by Philip Cox
Craig finished off his sandwich and lay back on the sofa. He frowned. What was she talking about?
They had only been to Shots a couple of times - it was strange for the Lieutenant to assume they were there tonight.
Chapter Thirty-Five
BEN WATCHED FOR Corinne as the time for her break arrived. She glanced over to him, as she left her tray on the side of the bar, muttered a few words to another waitress who had appeared and still giving Ben an occasional glance, made her way through the by now busier bar, to the porch outside. Ben followed her.
She smiled up at him as he joined her on the porch. ‘I only have ten minutes,’ she said quietly.
He nodded. ‘I wasn’t sure if you were okay. After the other night, I mean.’
She hugged herself, as if she was cold. Which was strange as it was a very warm humid night. The thunderstorms of earlier that day had long since moved away. ‘Yes, I am fine.’
‘What happened to you, then?’
She swallowed, then paused a moment. ‘It all happened so fast,’ she said, again playing with a wisp of hair. ‘We were walking over there through the lot, and then suddenly these guys appeared. One of them pushed me over while the others put something over your head, then you were all gone.’
‘How were we all gone?’
‘Like I said, one of them pushed me to the ground. As I got up, I could see you with a bag or something over your head. They were dragging you into the white truck that was parked there. They put you in the back, and then drove off. By the time I got up, they were driving away.’
‘Did you get a chance to see what the truck was? I assume they were hiding behind it. Any logos on the truck side?’
She shook her head.
‘Did you recognize any of them?’
She shook her head again. ‘Sorry, it was so dark, and I think they had their faces covered.’
‘You think -?’ He stopped himself as he was aware they only had a few moments left.
‘What?’ she asked.
‘Nothing. Did you call the police, or anybody?’
‘No, I was going to. I just wanted to give it a day or so, to see if you showed up. I was going to wait till tomorrow. I guess I should have gone sooner.’
Ben smiled and ran his hand down her arm. ‘Don’t worry, it’s okay now.’
‘What happened to you, then?’ she asked, hugging herself again.
‘Long story. Tell you another time, maybe. I know you’ve got to go, but can I ask one more question?’
‘Sure,’ she said, straightening her skirt.
‘You’ve worked here some time, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you know most of the regulars, yes?’
‘I guess so.’
‘Do you know a guy called Billy Loomis?’
She paused a moment. ‘Billy Loomis: yes I know Billy; he comes in quite a bit.’
‘Not tonight though.’
‘No,’ she said, rubbing her forehead. ‘No, I haven’t seen him tonight.’
‘What about Jared Stevens?’
She thought a moment. ‘Jared. Yes, I know Jared too.’
‘A friend of Billy?’
‘Yes, I think they are. But Jared’s not here either tonight. Why?’
‘Another story for another time. Apparently Billy has a sort of girlfriend. Goes by the name of Stacey. What about her?’
She smoothed down her skirt again. ‘Billy has lots of sort of girlfriends. Can’t say I know of one called Stacey.’
‘About five feet tall, slim, longish dark hair.’
She shook her head. ‘No, sorry.’
‘Biker girl.’
‘What?’
‘Apparently often dressed in leathers; you know like bikers do.’
‘Black leathers: sounds kinky,’ she giggled, pushing the hair over her ear. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I have to go now, or Harry will have my ass. You coming back in?’
‘I’ll be a minute or so. I just need to use the restroom.’
They walked back inside and Ben turned to go into the men’s room.
‘We close at eleven thirty tonight,’ she said, ‘and I’m usually done by eleven forty-five. We can talk more then, if you want.’
‘Absolutely,’ Ben replied, more eagerly than he had wanted to sound.
‘You going to wait or come back for me?’
‘I’ll probably wait. Maybe play some pool or take in some MTV.’
‘Great,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll fetch you another beer.’
