by Billie Reece
“You’re damn right I’ve got the power!”
“With power comes great responsibility. Decisions have consequences. If you’re not careful, a consequence could be you getting shot in the head.”
Jaime’s eyes narrow.
“Again, I don’t want that. I will do everything to avoid that. But you’ve got to help me.”
On the floor, Cynthia cries. “Just let Ingrid go! She’s a little girl!”
“Shut up!” Jaime’s grip on Ingrid tightens.
“Things aren’t as bad as you think, Jaime. Danielle was found alive. Caroline Christianson didn’t die.” I repeat, “Things aren’t as bad as you think.”
For a second, Jaime looks like she’s ready to surrender. But then her face darkens. “Lawrence Inglebird isn’t going to fine.”
“No, you’re right. Lawrence is dead.”
Ingrid whimpers when the knife knicks her neck.
“Relax, Jaime.”
“Stop telling me to relax!” She thrusts the knife forward, pointing it at me.
Tucker comes down hard on Jaime’s wrist with a baton. The sound of a bone breaking fills the room, followed by Jaime’s howl of pain. The knife lands on the floor at my feet. Ingrid staggers forward.
Tucker dives and catches his sister, rolling away with her. I grab Jaime at the same time she shoves me. With her shattered wrist clutched to her chest, she disappears past me and out the front door.
“Stay with them!” I yell at Tucker.
I’m seconds behind Jaime. She races away from the front, down the side, and toward the backyard. She tumbles over a pile of bricks, screaming. But the pain drives her on. The neighborhood looks out over a valley and she launches herself into it.
I don’t have to catch her, just keep her in sight. In the distance sirens wail. Down in the valley, a train sounds from somewhere far off. I radio in our location.
We have her.
There’s nowhere left for Jaime to run.
Forty-Six
The valley slopes gently down and the further Jaime goes, the slower she gets. At the bottom runs the tracks. She’ll have to traverse them to get across. But by then she’ll be surrounded.
I’m no longer running. I’ve slowed to a fast walk as I navigate the trees and bushes. “Jaime, there’s nowhere to go. You’re surrounded.”
She stumbles and grabs a tree for support. With her arm clutched to her chest she turns to look at me.
“He’s a dick!” she spits. “He broke my arm.”
“He didn’t have a whole lot of choice. You were hurting his sister.” It’s there around her eyes. The similarity to Ava Neal. The little girl I never found. The one I couldn’t save. “Why don’t you come with me? Let’s talk through things.”
Jaime barks a laugh and keeps going. “Talk through what? I hate you. I know what you did to my dad.”
“Your dad?” I splutter. “Thomas Quillen? He isn’t your dad.”
“Yes, he is!” She picks up her pace.
“No, he isn’t.”
“Yes, he is and you set him up. You threw him off that roof!”
Stepping around a tree, I gauge the distance between us and the bottom. About a hundred yards to go.
“Is that what this is about?” I ask. “You thought if The Lullaby Man is still out there, Thomas Quillen would be released?”
“Yes,” Jaime spits. Her foot hits a pile of leaves and she slides. “That’s what Lawrence said.”
“Unfortunately, that’s not how it works.” I step around the pile of leaves. “Did Lawrence put you up to this? Did he tell you that we would let Thomas Quillen go if you kidnapped Danielle Stevens?”
Her shoulder bounces off a hanging limb and she yelps. She glances back, noting I’m yards away, and ducks under a fallen trunk. “Lawrence was going to turn me in. After I stabbed that Caroline woman. He said it had gone too far. I couldn’t let him tell you who I am.”
I climb over the fallen trunk. “So you killed him?”
“I had to!” she yells, then sobs. “I just want my dad back.”
“Whatever Thomas Quillen has made you believe is a lie. He is not your dad. I’ve met your dad and your mom. I’ve met your sister and your grandparents. They are good people.”
“No! He is my dad.” Jaime punches a patch of moss-covered bark. “And you TOOK HIM FROM ME.”
