Dial W for Wicked

by Lotta Smith

  “That’s enough!” Adam snapped, then let out an exasperated sigh. Glancing at Luke, he said, “He’s right. I snatched a new girl on a weekly basis, took them to a secluded cave.”

  His face was covered with blood, his voice was raspy, and he was out of breath.

  “What did you do to them after that?” Rick demanded, grabbing Adam by the collar, forcing him to stand.

  “I-I-I didn’t do anything!” Adam stuttered. “I just left them in the cave. Look, I didn’t want to murder them, but if I’d let them go home, they were likely to talk about what happened. I didn’t want to be caught, for Christ’s sake! I was in a prestigious graduate school, and I had a bright future awaiting me.”

  “Are you nuts?” Jackie shouted angrily. “What are you talking about? Are you implying that you didn’t kill the girls after leaving them in a dark, cold cave without food or water?”

  Rick’s knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on Adam’s collar. “Are you saying you didn’t kill them because you didn’t physically do it? In the real world, that’s still called cold-blooded triple homicide.”

  His voice was calm, but that seemed to intensify the fury and anger inside him.

  “The girls died of hunger, coldness, and dehydration—topped with despair. Do you understand?” I demanded, approaching Adam. I was tempted to touch him. Okay, so that was a risky temptation, for a little brush with me had the potential to kill someone who had committed a murder without being punished.

  Rick pushed Adam away and held me tightly in both arms, whispering into my ear, “No need to bother with him.”

  Darren Fender came toward us. “I’ve just made a call to the police department in Berkshire. I know someone with the NYPD, but should I call the FBI instead? Kidnapping cases regarding minors are theirs, right?”

  “Right. I’ll call them pronto. I appreciate your cooperation.” Nodding, Rick thanked him before turning to Adam. “You’re lucky, Adam. I’m pretty much tempted to strangle you to death, but I don’t want to take away the pleasure of torturing you from all the big, rough, and evil men in prison. Oh, by the way, did I mention that life in prison is literally a living hell for a pedophile? Enjoy your life!”

  Still holding me tightly, he turned on his heels.

  Being led out of the studio, I caught the sound of the girls softly weeping. As sad as it was, I could feel a certain sense of relief.

  “Thank God we can finally make it home,” one of the voices said between hiccups.

  “Oh my God… how sad it is!” Jackie said, dabbing her eyes with a white silk handkerchief.

  * * *

  The next few days took the word hectic to a whole new level. Apparently, closing a cold case in front of millions of viewers throughout the US had that effect on us. As a result, Rick and I—well, mostly Rick—had been getting calls requesting interviews regarding the case from practically every media outlet throughout the US, as well as the rest of the world.

  When I saw Tina Baldwin pacing around while the director gave us the sign of “Commercials,” I presumed whatever we said or did wasn’t going to be aired. Of course, I was so wrong. They were airing every bit of the interaction between us—though again, mainly Rick—and the abductor and killer, who was also the executive producer of the show, Adam Johnson.

  Thanks to pretending that Rick was the one with paranormal skills, I didn’t have to answer a smorgasbord of tricky questions. Phew… what a relief. Anyway, being a part of USCAB kept me from a lot of trouble since the PR section took care of countless inquiries for the most part. Also, having Brian Powers, the hottest exorcist du jour on TV, on our side was another perk, as he took charge of talking to the media. As a BFF of Rick from kindergarten, he had a lot to talk about, which made both the interviewers and the viewers very happy.

  As they say, there’s no such thing as bad press: the stock price of USCAB and related companies skyrocketed, and the company itself obtained even more clients than before. Dan, the CEO of USCAB and Rick’s dad, decided to give back to all the employees by offering a special bonus.

  Of course, Adam’s confession on live TV wasn’t good enough to close the case. We didn’t have the girls’ bodies or any evidence to prove Adam’s involvement with the murders. Immediately after leaving the TV studio, we headed to Berkshire with Darren Fender. Despite everything that happened at the studio, the possibility of Adam lawyering up and clamming up wasn’t negligible. We went so far as bringing Brian with us, in case Adam didn’t disclose the whereabouts of the hidden cave where he’d left the girls.

