Freak (26 page)

Abby’s instincts told her it was time to shut up.

“I should warn you that I am extremely intolerant of anyone or anything who might disrupt the harmony I’ve personally
worked very hard to achieve here over the past ten years I’ve been superintendent. Creekside is a nice place, but don’t let its looks fool you, Miss Maddox. It’s nice for a reason, and that reason is
me
. I’m the head of this facility, and I run a very tight ship. Make no mistake, we are still a prison.”

“I understand,” Abby said again.

“I hope so,” Elkes said. “Because I’m quite concerned that your notoriety will cause problems. I saw your interview on
The Pulse
, and I know you’re quite the celebrity on the outside. In here, though, you are Offender 42891. I will not approve requests for reporters to visit you frequently. This is a safe, quiet environment, and I plan to keep it that way. Can I expect your full cooperation?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Glad to hear it. If you treat me, your COs, and your fellow offenders with respect, we will certainly treat you the same, and your time here will be very easy. Respect is the only real currency here, Miss Maddox.”

Abby wondered if the woman had that last line knitted on a pillow somewhere at home.

Elkes skimmed over the rest of Abby’s file, then closed the manila folder and placed her hands on top of it. Her long, perfectly polished coral nails gleamed against her dark fingers. “So tell me, Miss Maddox. What do you hope to get out of your time here?”

Abby knew this question was coming, and she was ready with her answer.

“To grow, mature, and better myself. And to help others learn from my mistakes.” Abby cleared her throat. “Actually, ma’am, I’m quite interested in participating in the Be Smart program. I think I’d be a great asset.”

“You want to talk to high school students?” The superintendent
was surprised. The Be Smart program was relatively new, and it had inmates traveling in supervised groups to different high schools across the state, talking to kids about the importance of making the right choices and the consequences of making bad ones.

Abby nodded. “Yes. I know the program is in its pilot year, and that you’ve had difficulty getting funding. I think having me on board with my . . . notoriety, as you put it, could actually help you spotlight the program.”

The superintendent appraised her. “I suppose it could. I do have an opening that needs to be filled quickly, so I’ll consider it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

“Okay.” Elkes clapped her manicured hands together and then pressed a button beside her. “Now that that’s all out of the way, I’ll have a guard show you to your cell. You’ll start working in the kitchen tomorrow. But for the rest of today, you’re welcome to wander around the facility and figure out where things are. Don’t hesitate to ask the staff anything you need to know.”

“Am I allowed any visitors this afternoon?”

Elkes looked surprised. She checked her watch. It was only three-thirty. “I suppose so. Visiting hours go till eight. If their requests are in the system, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Abby smiled sweetly. “Super.”

A female guard who introduced herself as Officer Perez showed Abby out. No handcuffs—she simply escorted Maddox outside and across an inner courtyard, also landscaped with trees and flowers. It wasn’t long before Abby was in her new cell, alone. Her cellmate, Officer Perez informed her, would be at work until four-thirty.

Abby sat on the bed and looked around. The cell was a
little larger than the one she’d had before, and it was clear her new celly liked to read fiction. Paperbacks of John Grisham, Jeffery Deaver, and Stephen King were stacked on the shelves. Maybe the celly would let her read some of them. Not that she planned to be here long.

The intercom buzzed, startling her, and a second later a voice floated into her cell. “Maddox, you have a visitor. You may head to the visitors’ center.”

Abby stood near the intercom. “Can you tell me where that is?”

A pause and then, “I’ll escort you. Meet me at the doors.”

Officer Perez was waiting for her at the entrance to the tier. “Popular girl,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “Been here ten minutes and already someone’s here to see you.”

Abby smiled. Right on schedule. Her heart raced in anticipation.

She followed the guard down a long length of hallway, unable to help the bounce in her step. In a strange way this place reminded her of the math building at Puget Sound State—not very big, and very easy to navigate.

A shiver went through Abby’s body as they passed through the double doors and into the secure visitors’ center. The room was large and it resembled a college dormitory recreation room, with a few TVs, a couple of pool tables, several large sofas, and toward the back, several tables for sitting, eating, and conversation.