Her desperation brings a terrible reality home. “You’ve been alone this whole time,” I realize. “You’ve been on your own since Thomas was caught.”
Jaime doesn’t respond, but she stops running and bends at the waist. Her sobs fill the valley.
“I’m so sorry you’ve been alone.” I stop a careful distance. “I tried to find you. I did. But I looked in all the wrong places.”
A train’s horn echoes again. The ground rumbles with its approach. Jaime gets up and keeps going. We’re twenty yards away now from the tracks and my back up. I wave to let everyone know they should keep a distance.
“You’re lying. You want to lock me up like you did my dad.”
“You need help. You’ve been lost for so long. Let me help you, Ava.”
Jaime stops and turns, cradling her wrist to her chest. In my peripheral, the train rounds the bend as it enters the valley. Its horn fills the air. Jaime blinks, and confusion crosses over her face.
“Ava?” She whispers. “Who’s Ava?”
“You are. You’re Ava Neal. That’s your real name.”
Jaime’s eyes widen like a long-buried memory is working its way up. Her expression changes from confusion to acceptance.
The train draws closer. I nod. “That’s right, you’re Ava Neal.”
“Ava Neal,” she rolls the name around in her mouth.
Then she turns and takes a few steps. She stops. She looks to the right, then to the left. My back up still hovers a careful distance away. The train rumbles past. Ava’s shoulder length hair lifts on the wind.
“Ava?” I speak loud, my voice carrying over the noise. “I’ll help. Just come with me.”
But she doesn’t look back. She runs at full speed and leaps into the passing train.
Forty-Seven
Lieutenant Gordon and I stand outside the hospital watching Mr. and Mrs. Stevens take Danielle home. As I suggested, they stop to let the reporters snap a few photos. That done, Tucker escorts the family to his patrol car while other uniform officers block the press from following.
Could I have handled things differently? Yes. Will I think and re-think Ava’s last moments? Yes. Is this the type of outcome that causes me to drink? Yes. Which is why I need to get to an AA meeting as soon as possible. I’ve been a cop a long time and I can’t control the outcome. All I can do is my best.
And try the hell not to dwell on the what-ifs.
“You did good,” Lieutenant Gordon says.
I don’t respond. Instead, I keep my eyes fixed on the retreating backs of the Stevens family. Danielle checked out okay. Physically, that is. Emotionally, she’ll need a lot of help. Professionally and from the family.
The family…
“Christ, is Fred Xanders still in holding?” I ask.
“Yes.” Lieutenant Gordon looks at my bruised cheek. “Do we want to charge him with assaulting an officer?”
“No, let him go.”
“Okay.”
We stand in silence a bit longer, watching the reporters pack up. One by one they leave the hospital grounds.
“Why would Thomas Quillen tell Lawrence Inglebird about Ava Neal?” Lieutenant Gordon fishes his keys from his pocket. “Or rather why didn’t Lawrence simply run with that story? Why all this drama?”
“Who knows? Maybe Thomas Quillen didn’t tell him. Maybe Lawrence figured it out on his own. Or maybe Thomas manipulated Lawrence, made him think The Lullaby Man was still out there.” I shake my head. “He’s not the mental cabbage everyone thinks he is.”
Lieutenant Gordon walks away from the hospital toward his car parked along the curb. “You think Lawrence
would have let Jaime kill Danielle?”
“No. But I do think things got out of hand. Lawrence lost control of the situation.” As evidence by the hatchet in his head.
“For me, the worst part of this job is the details that will never be explained.” He points the fob to his car.
“I know.” Believe me, I know. I get out my keys. “Ava Neal’s parents,” I say. “I don’t want them to know.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I am. Ava helped Thomas torture and kill animals and little girls.” I meet Lieutenant Gordon’s gaze over the top of both cars. “Those details, as well as the current ones, will kill them.”
“They need closure.”
“Not this kind. I want them to believe we’re still looking for their sweet little girl.”
