MAD AS BELL

by Jeremy Waldron

  After receiving the call from Gray about another girl reported missing, King dropped Alvarez off at the station to work their Jane Doe case while he headed out with Gray.

  It was an old house that had been beautifully remodeled in a well-off neighborhood. King perused the home with his eyes, making note of the fashion magazines and cosmetics left out on side tables alongside other knickknacks. The kitchen, to his right, was filled with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. The counters were clear and clean; the same went for the rest of the house. Gray took a seat on the far side of the couch and King peered out the window into the vegetable garden in the back, preferring to stand.

  Ruth was visibly distraught. Her shoulders sagged, along with her head, and it was clear that Ruth hadn’t showered today. It looked like she’d been up all night, tugging out her hair, making phone calls late into the night with hopes of her daughter coming home. Her purple silk robe drifted loose above pink slippers and Ruth couldn’t stop coughing.

  When their eyes met, Ruth said, “When I phoned the station, I was told to keep my faith, that a crime hadn’t been committed. Has something changed? Has my Jenny been found?”

  King saw a small glint of hope flash across Ruth’s eyes. It had been less than twenty-four hours since seventeen-year-old Jenny Booth was last seen, and protocol generally called for forty-eight hours to pass before officially filing a missing person’s report.

  But Ruth was right, something had changed. Her daughter happened to share a similar experience as Eva Martin, perhaps even King’s Jane Doe, and certainly what the police believed happened to Megan Hines.

  “No, ma’am,” Gray said. “We haven’t located your daughter.”

  Ruth frowned as she cast her gaze to her fingertips. No longer fidgeting with anxiety, Ruth’s movements went still. After the pause in conversation, she lifted her eyes to King. “But you do believe that she’s missing?”

  With his hands in his pockets, King said, “When was the last time you saw your daughter, Mrs. Booth?”

  “Yesterday morning. I went to work and she was off to school shortly after.”

  King confirmed Jenny made it to school—it was the same school Megan Hines attended, South High—then asked, “Did you talk to her at any time during the day?”

  Ruth shook her head no. “I have a demanding schedule. There’s no time to call.”

  “What do you do for work?” Gray asked.

  “I clean houses.” Ruth stated a few of her clients’ locations and King made mental notes of the neighborhoods mentioned. None were in Arapahoe Acres, but one was nearby.

  King turned his head and studied the house once again. He knew the rental market in this area—could safely assume what Ruth was paying for rent. Either she was charging more than other cleaners he knew, or she had other income coming in to be able to afford this place.

  “What about your husband?” King lowered his eyes to Ruth, speculating Ruth was married. “Does he work?”

  “My husband passed.” Ruth shifted her eyes to Gray. “A year ago. He left me with nothing and it’s been a struggle since.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ve been following the news,” Ruth steered the conversation back to her concerns about Jenny, “and I’m well aware that Megan Hines is no longer being reported on. It’s why I called the police about Jenny. It’s been three weeks that poor girl has been gone and I don’t think it’s a coincidence Jenny went missing the moment everyone seemed to forget some sicko was taking girls her age.”

  Gray said, “Your daughter is seventeen, correct?”

  “That’s right,” Ruth said, confirming also that Jenny and Megan were students at the same school.

  King looked for any family photos but didn’t see any photographs anywhere. In fact, besides the little trinkets and magazines left out, all the furniture seemed staged, like it came with the apartment. Thinking it was odd, King asked Ruth, “This apartment, do you rent or own?”

  Ruth cocked her jaw as if offended by the question. “I don’t see how that matters, but I rent.”

  Gray said she’d need the landlord’s name and number and asked, “Is it possible Jenny ran away?”

  Ruth snapped her neck to Gray, her expression pinching. It was clear she was beginning to regret her request to have the police come speak to her about Jenny.

