Redemption (51 page)

Jane pressed the FAST FORWARD button and sat back, her attention still on pump number eight. Five minutes later, she pushed the PLAY button. The sweet-faced kid appeared on the screen with a broom and dustpan. Jane observed her walk around each pump, sweeping discarded trash into the dustpan. The kid checked each pump, performing a quick visual maintenance. When she reached pump number eight, she checked inside the receipt receptacle and collected a leftover receipt, dropping it into the large, nearby trashcan. Another piece of the puzzle began to fall into place for Jane and she hit the FAST FORWARD button, keeping a rabid eye on the bottom right quadrant. Her deduction was played out as the tape sped forward to nearly midnight. Lou’s motorcycle rolled into the frame by pump number eight. The helmeted figure got off his motorcycle and did a visual scan of the vacant area before reaching into the receipt receptacle on pump number eight. Coming up
empty, he pulled out a small flashlight and aimed it into the trash can. He pulled out several soda cans before removing a curled, white piece of paper and placing it into his pocket.

“I got you, you sly son of a bitch,” Jane said under her breath. She ejected the tape, dropped it into her satchel, and walked out to the counter. The sound of Madonna singing “Hollywood. Hollywood. How could it hurt you when it looks so good?” played on the TV. “I need to take the tape with me as evidence,” Jane told the girl.

“You found something?” she said, turning away from the TV momentarily.

“Yeah. Thanks for your help.” Jane looked at the TV screen. Three women sang and strutted across the stage. “What’s that?”

The girl turned back to the TV. “It’s the best of the MTV Music Video Awards. This is the one from 2003 where Madonna kisses Britney! It’s coming up right here!”

Jane watched Madonna lean over and share a passionate kiss with Britney Spears. “Lovely,” Jane said derisively. “The other girl looks pissed she’s not getting a wet one.”

The girl smiled at Jane’s comment. “That’s Christina Aguilera.”

Jane started out the door when the name “Christina Aguilera” rang a bell. She turned back to the TV and watched as the camera flashed on Christina’s ass-high, skintight white shorts, pouting lips, and long, brunette locks. It was an image Jane placed in the back of her mind before leaving the store.

She flattened the road map across the hood of the Buick, tracing her fingers across the northbound stretch of Highway 41 where she had seen Lou turn the day before. The series of side roads, many unnamed, appeared to end abruptly and were less than two miles in distance. Some looked to be forest service roads that extended far into the mountainous topography. The only differentiating marker between the unidentified roads was a small body of water that curved gracefully within a valley that sat approximately three miles off of Highway 41. Jane folded the map
so that the section of nameless roads was prominent. She patted the hood of the Buick like a worried mother. “Let’s hope you’re strong enough to pull me up there,” Jane said, returning to the driver’s seat. She lit a cigarette and was heading out of the parking lot when her cell rang. It was Sergeant Weyler. “Boss!” Jane said, her voice rising in inflection, “I found out how the bastard accounted for his time! The Hummingbird receipts are a no-brainer’cause he works there. I’m headed north on Highway 41—”

“Jane, hold on! You told me to keep an eye out for a Mary Bartosh?”

Jane’s gut clenched. “Yeah. What about her?”

“I’ve been doing sporadic searches in the system on Mary Bartosh. I just got a hit on a Mary Rose Bartosh, age thirty-one, who was arrested last night traveling in a stolen car with $5,000 cash, heading south on Highway 5.” Jane recalled Ingrid’s posting on the Ministry Forum and her reference to “Mary Rose.” How many thirty-one-year-old Mary Rose Bartoshs could there be out there? “They’re holding her in at the Fresno PD.”

Jane’s head spun. “That’s a good two hours from where I am right now.”

“I can’t say how much longer she’s gonna be held there.”

Jane looked down at the map. She wished somebody could split her in half and send part of her up the highway and the other half down to Fresno. It didn’t make logical sense to drive all the way to Fresno with the clock ticking. And yet, there was something about Mary Bartosh that pried on Jane’s intuitive gut. “Call them and let them know Sergeant Perry will be down to talk to Mary by 1:30.”

CHAPTER 32

Jane peeled into the Fresno PD parking lot just shy of 1:30. Inside, an officer led her down a hallway and up a flight of stairs. She walked through a large, teal-green room that housed detectives. Jane noticed a black Labrador puppy tethered to a desk.

