First Offense (36 page)

“I have one,” David said, springing to his feet. “I saved the old tape from our answering machine, the one that was in there when he was kidnapped. I also have our old home-movie videotapes. Want me to get them?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Reed said. As the boy dashed off, the detective went to the kitchen to check on Ann.

Her face was pale and drawn, the short hairs on her head sticking straight up. “Tommy,” she said, “this is destroying David. Who’s making these phone calls? We have to find out.”

“Here,” David said, bursting into the kitchen and handing Reed the cassette from the answering machine. “This is all I could find. I don’t know where the other tapes are.” He gave his mother a puzzled look, but she didn’t respond.

“This should do it,” Tommy said, sticking it in his pocket. “I’ll drive it down to the lab right now. Melanie’s still working. She’ll get right on it.” On his way out, he locked David in a bear hug. “You gonna be good to your mom while I’m gone?”

“Yeah,” David said meekly.

“Okay, then,” the detective said, exiting through the kitchen door.

Ann finally headed for bed at one o’clock in the morning. She’d called Melanie Chase earlier to see if she’d made any progress on the tape, but the woman had never called her back. All evening she had waited for the call. At midnight she had called again, and they’d told her Melanie had been dispatched on an armed robbery. Ann knew it might be four in the morning before she got back to the lab.

David had fallen asleep on the sofa. Ann decided not to wake him. Going back to his room, she got a cover off his bed and placed it over him on the sofa, bending down to kiss his forehead. The poor kid had expended every ounce of energy he possessed in excitement over his father coming back. It broke her heart.

Once Ann had shed her clothes, she got into bed, and turned the lights off. She knew she would never sleep. When the phone rang, she lunged for it, praying it was Melanie Chase. “Yes?” she said.

“Where’s David?”

“Hank? Is that you? God, Hank, you have to stop…”

She started sobbing so hard she could barely hear him. His voice sounded far away and close at the same time, too close, almost as if he were calling from somewhere inside the house.

“Get David, Ann.”

“Hank, please tell me where you are. Tell me what happened.”

A moment passed before Ann realized she was listening to a dead phone. She fumbled in her purse for the number of the surveillance van, hoping the officer hadn’t fallen asleep. Her efforts weren’t necessary, though, for the phone rang right away.

“Was that your husband? He wasn’t on the line long enough to get a trace.”

“Yes,” Ann said. “I mean, it was his voice.”

The officer repeated that Ann had to keep the caller on the phone longer, and she felt like screaming. “I don’t know how to keep him on the phone. What am I supposed to do?”

“Next time,” the officer said calmly, “pick up the phone but don’t say anything. Do anything you can to stall for time.”

Ann accepted this, though it bothered her she wasn’t certain who she was speaking to. “Who is this?”

“Phil Whittaker. I guess you don’t recognize my voice. I have a bear of a cold.”

“Oh,” Ann said. “Thanks, Phil.” Turning out the lights, she settled back and stared into the darkness, trying to empty her mind of all thoughts. Finally, sheer exhaustion defeated her, and she closed her eyes and slept.

Ann awoke to morning sun streaking through the crack in the drapes. She was aching all over and felt as if she hadn’t slept more than an hour. Her eyes were puffy and scratchy from crying, and the sheets were damp with perspiration. For a few minutes she remained perfectly still in the bed, looking at the ceiling, trying to decide if she could make it to work. Then she heard the sound of clothes rustling in the room with her and bolted upright in bed.

David was sitting in a chair, watching her, waiting for her to wake up. The boy’s normally tousled hair was still damp from a shower and combed carefully away from his face. He was wearing one of his two dress shirts and a pair of black slacks. He had even put on his black shoes reserved only for special occasions. The last time Ann had insisted that he wear them, he had told her they were too small.

“What time is it?” Ann asked, concerned.

“Seven.”

“How long have you been sitting here?”

“Since six o’clock.”

Ann took in his formal clothes again and felt her heart sink. He was waiting for his father. “Come here,” she said softly, patting a spot next to her on the bed.

“No,” David said. “I don’t want to mess my shirt up. You know how Dad hates wrinkles. I want to look really good, you know. I want him to know that I’m all grown up now, that I’ve been doing everything he told me to do.”

