If It Walks Like A Killer (The Carolina Killer Files #1) (22 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Rachael

Rachael awoke for the third time that morning to the sounds of her cellmate snoring. Abby Baker was a hard and deep sleeper who didn’t seem the least bit phased by the lumpy mattresses in their cell. In the weeks since they’d met Rachael hadn’t spoken more than a few words to her new cellmate. She rolled over and slowly climbed out of bed, attempting to be quiet though her century old bed made that an impossible feat. She walked softly over toward the toilet, pulling her pants down and edging her bottom onto the ice cold seat.

Her toes ached from the cold concrete, despite the two pairs of socks they’d allowed her to wear.

“You cold or something?”

Rachael glanced over at the bunk where Abby stared at her sleepily. “Freezing.” She self-consciously slid her pants back up, avoiding eye contact.

Abby, apparently oblivious to any awkwardness, stretched in her bed. “You get used to it after a while. Sucks that your first time’s in the winter, but then again, you’d hate summer too. You sweat a few pounds off a day here in July.” She eyed Rachael. “Then again, maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing for you.” Her gaze rested on the pudge around Rachael’s gut.

What is it about prison that makes people forget any sort of manners?

Rachael looked down, tugging at her orange jumpsuit.

“So, what’d you do before this?”

“Huh?”

“Like for work. Did you have a job?”

“Oh, I taught dance. I own a studio downtown.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, it takes up a fair share of my time. I’m a mother too, so that takes up the rest.”

“My mom stayed home with me when I was young, it was nice.”

Rachael nodded, imagining what kind of home life this poor girl could’ve suffered from.

“What about your mom?”

“I never knew my mom,” Rachael told her. It never got easier to say that.

“Oh. What about your dad then?”

“My dad worked for the port here in La Rue. He passed away too though, a few years ago.”

“That sucks.” Abby looked truly sorry. Beneath her rugged exterior, the graying black hair, the scar that ran from her eyebrow to just below her nose, and her slightly wrinkled face, Rachael saw a softness in her eyes. She must’ve been no older than forty, but the woman had known sorrow. She climbed down off of her bunk and crept toward the toilet. Rachael sat on the concrete floor despite the cold, and avoided looking her way.

“You don’t have to look so uncomfortable. I have kids. I’m used to people watching me, don’t worry.”

Rachael nodded, turning her head slightly but still avoiding looking in that direction.

“So what do you do?”

“Don’t do much now. I was a teacher for over a decade, taught third grade.” She grabbed a wad of toilet paper off the wall.

“You were a teacher?” Rachael couldn’t hide the shock in her voice.

“Don’t act so surprised. Both my parents were teachers. My dad taught high school chemistry, mom taught kindergarten. I guess you could call it our family business. Only my brother took a different path, he’s a pharmacist.”

Rachael’s confusion welled inside of her.

“Where are they now?”

“Still working. My dad’s getting ready to retire. We try and tell Mom her class is too much, but she loves those kids so much. It just does no good. My brother lives in Tennessee, had a wife and a little girl named Kaitie.” Abby stood up from the toilet, pulling up her pants and walked to sit on her bed. “You can sit up here, you know. I’m not going to bite.”

“I’m okay.”

Abby shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“What about your kids?”

“I have two little boys, Malakye and Cody. Sweet boys. They’re seven and eleven.”

“I’ve got two also. Brinley’s eight and Davis is two.”

Abby laughed. “Those two-year-olds, I tell you what, terrible twos? They sure got that right, didn’t they?”

Rachael giggled. “I know it. I don’t remember Brinley being as bad as Davis either.”

“The first ones never are. I think it’s because there’s only one at that time. They say it gets worse with each one.”

When Rachael pictured a hardened criminal, Abby might’ve had the physical appearance of one but talking to her was as easy as talking to a friend. She hated herself for feeling so judgmental, but couldn’t wrap her mind around the entire scenario.

“Alright. Quit staring at me like I have three heads or something,” Abby said firmly, a slight smile on her face.

