored her own ragged gasps of air. Edie had no idea if the immediate danger had passed. She swiped her lower lip. The back of her hand came away bloody.

  “I need you to hear me.” He said the words slowly, as if speaking to somebody mentally challenged. “I need you to know that I’m the victim, that I’ve been a victim since the moment I was born.” His fists shook at his sides and she knew if she didn’t do something, if she didn’t say exactly the right thing, he was going to explode again.

  “Then let me tell your story,” she said desperately. “Let me write your story. It’s what I do. I write books about victims.” She talked fast, ignoring the pain that racked through her entire body. “I can get it published and then everyone will know that your mother was a monster and that you were her victim.”

  He seemed to stop breathing for a moment as he continued to stare at her. His hands unfurled and he took a step backward. To her surprise he whirled on his heels and left the room, not taking his chair or the paper she’d neatly folded with him.

  He slammed the door and locked it and Edie had no idea if he’d be back in again or not. A sob caught in her chest as she began to mentally catalogue her injuries.

  Her lip was busted open and her left eye was beginning to swell shut. Her ribs ached but as she drew a deep breath she didn’t think any of them had been broken.

  She was alive. That was all that mattered. She had a feeling if she hadn’t been able to break through to him in his fit of rage, she might have wound up dead, beaten to death by the fists that had pummeled her.

  She dragged herself into the bathroom where she sluiced her face with water. It ran down the drain, pink from her blood. There was no mirror to assess the damage, but she didn’t need a reflection of herself to know she was a mess.

  But she was alive.

  And hopefully, he’d bite on the offer that she write his story. Not only would it buy her more time, it might also shift the power between them just a little bit. And she needed to gain a little power before he wound up killing her.

  It was after midnight and Jake and Teddy were still at the motel. They had checked all the units except three where nobody was home. John, the manager had told them that all three of the units were long term rentals and definitely somebody lived in each of them.

  He thought one of them was a young couple who spent most of their evenings at a bar down the street. Another was rented by a man named Jimmy and the third was by a gang banger who went by the street name of Bruiser.

  The two Detectives sat in the car, waiting for somebody to show up at any of the three. Nobody else in the place had copped to seeing Edie or knowing her in any way.

  “Are you sure she wasn’t working on a story? Maybe Bruiser decided to turn his life around and wanted to memorialize his life on paper?” Teddy asked.

  “She would have told me. She always talked to me about her work,” Jake replied.

  “If we don’t find anyone tonight, within the next twenty-four hours or so we’ll have the transcripts of her texts that came or went from her cell phone,” Teddy as if offering Jake a nugget of hope.

  It didn’t feel like hope. It simply felt like another twenty-four hours of agony, of not knowing whether she was dead or alive.

  Teddy popped the top on a can of sofa he’d bought from the vending machine just outside the office and downed the drink in several swallows. He belched quickly into his hand.

  “Thanks,” Jake said.

  Teddy offered him a smile. “I didn’t figure this was the time for a song.”

  Jake slid lower in the seat. “I just can’t imagine this place, what she’d be doing here, who she’d be talking to from here. I can’t twist things around in my mind for any of this to make sense.”

  He knew what Teddy probably thought, that Edie had another man in her life, a man she met here for afternoon or evening trysts when she wasn’t with Jake.

  Jake didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that Edie had been so duplicitous, that she’d made love with Jake three nights a week and then during the other four days had run to the arms of a man who lived here, a man who lived anywhere.

  He’d truly believed she was his as much as she could be anyone’s. Did this explain why she hadn’t committed to him? Was the reason why she wouldn’t marry him because she was involved with somebody else?

  A touch of anger swelled up inside him. Edie and her damned secrets. Was she alive and well and had just taken off with some Jimmy or Bruiser after Jake had told her he needed to take some time away to think? Had she not trusted in his love enough to give him a few days?

  “Looks like Bruiser has arrived home and he’s alone,” Teddy said.

  Jake looked out the passenger window to see a big, burly man in a leather vest and jeans headed for unit two. Both Teddy and Jake exited the car.

  “Yo, Bruiser. We need to talk to you,” Teddy called out.

  Bruiser took one look at the two of them and took off running. “Shit,” Teddy exclaimed as he and Jake gave chase.

  Bruiser was built for fighting, not for running. It was obvious in the erratic way he zigged and zagged that he was probably under the influence of something. More than that, Bruiser was obviously one dumb son-of-a-bitch. He raced into the alley next to the motel, an alley that ended with a high concrete wall at the back and several trash dumpsters on either side.

  He was attempting to crawl into one of the dumpsters when Jake caught up with him and grabbed him by one of his biker boots. Bruiser tried to kick him with his other foot, but Jake dodged the flailing leg.

