“I’m sure he is right, Mike. We just need to take our
little girl back home, and everything will work itself
out.”
Mike hugged her one more time before he left. He
blew a kiss in her direction,
and then he was gone.
Rose lay down beside her daughter and wrapped her
arms around her small body; it wasn’t long before she
dozed off. In her dream, two little girls were running
through a park, and Tracey was with them, holding a
newborn baby. One of the young girls was Alexis, the
other one appeared to be a bit older and dressed in
outdated clothes. Rose called them, but they ignored her
at first, and it wasn’t until she ran to them that they all
turned around and acknowledged her presence. The girl
with her hair pulled into piggy tales locked eyes with
her, and Rose froze. She saw the little girl with the
piggy tales sitting alone outside a farm house, crying
softly. A woman stepped out of the front door, and with
a harsh voice told the girl to go inside to help. “You
have to pull your weight,” she told her, “I can’t do it all
on my own. The good Lord knows I had enough mouths
to feed and enough children to take care of before He
took your mother during childbirth.” The little girl went
inside with the woman, her head bent down as she sadly
looked at the worn shoes on her feet. When the door
closed, Rose was transported to a different scene, taking
place in the woods behind the farmhouse: The girl with
the piggy tales was being raped by a soldier. From the
uniform, Rose thought he was fighting for the Union,
but since history was never her favorite subject, she
wasn’t too sure. The man forced himself on her, and
when she screamed he placed his hand over her mouth -in a few moments he had stolen her innocence, and now he was stealing her life. As Rose cried for a young life
snuffed so senselessly, she was whisked away to yet
another place. She saw herself in an operating room,
waiting for anesthesia to take effect. She knew that
within a few minutes she would be asleep, and the fruit
of her relationship with Matthew Lawry would be
plucked from her existence. As the blissful feeling of
numbness from the sedation took effect, Rose said
goodbye to the baby she would never hold. Then
everything went black, and when Rose looked again, she
was back at the park. Alexis was pulling the little girl’s
hand, urging her to follow. “Come on, Lily, let’s go
play!” They ran up the hill together, but suddenly, before
they disappeared over the hill, the girl turned around and
looked at Rose again with sad eyes. “Do you understand
now, Mother?”
With that, they were gone, and Rose was left
standing alone, crying for the little girl who never knew
the warmth of a loving family.
“Are you okay, Mrs. Howard?” The voice of the
nurse filtered through the fibers of her dream, and her
hand gently touched Rose’s arm to awaken her.
Rose was confused for a moment, her eyes trying to
adjust to the reality of the hospital room, while her arms
were still wrapped around Alexis.
“Yes…I’m sorry, I must have dozed off.”
“Oh, okay…you were crying in your dream, so I
just wanted to make sure you are alright.”
Rose wiped the tears from her eyes and looked at
Alexis first, and then at the nurse. “I’m fine. I was
dreaming of my daughters.”
Rose smiled and touched Alexis’s hand. “I thought
one of them was lost forever; it didn’t occur to me that
some day she would become Alexis’s best friend.”
#
“Do you know if the apartment complex offers any
additional storage space, Ms. Townsend?”
Mary was already annoyed about the intrusion so
early in the day, and dealing with Sergeant Parker was
no picnic in the park. For some reason unknown to her
at the moment, his presence alone irritated the hell out
of her, and she was ready to wrap up the search and go
back to bed. “I don’t know, Detective. I didn’t live here
full time until recently, in case you have forgotten.”
Parker huffed, and ignored her abrasive tone. “The
management office should know. I guess I will have to
give them a call.”
“You do that. Now, can I go back to bed? I didn’t
get home until four hours ago, and I wasn’t expecting
company.”
“Where is your car, Ms. Townsend?”
“It is being repaired.”
“I see. What was wrong with it?”
“The fender was dented.”
“How did that happen?”
“I’m not sure Detective. You should ask Shannon
that – she is the one who damaged it.”
“Unfortunately Ms. Brinkley is unable to answer my
questions at the moment.”
“Then I am afraid you are out of luck. I already told
your pal Lackey everything I know. Compare notes with
him. Now, if you will excuse me…” Mary stood up and
headed down the hallway toward the bedroom, leaving
Parker alone in the living room.
He left the apartment and headed toward the main
office. A pleasant looking woman dressed in a powder
blue suit welcomed him with a broad smile which
appeared as artificial as the platinum hair cascading over
her shoulders. “Good morning, may I help you?” Her
southern accent was atrociously thick and syrupy
enough to make Parker fear an increase in blood sugar.