  Fortunately, we didn’t need to provide our paranormal help, as Adam was obsessed enough to keep the GPS data of the cave. Also, he’d revisited the cave many times in the past five years, leaving trace evidence behind, such as strands of hair and fingerprints. It was a case that drove even the most hardcore defense attorney away, and as a result, he didn’t fight and ultimately admitted every crime he’d committed in hopes of snagging the best possible arrangement of life in prison.

  The cave where Adam kept the girls’ bodies turned out to be in a not-too-deep part of the mountains. As it was accessible by car, we tagged along with the FBI and the local police. I wasn’t sure if the girls’ spirits were still hanging around the cave, but if Brian, Jackie, and I could speak with any of them, we could be helpful for making a case.

  Led by the local rangers, we went into the caves where the skeletonized remains of Lucy, Meghan, and Skyler-Mizuki were found.

  When we encountered the girls, Brian muttered the spells of blessing, and I clasped Rick’s hand tightly. Jackie was shivering by my side.

  “I knew I wasn’t going to see any of the girls alive, but still… it’s shocking,” she muttered.

  “I know,” I agreed. “It’s so sad.”

  “I feel so bad about not being able to find them earlier.” Darren shook his head. “I’m so sorry.”

  Rick examined the cave, holding a Maglite. “Some of the surfaces are smooth. Maybe they could retrieve Adam’s fingerprints,” he said calmly. “I don’t mean to make it sound light, but at least the girls weren’t alone when they died.”

  All three girls were gathered at the shallow neck of the cave, closest to the exit, and they were holding each other’s hands. There was a large blood-stained rock obstructing the way out. When I closed my eyes, I could see a vision of the girls trying with all their might to push it away. But it was too heavy for kids….Then I caught a young girl’s voice saying, “He’s right.”

  “We deserve blue ribbons or gold medals for being really great team players, don’t we?” a second girl’s voice chimed in.

  “We kept on fighting and cheering each other on,” the third girl concluded. “Still, it’s absolutely nice to smell the fresh air for a change.”

  “Did you hear that?” Brian looked at me.

  “Yes I did.” I nodded, then turned to Rick. “The girls agree with you. I can’t see them, but they sounded proud of their grit. And they’re glad to have some fresh air for a change.”

  “Good,” Rick muttered, pulling me closer to him and holding me tightly.

  EPILOGUE

  Two weeks later, I was staring at the lavender ceiling and the wallpaper in the same color, with scattered prints of baby pink flowers and baby blue strollers. The décor must have been intended to uplift visitors’ moods, but in my opinion, that attempt was a total failure.

  Clad in a pale pink patient’s gown that made me look like a pig just out of a long bath, I was sitting on the examination table at a doctor’s office located in a part of the Upper East Side closest to Midtown where we lived. After undergoing a physical exam and urine and blood tests, followed by a Pap smear and so on, I was told I needed another test. Therefore, I was waiting for the doctor to come test me. Rick was waiting outside the exam room—which was fine as I didn’t look my best. On top of all that, I was practically freaking out.

  Okay, no need to panic. It’s not like I’m being given a diagnosis of some deadly illne
ss, such as cancer… or is it? My freak-o-meter was going off the chart, and I was growing more and more nervous—as in exponentially nervous. My heart was pounding like a manic baboon on crystal meth, and I was growing seriously concerned about my heart health.

  It was over a week after my initially scheduled appointment, and I’d had extra time to prepare myself for this occasion. Having traveled to Berkshire and all the chaos that followed, Rick was pretty busy, and I was exhausted. Even though he told me he’d make time for an appointment, I begged him to postpone it. Call me chicken, but I was scared—to the point that I got pukey. Indeed, I puked up not just once but three times the previous day. Good thing Rick wasn’t with me when that happened, for he might have called an ambulance. I knew it was my nerves as I didn’t have a fever or stomach ache, and I felt absolutely fine immediately after throwing up. I was scared to learn that I might be sterile.

  As promised, Rick took a few hours off and accompanied me to the clinic. The night before, I had offered to go to the doctor on my own, but he said, “You’re going to want to reschedule the appointment at the last minute, aren’t you?”

  “No way! I’m so going to keep this appointment,” I lied.

  “You’re lying,” he pointed out.

  “Am not,” I insisted, trying not to sound like Minnie Mouse. “If you say I’m lying, you have to prove your point.”