“You’re just different than I expected, I’m sorry. I mean how many times have you been in here?”

“Total? Oh gosh.” She laughed. “I think this is my sixth time. I’ve nearly lost count.”

“Wow,” Rachael said, “You just act so casual about it.”

“What? You think all criminals just sit around spitting and snorting and stabbing things? You think we only talk about drugs or robberies or our latest kill?”

“No, of course not. This is all just new to me. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you.”

“Girl, you need to chill.” Abby slapped her knee from laughter. “I ain’t mad. You first timers are all so nervous. It’s cute. Look, just because I’m a criminal don’t mean you can judge me anymore than anyone else. I’ve seen thieves go back to pay for what the cashier missed, I’ve seen dealers playing board games with their kids, and I’ve seen murderers in the front pews on Sunday morning. What you need to realize is that what we’ve done, that’s all it is. It’s what we’ve
done
, not who we are. We do bad things, but so do all the rest of them out there. Everyone breaks the law sometime or another, we’re just the ones who get caught. Bottom line, ain’t a soul out there knows anyone’s situation but their own. You don’t even know your best friend. Things go wrong, situations go south. We all just deal with it the best we know how.”

Rachael blushed. “I get it. Bad things happen to good people.”

“Nah.” Abby shook her head. “You don’t get it. Bad things don’t happen to good people and bad things don’t happen to bad people. Bad things happen to people. Good things happen to people. Period. End of story. There are no good or bad people. There are just people. Just six billion people. And at the end of the day we’re all just trying to get by. Things happen: horrible, disgusting things and beautiful, amazing things. No one’s life is just one thing, good or bad. We all just take whatever happens and deal with it and then we go from there. That’s it. You can’t live your life looking at everything as good or bad, black or white. Nothing works like that, sure as hell not life.”

Rachael nodded. “So what did you do then?”

“That’s a long story, for another time.” She looked at her wrist, though it contained no watch. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be anyway?”

Rachael looked toward the window where sunlight had crept in without her really noticing. She stood up, walking toward her cell door and pressing the call button.

“I suppose you’re right.” She smiled at Abby, who leaned back against the concrete wall and smiled back.

***

Hampton

Hampton walked into the county jail. Three officers sat around their desks, rubbing sleep from their eyes and shooting their morning coffee like it contained alcohol.

“Morning, Hampton.”

“Morning, Dawson.” Hampton waved casually. “She ready?”

Dawson Stanelle looked at his watch. “Dennis went to get her a few minutes ago. They should be out soon. Grab a cup of coffee while you wait.”

“Thanks.” He walked over to the coffee pot and poured a paper cup full. Coffee was going to be his best friend this morning, after a long night of going over the evidence again. Suddenly, a loud buzzing rang through the halls. A prisoner was being escorted out. All eyes turned toward the door.

Beep, beep.
Hampton’s phone chimed in his pocket, alerting him to a text message. Before he was able to see Rachael he pulled his phone out and snuck a glance at the screen.

J. Avery…what could she want?
He flipped his screen opened and quickly read.

Avery:
Have you watched the news today?

He hadn’t watched the news, in fact, because he had spent the last twelve hours tirelessly flipping through every file he had on the case.

Hampton: What did you do?

He typed his response quickly, his gut filling with dread. The door to the hall opened and he shoved his phone into his jacket pocket. Rachael walked out of the hallway, a small smirk on her face directed toward him.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi.” He smiled, hoping he’d wiped the worry from his face.

Stanelle grabbed Rachael’s cuffs from Dennis, he gently nudged her forward, toward the door. Hampton jumped in front of her, holding the door open. He walked quickly to his black BMV and opened the passenger door.

“Be safe.” Stanelle nodded toward Hampton formally.

“Thanks,” Hampton replied, sliding into his car.

He’d pulled out of the station before Rachael spoke up. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“You seem different today.”

The woman was good. “I’m tired. I was up all night.”

“Oh?”

“Nothing yet, but if there’s something to be found I’ll find it.”