Back in the bar, the table at which he had been sitting was occupied by two girls. Corinne handed him another beer and he wandered over to the pool tables. By now all three tables were occupied. Two of the players politely nodded to Ben, and he returned the nod.
‘We’re nearly done with this game,’ said one of the players as he chalked up his cue. ‘Feel like one yourself?’
‘Why not?’ Ben replied, and sat down to wait for them to finish their game.
By ten-thirty the place started to get quieter, and only a handful of customers remained at eleven. Ten minutes later, Corinne found Ben sitting, empty bottle in hand at a table watching MTV on the large screen.
‘Harry’s let me go early,’ she announced with a smile. ‘Said as I’ve been here since five, I should get to go first.’
‘Good for Harry,’ Ben said as he stood up and followed Corrine. ‘Quiet night tonight?’
‘Normal midweek,’ she said. ‘Not complaining though. Nice break from being rushed off my feet, and the tips still keep coming in.’
They walked outside. The parking lot was virtually empty, reflecting how it was inside. Instinctively, Ben looked around for a white van and took a deep breath when he saw no van. There were a couple of cars parked here and there, and the bike rack was occupied by one bike.
‘I take it you have a car,’ she said, putting her hand in the crook of his arm.
‘Sure, over here,’ he said as he led her over to the Fusion. ‘What about yours?’
‘Mine’s over there,’ she pointed vaguely at a couple of vehicles parked next to each other.
They stopped at Ben’s car and she looked up at him. ‘What happened to you, then?’ she asked.
He sighed and leaned back on the car. ‘They kept me blindfolded, and took me to some barn or something in the middle of nowhere. Then they – have you heard of waterboarding?’
‘Heard of it, I guess. Something to do with the military.’
Ben went on to explain exactly what had happened that night, and she listened open mouthed. ‘Oh, my God,’ she said, putting her hand to her open mouth. He carried on, up to where he was rescued by the Andersons.
‘Oh, that’ll be Hank Anderson, and his wife Mary,’ Corinne said. ‘They must own that building.’
‘They said they did. Do you know them?’
‘A little. Most folks around here know them a little. She’s okay, he’s a little crazy.’
‘Crazy?’
‘Kind of – eccentric, I guess.’
‘Well, eccentric or not, I’m glad they came by.’
They both laughed, and then stared at each other for a moment. Ben broke the silence. ‘Yours or mine?’
‘What?’
‘Cars. Yours or mine? More comfortable to talk.’
She smiled and they got into the Fusion. ‘Why were you asking about Billy and Jared?’ she asked as she settled down in the passenger seat.
‘We – Craig and I that is – think they have something to do with, or know something about Craig’s brother.’
‘The guy who disappeared?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, that’s the one,’ replied Ben. He paused a moment. ‘Where now?’
‘Can you drive us somewhere else?’ she said.
‘Sure. We can go back to our apartment – Craig will be asleep – or your place.’
‘No, can’t go there. My mother and stepfather will be in. I know somewhere better. Take a right out here.’
Ben made a right, and she direct
ed him about a mile down the road. They came to a small shopping mall. It seemed closed, but there were still a few cars parked in the large parking lot.
‘Go down to the end there.’ She pointed down to the far edge of the lot. He parked five or six spaces away from the nearest car. All the other cars were empty.
‘What is this place?’ Ben asked.
‘It’s an old shopping mall,’ she said. ‘Just out of town. It’s been here years. The bigger shops closed when they opened the new mall off the I-4 a few years back. But some have stayed. It looks closed, but it’s not. There are some food outlets inside, that’s why the cars are here.’
‘Won’t we be seen here?’ asked Ben.
‘Ever heard of hiding in plain sight?’ she whispered, putting her hand on his neck and pulling his mouth back down to hers.
