Deadly Recall

by T. R. Ragan

  “I stopped him for a broken taillight. He looked nervous, like he might be hiding something.”

  “He’s going through a lot right now. He and his wife are having problems. His sister, the only family he has left, wants nothing to do with him.”

  “Jessie, listen to yourself. You’ve always had a thing for the broken and downtrodden.”

  “He saved my life.”

  “He killed a man with his bare hands.”

  His phone buzzed. He glanced at it. “I’ve got to go, but I’d like to talk about this more later.”

  “Sure.” Jessie watched him walk away. Ben was a good man. He was just confused and misunderstood.

  On the drive home, Zee wasn’t sure she heard her dad correctly. “What did you say?”

  “I want you to quit.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’m just getting started.” She pointed at the exit ahead. “We need to get my car,” Zee said. “Take the next exit.”

  “No. We’ll get the car another time.”

  “Why are you so upset? I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  “Zee,” her father said. “Look in the mirror. Your face looks as if it has been used as a punching bag. Your eye is swollen shut, and I saw you limping. Don’t you dare deny it.”

  If he knew the half of it, he would burst a blood vessel—no doubt about it.

  “You could have been killed,” he went on. “I don’t think you have any idea what I went through after I lost your mother. I can’t lose you, too, Zinnia. I can’t.”

  As her gaze fixated on her dad’s profile, a weird calmness settled over her. There were no jolts of energy lighting up her brain. The voices had quieted. It was almost as if she was a “normal” human being. It was beautiful.

  “Do you understand, Zee? I need you to do this for me.”

  “I love you, Dad. I don’t think I’ve told you that nearly often enough.”

  He shifted in his seat and was about to say something, but she stopped him with a raised hand. “You have been my rock since the day I was born,” she said. “You know me inside and out. But I can’t quit. Not for you or anyone else. My entire life has been crazy town. If I could let you inside my head for an hour, you would never see me in the same light. I’ve always been different. I know it, and you know it.”

  “I’m different, too,” her dad said. “I get it, but I won’t allow you to put yourself in danger. It must stop.”

  “I know you’ve been bullied for most of your life,” Zee said, surprised that Francis, Marion, and Lucy had not made one peep. “People think your big ears are funny-looking. We both know people can be cruel. But you don’t know what it’s like to have voices in your head, some of them shouting, all these voices telling you what to say, what to do, and how to act. The voices never stop.”

  “But you told the doctor that the medicine was working?”

  “I didn’t lie, exactly. The pills keep me calm, but the voices are always there.” She paused. “Everything changed, though, once I started working for Jessie.”

  “The voices stopped?”

  “No. Everything but the voices.” For a moment she simply looked out the window and watched the trees and houses sweep by in a blur. Then she looked back at her dad, the one person throughout her life who always had her back. “Dad,” she said, “I wish I could make you understand.”

  He said nothing.

  “I’ve never felt so alive,” she told him. “For the first time in my life, I’m seeing colors. My life isn’t black and white any longer. People don’t freak me out so much. I’m not afraid of living. Don’t get me wrong. I still have moments—many moments—filled with overwhelming anxiety, as if I’m hanging by the tips of my fingers off the edge of a cliff. But they’re fleeting. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I feel free. And happy.”

  “Zee.”

  “What, Dad?”

  He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then clamped it shut. She couldn’t stand to see him look so worried. “If you still want me to quit, I’ll do it.”

  “You just got through saying you couldn’t quit.”

  “I guess I lied. Because I would quit for you.”

  He huffed. “After everything you just told me, why would you do that?”

  “Because I love you, and I can’t stand to see you suffer because of me.”

  He took the next exit. He drove along for less than a half a mile and then made a U-turn at the stoplight.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m turning around. You’re going to need a car tomorrow, aren’t you?”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Olivia was having mixed emotions about having agreed to meet Ryder at the dance. He was two years older than she was. He had offered to pick her up, but she’d told him she’d rather meet him there. The notion that he might actually show up made her feel queasy.

  Bella stood next to her, arms crossed, brow furrowed.

  “You need to lighten up,” Olivia said, “or no one is going to ask you to dance.”

  “Who cares? Look around. Most of these boys look like they belong in the sixth grade.”

  “I see Troy over there. I thought you sort of liked him.”

  “He joined the band.”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  The gym doors opened wide, and Ryder walked in. Excitement shot through Olivia at the sight of him. He was so frickin’ hot. One of the popular girls elbowed her friend and gestured his way.

  Poor Bella was in the dark. Olivia should have told her what was going on, but she’d figured there was only a fifty-fifty chance he would show. The second his gaze connected with hers, his eyes gleamed, and he headed right for her.

  Bella looked at Olivia. “What’s he doing here?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s not the type of guy to go to a school dance. He and his friends are usually throwing a party. Why is he looking at you like that?”

  “He asked me to the dance,” Olivia said, “but I told him to meet me here since I was spending the night at your house.”

  “When did this happen?”

  Guilt swept over Olivia. She’d known Bella would have a problem with Ryder, and she should have told her he was coming.