  “First off, you’re blinking like someone with dry eyes. Secondly—” He stopped short and raised an eyebrow. “Should I go on with more details?”

  “No. Thanks, but no.” I shook my head.

  “Come on, everything will be fine,” he cooed, embracing me. Yes, you heard me right, and I’m not making this up. He really, seriously cooed. I knew he had many sides, but being a cooer wasn’t something I’d ever witnessed before.

  “You think?” I rested my head on his chest. Feeling his heat and his heart beating, I found myself wanting to believe him.

  “Besides, Dr. Fredelika Bergman is one of the top gynecologists in the world. As she has so many clients, they might not take it kindly if we keep rescheduling again and again,” he said softly.

  “Oh my God, you’re so right.” I sucked in air. “I’ve heard of those celebrity gynecologists you have to book three years in advance to see. Isn’t that ridiculous? In years, a baby usually turns into a toddler.”

  “That’s right.” He chuckled. “Of course, we can look for another doctor if she turns out not to be for us. Still, you’ll never know if you like her or not unless you actually see her, right?”

  “Right.” I nodded. He had a point. If I were the most sought out doctor, I’d hate it if a certain patient kept booking and rescheduling like an idiot.

  “It’s okay, Mandy,” Jackie chimed in. “You really need to meet the doctor. You’ll thank Rick and me for persuading you to see her.” She moved her arms to look like she was group-hugging us.

  “Thanks, Jackie.” I smiled and told Rick what she was doing.

  “How cool is that?” He winked. “Not everyone in the city has a guardian ghost who sticks around, giving you moral support whenever you need it.”

  “I know.” I chuckled.

  Jackie cleared her throat. “For your information, I’d prefer the term ‘guardian angel’ to ‘guardian ghost.’”

  Recalling the conversation, I realized Jackie wasn’t near me. I’d sent her out to the lab in hopes of obtaining whatever information about my tests that she could—which was one of the huge perks of having a ghostly pal, as she could sneak in wherever she wanted to—but so far, she hadn’t come back.

  Shaking my head, I looked up at the ceiling, wondering if the situation was that bad. I could think of several worst-case scenarios, such as having cervical cancer, hypercholesterolemia, or diabetes mellitus. Another really bad possibility was having obstructed fallopian tubes, but I’d ruled it out—mostly because I hadn’t had a test on them.

  When I was almost starting to hyperventilate, there was a knock at the door, and Dr. Bergman and the nurse came inside.

  “Hello, Mrs. Rowling!” Raising her hand, she flashed a dazzling smile. I’d met her briefly before going through all the tests, finding her down-to-earth and friendly. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m great, Dr. Bergman. Thank you,” I lied. I thought about telling her to call me Mandy, but I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if I’d have a long relationship with her, and if she was bound to deliver really bad news, I’d feel less torn if I was addressed as Mrs. Rowling.

  She was all smiles, and I didn’t feel that air with doctors who were going to tell the patient something like “You’re going to die in three months,” or “You are HIV-positive,” but you couldn’t be too careful.

  “Good.” Smiling broadly, she nodded. “Let me perform an ultrasound, okay?”

  “Ultra—” My eyes widened. If I recalled it right, it was—but my thought was interrupted midway.

  “And Mr. Rowling is here with you?” she asked. Her tone was perky, and her eyes twinkled with what appeared to be joy.

  “Yes, he’s waiting outside,” I said sheepishly, even though I didn’t know why I was acting that way. My heart was pounding so hard that I was afraid it wasn’t going to stay inside me.

  “Good.” She sat on the little round swiveling chair.

  “Mrs. Rowling, I’ll apply this gel, and your lower abdomen may feel cold. If you’re uncomfortable, please feel free to say that.” The nurse showed me a gel tube while helping me recline.

  Then I lay down on the examination table, feeling like a fish about to be cut open.

  “All right,” Dr. Bergman said, looking at the screen of the machine. “Mrs. Rowling, is it okay if we have Mr. Rowling come in?”

  “Yes, of course,” I said, and the nurse went out to call Rick.

  “Hello, Dr. Bergman. Hi, Mandy.” Rick came in, looking handsome, crisp, and stylish. He was smiling, but the tone of his voice was slightly tight. Following him came Jackie, waving at me with both hands. She was giddy. She definitely had something to say, but she didn’t speak.

