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Authors: Rachelle Christensen

Wrong Number (5 page)

BOOK: Wrong Number
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Aubree remembered what the doctor had said about taking care of herself. She stretched and sat up slowly, wondering if a walk around the facility would help clear her mind. Before she could get herself out of bed, someone knocked on the door, and Aubree croaked, “Come in.”

Haskins pushed opened the door and entered, followed by Cody and another man. Aubree narrowed her eyes, frustrated at the early intrusion.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you this early, but we’ve got some important information for you.” Haskins clenched a folder and a notebook. “We also need to ask a few more questions.”

“No. No questions until I can at least go to the bathroom,” Aubree snapped. Haskins flinched when she spoke. She pulled her legs over the side of the bed and frowned.

“We’ll be back in ten minutes, and we’ll bring you some breakfast.” Cody stood and motioned for the others to follow.

“Okay.” Aubree walked stiffly across the room and slammed the bathroom door. She sank onto the tiled floor and tried to swallow the rising flood of tears.

“Why? Why did this have to happen to me now?” She spoke to the ceiling.

She shook her head, swallowed, and forced herself to clean up. The cool water on her face felt good. She looked at her haggard appearance in the mirror—the stringy hair and dark circles under her eyes. She offered a silent prayer:
Please help me get through this day.
It was all she could ask. If she could get through one day, maybe she’d be able to get through the next.

Aubree wiped her eyes and reentered her room, surprised that the three men hadn’t returned yet. She pulled a white hospital blanket from the bed and sat on the green upholstered chair. The air conditioning in the room was on high, and crying had given her the chills. She thought again of her mother and decided to insist that she be allowed to speak to her.

Cody returned first with a steaming plate of pancakes and eggs. When the smells of breakfast reached Aubree, her stomach lurched, but she forced herself to swallow and breathe slowly. She reached for the glass of milk beside the plate and took a sip. She had just picked up her fork when Haskins and the other man entered the room.

“Go ahead and eat. This won’t take long,” Haskins said.

Aubree put down her fork and frowned. “What kind of questions do you have for me today?”

“First, let me introduce Agent Jason Edwards from the FBI.” Haskins gave a half-smile to the man dressed in a shirt and tie.

“The FBI?” Aubree’s voice rose a notch.

“He’s going to tell you about some new information we’ve discovered and how it affects you.” Haskins sat in a wobbly folding chair.

Aubree stared at the FBI agent as he approached her. He carried the signature dark jacket over his arm. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up. He was lanky, but she could see the outline of his sculpted biceps. When he extended his hand to Aubree, she noticed a tattoo on his arm half-hidden by the rolled-up shirtsleeve. An orange and black flame wound around his muscle. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Stewart. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. But I want to know if you’ve talked to my mother yet and if I can call her.”

“We were able to reach her early this morning, Mrs. Stewart. We’re arranging travel plans for her. She’s expecting to hear from you today.” He ran a hand through his short hair. It was bleached blond, and Aubree guessed him to be a native of California.

“Please call me Aubree.”

“I will if you finish your breakfast, Mrs. Stewart. We’re under strict orders from the doctor.” He smiled at her, and Aubree sighed and picked up her fork.

He sat next to her, and Aubree could smell the fresh scent of aftershave. He dug into a briefcase and retrieved two green file folders. “This investigation is being lifted to the federal level because of what we learned early this morning,” he said. “Several parts of the investigation are ongoing and cannot be discussed, but I can share a few details with you.”

Aubree’s heart quickened, and she took a deep breath. “The Federal level?”

“Yesterday you reported the details of a conversation. You said you heard the name ‘Tidmore.’ ”

“Yes, he said ‘Tidmore did the job,’ ” Aubree replied.

“Well, after the body was found and your husband was murdered, we immediately searched for any and all Tidmores.” Agent Edwards clasped his hands together and looked Aubree in the eye. “We found a Charles Tidmore today. He lived about fifty miles outside of San Diego and had been murdered in his apartment.”

Aubree gasped, and Haskins moved to stand beside her.