  “Since when have you been talking to Ryder at all?” Bella asked when she didn’t get a response to her first question.

  “I don’t know.” Olivia squirmed. “A few weeks, maybe.”

  “And you never told me?”

  “I didn’t want everyone in the school to know.”

  “Oh, wow. Okay. I get it.”

  Ryder walked right up to them. “You look good,” he said to Bella before turning to Olivia. “And you look beautiful. How about a dance?”

  Olivia watched Bella march off. Bella was right. She should have told her.

  Ryder offered her his hand, which made her forget all about Bella. Goose bumps skittered up her arms the moment her fingers touched his. As he led her to the dance floor, across the room she saw Bella gossiping with three other girls.

  The song that was playing was a difficult one to dance to, but she remembered what Grandpa had said about moving her arms and legs and swinging her hips.

  It was easy, and she was having fun.

  Halfway through the song, Ryder pulled her close. He smelled woodsy, which made her wonder if he was wearing aftershave. When she glanced up, she noticed he was staring at her, making her feel sort of funny inside. It was weird because in that moment, all her troubles seemed to melt away. Suddenly she no longer worried about the way she looked or about the clothes she’d worn. She found herself romanticizing their relationship, making it into something more than it was. She inwardly laughed at herself. Earth to Olivia. It’s just a dance.

  Until it wasn’t.

  Hours later, the night was coming to an end, and Olivia wasn’t ready to go home.

  “Come on,” Ryder said, pulling her toward the exit. “I want you to meet some friends of mine.”
>
  Olivia laughed as she pulled back.

  He looked over his shoulder at her. “What?”

  “I can’t leave. I’m staying with Bella tonight. I should go find her.”

  “We won’t be long, I promise. Two minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

  His smile was her kryptonite. How could she say no?

  Outside the air was chilly. He put his arm around her, and she leaned her head into the crook of his arm. They passed by the music room and the library, then took a shortcut to the football field, where four guys and two girls were huddled in a circle, smoking weed and drinking alcohol straight from the bottle. “I really shouldn’t be here,” she told Ryder.

  He took a swig from the bottle and then handed it back to one of his friends. “It’s okay. One more minute.”

  Don’t be a Debbie Downer, she told herself.

  Ryder told everyone her name, but nobody seemed to care if she was there or not. Ryder handed her a joint. She shook her head, then watched him take a hit.

  She pulled on his shirtsleeve. “I need to go.”

  And the next thing she knew he was kissing her, something she’d wanted him to do all night. But the kiss wasn’t exciting or intoxicating. Instead it was sloppy and sort of gross. He smelled like a mixture of alcohol and weed.

  His friends cheered. She tried to push him away, but he held tight.

  Finally, she was able to shake loose from his hold. “I really need to go,” Olivia told him.

  “Stay with us, Ryder,” one of the other girls said as she tugged his pants, prompting him to drop down next to her. The girl covered his mouth with her own as she cupped her hand over his crotch.

  Disgusted, Olivia marched off.

  What an idiot she’d been to think he was an amazing guy. She didn’t even know him. She couldn’t find Bella anywhere. She grabbed her phone from her back pocket, found Zee’s number, and hit “Call.”

  Before giving Zee a chance to say hello, Olivia rambled forth. “Zee, I need help. The boy I told you about ended up being a jerk. He was all hands and tried to stick his tongue down my throat. It’s a long story, but I need a ride.”

  “I thought you were spending the night at your friend’s house.”

  “She’s mad at me, and I can’t find her anywhere. I think she went home.”

  “Are you trying to get me fired once and for all?”

  “What? Of course not.”

  “I can’t help you,” Zee said. “I’m sorry. You need to call Jessie.”

  “Hello?” Olivia said. The phone beeped. Zee had hung up.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Unable to sleep, Ben crept out of bed and made his way to the garage. Using the step stool, he reached blindly for the top of the tallest cabinets until he felt the object he was looking for. He carefully unwrapped the cloth, then simply stared at the bloodied ax. After a moment he set the ax in the steel sink and then grabbed a bottle of bleach from another cabinet. About to scrub it clean, he stopped himself.

  What am I doing?

  You’re not a killer, he reminded himself. Your mind is playing tricks on you again.

  And yet the niggling doubt that had been tormenting him for days convinced him in that moment that he needed to find out for sure. All he had to do was take a sample of the blood from the ax and ask his friend at the lab to do a blood analysis. The technician would then check the DNA against criminals in the national database. If the blood matched DJ Stumm’s profile, his work was done.

  Ben went to the kitchen, grabbed a plastic bag and a knife, then returned to the garage and scraped off enough blood to take to the lab. He then rewrapped the ax in the cloth and placed it back on top of the cabinets.

  He tucked the plastic bag into the pocket of his robe and stepped back into the kitchen, shutting the door behind him. His wife stood near the refrigerator, facing him, arms crossed. “What are you doing, Ben?”

  He raised both arms in surrender. “Nothing. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re doing it again,” she said.

  “What is that?”