The CO turned to face her. “Since this is your first day, here’s a quick rundown of the rules. You can hold hands. Any other form of touching—including kissing—can’t last longer than five seconds. At no time are you allowed to exchange any objects other than photographs. There are cameras here and here,” she said, indicating several cameras mounted to the ceiling, “plus there are guards in here at all times. We clear?”

“Clear,” Abby said firmly.

“Have a nice time. You have until eight o’clock.”

Abby stepped around the guard and walked purposefully through the room, ignoring the stares and whispers from her new fellow inmates and their guests. Her reputation had obviously preceded her, but she was used to it. Her visitor was waiting for her by the far window, and Abby smiled, her heart beating faster than it had in a long time.

Their embrace lasted the entire five seconds.

“God, it’s good to see you,” Abby whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Everything is in place.” Warm breath caressed her ear. “Soon, baby. Soon.”

JERRY’S RELIEF AT
the investigation being over had lasted exactly one week. One measly week of reprieve, and here he was again. He cursed himself silently for not turning in his police consultant’s ID immediately. It was now clipped to his pocket, but it had definitely lost all its appeal.

The body had been found at the Seabreeze Motel off Highway 99 that morning, only a few blocks down from the Perfect Peach. Not quite the same price point as the boutique hotels the previous victims had been found in. Except for the zip tie and the carvings, everything about this crime scene was weird, including the not-so-tiny fact that Jack the Zipper was locked up and couldn’t possibly have committed this murder. As Danny would have put it, what the hell, dude?

Jerry looked down at the woman splayed out on the bed and was dismayed to realize that he was getting used to being around dead bodies. When Torrance had called him to the first crime scene—jeez, had that only been a couple of weeks ago?—he’d almost been sick to his stomach, but now, they were all beginning to blur into one another.

Torrance paced the room, thinking out loud. “This doesn’t make sense. Jeremiah Blake is in prison.”

“I told you we might have the wrong guy,” Jerry said.

“Fuck that. No.” Torrance shot him a look. “We have the right guy. I know we do. All the evidence points to that freak Blake. This is somebody else. The question is, why?”

Jerry had no answer.

His former partner stepped closer to the bed and frowned at the body. “Dark hair, naked from the waist up, zip tie around her throat, ‘Free Abby Maddox’ carved into her back. Okay, all of that is consistent with the rest of them. But this one’s older, in her thirties. Plus the carpet”—he gestured to the floor, where bloodstains trailed from the door to the bed—“tells us that she was killed somewhere else and brought here.”

“So then it’s a copycat.” Jerry shrugged. “Somebody wanted this woman dead for completely separate reasons and used Blake’s MO to cover it up.”

Torrance shook his head. “No, something doesn’t fit. Blake’s name and face have been all over the news. Why would the killer stage a copycat when he knows damn well we already arrested Jack the Zipper?”

“Maybe he panicked,” Jerry said. “Or maybe, somehow, he didn’t know the killer was arrested. We’ll know more once we ID her. How much longer for the prints?”

“Any minute now.” As if on cue, Torrance’s phone rang. He answered the call, muttered a few words, then disconnected. Deep sigh. “Fuck. Her prints aren’t in the system.”

“Guess that would have been too easy.”

They both fell silent, thinking.

“I stand by my original thought,” Jerry finally said a moment later. “My guess is she got killed for totally unrelated reasons, and the killer panicked.”

“I don’t buy it,” Torrance said, pacing. “That doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Well, you’ll have to find out who she is and who she knows. Once you do that, you’ll get some answers.”

Torrance raised an eyebrow. “What happened to ‘we’?”

“What?”

“You said
I’ll
get some answers,” Torrance said, looking at him closely. “As in me. What happened to ‘we’? You don’t want to help me with this?”

“Nah.” Jerry shook his head. “I think you can handle it.”

“You serious?” Torrance was surprised. “You’re not going to see this through?”

“I already have seen it through. Jack the Zipper’s in prison, and that’s all I agreed to help with. Whatever this is, it’s not my problem.” Jerry gave his former partner a rueful smile. “I’m not interested in any more of this, Mike. I’m meeting a beautiful woman for lunch, and once I get back from it, I’m turning in my consultant’s ID.”