“Hand me my robe,” Ann said. “I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“No,” David said, finding her robe on the hook on the door and handing it to her. “I don’t want to eat until Dad gets here. Then we can all eat like a family.”

Like a family, she thought sadly. He didn’t know how bad it had been at the end. “Honey, we don’t really know for sure it was even him. I thought about it last night, David, and the man who came to the house and attacked me was wearing a mask to disguise his voice. He took your picture. He even said your name. Someone could be mimicking your father’s voice. Maybe it’s a computer or something.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you see, honey? Everyone knows what happened to your father. When I got shot, they put the whole story back in the paper. Whoever has been doing all these things to me could be trying to imitate your father’s voice, saying things he knows will make us think it’s Dad. It’s a way to hurt us.” Ann turned her head away. If what she had said was true, there was no doubt as to how much it would hurt. Seeing David like this, his hopes raised so high, was almost more than she could take.

“I don’t believe that,” he said, waiting for his mother as she put her arms through her terry-cloth robe and got out of bed. “It was my dad. I know my own dad. Mom. That’s just silly. Why would anyone do that?”

“Well,” Ann said, “maybe someone wants to upset me, confuse me, make me think I’m going crazy. David, there’s a lot about this situation that you don’t know.”

“It was Dad,” he snapped angrily. Then he turned around and stomped out of the room, screaming back at her, his voice echoing in the hall. “You’re just saying all this because you don’t want Dad to come back. I know how you used to fight with him.”

So he did know, Ann thought. Even so, he still blamed her instead of his father. Was his attitude inherited from Hank, like his explosive temper? Did her own son believe that she had deserved the abuse, had somehow asked for it? Heading to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, she passed David in the living room. He was sitting on the floor in front of the television, as still as a statue, watching cartoons. Ann shook her head. David hadn’t watched cartoons for years now. He preferred the science features on public television. She dumped coffee in the filter and was ready to shove it into the coffee maker when the phone rang. She reached for it, heard David rushing across the floor at the same time. When she said hello, she heard him yelling into the phone: “Dad, Dad, is that you? We’re waiting for you. When are you coming?”

“David,” Reed’s deep voice said, “this is Tommy. I just called to see how you’re doing, and to tell you that they’re working on your tape.”

“Why isn’t he here, Tommy?” David said. “He told me he would be here today.”

“Hang tight, guy,” Reed said. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this thing. Is your mother with you?”

“Yeah,” he said, downcast. “She’s here.”

“I’m on the line,” Ann spoke up. “David, hang up and let me talk to Tommy. Please, honey.” She waited until she heard the click, and then her voice turned to desperation. “We’re going crazy over here. Why hasn’t Melanie finished the voice analysis? David’s sitting here all dressed up like it’s Christmas, waiting for his father to walk through the door. The poor kid’s—”

“Take it easy, Ann,” Reed said, consoling her. “Melanie was buried in work last night. She can only do so much.”

“So?” Ann cried. “Get someone else to do it! Get that Alex guy. Hell, get someone. We have to know who’s behind this.”

“I’ll call her again and see what I can do,” Reed said, quickly disconnecting.

Ann clicked off the portable phone in the kitchen and rushed to the living room to comfort her son. She wasn’t thinking now, just reacting, her emotions too out of control for coherent thought. She crushed her son to her chest. “I want you to go to school, honey. You can’t sit here and wait all day.”

“No, I can’t go to school,” he said, tears spilling out of his eyes. “Dad might come while I’m gone.”

“Please, honey, don’t cry. Go to the bathroom and get a cold washrag for your face. Please, David, it will make you feel better.”

“No,” he said, jerking away from his mother. “I talked to him. I’m not going to school. I don’t care what you do to me, I’m waiting right here for my dad.”

David ran to his room and slammed the door.

Ann knew she couldn’t send David to school, nor could she go to work until the situation was resolved. She called Claudette and told her that she was taking the day off.

She waited. Minutes turned into hours. Finally, at twelve o’clock, Melanie Chase called.