“I’m telling you this because we’re concerned for your life,” Agent Edwards continued. “By now you must realize that the killers have discovered that your husband was not the one who heard the conversation.”

Aubree’s head jerked up. “But how would they know—they killed Devin.”

“We don’t think this is just one person. The crimes have been committed very quickly—we think it’s a team.” He ran a finger along the collar of his shirt. “It would be easy for them to double-check the number they dialed against the number of the cell phone they took from your house and to discover they weren’t the same.” He tapped the green
folders with his index finger. “We believe after they discovered this, they decided to kill Tidmore to cover their tracks.”

“Are you all right?” Haskins asked.

The only thing Aubree could do was nod as she watched the remains of her breakfast getting cold.

Agent Edwards rubbed the back of his neck and frowned. “I’m sorry to upset you again, but you need to know because we consider you a witness in a triple murder investigation. We still haven’t identified the body found in the manhole yet, but we’re concerned that someone went to such great lengths to cover their tracks when you heard so little of the conversation.”

“How can I be a witness? All I did was hear a phone call.”

He hesitated and licked his lips. “Have you heard of voice recognition? It’s not solid evidence, but if we brought in suspects and had them speak, you might be able to recognize the voice.”

Aubree’s eyes widened. “I can’t put my baby in danger.”

“No, we would never consider that. You would be completely protected,” Agent Edwards said.

“But how? They’ve already killed my husband and someone else. What if they find me here?” A tense fear wound through her shoulders, and she clenched her jaw.

“You’re in a private facility surrounded by security personnel. You’re safe here, but you won’t be able to return to your home. ”

“But—you mean never?” She thought of her home, of Devin, of their wedding picture hanging in the bedroom, and of the leather ottoman Devin loved to rest his feet on. So many memories interlaced with common objects.

Agent Edwards frowned. “I’m afraid it won’t be safe until this case is solved. We’re setting up surveillance at your home and planting a decoy there to see if the killer will try again.”

Aubree’s heart felt heavy as one more weight of disappointment settled on her. Agent Edwards interrupted her thoughts.

“I wanted to ask if you remember anything else about the conversation. What kind of voice did you hear? Was there any kind of background noise?”

Aubree forced herself to recall the horrifying conversation from yesterday morning that had sent her life into a tailspin.

“His voice was gruff, and he laughed when he talked about where the body was hidden. He sounded so . . .” Aubree shuddered. “So triumphant.” She opened her eyes and looked at Agent Edwards.

“Can you recall any other words?”

Her shoulders slumped, but he continued. “At the time they may have seemed insignificant, but we’re checking out every possibility. It may not be important that you heard a certain voice. Maybe they’re after you because of a certain word or phrase you heard.” He opened one of the green files and moved his finger along until it rested on a word. “I want you to replay the conversation in your mind. Put yourself back in your car, holding the phone to your ear. Listen and tell me in what context the word
intruder
was used.”

With a shallow breath, Aubree closed her eyes and imagined being in her car yesterday morning. The sun had glared off of a few bug spots on her windshield, and she’d used the window wipers to clear it. She could hear the squeak of the wipers and swish of the water spraying across the windshield. Devin’s ring tone was set to a Jamaican beach tune. She’d only heard a few bars before pushing “accept” on the call.

Immediately, her pulse quickened as she thought about the man saying,
Tidmore did the job, and the body is hidden in the manhole on 32nd Street.
She breathed in through her nose and tried to remember what he had said next. “He said something about the intruder.”

She heard the folding chair squeak when someone moved, but she kept her eyes closed, listening and trying to piece together the fragments of her memory. The rough sound of the man’s voice had eclipsed any background noise. Aubree remembered the clipped way he spoke and thought about what he had said next. She whispered, “The intruder will clear the way.” When she opened her eyes, Agent Edwards was writing in the green folder as Cody and Haskins watched her.

“That was great.” He stopped writing and looked at her. “If you think of anything else, anything at all, please let me know.” Agent Edwards stood and shoved the folders back into his bag. He pulled a card from his back pocket and handed it to Aubree. “We’re not trying to hold you hostage, Mrs. Stewart, we just don’t want anyone else hurt.” His phone rang, and he pulled it from the clip on his belt, lifted his head toward Aubree, and said, “I’ll be back later.”