Forty-Eight
A few hours later the team meets back at the station to pack up and handle end-of-case things. At some point, pizza and beer are brought in.
Boxes are packed. Files are put away. The workboard is cleared. Gradually things transition from work to downtime.
I’m not big on goodbyes, so I keep things short.
Crossing the room to Sharon, I say, “I’ll be honest, I didn’t like you. Your flat ironed hair. Spray tan. Cocky attitude. You got on my nerves.”
She grins, not at all offended.
I smile back, offering a hand. “Good work. I’m proud of you. You're not riding on your family name. You’re paving your own way. For that, and your work, you have my respect.”
“Thank you.” She shakes my hand. “But how did you figure out Chief Hickman is my grandfather?”
“He asked about you in that loving authoritative way. Plus the red hair and freckles. I’m assuming you took your mother’s maiden name?”
Sharon shrugs. “I don’t want people claiming nepotism. I’ll prove my damn self worthy of every promotion I get.”
Next, I go to Dominic. He sees me coming and extends a hand first. He says, “It was good working with you. You have some…interesting methods. I’ve definitely learned a thing or two.”
“Best to forget anything you’ve learned from me,” I tell him good-naturedly. “Keep doing it your way.”
Dominic smiles. “Yeah, I was just kidding. I like my way better.”
We share a chuckle.
Ignacio is next. “You found some key information, namely the abandoned house, that I dismissed.” I shake his hand. “I encourage you to challenge authority. Your gut told you there was something there. Next time follow through even it means you’ll get yelled at.”
“I will. Thank you.”
I turn to Lieutenant Gordon. We bypass the handshake and go straight into a hug.
He pulls back first. “If you want to join this team, you let me know. I’ll make room for you in the budget.”
“I will. Thank you.”
Grabbing my soft case and purse, I look at Tucker.
“I’ll walk you out,” he says.
“How’s Ingrid?” I ask as we leave the station.
“She’s surprisingly good. Our grandmother is coming down from Pennsylvania. Chief Hickman’s given me time off to sort things out.”
“Good.” We reach my white Dodge Charger. Night has completely settled in. Overhead, the stars light up a dark sky. A crisp spring chill fills the air.
Tucker says, “Thank you for bringing me onto the team. And for everything you did about Ingrid.”
I smile. “It’s sort of in the job description. Protect and serve.”
Tucker laughs. “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
Some awkward seconds fill the air and I’m transported back to high school. I feel like I’m on a date and neither of us knows how to end it.
I extend my hand at the same time he steps in for a hug.
It’s brief and warm and I inhale his scent. Cologne. Not overpowering, but just enough. A perfect amount.
Tucker steps away, opening my door. I toss my things over into the passenger seat. I’m about to slide behind the wheel when he says, “If you’re ever in the area again, call me.”
My cheeks heat. I can’t recall the last time I was embarrassed. I look up into his handsome face. “How old are you?”
He’s not nervous at all. “Twenty-five.”
“I’m old enough to be your mother.”
“So.” He smiles. “Haven’t you seen How Stella Got Her Groove Back?”
I laugh and get in my car.
With his hand on the roof, he leans down. “Your son. You should call him.”
I pause. “He doesn’t want to hear from me.”
“You should still call.” Tucker closes my door.
A week later Caroline Christianson eats a pistachio from the basket I brought her. Fallon, her boyfriend, sits beside her hospital bed. She offers him the basket and he chooses a dried apricot.
She motions me to sit on the other side of her bed, and I do.
With a grimace, she repositions her body to scoot up a few inches in the bed. Fallon is quick to help rearrange the pillows.
They share a long and complicated history involving kidnapping, murder, lies, and manipulation. The fact they survived and came through strong together is proof of the human spirit. Seeing them together bolsters me and provides evidence that I am in the correct line of work.
“How you holding up?” I ask.
“They’re treating me like I’m a hero,” Caroline says.
“That’s because you are.” Fallon takes her hand.
I nod. “Agreed.”