  “Shutting me out.”

  “Because I couldn’t sleep?” He shook his head. He couldn’t deal with this right now. Heading back for their bedroom, he walked past her.

  She followed close behind him. “Don’t shut me out, Ben.”

  He hung up his robe in the closet, then went to the sink in the bathroom and washed his hands and face. His reflection in the mirror revealed ashen skin and deep-set eyes shadowed in shades of gray. He hardly recognized himself.

  Before he could climb back into bed, Melony was on his case again, jabbing his shoulder with a forefinger. He whipped around and grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her. “Enough, Melony. That’s enough!”

  She looked from his fingers wrapped around her wrist to his face. “What’s wrong with you, Ben?”

  He let go of her. “I don’t know what you want from me anymore.”

  She rubbed her wrist. “I want the man I married back. What happened to the happy family man who couldn’t wait until the weekends so he could spend time with his family?”

  “I’m still the same man, Melony.”

  She shook her head. “We hardly ever talk anymore. You come home late and you leave early. The day your sister came to visit was the most time the kids and I have spent with you in months. After she left, you disappeared. When was the last time you asked me about my work?”

  He swept his fingers through his hair. “Work at the Tribune has been stressful, and the fact that my sister won’t talk to me after spending the day with us hasn’t helped my state of mind. But I’ve been seeing the therapist just like you asked. I don’t know how much more I can do right now.”

  She walked around to the other side of the bed, shut off the lamp, and climbed under the covers.

  Ben did the same. He looked at his wife’s silhouette, wanting nothing more than to reach out and comfort her. But he couldn’t find the energy. How could he possibly convince her everything was all right when he knew that was a lie? Staring into the dark, he said, “I have to work this weekend.”

  Silence.

  “I love you, Melony. That will never change.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  As Jessie waited for the coffee to brew the next morning, she thought about last night. After picking Olivia up from the dance, she’d made sure Olivia called Bella to apologize and to make sure her friend had made it home safely. Jessie and Olivia had proceeded to talk late into the night about boys and friendships and life. Olivia had learned a tough lesson. Mostly, that friends needed to stick together, and another person’s trust had to be earned.

  Olivia was still asleep.

  Ben had called thirty minutes ago to let her know that he and Owen Shepard were on their way to her office to talk to her. He didn’t have time to give details. They would explain everything when they got there.

  She filled a travel mug with coffee and then grabbed the leash from the hook on the wall. “Sorry, Higgins. No time for a run today, but you can come to the office with me.”

  Higgins wagged his stump, happy to follow her down the stairs and out the door.

  As she approached her office, a low growl erupted from Higgins. “It’s okay,” she told the dog when she recognized Ben and Owen Shepard waiting for her down the street.

  “Hello, Ben,” she said as approached. She turned to Owen. “Good to see you, Mr. Shepard.”

  “Call me Owen.”

  Jessie nodded. “What’s going on?”

  “I was hoping the three of us could talk,” Owen said.

  “Sure. Let’s go into my office.”

  The main entry door was open. Ben and Owen followed her to her office, where she unlocked the door and led them inside. Jessie pulled out a folding chair from the closet where she kept everything from pens to printers, and put it next to the cushioned chair in front of her desk. “It’s the best I can do.”

  “Not a problem.” Owen took
a seat in the folding chair, which made sense since Ben was much taller and bigger.

  After everyone was seated, Owen said, “I’ll get right to it. I asked Ben Morrison to join us since both letters were addressed to him. Yesterday I finally had the chance to visit the police station and view the video concerning Tyler McDonald.” He shook his head as if it saddened him to think of what he’d seen.

  “If you had returned my urgent message making it clear this was a life-and-death situation,” Ben said, angrier than Jessie had ever seen him, “we might have been able to save Brad Elton.”

  Owen sighed. “I’m sorry. Even if I had been in town, I don’t know how I could have helped. It would have been impossible to get the board of directors to agree to the lunatic’s demands.”

  “Did MAH send a second video?” Jessie asked.

  “No,” Ben said. “The first letter was a warning. No video. The second letter came with the video, letting us know he meant business.”

  Owen rubbed his temple. “There’s more.”

  Jessie and Ben waited for him to go on.

  “Owen, what’s this about?” Jessie asked impatiently. “The police and federal agents are all over this case, and I’m doing what I can to help you find this man. Why are you here?”

  Owen rubbed his hands over his face as if anguished by everything that had happened. He was acting much different than he had the last time she’d met with him. The man looked genuinely disturbed. “Did something happen, Owen?”

  Owen’s hands fell into his lap. “The monster has taken someone else.”

  “A third person?” Jessie asked.

  He nodded.

  Ben’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know this?”

  “Upon arriving home from work last night I found a letter in my mailbox and went straight to the police.” His gaze met Jessie’s. “The police and the FBI are working closely with DHI. They were able to secure a warrant and will have access to certain records, but we all know it’s slow and tedious work. I wanted you both here,” he said, looking from one to the other, “because I know you have worked together before, and I need all the help I can get.”