Their mouths fought again; Ben put his hand on her shoulder, gradually moving it down to her breast. He massaged it for a while, then she moved his hand under her shirt so he could feel her bare skin. He caressed her nipple with his thumb, feeling it get harder. Corinne had her hand on his knee, moving it up his leg, coming to rest on his by now bulging crotch. She took her mouth away from his and reached down to unzip his jeans. She stopped though, and let her hand rest on him. ‘Why were you asking about Stacey?’ she asked.
Good timing, Ben thought. ‘It’s the same as with Billy and Jared. We think she has something to do with Adam.’
She put her mouth back to his and they continued, her hand rubbing his jeans and his finger still kneading her breast.
Then came the beep beep of a cell phone. Corinne stopped, and fished a phone out of her bag. She checked a text message.
‘Sorry,’ she spluttered, got out of the car, and ran towards the shopping mall building.
‘What?’ Ben exclaimed in disbelief. He got out of the car and ran after her. ‘Wait! Hold on there!’ he cried out. He caught up with her, grabbed her right shoulder and turned her round. He could see she was crying.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ she sobbed.
‘Can’t what – no; it doesn’t matter,’ Ben said, now with both hands on her arms. ‘Is it because I was asking about Stacey?’
She shook her head. ‘No, no, it’s not that.’
‘What is it then? That text you got: what did it say?’
‘It’s nothing to do with the text! I just can’t!’
‘Well let me take you back to your car.’
‘My car?’
‘Yes, you’ve left your car back at Shots.’
She pulled herself away from him. ‘No! I don’t have a car there! It’s my bike that’s there!’
‘Your bike? I don’t understand.’
‘Why do you think I’m still wearing this uniform?’ she yelled tugging at her clothes. ‘Not my black leathers – you know, like all bikers do!’
Ben pulled back from her. Something was beginning to dawn on him.
‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ she half sobbed, half shouted. ‘You’re looking for Billy and Jared: well I’ve no idea where they are. But then there’s Stacey.’
‘What about Stacey?’
She put her face in her hands and sobbed.
‘What about Stacey?’ he repeated, shouting this time.
‘You idiot!’ she blurted back at him. ‘You still don’t get it, do you? It’s me! I’m Stacey!’
Chapter Thirty-Six
SHE THOUGHT HE was so beautiful the moment she first saw him. Of all places, it was the local supermarket when they first set eyes on each other.
Although she lived with her mother and stepfather, it was her grandmother, her maternal grandmother, to whom she was closest. She and her mother had lived in the same tiny house on the outskirts of town for as long as she could remember; her mother told her they moved there when she was three or four. By ‘they’, her mother meant the two of them, her older sister, and their father. Their father, a man she and her sister saw very little of, worked in a local factory; she had no idea even what type of factory. He seemed to work very long hours, rarely coming home before the two little girls were in bed. Then, lying in bed in the little bedroom they shared, they could hear their father come in late, sometimes sober. They could hear their mother and father shouting at each other most nights: sometimes this would end with their parents still in the kitchen making sounds she would not recognize till her early teens; other times they could hear their mother screaming and the noises of slapping and things being thrown…. Then, maybe the front door slamming and the sounds of their mother sobbing. In the morning she would appear maybe with bruises on her face and arms, or a wearing a bandage. If they asked her what had happened, she would lean down, kiss them on the top of their head and tell them she had banged her face on the bathroom closet door.
Three days after Stacey’s sixth birthday, her father never came home. It took two more days for the girls to realize that something was not quite normal: when they asked their mother where daddy was she just said he had gone away through work for a few days. When a week had passed and still no sign of their father, they knew something was not right. One Sunday their mother and their grandparents took them to Disney World for the day. They all went on as many rides as they could fit into one day and riding round on Space Mountain, Stacey noticed her mother laughing: she realized that she had not seen her mother happy like this for a long time. After a day full of rides, they enjoyed a visit to a pizza restaurant, and stayed over at their grandparents’ house. When their grandfather took them home the next morning, there was still no sign of their father, but all his clothes, and personal stuff had gone. ‘Well, that’s it. The son of a bitch has gone now,’ they heard their grandfather say to their mother, not quite understanding what he meant.