Haskins handed her a bag. “Thanks for your help. We had someone
pick up some maternity clothes for you. Why don’t you change, and then I can take you to a phone to call your mother.” Aubree looked at her hospital gown, then took the bag and glanced inside at the new clothes.

“Thank you,” she whispered and hurried into the bathroom without another word. After she heard the outer door click, she turned the water on and tried to concentrate on the sound of the shower beating against the tile to rid her mind of the criminal’s voice.

Her body ached, and she felt the weight of her pregnancy growing heavier with each hour. Aubree stepped into the stream of water and let the tears come again. She could have a good cry now and then maybe hold it together when she talked to her mom about Devin.

After she showered and dressed, she looked in the mirror again, tying the string on the soft green maternity blouse at the small of her back. The dainty yellow flowers on the blouse were pretty, but unfortunately no one had thought about getting her makeup, so there was nothing to disguise her splotchy face or the blonde eyelashes that rimmed her puffy eyelids.

She combed out her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. She wondered why the police couldn’t have brought some clothes and personal items from her house and then remembered it was still a crime scene. Looking at the square diamond on her finger, she thought of Devin. She tried to remember the way he would smile and laugh, but truthfully he hadn’t done much of that lately.

He always tried to joke around, but Aubree had sensed a departure from his former carefree self. He worried constantly over their finances and continually urged Aubree to work “just a little longer to help make ends meet.” She tried to discover what had been bothering him, but each time she probed, he would change the subject. She thought back to a conversation they’d had five months ago, when Aubree decided she wouldn’t return to work after the baby was born.

“I’d like to try my hand at this stay-at-home mom business,” Aubree said as Devin helped button her dress.

“Why? Don’t you think you’ll get bored?”

“I’ve been thinking about this baby.” She took his hand and placed it on her abdomen. “I want to take care of our child. I don’t want to miss a minute.”

Devin’s eyes widened. “You sure about this? Maybe you should work at least part-time.”

“But we don’t really need my income.” She took a step away from Devin, but he pulled her back to face him.

“What?” He sounded surprised.

Aubree hesitated and then straightened her shoulders. “When I thought about becoming a mother, I knew I’d have to give up certain things.” She placed a hand on Devin’s arm. “I’ve worked hard, and we’ve saved like crazy. I think it would be okay for me to take a break to raise our child.” She hugged Devin, and he put his arms around her. The scent of his favorite soap lingered on his skin, and Aubree inhaled and smiled.

He kissed her ear and murmured, “That’s a good plan, but let’s see how our finances look after the baby is born.”

She pulled her face back so she could look him in the eyes. “I love you, Devin, and I love this child. I want to be a mom now, and I know I could keep working and be a mom too, but this is important to me.”

Devin stared at her and shook his head. “Whatever you say, babe.” Then he laughed and tickled her, and the uneasy moment had passed.

Now, as she looked into the mirror, a new realization came to her. Everything was lost—broken. Devin was gone. The family she had prepared for, worked for, saved for was no more.

“Oh, what will I do?” Aubree whispered. How could she go on without Devin? He wasn’t perfect, but neither was she, and she loved him. She put her face in her hands and cried.

“Aubree, are you okay in there?”

She recognized the voice of Dr. Samuels and opened the door.

“You don’t look well. Come over here and sit down.”

Aubree let herself be guided back to the chair she’d sat in earlier.

Dr. Samuels held out an orange pill bottle. “I brought something for your nerves.”

“I don’t want to take anything. I have to be careful for my baby.”

“This is a class C medication; it won’t harm your baby.” Dr. Samuels handed her the prescription bottle. “You need to take care of yourself. This is just enough to last you for the next few weeks.”

“But I don’t want to be numb to everything. I want to remember Devin.” Aubree whimpered, and she wrapped her arms around herself and let the pills fall from her hand.

BOOK: Wrong Number
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