by M. Z. Kelly
“There was an admission photograph of my mother when she entered New Beginnings. It has the number eleven written on the back, meaning she was likely the Phantom’s final victim.”
I heard Sam take a breath before he said, “Let’s not jump to any conclusions. It could just be speculation.”
“I want your opinion. Do you think Donna Wallace is my mother?”
“I can’t be positive. All I know is that the birthday and social match.” After a pause, he asked, “Did the woman she was renting from say anything about her being your mom?”
“Just that she thought there was some resemblance, and...” I took a breath. “...she said Wallace told her that she had a daughter she hadn’t seen in years.”
“I’ll take another look at what we can put together on Wallace and let you know.” After he again tried to be encouraging, he asked me about the Remy Powell case. I filled him in on what we’d learned about Adam and Legend, and what the older of the two boys had done to his father.
“Legend was found sane and released from Orson Psychiatric Hospital in Albany last year,” I said. “Amy, Max, and I think he could very well have gotten together with Adam and begun a killing spree using members of the Strand.”
“Have you told the investigators about this?”
“We tried, before our trip, to fill them in on what we knew, and the possibility the brothers were working together, but they discounted it and told us to stay out of the case.”
It took Sam some time to respond, probably mulling over what I’d said. “Let me talk to my supervising agent and let him know what you discovered. Since the agency has a cold case that’s still open and the past crimes crossed state lines, there should be enough to actively look at it again.”
“Thanks. That would be a big help.”
“When I get something more, I’ll be in touch.” His voice became more animated. “I’m also looking forward to getting together this weekend for the world’s coldest picnic.”
I chuckled. “Me too. Talk to you soon.”
FIFTY-SIX
Mary closed her eyes as the darkness enveloped her. After the man who called himself Legend placed the pillowcase over her head, he took her from her house through the open bedroom window. Her hands and feet were tied, and she was placed in the trunk of his car.
His final words struck fear into her racing heart. “Remain silent or you die.”
She had no idea where she was being taken, but she thought the journey lasted almost an hour. When the car finally stopped, she was removed from the trunk and untied. The pillowcase was taken off her head. After getting her bearings and glancing around, Mary saw nothing that looked familiar.
“Move ahead,” the man said, pushing her as he led her down a long driveway.
In the distance, Mary saw the lights of a sprawling home. The grounds were like something she’d seen on the cover of a magazine about how rich people lived, with an expansive lawn, a circular driveway, and huge white columns marking the house’s entrance.
“Where are we going?” she said, finally finding the nerve to speak up.
They stopped walking, and the man’s dark eyes fixed on her. “You’ll see in a moment. When we arrive, do as you are told, and...” He smiled. “...I’ll make sure no one will harm you until the reckoning.”
They moved out again. Mary had no idea what he’d meant, but her heart was thumping against her ribcage. She had the same feeling as before when she’d been taken to the cemetery and almost burned alive.
When they got close to the massive estate, the man led her through an iron gate at the side yard. They stopped at the back of the house, where there were steps leading to a lower level of the house.
“Move ahead, but watch your step,” he said. “They’re expecting you.”
Mary stumbled down the steps until they stopped at a door. The man unlocked it and pushed her inside.
“Welcome to hell,” he said.
Mary was roughly pushed down a long corridor before she saw the man who was waiting for them. Her mouth was dry as she swallowed. It was Adam.
“Any problems?” Adam asked the man who had taken her.
The strange man who called himself Legend shook his head. “She is a lamb, ready for slaughter.”
Adam laughed. “It won’t be long now.”
Mary was pushed further down the hallway until she came to a room with iron bars. It was so dark here that when the gate was opened, she couldn’t see inside the room. Then she heard the sounds. People were lying on the floor. They were crying.
“Where am I?” she demanded, turning back to Adam and Legend.
The hateful man who had taken her stared through the iron bars. “The death chamber.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
When Max and I got home that night, we met with Amy in our living room, and I told them what Sam had told me.
After filling them in, I said, “Since our own department apparently isn’t interested in looking for the truth about what happened to Dorothy King and my mother, maybe the feds will. They still have an open cold case on King, so Sam’s going to ask his superiors if they can reactivate it and take a look at everything. I think it’s the best bet I have to track down Donna Wallace and determine if she really is my mother.” I released a breath. “Providing she’s still alive.”
Amy hugged me. “She’s a survivor, Mads, just like you. Don’t give up hope.”
Max seconded what she’d said, adding, “We also gotta find justice for Remy and the other women that were almost burned to death.”
“Speaking of that,” Amy said, “what happened to them?”
“Mary Landers is back with her father,” I said. “I think the other woman, Colleen Reynolds, went to stay with relatives on the west coast.”
“I hope they’re safe from the crazies. I wonder where the brothers are holed up.”
I was about to say that I had no idea when there was a knock on the door. Amy answered it and, in a moment, introduced us to her friend, Ladybird. I’d forgotten all about the makeover session she’d scheduled and suppressed a groan.
“Mads here is gonna need the Full Rosemary, just like me,” Amy told her. “We both need to go from not to hot.”