He flashed his badge and went straight to the point.
“I am Sergeant Parker, with Raleigh Police. As you
know, we are investigating the death of Tracey
Newman, one of your residents.”
“I know! Quite dreadful, isn’t it? God bless her little
heart – such a nice young lady…”
“Yes, it’s a pity. I was wondering if the apartments
have additional storage space on the premises.”
“Oh yes, of course. Each apartment comes with
additional storage. It’s a separate building.”
“I see. And where is the building?”
“I will go with you, Sergeant. I’ll bring the master
key.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
Parker grimaced as the tall blonde walked in front
of him to lead the way and left behind an invisible cloud
of sweet perfume – Jasmine, he thought, and definitely
lots of it.
They drove to a building directly behind the one
where Tracey Newman lived, and Parker followed as the
woman walked toward a unit situated at the far right
corner. “Here it is. This is the storage unit assigned to
Ms. Newman’s apartment.” She unlocked the door and
stepped back to let Parker in.
The small unit was stuffy and smelled of mold.
Parker shifted to breathing through his mouth,
something Dr. Greer taught him to do when he went in
to assist autopsies. The belongings stored inside were
the usual ones pe
ople kept in storage units – a pair of
hiking boots, a few bags of old clothes that were
probably meant for charity, a card table and folding
chairs, and a few suitcases. Two cardboard boxes were
stuffed in the corner to the left, and Parker peeked into
the first one – old notebooks and a discarded tape player
were laid over a folded blanket. He moved the box on
the top and opened the second one. “Holy shit!” The
profanity he inadvertently let out crystallized in the
humid air and made the woman in the blue suit gasp. He
pulled out the box and laid it on the floor of the unit,
then ran to his car. “Don’t touch anything!” He yelled to
the woman who was almost tipping over on her heels to
see what was in the box but had no courage to move
from the place where she was standing.
He grabbed a pair of gloves from the box on the
passenger seat and called Lackey. “You are not going to
believe what I have here.”
“I hope something more than I have. I’m at Jack
Little’s place, and it appears that he has left town. I was
going to question him about that e-mail and the photo he
sent Tracey.”
“Well, get your ass here right away. This is big!”
Lackey knew Parker better than most people at the
department, and didn’t waste time trying to pry
information out of him. “Where are you?”
“Storage unit behind the apartment building where
Tracey Newman lived.”
“I’m on my way.”
Parker ran back to the unit and put his gloves on.
“How many keys to the unit are available to residents?”
“One usually, but we can provide additional copies
for a fee.”
“How many keys did Ms. Newman have?”
“Well, she had two to start with, since her
roommate, Ms. Brinkley, paid for an extra one. But, I
remember very clearly that about two weeks ago, a
friend of Ms. Brinkley’s came by the office and said that
one of the keys was lost, and she was picking one up for
her.”
“What did this friend look like? Did you get her
name?”
“I certainly did. I was the person who gave it to her.
Her name was Mary Townsend.”
#
Kathy dialed the number for Dr. Greer’s office she
found in Tom’s old address book. For the longest time
he wrote every number in the little booklet, and it was
only recently that he transferred phone numbers and
addresses into the new phone she got him for Christmas.
Kathy had suggested he should throw the little black
book away, but Tom had vehemently refused, on the
basis that electronics sometimes fail while good old
address books never do. Today, Kathy said a small
blessing to thank God for Tom being so old-fashioned.
“This is Dr. Greer. I am away from my desk right
now, so leave me a message and I will call you back as
soon as I can. If you need to talk to someone right away,
press ‘one’ now and you will be connected to the
receptionist.” Dr Greer’s voice on the recording had the
promise of a baritone, and Kathy wondered if his voice
sounded as deep in person.
“Dr. Greer, my name is Kathy Spencer, and I am
Lieutenant Lackey’s girlfriend. I have a few medical
questions for you, in connection with the case of the
young woman who was found at Durant Park. I would
really appreciate it if you could call me back. My
number is 919-875-1450.”
She had barely disconnected when the phone rang,
making her jump.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Spencer? This is Frances Downey. Are my
daughter’s portraits ready?”
“Almost, Mrs. Downey. I’ve been a little
sidetracked the last few days, but I should have them
ready by tomorrow for you. What time would you like
to come by?”