“I know. I trust you. I just feel like we’re running out of time.”

“Don’t stress over it. I know that’s impossible for you, but just relax and let us handle it. Seriously.”

“Relaxing is not something I’m good at.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Rachael laughed. “Hey, have you talked to Caide or my kids? They haven’t come by and they aren’t taking my calls. Are they okay?”

He attempted to smile at her. “What did I just tell you? Stop worrying. They’re fine.”

“So you’ve heard from them?”

“I talked to your husband after the trial. Just once.”

“What did he say? Did you tell him the kids could come to see me?”

“I did. He’s just been really busy. I’m sure it isn’t easy without you.”

Rachael nodded. “I just miss them.”

“You’ll see them again, Rachael.”

She nodded, though her mind was clearly already elsewhere.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Shayna

Shayna’s door crept open.

“Miss Steele,” Kortnee said quietly, “Mrs. Abbott is here.”

Shayna glanced at her watch. “Oh, of course. Send her in.”

Kortnee stepped back, allowing Rachael to walk in the door.

“Rachael. Good morning, how are you?”

“I’m okay, thank you, how are you?”

“I’m well, thank you. Would you excuse me for just a second?” She sat her mug down on the coffee table and rushed out of the office. “Hampton!” she yelled, watching him walk out the door.

A startled Kortnee jumped at her outburst. Shayna smiled apologetically before hurrying out the door behind him. “Hey.”

He stopped, turning around to face her. “Yeah?”

She panted heavily, catching up to him. “Have you seen the news today?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

“You need to watch it. Before you pick her up.” Her voice was firm, her eyes locked with his.

“Why?”

“Trust me,” she said, turning to walk back toward the door.

“What station?”

“All of them,” she called over her shoulder before walking in her lobby and shutting the door behind her.

“Is everything all right?” Rachael asked as Shayna made her way back into the room.

“Everything’s fine. I just needed to speak with Hampton for a second. So, now since our first two weeks are nearly over I’d like to get into a few more relevant topics. You’ve told me how you and Caide came to be married, tell me more about your marriage.”

She took a breath, tapping her fingers on the arm of the couch. “My husband is a great partner. He really is. Despite our imperfect beginning, I do love my husband and he does love me. Getting married young, it means we’ve been through it all together. We’ve been poor and well-off, we’ve had wrecks, we’ve graduated, bought cars, built a home—I watched him become a father. We’ve struggled and celebrated and every moment of that has been together. I didn’t plan for my life to have gone the way it has, but despite the obvious flaws I wouldn’t trade it. Caide gave me my two greatest blessings, so even if I go to jail, even if he cheats on me until I die, I’ll always love him for that. Sure, we’ve fought. We’ve been young and headstrong and stubborn, but we’ve also been really, insanely happy.”

“What is your favorite thing about your husband?”

“Seeing him with our kids. He really is such a good dad. Even though Caide misses a lot, when he’s there he’s really great. Our kids adore their father.”

“Rachael, I notice when you talk about your parents love: how inspiring it was, how it influenced you, you talk about how they loved each other, how their love never died. It’s interesting to me that when you mention love, despite never knowing your mother, you talk about how they loved each other yet, when you discuss your marriage, your love, you only mention how good he is to your kids. How great of a dad he is. How happy he makes you when you’re with the kids. Why do you think that is?”

She spoke immediately. “My kids come first. My children are everything to me. I’m happiest when they’re happy.”

“So you don’t have any expectations from your husband as far as simply being your husband?”

Rachael frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it. We’ve always had the kids. They’re always there. I don’t think about Caide and I without them.”

“Don’t you ever have date nights?”

“We don’t have family to watch the kids. We have a babysitter, but she’s there so often as it is, I try not to use her unless it’s necessary.”

“Rachael, when is that last time you and your husband were intimate?”

Rachael blushed, pressing her fingers to her lips.

“Don’t be embarrassed.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“What is it?”

