“This is Grace Hanes,” Julia said. “She’s one of our nurses responsible for patient care.”
Callie smiled and nodded. “I guess this is a good time to ask about something that’s been bothering me. Everybody’s heard about the woman who was killed here. How could that happen, and how do I know it won’t happen to my boyfriend if we admit him to Passages?”
“I’ll answer that,” Julia said. “First let me say that we’re all horrified by the death of Melissa Wright. That’s the first time anything like this has happened here. Director Fowler has implemented several changes to enhance security both inside and outside the building. We’ve placed additional security cameras near the entrance and at several other locations on the premises. The lighting around the entrance and in the parking lot has been improved. Our security department has added four new employees, two for the grounds and two for inside the facility. The grounds crew has been tasked with removing much of the shrubbery, bushes, and trees on the property in order to facilitate visibility and discourage future attacks of this nature. We’re confident these new measures will ensure the safety of our patients and staff.”
Callie nodded. “All right, I think that’s all I need. Thanks for the tour, Julia. I’ll pick up a couple of brochures to take with me when I leave.” She waited until Julia Thomas had disappeared from sight before turning to the nurse. “Okay, she’s gone. Now tell me what it’s really like here.”
Grace laughed. “Julia’s smooth, that’s for sure. Fowler treats her like a receptionist, even though she has an Ivy League MBA and is more qualified to run this place than he is. I’ll tell you the truth—if my boyfriend needed a place to decompress and strengthen his body, I would send him here. If he was a hardcore drunk or druggie who needed detox and serious rehabilitation, I would send him somewhere else. This place is a county club, and most of the staff are just going through the motions. Passages works better for patients who’ve gone a little overboard on the booze or pills and just need a month away to repair the damage with good nutrition and exercise.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” Callie said. “Is there anything else you can tell me about the woman who was killed?” Callie watched the nurse’s expression change.
“No, I didn’t know her well. I’m surprised she decided to walk home, especially in the snow and cold. Patients normally have a family member or friend pick them up. Otherwise, they call a cab.”
Callie thanked the nurse and headed for the lobby. She turned the corner and nearly collided with one of the patients. The man grabbed her arms to keep her from falling.
“I’m sorry, that was my fault. My name’s Hal Morris. I’m a sex addict.”
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Callie Wilson, and I’m a Taurus.”
Morris laughed. “I’m so used to saying that in therapy that it just slipped out. I guess you’re taking a tour of the place. Is there anything I can show you?”
“Actually, I’d like to look at one of the rooms. If my boyfriend is going to be a patient here, I want to make sure his bed and bathroom are as nice as the rest of the facility.”
“The rooms are first-class,” Hal said. “I can show you mine if you’re not too uncomfortable with that idea. It’s just down the hall.”
Callie was impressed. The bedroom was spacious, with a queen-sized bed, thick carpeting on the floors, a mini-fridge, and large television set. The bathroom offered full-sized bars of soap, complimentary shampoo and toiletry items, and plush, over-sized towels. A fresh bathrobe hung on the back of the door.
“This is great, Hal. It looks like a four-star hotel room.” She turned around and saw Hal sitting on the bed. He was naked. Callie laughed at the sight. “I guess your therapy’s not going too well.”
Morris was on her before she could move. He shoved her against the bathroom wall and pressed against her. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had sex with anyone since Melissa’s death.”
Callie pushed him back as he squeezed her breasts and pulled up her skirt. “Get off me, you pervert. I’ll call security.”
“Get naked,” Morris gasped. “This will only take a minute.”
Callie punched him in the throat.
Hal grabbed his neck and gagged. Callie followed with a knee to the crotch and watched Morris drop to the floor.
“Here’s the deal, dick weed—tell me where you got the coke for Melissa Wright, or I will file an attempted rape charge against you with the state police and the FBI agent who’s investigating Melissa’s murder.”
Morris squirmed on the floor. Callie reached down and grabbed his testicles.