“The bridal party is going to be the day after
tomorrow, Ms. Spencer! We are not going to have
enough time!” The panic in the woman’s voice was
tangible, and Kathy did her best to reassure her, though
she could feel her eyes roll toward the back of her head.
“I will make sure they are ready by tonight before I
leave, Mrs. Downey. If necessary, I will personally go to
set them up in the party room. If you prefer to pick them
up instead, they will be available tomorrow morning at,
say, ten o’ clock?”
“Hmmmph! I will come and pick them up. I will be
at the studio at 9:55.”
“Of course, Mrs. Downey. I will be here.”
She hung up the phone and turned toward the
computer. She clicked on the file Mrs. Downey was so
distraught about, and several image tiles appeared on the
monitor screen. She selected each of them individually
and sent them to the printer. When she picked up the
prints, something caught her eye: The bride and groomto-be were smiling gloriously from every shot, and some of the photos featured relatives proudly standing beside
the happy girl, but there was no trace of Mrs. Downey!
Kathy was sure she had taken pictures of the bride and
her mother together – how could one forget doing
anything Mrs. Downey was involved in? Make sure you
capture the light filtering through that window, Ms.
Spencer…I think the greenery outside will give a sense
of freshness to the photos, I’m sure you agree…I should
sit, Ms. Spencer, don’t you think?
There was no doubt Kathy had immortalized Mrs.
Downey in numerous photos, so where were they now?
She found the photos – exactly as she remembered them
-- but the young bride was standing alone in them, her
bright and hopeful face dominating each shot. Kathy
was confused – how could this have happened? And,
worst of all, how was she going to explain it to the
abrasive Mrs. Downey tomorrow morning? Surely Mrs.
Downey was going to be furious, and right now she
really didn’t have the energy to deal with the tantrums of
a diva. She scanned the hard drive to see if the original
photos were maybe saved in a different folder, but
nothing turned out.
She got up from her desk and starting walking in
circles around the room – something she subconsciously
did any time she was trying to find a solution to
something impossible – all the while rehearsing her
apology to Mrs. Downey.
I’m sorry, Mrs. Downey, but your persona
magically deleted itself from the photos…no, too
strange. Mrs. Downey, I must have accidentally deleted
you off the photos, but I will be happy to take a few
more shots of you and your daughter after the party,
free of charge of course…Hmmmm…this one didn’t
sound too bad. Kathy made a mental note to rehearse it a
few more times to make it sound credible. In reality she
had no idea what the hell happened, but she had to come
up with something to say. Owning responsibility, she
knew, was on
e of the best ways to appeal to people’s
compassion.
She went back to the computer and opened the file
again – still no pictures of Mrs. Downey. She rebooted
the computer and clicked the file again, holding her
breath and praying in her own head, but when the file
opened, Mrs. Downey was still Missing In Action. She
finished printing the shots of the bride alone and placed
them on her desk, to insert them in the frames that were
waiting in a box by the door.
After she was done, she was satisfied with what she
had, but the mystery had yet to be solved. It was like a
virtual eraser had hacked her computer and deleted Mrs.
Downey from her daughter’s existence.
Kathy shut down the computer and grabbed her
purse to go out to lunch, just as a storm approached. In
the distance, the sound of a baby crying was silenced by
an explosive clap of thunder.
#
“I have told you over and over, Lieutenant. I didn’t
put those boots in the storage unit. I have no idea how
they got there.” Mary Townsend tried to remain calm,
but her tone reflected a frustration that was quickly
reaching the boiling point.
The two detectives exchanged a quick glance, and
Tom walked across the room to pick up the bloodstained boots that were retrieved in the storage unit.
“Look here, Mary, we have a witness saying that you
went to pick up a key right around the time that Tracey
went missing, and you told Sergeant Parker that you
weren’t even aware of additional storage being
available. Don’t you think it is a strange coincidence?”
Mary didn’t respond. Instead, she shook her head
and looked down. Tom brought the boots right to her,
and placed them on the coffee table in front of the
couch. The dark blood stains were visible through the
clear plastic bag that Parker had put them into for
protection.
“Take a look at these boots, Mary. Are they yours?”
“No, they aren’t.” Mary’s voice filtered through
gritted teeth.
“How do you think they ended up in the storage
unit?”
“I don’t have a fuckin’ clue, okay? Santa Claus
could have put them in there as far as I know! I didn’t
want to get into a conversation with the other cop
because I was tired, and the reason why I went to pick
up another key is because Shannon couldn’t find her
Killer in Sight (A Tom Lackey Mystery) Page 18