“Says the woman who got Danielle home.” Caroline smiles.
“Team effort all the way.”
She sighs. “If I would’ve been in that interrogation room with Jaime Hearst, I probably would’ve have known.”
“You were with Fred Xanders in his room, waiting on me.”
“Yes. But if I would have been in Jaime’s room—”
“You wouldn’t have gotten stabbed and Lawrence Inglebird would still be alive.” Shifting, I cross my right leg over my left. “Don’t go down that road. The if-then-but-what road. It’ll drive you insane.”
“I know.” She smiles again. “Perhaps we’ll work on another case together.”
My gaze goes across to Fallon who rolls his eyes. “Of course she’s going back to work,” he groans.
I laugh. “You’re in love with a strong woman. Better just roll with it.”
The doctor steps into the room. I take that as my cue. I hug Caroline and leave. One last thing to do and then this case will officially be at rest.
Forty-Nine
With his glassy eyes fixed on the painted mural, Thomas Quillen sits on the side of his bed.
I approach without a word to stand over him. A rolling table separates us containing the leftover contents of his lunch.
I had brought a newspaper in, and I unfold it now. I scoot his lunch tray aside and place the paper down on the table.
Saying nothing, I watch him, waiting for those glassy eyes to clear. I want to see the monster inside.
It happens, and I smirk. Thomas Quillen’s throat constricts. He grunts as his eyes meet a sketch of Ava Neal, the girl he kidnapped twenty years ago all grown up.
The headline reads: KIDNAPPER DIES DURING PURSUIT
I like that headline. It’s simple. To the point. No fancy words. Blunt. Raw. Just the facts. The article is the same way as it talks about Jaime Hearst and never once mentions Ava Neal.
Thomas tries to stop his shoulders from shaking but fails. He lets out a long crying wail.
The door opens, and Dr. Shroff appears. He heaves a loud sigh. “Detective Covington, I thought I told you—”
“All good. I’m done.”
Then I turn and walk from The Lullaby Man’s room. It’s a final goodbye.
Read Caroline’s story in MONSTER. Get a sneak peek in next few pages…
Monster
Part One
Thirteen Years Ago
Annabelle grabs my hand, and gigg
ling, she tugs me across the field of wildflowers. “Come on, Caroline, hurry!”
Behind us Mom yells, “Dinner in thirty!”
“Okay!” I yell back, waving.
In the distance the train’s horn sounds, signaling its approach, and Annabelle lets go of my hand as she picks up the pace. I’m right behind her when we break from the field, race through the bordering trees and come to a stop a few feet from the train tracks.
She stands in front of me, as she always does, and together we stretch our arms out wide. The horn sounds again, letting us know it’s almost here, and up ahead it rounds the hill to begin its gentle slope toward us. My gaze rolls over the number of cars. It’s a short one but we’ll make the best of it.
My twin and I have done this a zillion times over the years but my heart never ceases to bang my ribs as the ground vibrates with the incoming train.
Annabelle casts me a quick smile over her shoulder and I grin back. We brace our feet wide, the ground rumbles, the horn blows telling us it’s passing, and the air around us becomes alive as the train whizzes past.
I close my eyes, arch my back and lift up on my toes. I swear I’m flying. My sundress suctions to my body and my cheeks wobble as I laugh. I stretch my arms longer, cupping my hands, and almost stumble back with the weighted wind.
Another horn, the train now saying goodbye, and then it’s gone. Hopefully, the one tomorrow will be longer.
Laughing, Annabelle turns to me, flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder. “I hope we—” Her voice fades away as her gaze moves beyond me and her smile gradually dies. “Caroline,” she whispers.
But I don’t know what she sees, because everything goes black.
One
Present Day
Tires crunch across my driveway and Dr. Vincent DeMurr pulls his dark SUV in and cuts the engine. It’s been three months since I’ve seen or talked to him. Three months since I stopped helping him with cases. I told him I needed a break but something tells me he’s about to talk me into another.