“Do you want me to rip these off with my bare hands?”
Hal shook his head. Callie kept her hands where they were and waited.
“Grace Hanes,” Morris whispered in a raw voice.
Callie stood and left the room. She noticed Morris’s clothes on the floor and grabbed his belt.
“Here’s your belt, Hal,” she said, dropping it on the floor beside him. “Do the world a favor and hang yourself.”
Chapter 27
Tommy checked the phone beside his bed out of habit. It was a burner he’d picked up a couple of days ago. Nobody had the number yet.
The trip to Nashville was not going well. He had tried calling and texting Olivia to let her know he was coming, but her number was no longer in service. She had obviously acquired a new phone. He had e-mailed repeatedly and sent numerous messages to her on Facebook and Twitter. Olivia continued to ignore him.
The motel where he was staying was one of the lower end chains just off the interstate whose sole attraction was price. The smoke-free room reeked of stale tobacco, sweat, and mildew. Fortunately, the heating system worked, but the noise the unit made was so loud that he had finally broken down and purchased a set of ear plugs at the drug store so he could get some sleep at night.
He had gone to the studio where Olivia was recording the new album, but had been denied access to the area where the singers and musicians were working. The receptionist had finally agreed to interrupt the session to tell Olivia that Tommy Sale was here to see her. She had returned a few minutes later with the message that Olivia was unavailable.
It was seven o’clock in the morning, the best time of day at the motel. The place was a non-stop freak show at night with all the drunks, hookers, and drug dealers wandering in and out of rooms and through the parking lot. Getting an uninterrupted night’s sleep was next to impossible, even with the ear plugs.
Tommy got up and headed for the bathroom. He wasn’t stupid. The spur of the moment decision to come to Nashville had been a mistake, but there was no going back now. He had burned his bridges with Douglas, Danny, and the rest of the guys in the band. The three hundred dollars a week he was no longer earning was starting to look awfully big.
He had responded to all the local ads seeking a drummer. There were surprisingly few for a city that billed itself as Music City U.S.A. Two bands had called him in for auditions. Both had been nightmares. They had wanted to know why he had left Mama’s Biscuits and why a rock drummer wanted to join a country band. He had tried to explain about losing Olivia and how country music and southern rock were really kissing cousins when you thought about it. It had come out sounding like the bullshit that it was. His performance behind the drums had been no better, since he was unfamiliar with both the kit and the music.
It was time to get a real job. There was no way around it. His only source of income now was the pocket change he was still earning from Mama’s Biscuits T-shirt and CD sales. He would have to start drawing down the principal from his trust fund soon if things didn’t change.
Tommy closed his eyes and let the warm water from the shower massage his face. He couldn’t stay in Nashville, couldn’t stand the thought of working in a grocery store or warehouse while musicians all around him were following their dreams. Most of all, he couldn’t bear the idea of living in the same town as Olivia and being constantly reminded of her success and his own failure.
He co
uldn’t return to his life in Shenandoah County, either. His name was mud there. Of course, he would have to go back to collect his things and pay whatever penalty was involved for breaking his apartment lease. He would crawl back to the Channel Marker, apologize to Douglas, and collect his drum kit if it was still there. If he couldn’t catch on with another band somewhere down the road, he would have to sell the drums. The possibility terrified him.
Cold water interrupted his thoughts. Tommy turned off the shower and stepped out of the tub. A plan started to take shape in his mind. He would check out of the motel this morning, but he wouldn’t leave Nashville until he had spoken to Olivia. She owed him that much and a lot more.
Twenty minutes later, he was dressed and packed. There was no rush. It was still early. Musicians kept unusual hours, and he doubted Olivia would get to the studio before nine or ten. It really didn’t matter when she arrived. He knew the car she drove and where she parked. When she finished her work day, he would be ready and waiting for her.