“You let detectives bring their dogs to work?” Jane asked the officer.

“No. He belongs to the gal you’re here to talk to.”

The puppy eagerly jumped in the air as Jane approached. She leaned down and scratched his chin as a long-ago memory suddenly flashed back.

“She’s in room two,” the officer stated. He escorted Jane into an adjacent observation room with a two-way mirror. A bluntshaped, dark-haired detective walked across the small room to shake Jane’s hand. “Sergeant Perry?” he asked.

It was going to take Jane awhile to get used to that moniker. “Yeah.” Jane turned to the two-way mirror and stared at the woman seated alone at the tiny metal table. Her long brown hair, narrow face, penetrating hazel eyes, and thin frame matched the girl in the photo. She may have been fourteen years older, but she still had the same irrepressible attitude that bled through the snapshot. Jane immediately liked her.

“She hasn’t got a record,” the detective declared. “She admits the car is in her boyfriend’s name but says she didn’t steal it; just took it to get away from him. Claims the five grand is hers. Said she was tired of his abuse and feared for her kid’s life.”

Jane’s interest sparked. “Her
kid
?”

“Yeah. A girl. She’s down the hall with an officer.”

Jane studied Mary’s face. Maybe she did leave home because of the baby. She’d be around fourteen. Dr. Bartosh had a granddaughter and didn’t even know it.

“Can I ask why you’re interested in this woman? Your jurisdiction is in Denver?”

Jane turned to the detective. “She’s a piece of a very complicated puzzle.” Jane noted Mary’s increasing edginess. “I’d like to talk to her privately.”

The detective shrugged. “I’ll take lunch,” he said, walking out of the room.

No sooner did Jane enter the interrogation room than Mary stood up. She was dressed in old jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a ratty sweater.

“Who the fuck are you?” Mary yelled with a nervous edge.

Jane extended her hand, undaunted. “Jane Perry.”

“Where’s my daughter?” Mary intolerantly asked, ignoring Jane’s gesture.

“She’s being well taken care of by an officer down the hall. Why don’t you have a seat?” Jane sat down across from Mary.

“I want my daughter!”
Mary stood defiantly, looking down at Jane.

“She’s okay,” Jane assured her.

“She’s too young to be alone! If you don’t bring her to me, I’m not saying a fuckin’ word to you!”

Mary was everything Jane thought she would be and more. “I’d rather she didn’t hear a lot of the stuff I need to ask you.”

Mary regarded Jane with a baffled look. “What are you talkin’ about? She won’t understand any of it! Stop fuckin’ around and bring her to me?”

It was Jane’s turn to look perplexed. Why wouldn’t a fourteen-year-old understand? “Okay,” Jane agreed, getting up. She asked a passing officer in the hallway if he could get Mary’s daughter. Returning to her seat, Jane pulled out her pack of cigarettes, offering one to Mary.

“I don’t smoke anymore,” she said with steel resolve. “Besides, there’s signs all over this place sayin’ you can’t smoke inside.”

Jane glanced at the no smoking sign on the wall. “Who pays attention to signs?” she said with a shrug, knocking a cigarette out of the pack for herself.

“I do!”

For a moment, it was unclear which one of these women was in law enforcement. Jane slid the cigarette back into the pack. She noticed a tattoo of two words burned across Mary’s right wrist. “Carpe Diem?”

“What about it?” Mary retorted with an angry edge.

“Seize the day. It’s not your typical tattoo.”

“Right. White trash like me should have a fuckin’ tat of a black widow spider or a red rose next to my pierced nipples. Is that what you’re sayin’?”

The door opened. Jane turned to see the officer carrying in a baby no more than nine months old. “Here you go, ma’am.”

Mary melted into a flood of tears as she quickly got up and cradled her daughter. “Oh, Christina! Mommy was so worried about you!” She sat down, offering her index finger to the girl, who happily sucked on it.

Jane sat dumbfounded. “Wait a second. Is that your only kid?”

“Yes,” Mary replied. “What’s it to you?”

“Your name is Mary Rose Bartosh. You’re thirty-one. Your father’s name is Dr. John Bartosh and your mother’s name is Ingrid. You grew up in Big Sur, California, and beat feet out of town fourteen years ago.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Mary replied evasively.