“The two voices are the same, Ann. This is your husband, isn’t it?”

“They’re…the same?” Ann stammered. “Then it is Hank who’s calling me?”

“I’m not certain about that. I just know the voice-prints are the same on the two recordings.”

Ann was confused. “If it’s Hank’s voice, then it has to be Hank calling me. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“The police tape of your phone call is a lot higher-quality than the one on the answering machine. With our sound equipment we detected some technical noise mixed in with the voice.”

“What kind of technical noise?”

“Some kind of machinery…whirs and clicks. It’s almost impossible to differentiate what was on the original tape and what’s coming from the police’s recording equipment I need another recording from the police before I can identify the sounds. Can one of the guys bring one over?”

“Sure,” Ann said. “They’re still monitoring my calls, I’m get them to bring over the tape of our conversation. How’s that?”

“That’ll do. Let me go now,” Melanie said.

As soon as she terminated the call, Ann called the officer in the surveillance van, Oscar Chapa, and asked him to edit out her call to Melanie and take the tape to her.

“Does that mean your husband is alive, Ann?” Chapa said.

So, he had been listening. “You heard the tape, Oscar. I don’t know what it means, to tell you the truth. Will you get someone from patrol to take it over right away?”

“No problem,” he said.

As lunch had come and gone and David was still locked in his room, Ann made him a sandwich and knocked on his door. “Let me in,” she said. “You have to eat, honey.”

“Go away. I’m not hungry.”

“David, please…at least let me come in and talk to you. Don’t shut me out like this.”

“Go away. Just leave me alone.”

Ann set the plate down by his door and returned to the living room to wait. She tried reading the newspaper, tried watching television, but she couldn’t concentrate. Finally she started cleaning the house, scrubbing the kitchen floor on her hands and knees, trying to get out the old stains in the grout on the counter with a toothbrush, rearranging all the china in the cabinet.

At five o’clock, Ann had resorted to cleaning silver when she heard a knock at the front door. This is it, she thought, breaking out in a cold sweat. Peering through the peephole, she saw a strange woman standing on her doorstep. “Who is it? What do you want?”

“Ann Carlisle,” the woman said through the door, “my name is Connie Davidson. I’m a reporter with the
Star Free Press
. I’d like to talk to you.”

Ann slammed the bolts back and threw the door open. Did they have news of Hank? “What do you want?”

A photographer stepped out of the shadows and started snapping pictures of Ann. Instantly she threw her hands over her face. “Stop that. No pictures or I’ll close the door right now.”

The reporter waved the photographer away. “Do you mind if I come inside? I just want to ask you a few questions.”

“What kind of questions?” Ann said, eyeing the woman suspiciously.

“I…Mrs. Carlisle, I’d rather we talk inside, if you don’t mind.”

“My son isn’t feeling well. What’s this about?”

“We’ve been contacted by a Dr. Sawyer regarding your relationship with his son. Can I just ask you a few questions, get a statement?”

Ann felt as if a ball of cotton were stuck in her throat. She wasn’t going to give in to this, try to defend herself. Anything she said would only add fuel to the flames. “No,” she said. “Print whatever you want. If you slander my reputation, I’ll sue. I’m Jimmy Sawyer’s probation officer. There’s no other relationship.” Ann started to close the door, but the woman had stepped into the doorway.

“Is it true Sawyer saved your life because you were having an affair with him? Did you manufacture that story about severed fingers to get back at him? Is this the first time you’ve been involved with one of your probationers?”

Ann began determinedly pushing the door shut, squeezing the woman’s foot until she finally stepped back, allowing Ann to close it all the way. Then Ann leaned against the door and tried to catch her breath. Of all the things she needed right now…

“It’s not going to go away, you know,” the reporter called back through the door. “Don’t you want to give us your side of the story before we print it?”

“Get off my property,” Ann said, shaking.

Once she heard the woman’s footsteps receding, she walked down the hall, so distraught that she couldn’t see where she was going. “David,” she said, seeing the door to his room open.

The boy was sitting on the edge of the bed, just staring into space. His round face was drawn, and his eyes were filled with despair. He was no longer dressed in his best clothing. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. He had finally given up.