Over the next few years, Stacey and her sister were raised solely by their mother, although they saw a lot of their grandparents. Their grandfather died a couple of years later, and Stacey began to grow closer to her widowed grandmother, while her sister stayed closer to their mother.
Their mother had a few men friends over the years, but only one or two ever stayed till the next morning. Until Jeff. Their mother did tell Stacey where she and Jeff met, but this meant little to a ten-year old. Jeff turned out to be thirty-five, a good ten years younger than their mother, but she seemed happy with him. So did her daughters: in fact sometimes, they looked on him as a big brother.
Jeff began to stay over more and more times, and for longer, and eventually moved in. Stacey got on with him very well: he and her mother had not actually married, but Stacey came to consider Jeff as her stepfather. She certainly saw more of him, and had a better relationship with him than with her own father.
When Stacey was nineteen, her older sister who was now almost twenty-one, announced that she and her boyfriend were going to move to New Jersey, where he had secured a job in a warehouse. The warehouse was owned by his uncle, and this seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. There were some arguments, although nothing like the fighting they had heard all those years ago. But her mother seemed to accept that this was what her eldest daughter wanted, and she moved out. There were lots of promises to keep in touch and to go to New Jersey to visit, and to come back to Davenport to visit, but nothing came of it. For her own part, Stacey only tolerated her sister’s boyfriend, and had no desire to catch a greyhound to New Jersey to see him.
So that left Stacey, her mother, and Jeff. It was not an unhappy house, but her mother and Jeff seemed to only have eyes for each other, and so she spent more and more time visiting her grandmother, now stricken with arthritis, and in a retirement home.
It was a Sunday afternoon, and she was going to pay her grandmother a visit. She had promised to bring in some bread and milk, so on the way to her grandmother’s she stopped off at a Safeway. As she was waiting in line at the checkout, she could hear voices behind her. She was just about to look round when the checkout girl called her. She had her milk and bread scanned, paid, and moved to one side to pack the item
s in the brown paper bag. It was then that she heard one particular voice again. It must have been the accent that caught her attention.
Stacey was around five feet tall, but the man standing in front of her must have been eighteen inches taller. He looked late twenties, early thirties. Very dark hair, short but not cropped. A little stubble. She guessed he worked out, as through the white tee shirt, he looked toned. He had a tan, not a deep brown that indicated hours and hours under the sun, but a healthy brown red glow. He was busy passing his groceries – two bottle of white wine, a French stick, and some oranges – to the checkout girl: as he spoke to her Stacey noticed his dazzling white teeth.
It was at this point that he noticed Stacey staring at him: embarrassed, she realized that her gaze had moved below the waist and his jeans, which were not tightly fitted, but seemed amply filled. Quickly averting her eyes from his groin, she shyly returned his smile, flicked some hair behind her ears and left.
There was a rack intended for motor bikes in the parking lot not far from the supermarket entrance. Stacey reached her bike and began packing her brown paper bag in to the little basket behind her seat. She did not want to squash the bread so took a few seconds rearranging the bag. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him walking out of the supermarket with his bag. She fumbled a bit, and the loaf of bread dropped onto the ground. ‘Damn,’ she muttered, not wanting him to see her wrestling with a loaf of bread in a supermarket parking lot.
She put the bread back in the basket just as out of the corner of her eye she could see him walking past her. Then he stopped. Turned to her and spoke.
‘Sorry to, you know, speak to you out of the blue,’ he said. It was that accent again: in her fluster, she fought to place where it originated. It was British: she had always liked a British accent, not that she had come across many Brits; just on TV and the movies.
‘That’s no problem,’ she replied, looking up at him.
‘It’s just I noticed you at the checkout,’ he went on. She cursed herself for staring at his groin. ‘But your face seemed familiar. I’m just trying to place it. You are from around here, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am,’ she said, playing with her hair again.