  “Hey, Bruiser,” Teddy said from the mouth of the alley. Teddy was breathing hard, unaccustomed to having to run for anything but dinner. He held his gun in his hand. “Make it easy on yourself. Get down and talk to us like a man or I’m going to shoot you in the leg and make you cry like a baby.”

  Bruiser paused and Jake let go on his foot. “Why are you guys hassling me?” He jumped down to the ground, where Jake quickly frisked him and removed a wicked looking knife from his pocket. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Then why did you run?” Jake asked.

  “Automatic reflex,” Bruiser replied. “I see cops and I figure bad things are gonna happen.”

  Teddy gestured him forward. “Nothing bad is going to happen here unless you make it happen.” />
  Jake followed behind the man as he headed toward Teddy. Bruiser had shoulders the size of mountains. Is that what Edie liked? Was she secretly into bad boys with little brains and lots of brawn? Men who lived in squalor and smelled like danger?

  When Bruiser reached Teddy he eyed the two Detectives with belligerence. “I told you I haven’t done nothing wrong.”

  “I’m betting if I check that dumpster I’ll find a bag of weed or maybe a little crack,” Jake replied coolly. “Now you can either answer some questions for us or I’ll go check out that dumpster.”

  Bruiser’s gaze slid to the dumpster and then back to Jake. “What kind of questions?”

  “Why don’t we go to your unit for this?” Jake suggested. He wanted to make sure Edie wasn’t someplace inside.

  Bruiser hesitated a moment and then shrugged. “Whatever, but I got to warn you it’s not exactly The Ritz.”

  The three of them walked to Bruiser’s unit where he unlocked the door and opened it. It took only one glance inside to let Jake know Edie wasn’t there. Jake didn’t want to go into the stinky, trash-filled place.

  “We can ask our questions out here,” he said as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. He took out his photo of Edie and handed it to Bruiser. “Have you seen this woman?”

  Bruiser angled the picture so that the light from inside the unit shone on it. He slid surreptitious glances at both Jake and Teddy. “What’s she done?”

  Jake’s stomach twisted painfully. “You know her?”

  “I don’t know her personally. Like I don’t know her name or nothing like that.” Bruiser handed the photo back to Jake. “But, I’ve seen her around here. She visits Jimmy a lot.”

  Jimmy. Jake’s head thundered with the name.

  “Look, I can’t tell you nothing more about her. She’s just a chick that shows up here pretty regularly to see Jimmy. Can I go now?” His gaze darted back to the alley as he shifted from foot to foot.

  “Get out of here,” Teddy said. Jake wasn’t surprised when Bruiser headed back toward the alley.

  “We should bust him for dope,” Teddy said as he and Jake got back into the car.

  “That’s not why we’re here. Besides, that would open a whole new can of worms. We just need to sit tight and see when this Jimmy comes home.”

  Jake wasn’t sure what would be worse, Edie not being with him when he returned or her being by his side.

  Chapter 25

  Jake rubbed his weary eyes as ten o’clock in the morning rolled around. Teddy was slumped behind the steering wheel of the car, snoring like a pug. They’d taken shifts throughout the night, staying awake and waiting for Jimmy to arrive back at the motel.

  Colette had called at seven to let Jake know that posters had been distributed all over town. Jake thanked her but he didn’t think the posters would yield any results. They hadn’t for Kelly Paulson. They hadn’t for Maggie Black.

  If Edie had been kidnapped by the same person, then they were hunting a ghost who’d managed to steal three women from their loved ones without being seen by anyone.

  Of course it was equally possible that Edie’s disappearance had nothing to do with the other two, that Edie had willfully walked off on her own, perhaps to punish Jake for pushing her. Perhaps he’d pushed her right into the arms of another lover.

  Sunday morning. He should be waking up with Edie in his arms, with the promise of French toast and happiness on the agenda for the day.

  Four days. She’d been gone four days. Jake was beginning to entertain the idea that they might not find her at all, that she might remain a mystery in his heart, in his soul forever.

  It was almost eleven when an older man dressed like a street person staggered up to Jimmy’s door. As he fumbled in his pants pockets for keys, confusion muddied Jake’s mind.

  This was Jimmy?

  “Let’s go check it out,” Teddy said as he opened his car door.

  Jake followed suit. There had to be some kind of a mistake, he thought as his feet hit the hot asphalt. Bruiser had to have been mistaken. Or the broken down drunk at the door wasn’t Jimmy.

  “Jimmy?” Teddy called out as the man managed to get the door open.

  The old man turned and squinted rheumy eyes against the brightness of the sun. “Yeah, I’m Jimmy.”

  As Teddy and Jake drew closer, Jake could smell the booze that clung to the old man. It seemed to not only cling to his clothes, but emanate from his pale brittle skin.