  Ruth stood and moved to the kitchen, where King watched her dig out a picture of Jenny from her purse. Once back in the living room, Ruth handed it to Gray. “My daughter is smart, popular, and beautiful. So, to answer your question, no. Jenny wouldn’t run away. I might work long hours to stay afloat but I have a good relationship with my daughter.”

  King asked, “How did she take your husband’s death?”

  “Like you’d expect. She was devastated.”

  Gray handed King the picture of Jenny. He studied her face—took in her wavy brunette hair and her rose petal cheeks. Her black eyes pierced King with confidence. There were physical similarities to Megan Hines, but not to King’s Jane Doe or even Eva. Now he was asking himself if Gray’s cases were even related. “Did Jenny have boyfriends? A job?”

  “Nobody serious.” Ruth flicked her eyes to Gray. “And no, she didn’t work. She wanted to after my husband passed, but I wanted her to focus on her education.”

  Gray asked, “She wanted to work to help with the bills?”

  “That’s right.” Ruth nodded.

  King thought about the ligature marks on Eva’s wrists when he asked, “Mrs. Booth, was your daughter sexually active?”

  Ruth picked her head up and rolled her shoulders back. “She’s human, Detective, but Jenny wouldn’t tell me everything. Boys liked her and she liked them, but those details she saved for her friend, Naomi Moss.”

  “Was Jenny with Naomi last night?”

  Ruth shook her head. According to Naomi, they had parted ways after volleyball practice.

  “Do you know where we can find her?”

  Ruth told them where, pleaded for them to find her daughter, then said, “If anyone knows what happened to Jenny, it would be her.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I stayed on the landing with my arms folded across my chest and watched Archie drive away, making note of the make and model of his car. I couldn’t afford more surprises, and neither could Eva. She trusted me to keep her safe, keep her hidden away from whoever had kidnapped her, and I felt like we’d already failed her.

  Archie’s taillights disappeared around the next bend and, once out of sight, I thought about what he said about the city wanting to hide something as big as a serial rapist-killer case. I didn’t know what got him going down that road, but he wasn’t that far off in thinking it was possible. If petty crime bothered the mayor, a working serial killer would give him a heart attack.

  Was that why Archie was so obsessed with wanting to know more about Megan Hines and last night’s Jane Doe? It made sense. He was working leads for his book, but he had a long way to go to win over my trust before I started working with him, even if I held the same suspicions of the mayor, myself.

  I stayed out on the steps for a few more minutes to make sure Archie didn’t circle back. My thoughts were still churning as I thought about what to do about Eva. She couldn’t stay here, that much I knew. And I wasn’t convinced Erin’s house would be any safer, but what other choice did we have?

  A squirrel ran up the tree and I heard Cooper barking in the window. Even that distraction wasn’t enough to get Archie out of my head. Did he come up with this theory all on his own? Or did he read my blog? If so, was that the reason he had an old article of mine in his hand? It was possible, but then there were the messages being left for both Erin and me to find.

  I took Archie as someone who liked to play those kinds of games, a person who worked extremely hard to control the narrative in an effort to produce the story he saw unfolding inside his head. A true crime written with the suspense and thrill of fiction would certainly mean a large advan
ce by a hungry publisher looking to cash in, exactly what Archie was after. So why not just come out and say it?

  When I heard a car approach from behind, I turned to look. It wasn’t Archie, only a neighbor passing through. I waved, they honked, and I kept piecing together today’s timeline. If what Archie said was true, he wasn’t the one who followed Erin. If not him, then who?

  The door opened behind me and Erin joined me on the porch. Closing the door behind her, she asked, “Everything okay?”

  I told her about Archie and said, “I don’t like how he’s showing up unannounced.” Erin asked if he was the one to follow her here, and I said I didn’t think so. Then I added, “He said he followed King.”

  “Then he knows about Eva.” We locked eyes and I nodded. “I kept her hidden in the back bedroom, but she’s spooked, Sam.”

  “I know,” I said, imagining how Eva must be feeling.

  “But what really worries me is what else Archie knows that he isn’t sharing.”