  “Hello, Mr. Rowling. Have a seat.” Dr. Bergman offered him a chair.

  “Hi, Rick.” I waved at him, still lying flat on the examination table.

  “Oh, Mrs. Rowling, please stay the way you are right now.” Stopping me from trying to sit up, Dr. Bergman said, “Congratulations! You’re expecting your first child.”

  “Pardon me?” I shrieked.

  A part of me was expecting that from the facial expression of the doctor and nurse and their behavior, but the pessimistic side of me was busy convincing me not to hold such high expectations.

  “Mrs. Rowling, you’re pregnant,” Dr. Bergman said.

  “Oh my God! Ohmigod ohmigod!” Jackie shrieked. “Mandy, you’re pregnant! Congrats!”

  “Thank you,” I muttered, not quite processing the information. I knew what those words meant, but my brain was slightly frozen.

  Jackie squawked. “You know what? I had a hunch about your pregnancy since yesterday, but I didn’t want to disappoint you by giving you false hopes. But, now you’re officially pregnant! Oh my God! I’m soooo happy.”

  In addition, Rick had knocked over the chair, jumping up. “I’m gonna be a dad!”

  Dr. Bergman cleared her throat. “You came to me at the right moment. If I saw you on the initially scheduled appointment, the baby’s heartbeat might have been undetectable. Mrs. Rowling, you can sit up a little.” Offering a firm pillow, she helped me move upright. “Silence, please.”

  As she tweaked with the machine, the sound of heartbeat thumped.

  “Can you hear that? It’s the baby’s heart beating.” She tilted her head.

  I nodded frantically and Rick responded, “Yes!” clasping my hands in his.

  “Oh my God!” I exclaimed as soon as I laid eyes on the screen. “Is it a fetal sac? And it’s… beating…. But when I tested at home, I was negative.”

  “Maybe you tested too soon. Sometimes the test sticks from d
rugstores tend to take more time than indicated to show the real test result,” Dr. Bergman said. “It’s all about the timing.”

  “Just like comedy?” Rick said, smiling.

  “Yes, just like comedy.” She nodded.

  “Can I ask if it’s a boy or a girl?” he asked breathlessly.

  “You can’t tell the child’s gender at such an early stage of pregnancy.” I chuckled.

  “She’s right,” the nurse interjected.

  “Fantastic! Be it a girl or a boy, everything is totally fantastic!” Holding me in a bear hug that was much gentler than usual, he kissed the top of my head. “I love you,” he whispered into my ear.

  “I love you too,” I whispered back as I watched Jackie dancing, holding a baby rattle in both hands.

  A part of me was slightly panicky, but for the most part, I was deliriously happy.

  Oh my God… I’m gonna be a mom!

  * * *

  Want to read about Mandy, Rick and Jackie’s next adventure? Keep reading for a sneak peek of Wicked Egg to Crack right now! Then go read it all! FREE on KU.

  Sneak Peek: Wicked Egg to Crack

  PROLOGUE

  Here’s the thing about Daniel Rowling, aka Dan. He’s my father-in-law and a celebrity in his own right, and I believe you’ve seen his face from time to time on media outlets like Forbes magazine, the Wall Street Journal, or one of those economy-centered news shows on CNBC. He was the owner and the CEO of USCAB, a multibillion-dollar security-based conglomerate with tens of thousands of employees across the globe. The company, established by Nathan Rowling, his late dad and Rick’s granddad, was a Fortune 500 company. And his take on business was both aggressive and meticulous. Those two adjectives usually didn’t get along very well, but he was such a complex guy, he’s definitely qualified to embrace contradicting concepts within himself. He was handsome, sophisticated, and oh-so-funny to be around.

  According to Rick, my husband, he was in his late fifties, but he was totally fit, like the guys modeling for the men’s department of Saks. With his tall frame embellished with broad shoulders, mesmerizing green eyes, and a low baritone voice that sounded both smooth and caressing… he was sexy as hell. If he wasn’t my father-in-law, I might have developed a crush on him. But that was my dirty little secret. Don’t tell anyone, okay? I didn’t talk about my opinion of Dan, especially to Rick, mostly because he’d be jealous.