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions. Can we come in?” Teddy asked.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” he asked plaintively. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “I’m Detective Burrows and this is Detective Warner. We’re here because of a missing person. We have information that you might know this person.”

  Jimmy gestured them into the room, which stank as badly as he did of booze and garbage and utter despair. “Who is it? Crazy Eddie? I haven’t seen him on the streets for a couple of nights.” He swept a handful of newspapers off the foot of the bed as if inviting them to sit.

  Nothing in the world would force Jake to plant his ass on the filthy sheets. “Actually, it’s a woman we’re looking for.” Jake handed Jimmy the photo of Edie.

  Jimmy took a look at the picture and staggered backward, falling onto the bed as the back of his knees struck the mattress. He looked first at Jake and then at Teddy, a frantic fear lighting his eyes. “That’s Edie. What do you mean, she’s missing? I’ll just call her. She almost always answers my calls.”

  He jumped up from the bed but Teddy stopped him before he could leave. “What exactly is your relationship with Edie?”

  “She’s my daughter.”

  Jake felt as if he’d been slapped upside the head. His daughter? Edie had told him her father was dead. “Do you have some proper identification?” he asked, his head reeling. She’d told him her father had died years ago in a car accident. What other lies had she told him?

  He was a detective for crying out loud, he was trained to be suspicious. Why had he just blithely accepted everything Edie had told him about herself? It was true. Love was definitely blind.

  Jimmy dug an old worn leather wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a state-issued identification card. Jake took it from him, stunned again to see the name James Carpenter on it.

  Edie’s father, not dead but very much alive and standing in front of him smelling like an old unwashed bar counter. A simmering panic remained in his eyes.

  “What do you mean Edie is missing? I need her. She takes care of me.” Jimmy’s voice rose with a note of hysteria. “What will I do without her?” He began to reel around the small room, like an out-of-control wind-up toy. “You have to find her. She’s all I’ve got. She pays my rent, gets me groceries. I don’t have my Frannie anymore. She was daddy’s girl.” He stopped and looked at Jake and then at Teddy. “It was Edie’s fault, you know,” he whispered the words as if afraid who might hear them. “It was Edie’s fault that Frannie was murdered.”

  “What are you talking about,” Jake asked with a rise of anger. “Greg Bernard killed Frannie.”

  Jimmy’s eyes burned with the fervor of his own beliefs. “Edie didn’t follow the rules. She didn’t wait for her sister after school. They were always supposed to walk home together. Edie left Frannie that day. She left her to walk home from school alone and that bastard grabbed her.”

  Tears began to stream down Jimmy’s face and once again he continued his disjointed roaming of the room, pausing to open drawers and look in cabinets. “She’s gone. My sweet Frannie is gone forever. God, I need a drink. Where’s my bottle?”

  A weak helplessness swept through Jake and he had to get out, get away from the man who was Edie’s father. He stumbled toward the door and stepped outside.

  He drew several deep breaths of the hot, humid air as thoughts and emotions tumbled over each other in an attempt to be realized.

  Shame and guilt. That’s why Edie had kept this se
cret. Her mother had left her. Her father had used her, leaving Edie with what must be a killing weight of guilt over her sister’s death.

  What must it have been like to be raised believing that you were responsible for the murder of your beloved sister. Edie had been ten-years-old, little more than a baby and yet it was obvious by her mother’s absence in her life and her father’s drunken ranting that she bore the brunt of the blame. Instead of the pedophile who had stalked and killed the pretty Francine, they blamed Edie.

  Was this the secret that had kept Edie from committing to him? Was it possible she’d believed he wouldn’t be able to accept the man her father was? Was it possible she didn’t believe she deserved to be happy? He wouldn’t know the answers until they found her. It was obvious this lead had gone nowhere.

  Teddy left the room and stepped out to stand next to Jake. “I don’t think we have to worry about him winning father of the year,” Teddy said.

  “Did he say when the last time he’d seen her was?”

  “He thinks it was four or five days ago. According to Jimmy she came here about once a week or so to bring him groceries. She pays his rent each month and takes care of his basic needs.”

  “So, we’re back to square one.” Jake said once they were in the car and headed out of the parking lot.

  “We’re not done yet, partner. We’ll find her. We just need to find out what other secrets Edie might have kept from you.”

  Jake stared out the passenger window. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know any more secrets. He just wanted Edie back in his arms.

  A book.

  A book that would be all about him and his monster of a mother. The thought tantalized Anthony throughout Sunday and Monday. She could write a book about him that would tell everyone what his bitch of a mother had done to him, what she’d made him.

  Of course, there would be limitations. Edie wouldn’t be able to use his real name and the book would have to be published posthumously because there was no way she could walk out of his house alive.

  Still, was it possible that in the mere process of her writing his story, he’d finally find the peace he so desperately wanted? So desperately deserved?