  We both feared Archie would reveal Eva’s location sooner or later. That wasn’t even the worst of it, though. He’d probably taken a photo of her. What he planned to do with it was anybody’s guess.

  “We should take her to your house,” I said, “and do it as discreetly as possible. At least until we better understand what it is we’re up against. Then we can decide what to do with her after that.”

  Erin agreed and said, “I’m afraid she won’t feel safe anywhere. Not until her kidnapper is caught.”

  The thought put chills up my spine. I didn’t want to think of her kidnapper wanting to take her again. I checked the time and prepared to call King to give him a heads up about Archie when I said, “Then we better get to work to make sure that won’t happen.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “The cops called me asking for Naomi,” Susan’s friend said.

  Susan was on the phone with Cindy Moss. They’d been friends since college, and Susan had even been a bridesmaid in Cindy’s wedding. After Naomi was born, Cindy asked Susan to be Naomi’s godmother, which Susan gratefully accepted.

  Susan paused mid-step and asked, “Is Naomi okay?”

  Cindy said, “They assured me she was, and I confirmed it with the school. Naomi is exactly where she should be, but it was Naomi’s friend Jenny Booth they were really looking for.”

  Susan knew how Cindy felt about Naomi’s friend Jenny. Cindy thought she was a bad influence. Susan was on her way to have lunch with executive producer Owen Daniels, but she was beginning to have second thoughts.

  “Did they mention what it was about?”

  “It sounds like Jenny is missing.”

  Susan tucked her free hand under her elbow and kept the phone pressed to her ear. She thought about Megan Hines. She knew Naomi went to the same school. “And what, did they think Naomi knew where she was?”

  Cindy said that was her assumption as well, then added, “Naomi is hiding something. Her grades have been slipping since she started hanging out with Jenny, and I know they were out late last night claiming to be doing school work.”

  The crease between Susan’s eyebrows deepened. “You don’t think they were?”

  “My gut tells me otherwise.”

  “Did Naomi say anything about it?”

  “Nothing,” Cindy said. “But I could tell she was distracted this morning about something.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  There was a brief pause before Cindy asked, “Has Samantha mentioned anything about that other girl, Megan Hines? The reason I ask is that if Jenny is missing, I’d like to get a realistic picture of what may have happened. I’ve tried calling Jenny’s mom, Ruth, but she isn’t picking up. She knows I don’t like Naomi hanging out with Jenny, and of course I won’t hear from Naomi until after school.”

  Susan didn’t know anything that hadn’t been published, but promised to call Samantha ASAP. She also knew Cindy couldn’t get away from work, and Susan wasn’t sure she could either, but asked if she could stop by the school and talk to Naomi herself.

  Cindy liked that idea very much, then said, “I don’t know how to protect Naomi from the world. If Jenny was kidnapped, who’s saying Naomi won’t be next?”

  “Honey, don’t go there,” Susan said. “Naomi is a smart girl. I’m sure this is just a big misunderstanding.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Susan kept her cellphone pressed to her ear as she stepped off to the side and allowed a couple to pass. “You don’t sound surprised.”

  “Trust me,” Samantha said through the phone, “if what you’re saying is true, I’m surprised.”

  As soon as Susan got off the phone with Cindy, she got in the back seat of an Uber, unable to take her mind off Naomi’s friend Jenny. Once at the restaurant downtown, she called Samantha. Now Susan was wondering what more Samantha knew and if there was anything else that could help calm Cindy’s worries.

  Samantha asked, “How did you learn about this?”

  “Cindy Moss called saying the police were looking to speak with Naomi.” Susan paused. “I don’t know too much other than that, and neither does Cindy. You haven’t heard anything, have you?”

  “Not about Jenny Booth. But I had a package arrive this morning from King.” Samantha briefed Susan on Eva and how she might be a lead into Megan’s disappearance. “I’m still working out the details but I don’t like what I’m hearing.”

