The Trophy Exchange (19 page)

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Authors: Diane Fanning

Tags: #Fiction, #Mystery & Detective, #General

BOOK: The Trophy Exchange
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If Rose had killed him that night, no one would have blamed her. If I had gone downstairs when he arrived maybe Mom would not have died.
Logic could not cleanse the sense of responsibility from her soul. If only
. . .

 

Twenty

 

In Baltimore, Lieutenant Kowalski escorted Lucinda to an observation room. Lucinda stepped in to watch in anonymity as Julie Wagner sat slumped in a chair in the neighboring room. Long, dark hair hung forward obscuring her face. Folded hands rested on the table in front of her. And she sighed. Long, deep, wrenching sighs that whispered through the speakers like the mournful howl of a
distant
wolf. She

s not your mother, Lucinda told herself.

Lucinda opened the door and entered the interrogation room. Julie did not demonstrate any awareness of her presence. Lucinda pulled up a wooden chair on the opposite side scraping the legs noisily across the floor.

Still no response from the forlorn suspect.


Julie?

Lucinda said.

The suspect

s shoulders rose and fell as she issued another ponderous sigh.


Julie
,
can you look at me?

No response at all.


Julie, can you talk to me?

Another sigh.

Lucinda pulled out her identification and slid it across the table to the spot where she thought would be in the field of vision of Julie

s downcast eyes.

I

m Lieutenant Pierce. And I

d like to take you back home.

Still nothing.


Julie, I spoke to your mother.

Julie

s head shot up. Her eyes scanned around Lucinda

s face with rapid movements.


Your mother showed me the pictures, Julie.

The young woman threw back her head and wailed.

I

m so sorry, Mom. I

m so sorry.

Her head bobbed forward as if the bones in her neck had melted and her whole body shook with sobs. The plaintiveness of her cries made Lucinda

s gut tense and ach
e
.

Lucinda sat still for a few minutes allowing Julie full rein to express her anguish. When she seemed to weary

when her sobs turned into hiccups

Lucinda reached one hand across the table and stroked the young woman

s h
ead
.

Julie, talk to me. Tell me what happened.

Julie raised her head and looked straight at Lucinda. She started as she noticed the damage to Lucinda

s face for the first time.

Did your husband do that?

she asked.


No,

Lucinda said.


Oh.

Julie

s head hung down again.


Someone else

s husband did it, Julie. He was trying to shoot his wife and I got in the way.

Julie brought her head up again.

You saved her life?

Lucinda shrugged.

Maybe.


I bet you did.

Julie looked into Lucinda

s good eye and held her gaze for a moment. She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered,

Ohmigod.


Tell me, Julie. Tell me what happened.

Julie sucked in a deep breath, opened her eyes and pushed the hair away from her face revealing the yellowish remains of a once-blackened eye and a brutally bruised cheekbone.

He hit me a lot. He slapped me, punched me, shoved me and sometimes, he kicked me.

Lucinda nodded.

I

ve seen the pictures, Julie.


Every time
,
he said he was sorry. He brought me flowers, books, CDs, sometimes a new pair of earrings or a necklace. He begged me not to make him so angry. And I tried. I swear to God, I tried.

Julie
’s
sobbing resumed.

Lucinda reached out and touched the back of Julie

s hand.

Was something different this time, Julie?


Yes,

she said.

This time he had a gun.

She shuddered.


Then what happened, Julie?


He held it to my head. And marched me upstairs.


And what did he do then, Julie?


He ordered me to strip.

With stumbling words, in bits and pieces, she spewed out the tale of her last few weeks of life with her husband Terry Wagner.

 

In the bedroom, she removed her clothing
as dictated by
the point of Terry

s gun.

Now, that

s more like it,

Terry said looking her over
from
head to toe. He waved the barrel of his gun in the air.

Go to your nightstand and open the top drawer. Take out your birth control pills.

She pulled them out and looked at him.


Now
,
come here,

he said and shoved her when she complied.

Into the bathroom.

There he made her push each pill through the foil and into the toilet. He flushed it with his foot.

Back to the bedroom,

he ordered.

L
ie
flat on the bed.

She complied shaking with fear. She thought as soon as she stretched out, he would raise his gun and put a bullet in her head.

Instead, he said,

Spread your legs, baby.

He took off his pants
,
c
limbed on top of her and held the muzzle of
the
gun flat against the side of her head. As he raped her, she could not take her eyes off the barrel. His finger was on the trigger. An orgasm would make his muscles tense. That tension could make him pull the trigger and shoot her dead.

When he let out his moan of satisfaction and his body shuddered on top of hers, she heard the click of the trigger. She cringed in anticipation of the bullet going through her brain. He looked down at her and saw her face squeezed tight in fright. He laughed out loud and as he laughed, he rolled off her body and on
to the floor.

Damn woman,

he said, rising to his feet.

I forgot to load the gun. Whaddya know about that?

He picked up his pants, reached into the pocket and pulled out a handful of bullets. He slid them one by one into the revolver

s barrel.

Loaded now, baby. So, don

t you leave that bed.

He reached into his closet and pulled out an armload of hangers bearing his clothing and transferred them down to the guest bedroom. After four trips, his closet in the master bedroom was bare. He emptied his drawers in the dresser and moved all those items down the hall, too. Next, he went into the master bath and returned with his razor, toothbrush and assorted toiletries. He smiled at Julie as he walked by the bed. He put those items in the
guest
bathroom off the hall.


Well, that

s done, baby,

he said. He put the muzzle of the gun against her temple.

I have to go downstairs, now. Don

t you move.

She didn

t move

she barely even breathed

until she heard his footsteps fade away. She jumped to her feet, pulled on her robe and grabbed the
door
knob. It was locked. She rushed to the window and unfastened the latch. Her face turned red with strain as she pushed up on the sash. No one had raised that window in a long time. At last, it yielded to the pressure of Julie

s tugs and started its slide upward.

The bedroom door flew open slamming into the wall. In seconds, Terry was on her. One hand grabbed a hank of her hair and jerked her back. The other hand pushed down the window and flipped the latch.

Who told you you could open that window?

He knocked her to the floor.

Stand up, bitch. Take off the robe.

As she did he jerked it from her hands and ripped it into pieces. He sneered as he scanned her body from head to toe.

I

m sick of looking at your scrawny body. Get in bed and get under the covers.

With relief she slid under the sheets. He dragged boxes from the hallway to the bedroom and filled three of them with the clothing from her closet. He emptied out her dresser drawers in two other boxes. He dumped her shoes in a sixth box. He pushed them all out to the hall. He came into the room and stood over her.

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