She was quiet, looking down. When she finally looked back up, she met Shayna’s eyes with shame. “I can’t even remember. We’ve only recently gotten Davis into his own bed at night and he usually comes home long after I’m asleep.”

“A rough estimate will be fine.”

“Maybe when I was pregnant with Davis? Two years ago? I can’t remember any time after that.” She trailed off.

Do not make a face. Do not make a face.

“I see.”

“I know that’s bad. We stay so busy. Our kids have school and dance and doctors and Caide has work and I have recitals and school projects for Brinley. There’s just no time. We forget.”

I’ll bet Caide doesn’t forget.

“Rachael, I need you to be honest with me. I know you are a good mother. I see that. I trust that. I need to know if you’re a good wife.”

A nerve had been struck, it was written all over her face. She didn’t speak at first, staring at her hands. Finally, she looked up. “I was there. I was there when no one else was. I was there when his family dropped him and he had no one else. When all of our savings were spent and we were splitting cans of soup for supper, when he had the flu and I had two sick children on my hips, when he leaves something at home that he needs for court and I have to drop whatever I’m doing and drive an hour away to bring it to him, I’m the one who’s there. I’m the one who wakes up at four in the morning to bake him a birthday cake or iron his pants. A wife is supposed to be a partner. I may not have always had my legs waxed or my hair done or been awake at midnight when he drags in dog tired or drunk just waiting to be had; usually I’m passed out, covered in snot and wearing whatever I woke up in. I may not have been the greatest lover or the best housekeeper, but I was a damn good wife.” Rachael breathed heavily as if merely talking about her life exhausted her.

“Okay.”

She heard a sniffle.

“You know, I didn’t deserve this. Not any of this. I’ve been good to him and faithful to him. I’ve taken care of our house and our kids. Then I get to be told that my husband is cheating on me in front of a crowd of people just waiting to judge me. I get to sit and watch him cheat on tape, and I don’t get to act mad or yell at him like a normal wife. I have to hold my composure because people are watching, waiting for me to lash out. I had my heart ripped out and stomped on in front of fifty people, all of whom I’ve never met. I didn’t even get to grieve because all I get to think about is the next question or next witness, the next piece of evidence. Do you have any idea how that feels?”

“Tell me how it feels,” Shayna urged her.

“It feels terrible. I feel helpless and pitiful and alone and worried about my kids and scared to go to jail and pissed off at Caide and pissed off that no one believes me and pissed off because I have no idea what’s going on inside my own head. It’s like my own body is betraying me. I’m just so exhausted all the time.” She stopped, her sobbing preventing her from talking anymore.

Shayna was quiet, feeling unsure of where to go from here. Rachael’s cries were so genuine she felt as if it were only logical to console her. She knew, however, it was ill-advised. Through great sorrow comes truth and Shayna knew this was as close to a breakthrough as she’d ever come with Rachael. Now was the time to push.

“Rachael, how do you feel about Blaire? Knowing what you know?”

She wiped her eyes, grabbing a tissue and trying to catch her breath. “Up until now, Blaire was always just some sweet girl in Caide’s office. He never mentioned her and I never honestly gave her much thought. I always insisted he buy her a Christmas present like he did for the rest of his office, but other than that she never crossed my mind. Now, if I’m being honest, I hate her dead as much as I would have alive. Audrey gave me too much credit. I wouldn’t have forgiven her. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m sorry about what happened to her, it’s terrible and no one should die like that. She was young and she probably had a lot left to do with her life. But that’ll never change what she did. I’ll never be able to un-see my husband sliding up her skirt.” She looked into Shayna’s eyes, hurt filling her face. “She knew me, Shayna. She was nice to me. She wasn’t some unsuspecting girl my husband pulled one over on. She knew he was married, and no matter what good she’s done, no matter how horrible her death, there is a lump of hate in my heart for her and I don’t know if that will ever go away.”

Shayna pressed her lips together. “Rachael did you know your husband was cheating on you? Or that he ever had?”

Rachael swallowed, her eyes slid to the left. “No,” she said simply.

That was the first lie.