  “No. Neither do I.” Susan mentioned how she planned to meet with Naomi after school and said, “I’ll call you later once I get a better idea of what’s happening here.”

  “Perfect,” Samantha said. “And I’ll contact King to see what he knows.”

  Susan told Samantha she loved her before ending the call and tucked her phone away inside her purse, entering the restaurant with a heavy heart. One girl missing was difficult enough, but three? Something was happening and Susan was thankful it wasn’t Naomi missing.

  The hostess led her to a back table perched against a window with a view where Owen Daniels was already seated. He stood and smoothed down his Caribbean blue tie as Susan approached. The color of his tie brought a smile to her face, and he greeted her with a gentle kiss to the cheek.

  Susan smiled, surprised by his warm greeting. She wanted nothing more than to be seen by the handsome man who promised her access to his incredible network of people and happily welcomed his charm.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I have a bottle of Merlot on its way,” Daniels said as he pushed in Susan’s chair.

  “That sounds lovely,” Susan murmured, concentrating on what was in front of her, trying to push her distractions aside.

  When Daniels sat, he locked eyes with her and made her feel like she was the only person who existed. Soon, wine was poured and lunch was served. They discussed business—how great it would be for her career to say she worked with Owen Daniels—but mostly they had fun laughing at each other’s stories. And when their conversation eventually died down, Daniels could see something was on Susan’s mind.

  “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” he asked.

  Susan brushed her bangs out of her eyes with the tip of her finger and said, “No. Of course not.” Susan paused before elaborating. “I received a call from a friend before I arrived and she said her daughter’s friend is missing.”

  “Jesus.” Daniels asked about the details, and Susan knew he had the power to bring the story to air. After telling him everything she knew about Jenny, he asked, “Why haven’t I heard about this?”

  “I don’t know.” Susan fingered her wine glass. “Maybe because the police are still investigating.”

  Daniels reached his hand inside his jacket pocket, stood, and pulled out his phone.

  “What are you doing?”

  Daniels tapped the screen and pressed the phone to his ear. “Putting my best people on this story. If there really is another girl missing, I’d like to be the first to report it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four
<
br />   Thirsty walked away from the bar with a smile on his face. It was the pretty barmaid who put it there. She was the one, the young beauty he’d been following, the one he planned to bring into his inner circle when the time was right.

  When he was with her, the conversation was easy, the laughs deep. She made him feel worthy of companionship and that meant the world to a manic depressant like himself.

  Thirsty edged the partition and passed in front of the flaming grill and the chef working behind the glass. The scent of steak curled the corners of his lips upward as a deep sense of satisfaction bloomed inside of him.

  After last night’s charades, he’d fallen into a deep, drunken sleep and had nearly forgotten about Eva’s escape. According to the news she still hadn’t been located, and he was determined not to let the unknown bother him. Instead, he kept his focus on what he could control. Like the barmaid and her sparkling eyes.

  Swerving his way through the lunch tables, he was feeling light on his feet when he caught the eye of a tall woman enjoying the companionship of a man. Her hair was beautifully woven into a single braid. He smiled and said under his breath, “If only you were twenty years younger.”

  He’d started today feeling particularly good about himself. His best attire only improved his mood, and something told him that today would be his day.

  He stopped at the hallway leading to the restrooms and turned to see if his bright-eyed young barmaid was watching him. He could feel her eyes on his back, telling him he had her hooked.

  Testing his luck, he slowly turned his head. He lifted his eyes and held his breath, his hopeful brow raised above the partition only to be struck with disappointment. He’d lost her attention; she’d already moved on.

  “Son of a bitch,” he said, imagining how he’d like to wrap her long black hair around his wrist and twist her into submission.

  With a jealous pang in his gut, he watched her work. She was smooth and charming as she served her guests. A minute passed before she finally glanced in his direction and caught his gaze. Thirsty immediately perked up when their eyes locked. He smiled and she smiled back.