Tommy closed the door behind him and followed the walkway to the office. An empty vodka bottle and several beer cans awaited the attention of the housekeeping staff. There would be more of the same tonight. Thank God he wouldn’t be around to hear or see it.
He handed his key to the desk clerk, a disheveled kid who reeked of marijuana and body odor. The kid accepted the key without a word and stared at him with empty eyes. Tommy was tempted to applaud the performance and ask him if he wanted to start a band.
A fast food place was just down the street from the motel. Tommy found a parking spot and went inside. He needed to think about where he would go and what he would do with the rest of his life after he finished his business with Olivia and cleared out of Shenandoah County.
The food was good, and the coffee was hot. The restaurant was quiet. Most of the working people had already come and gone, and it was still too early for the mid-morning parade of moms with their babies and toddlers. Tommy was grateful for the solitude.
Now that his life had reached a tipping point, Tommy couldn’t think of anywhere to go. Except for his work with Olivia and the band, he’d never been much of a planner. It’s not like he had a wife and family to think about. He didn’t even have a girlfriend, which was seriously weird for a drummer in a locally famous southern rock band.
I can go anywhere. So where have I always wanted to go?
He drew a blank, probably because he had always been about the what instead of the where. As long as he was playing and writing music, Tommy had never cared whether he lived in Nowhere, North Dakota, or Honolulu, Hawaii. That lack of interest and awareness of the world outside of music was a problem for him now.
Tommy finished his meal and returned to the car. It was still too early to go to the studio. He couldn’t take the chance of running into Olivia in the parking lot during the morning rush hour. One shot was all he would get.
It was going to be a long day. He needed to pick up a few things if he was going to be sitting in the car, watching the studio for eight or ten hours.
He found a large box store and turned into the parking lot. It was still early, but shoppers were already swarming up and down the aisles like starving ants. Tommy picked up a large bag of popcorn, two boxes of granola bars, and a twelve pack of bottled water. He found a pee jar in the home décor section of the store. Peeing in the car was gross, but he couldn’t take the chance of leaving to find a restroom.
Tommy looked at the items in his cart. Something was missing. He found what he was looking for in sporting goods. The thirty-inch aluminum baseball bat felt good in his hands. He took a few practice swings and smiled. Tommy added it to the cart and headed for the check-out lanes. The bat was just for show, in case Olivia was less than delighted to see him. Sometimes girls needed a little incentive to do the right thing.
There was yet another fast food restaurant located next to the recording studio. People in Nashville clearly loved their junk food. Tommy parked in a corner of the lot closest to the studio and out of the line of sight of the restaurant staff. The last thing he needed was for some assistant manager to get suspicious and call the cops.
He was surprised to see Olivia’s car parked in its usual spot. She’d always been a hard worker—singer, songwriter, rhythm guitar player, and waitress. It was too bad she had never learned to share. She would learn that lesson before the day was done.
Tommy yawned. The morning was dragging. He had plenty of time to consider the question of his future. Unfortunately, the abundance of time had yet to produce any answers. Aside from his lack of job experience or skills outside of music, Tommy faced another dilemma: he hated big cities.
I can either find another backwater like Shenandoah County where there are no jobs, or spend the rest of my life stocking shelves or flipping burgers in some concrete canyon like New York or Los Angeles. Perfect.
Although Nashville had been spared the relentless snowfall that covered Shenandoah County, it was still cold. Tommy ran the heater in short bursts. He didn’t want to burn too much gas or risk falling asleep in a toasty car.
You should have bought a blanket while you were at the store.
Tommy glanced at his watch. Olivia probably packed a lunch or had it delivered. She wasn’t the type to interrupt her work by going out for a traditional lunch hour.
The afternoon was endless. He finished the popcorn and most of the granola bars. The pee jar was half full, but he was reluctant to empty it into the parking lot. With his luck, someone would notice. He couldn’t afford to be noticed.