Jane opened her satchel and whipped out the photograph of Mary taken at Pico Blanco. Slapping the photo on the table, Jane pointed to the lanky girl at the edge of the photo.
“Is that you?”
Jane asked with an intimidating tone.

An emotional paralysis took over Mary as she fixated on the photo. “Where did you get that?” she whispered.

“It was tacked up on a photo board in your parents’ house.”

“What’s goin’ on here?” Mary said with trepidation. “I thought I was in here ’cause they think I was driving a stolen car...
which I wasn’t
—” Mary suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. “Shit! Are they gonna walk through that door?”

“They’re not outside,” Jane said. “They’re sitting in Grand Junction as we speak.”

“Colorado?”
Mary asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Got a new Lamb of God Congregation going there.”

Mary was visibly staggered. “My mother hates snow.” She let the information settle. “How long have they been there?”

“I’m not sure. Couple years.” Mary continued to try to make sense of what she had just heard. “You want to know how they’re doing?” Mary shrugged. “Your father’s still the same old religious blowhard. Age hasn’t slowed him down. Your mother’s still sweet, dutiful, caring—”

“Weak,” Mary quietly interjected.

“She misses you terribly. She thinks that you call the house and stay on the line without saying anything before hanging up.”

“I’ve never called,” Mary honestly replied softly.

“It makes her feel good to think you do. It makes her feel good to think you’re trying to get in contact with them, even on the Internet.”

“I don’t have a computer.” Mary pulled herself together. “Look, am I bein’ arrested ’cause my boyfriend reported the car stolen? ’Cause that’s all bullshit. I work more than that asshole does. My waitress money paid for that car. I just went along and didn’t put my name on the registration. I should have, but old patterns die hard.”

“Old patterns of doing what you’re told?”

Mary stared at Jane as if she were psychic. “Yeah. But I’m workin’ to change all that! That’s why I got this tat!” Mary held up her right wrist. “I wanted to always remember to seize the day! I bought some Tony Robbins tapes when I was pregnant. They’re all about awakenin’ the giant within yourself. I quit smokin’ cold turkey. Decided I didn’t want a cigarette havin’ that kind of control
over me.” Mary started to choke up. “It probably sounds corny to someone like you who’s got her shit together. But it worked. I got my courage up. I started sneakin’ my tip money away in a jar. That bastard wasn’t gonna beat on me any longer, and he sure as hell wasn’t gonna touch Christina! I knew I needed five grand to make it on my own. Once I had the money, I split. I swear that’s the truth! I may be white trash to you, but I wasn’t raised to steal!”

“Mary, I don’t think you’re white trash. I think you’re one of the most resilient people I’ve ever met. And I know you weren’t raised to steal. You were raised in a place that couldn’t hold you. And the tighter they tried to shove you in their Godly box, the harder you kicked until you finally said ‘Enough’ and left.”

Mary’s mind drifted. “It was a little more complicated than that—”

“You got pregnant.”

Mary looked at Jane in shock. “Fuck! How did you know that?”

“Your mother told me she found a positive home pregnancy test in the trash.”

Mary’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my God! She
knew
?” Mary sat back, shaking her head.
“Oh my God....”

“What happened to the baby?” Jane asked with uncommon restraint.

Mary rocked Christina, her mind traveling to dark places. She shifted her eyes away from Jane with a shameful gaze. “This is my worst fucking nightmare.”

“You got pregnant. Everybody makes mistakes when they’re younger.”

“It wasn’t
my
mistake!” Mary recoiled, taking a moment to sort through her thoughts. “Look, part of taking back my power is not allowing my past to dictate my future.”

“It looks like your past is still affecting how you operate. You can empower yourself all you want. But I think whatever happened back then still drives you.”

“There’s no point in rehashing it—”

“You can’t pretend away your past.”

Mary dissolved into tears. “I always get stuck at this point. It’s so...
hard
, you know?” She looked at Jane like a terrified child.

Jane dropped the cop attitude. “Yeah. I
do
know.”

Mary began to shake. “I’ve never told anybody what happened. I couldn’t. I called a cop once. But I was
so
scared. I told him about these two girls who got raped, but he wanted me to come down to the station and write it out. I told him to fuck himself and hung up.”