“Damn. I thought we were having fun, pal.”

“Not my idea of a good time.” Jerry held his hand out to Torrance, who shook it slowly. “I’m out, Mike.”

*     *     *

Jerry hadn’t seen that smile in so long, and he soaked up every bit of it. It was like sunshine on his face. That one smile could cure world hunger, replenish the ozone layer, solve America’s debt crisis. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating, but it really was the best smile he’d ever seen, and it filled him up just to be on the receiving end of it.

It felt natural being with Annie. He desperately wanted to reach over and touch his wife’s hand, but he didn’t want to push things. He didn’t know if the smile held the promise of anything beyond this afternoon, and he had gone into this date refusing to have expectations.

He also didn’t know where things stood between her and the PSSU basketball coach. He hadn’t seen them together lately, but then again, he wasn’t following her anymore.

Annie beamed at him, her face soft and glowy in the brightly lit tapas-style restaurant. They’d just finished lunch, and she was nibbling daintily at her crème brûlée, eyes closing with every bite. She loved crème brûlée. Jerry wondered if the basketball coach knew that.

“So tell me how the appointment went,” she said. “Will the surgery be invasive?”

Jerry took the last sip of his wine. “He said it wouldn’t be. I can expect to be under for a couple hours, maybe more. I’ll never sound like Barry White, but he can do things to help with the scratchiness. And I’m still going to have a scar. Recovery should take a couple of weeks.”

“But it will look better?”

“A lot better. Smaller, flatter, much less noticeable.”

“Good.” Annie smiled. “Then you can get rid of those turtlenecks. I miss seeing your scrawny neck.”

“Hey now, honey.” He laughed. “It’s not that scrawny.”

For the first time in months, she didn’t bristle at his term of endearment. Instead, she laughed with him, diving back into her dessert.

He had screwed up his courage and called her the day before to invite her out to lunch. Dinner had seemed a bit too intimate. He’d been scared to make the call, worried she’d hang up or, even worse, be cold toward him. He’d pressed her speed dial number five times before finally allowing the call to go through. Morris had been telling him for a long time that his worst sin was pride, and he thought now that the big guy was right. Annie had agreed to the lunch right away, and had even suggested the time
and the place. It made Jerry wonder why he didn’t just call his wife ages ago.

“So.” He fiddled with his empty wineglass as he formulated his next question. “How are things going with the basketball coach?”

Annie put her spoon down and wiped her lips carefully with her cloth napkin. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a small pot of lip balm. Jerry recognized it instantly. She’d discovered it in Paris when they’d gone on a tour of Europe a few years back, and had loved the stuff so much that she continued to order it online. Jerry remembered the taste—like honey and brown sugar.

She rubbed some balm on her lips. Her eyes were soft. “Is that really what you want to talk about?”

“You think it’s weird?” Jerry met her gaze with a steady one of his own. “No matter what, we’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“It’s not about that. It’s just that I figured you already know how it’s going, and therefore don’t need to ask. You follow us, don’t you?”

Jerry felt his face grow hot. She knew about that? And here he thought he was being so stealthy, switching the old Honda for a Jeep she’d never seen . . .

Annie gave him a dry smile. “What? You don’t think I know you? I married a cop turned PI. You might be unpredictable to everybody else, but not me. And I like the Jeep. It suits you.”

Well, shit. There was nothing to say to that.

He couldn’t help but notice she hadn’t answered the question about her boyfriend, but before he could figure out another way to ask without sounding like a nosy prick, his phone vibrated. His hand reflexively went to his shirt pocket, but it stopped two inches short.

“Go ahead,” she said. “Check it. I’m enjoying my dessert anyway.”

“It’s okay.” Jerry put his hand back in his lap. “I can’t imagine who it would be. I told Torrance earlier today that I was done. Things are picking up at the office but nothing that can’t wait.”

“I’m sure Danny can handle it.”

“Actually, she has the week off. She’s studying for midterms.”

“She left you on your own to run the office?” Annie’s voice held a trace of amusement. “And here I thought that girl was smart.”