It was just after five when he saw her appear at the front door, talking to some guy, probably the producer who had signed her and was undoubtedly now running every aspect of her life.
He watched Olivia give the man a quick hug and then start across the parking lot to her car. Tommy was out of his vehicle in a heartbeat and reached his former band mate as she was opening the car door.
“What’s going on, Olivia?”
She gave him a flat look. “What are you doing, Tommy?”
“I’m trying to talk to you, Olivia, but you seem to have forgotten I’m still alive.”
Olivia sighed. “I’ve moved on, Tommy. Shouldn’t you be back at the lake with the band? Don’t tell me you broke up Mama’s Biscuits.”
Tommy ignored the question. “I just need five minutes, Olivia. You’ll never hear from me again after this. I’m parked right over there.”
Olivia glanced at the car and hesitated. “You promise we’re done after this?”
Tommy nodded. He started the engine and turned on the heat as soon as she got in. “No reason to freeze to death while we talk.”
She said nothing.
“You owe me, Olivia. We were a team. You could get me work playing drums and writing lyrics, but you haven’t lifted a finger.”
Olivia sneered at him. “That tells me all I need to know, Tommy. You walked out on Mama’s Biscuits and crapped all over Douglas, Danny, and the rest of the guys. Did you forget Danny was married and has a baby on the way? You think he and his family won’t miss that three hundred a week?”
“Listen, Olivia…”
“Shut up right now, asshole! I don’t owe you a thing, but you owe me half of the money from the T-shirt and CD sales. I’ve got zero clout or leverage in this town, Tommy. This is the big leagues, in case you haven’t noticed. You’re a backbeat drummer. There are a thousand drummers in Nashville who can play a simple two-four beat. The same goes for lyricists. They’re a dime a dozen.”
Tommy stared at her, too enraged to speak.
Olivia reached for the handle as Tommy released the brake and hit the accelerator.
“What the hell are you doing? I gave you five minutes. We’re done!”
“We’re done when I say we’re done, bitch! Give me some money, or I’ll bash your brains in with my brand-new baseball bat!”
“Jesus, you’re really crazy. How the hell did I miss that all this time?”
Olivia je
rked her head around as Tommy flew down the road.
* * * *
Please God, get off your ass for once and stop this maniac.
The light at the next intersection turned red. Tommy started to run it, but the drive time traffic was heavy.
She flung the door open while the car was still moving. Her momentum caused her to stumble and bounce off the car in the next lane. Tommy was screaming at her. Olivia reached the sidewalk and pulled out her phone. She looked across the lanes of traffic and caught Tommy’s murderous glare as she dialed nine one one.
Olivia watched as the light turned green, and Tommy wheeled into a nearby parking lot. She kept an eye on the car as she gave the emergency dispatcher Tommy’s name and physical description, as well as a description of his vehicle. The dispatcher assured her police were on the way. Tommy was out of the car now. Olivia dropped the phone and ran for her life.
Chapter 28
“I’m just here for the free food,” Anderson said.
Krista laughed. “Well, you’ll have to wait. Monday’s in the kitchen, having an early supper. I know we’ve got a lot to talk about tonight, and I thought we could start while we’re eating instead of waiting.”
Anderson nodded and wandered into the kitchen. Monday was seated on a stool at the counter, eating a mayonnaise hot dog.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen put mayonnaise on a hot dog,” Anderson said.
“I like it,” Monday said. “I put ketchup on French fries.”
Anderson studied her plate. “I bet those potato chips would be good with ketchup on them.”
Monday giggled. “You can’t put ketchup on potato chips.”
Anderson reached for the ketchup bottle and poured a small amount on one of the chips. He popped it in his mouth and chewed. “Now that’s a potato chip.”
“Mama, can I put ketchup on my potato chips? Uncle Anderson says they’re good that way.”
“Yes, you can put ketchup on your chips, sweetie.”
“Are you playing Monopoly after supper?” Anderson asked.
Pieces of January Page 17