“The Full Rosemary?” I said, looking at Ladybird, who had sparrow-like attributes, as her name suggested. She was around thirty, tiny and thin, with a nest of sparse brown hair, not exactly the best advertisement for someone doing makeovers.
Ladybird answered in a squeaky voice that suited her tiny stature. “The Full Rosemary is a complete facial rejuvenation, with an emphasis on using collagenic extracts from the cane toad.”
“Are you talking about a frog?”
“Yes. The toad secretes Bufotenin that, in large quantities, can be toxic and hallucinogenic. Indigenous peoples have been known to lick its back to get high. For our purposes, it’s very therapeutic, both in rejuvenating and plumping the epithelial layers of the skin.” Ladybird looked at Max and squeaked, “Maybe you’d also like a facial?”
“No, thanks,” Max said, backing away from her like she had a poison frog in her bag. “I don’t need nothin’ from a toad and nothin’ that’s poisonous. I’m gonna go to my room and make a few calls.”
Ladybird set out chairs for Amy and me, then began removing jars of what, I assumed, was frog poison from a bag, over my protests that the treatment might be toxic and dangerous.
“What if we end up paralyzed, or worse?” I said. “How many subjects have you tried this on?”
“You’re my first, but try not to worry. If you end up paralyzed, I’ll take full responsibility.”
“Ladybird’s just teasing,” Amy said. “I think we got us a fifty-fifty chance of surviving.”
We drank wine and chatted while the bird-like woman worked on us, and some of my tension and depression from the past couple days began to fade away. Amy brought up a couple prior makeover sessions we’d done in high school, as we each drained a glass of wine.
As our session continued, Amy g
lanced over at me through the muddy mask of potions her friend had layered on her face. “I think were gonna look like we did in college. It’s also gonna help you hook up with Sam, and help me find a man on GuySwatter.”
I laughed. “Sam and I are just having a picnic, not an orgy.”
“Speaking of that, I found us all a POSE class this Thursday night.”
I was about to ask her what she was talking about when Max came out of the bedroom. She poured herself a glass of wine and regarded us. “You guys look like that poison toad did number two on your faces.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Amy said. “Just for that, you’re going with us to the POSE class on Thursday.”
Max swirled the wine in her glass. “What you talking about?”
“POSE stands for Positions, Orgasm, Sex, and Everything else. It’s that Sex Ed class Mads needs. I think we could all use a brush-up, since our skills have been in hibernation.”
“Oh, lordy,” Max said, sipping her drink and pulling over a chair.
Ladybird spoke up. “The class sounds interesting. Do you think I could tag along?”
Amy looked at me and shrugged. “Providing Mads and me survive your treatment.”
“Speaking of that, it’s about time for the big reveal,” Ladybird said. “Let me remove your toad masks, and I’ll show you your new faces.”
She used a spray bottle and wipes, and, in a couple minutes, Amy and I had our masks off.
That’s when Max let out a gasp and said to Ladybird, “What the hell did you do to them?”
“What’s wrong?” I said, my anxiety spiking.
Max shook her head. “You...you’d better get a mirror and see for yourself.”
“The condition is only temporary,” Ladybird insisted, as Amy took a hand mirror off the table. “It should only last a few days.”
I’d heard Amy screaming a few days earlier when she found Remy Powell in the cemetery. This scream wasn’t as terrifying, but it was loud and had a desperate quality to it.
“What the fuwk did you do to us?” she demanded of her friend.
“Let me see,” I said, taking the mirror from her.
“You don’t need to worry...”
It was my turn to scream, cutting off Ladybird. “I’m green!” I said. “And my face...it looks...it’s all lumpy and round.” My voice pitched higher, and I shrieked, “I look like a fucking frog!”
FIFTY-EIGHT
“Armando needs to die,” Maria said to Sophia. “He want big cut of our money. I don’t trust him.”
Sophia sucked in a breath, and tears filled her eyes. “But he our godfather. He is with us all our life.”
Maria stood and walked over to the window of their hotel room. Isabel was now back with Sophia and was playing with some blocks in her playpen. She looked back at her sister. “He told me he want half our money. That not going to happen.”
Sophia’s tears came harder. “I can’t believe he say that.”
Maria came back over, sat next to her, and took her hand. “You have to believe what I say. He has to go away.”
“But...how...? How would we do such a thing?”
Maria released her hand. “You let me take care of the details. We also have another problem.”
Sophia brushed her tears. “You mean Alex’s trial?”
A head shake. “We both know that will take some time. I talking about that boy who works with that PI you hired.”
“Mojo?”
She nodded. “After he get Alex’s gun for me, I pay him and set him up with some of Bobo’s girls. He got a big mouth, telling people at the gym that he is now working for me. I don’t trust him not to talk.”
“What should we do?”
“He needs to go away, just like Armando. I find a way to take care of them both.” Maria held on her sister’s eyes. “What about the PI? Do you trust her?”
Sophia nodded. “I stay in touch, give her some money that I owe her. I think she on our side.” She stood and went over to Isabel. The little girl was crying, and she snuggled her in her arms. She turned back to her sister. “I worried. This whole thing getting complicated. What if somebody find out what we do?”
“When Armando and Mojo are gone, only you and me will know the truth. We will be safe then.”
Maria’s phone rang. She went back over to the window and answered the call. As Sophia held Isabel in her arms, her tears came again. Everything she and Maria had done seemed like a nightmare. Now, two more people would have to die.
FIFTY-NINE
The next morning, I went into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, and screamed. Amy and Max came running.
“What’s going on?” Amy asked.
“I’m still green, and...” I took a step closer to her, my eyes growing wider. “...and so are you.”
“What?” Amy moved past me and looked at herself in the mirror. “Aw, fuwk!” She turned back to me and Max. “What’re we gonna do?”
“Maybe we should go to urgent care.”
“Or maybe you two can get parts in a movie about aliens,” Max said, smiling. We both shot daggers at her. Her smile evaporated, and she said, “Just kidding.”
“Let me get my makeup bag,” Amy said to me. “I got me some war paint that might temporarily help.”
While she was gone, I went over and slumped down on my bed. I said to Max, “I look like a big green toad and I’ve got a date with Sam this weekend.”
She came over, sat next to me, and put an arm around my shoulders. “As Kermit the Frog once said, ‘It’s not easy being green.’”
I shot her a death ray.
Max went on. “I’m sure it’s nothing permanent. You’ll get past this. Before she left last night, Ladybird said something about it being like a bad tan. It’ll fade in a couple days.”
I sighed. “I hope so.”
Amy came back with enough makeup to supply the cast of Braveheart for their big battle scene. She spent the next half hour working on us both until we were satisfied that our skin tone looked semi-natural.
“It’s gonna have to do, for now,” Amy said. “I’ll give you a bottle of putty to take with you in case it wears off while you’re at work.”
After I got dressed, I met up with my roommates in the kitchen and asked Amy about her plans for the day.
“I got me a security gig for a couple hours, then I’m gonna snoop around Alex’s gym. I still got me a feeling something’s rotten about my case.”
“I thought Sophia paid you,” Max said.
“I got half of what she owed me and a promise. I’m going to go by her place, snoop around, and try to collect on the rest.” She sipped her coffee. “What about you two?”
Max answered. “The usual, but I’m gonna call Rosie and see if she wants to meet us for lunch. Maybe she can give us something more on the Pierce brothers. I’m getting more vibes ‘bout them boys, and none of them are good.”
***
Max and I spent a quiet morning sorting through files, grateful that Laverne and Penny had gone back to their regular assignment at Precinct Blue. At noon, we took a walk down the street and met Rosie at Smokey’s Café. The place was a tribute to Motown, making it a favorite of Max’s, with hit songs from that era playing in the background.
After ordering sandwiches, Max’s friend looked at me and said, “You feeling okay?”
I pulled my compact mirror out of my purse as I said to Max, “The makeup must be fading.”
“It looks fine,” Max said. She told Rosie, “Amy had a facial last night and she ended up a little green around the gills.”
“I look fine for a frog,” I said, sighing and putting my compact away. “I’ve always wanted that trendy amphibian look.”
After some more discussion about frogs and facials, Max began telling us about the vibes she was getting. “I think Adam and Legend are working in tandem, and I think they’re planning to kill another victim soon. I also think they’re somewhere close.”
“As I wa
s leaving for lunch this morning, I saw a report come through about that girl who you found in the cemetery,” Rosie said.
“Mary Landers,” I said. “What kind of report was it?”
“Her father reported her missing last night. The report was taken as a runaway. I doubt that Jenkins and Hammond even know that she’s gone missing again.”
I looked at Max. “Do you think the brothers might have taken her again?”
Max’s heavy shoulders sagged. “It would fit with the vibes I’ve been getting. And, if they do have her, I doubt that she has long to live.”
I looked at Rosie. “Were you able to pull together anything more on Legend and Adam Pierce?”
“Yeah, and it’s pretty damn ugly.” She reached into a satchel she’d brought and pushed a photograph across the table. “This was taken when the older brother was released from Orson State Hospital in Albany. All I can say is that, for someone who was found sane, the word crazy still seems to fit.”
“Holy shit,” Max said, as we studied the photo. “He looks like he could be the devil’s own son.”
She wasn’t exaggerating. Legend Pierce had spent two decades in the psychiatric hospital. During that time, he had shaved his head and garnered dozens of tattoos, including some on his neck that looked like flames. His eyes were dark, and one of them was cloudy, like he’d been injured. His hard features gave him a menacing, if not demented, look.
After studying the photo, I said, “Why would they find someone like this sane?”
“There’s been a big push on the state level to save money by reducing the hospital pop,” Rosie said. “Lots of patients are getting released, especially those that have been hospitalized for a number of years.”
“Any idea where Legend and his brother might be staying?” Max asked her.
“Nothing definitive, but I did some research on the Pierce family. The boy’s mother has a sister who lives just upstate, near the city of Rye. From what I was able to pull up on the Internet, her ex-husband was a shipbuilder, worth a small fortune.”
