Transience (37 page)

Another sign read:
 

Sponsored by Monroe College for the Arts.
 

He moved to the last room, there was daylight coming through a window.
 
He looked out and spotted the patrol car he'd ordered pulling up.

He could see the fruit stand from here.
 
"The fruits of our labors," he whispered.
 
He could also see the water tower far in the distance on the hill, the words
Find Jesus
clearly legible.

"Find Jesus…"
 

Then a strange rattling noise spun him around again.
 
Mice?
 
Rats?
 

The light from outside reflected off a large metal cage, the kind very big dogs are kept in.
 
Jack inched closer, there was something
moving
inside.
 
He could hear whatever it was…
breathing
.
 
Jack shined his tiny flashlight.

It was a young girl!
 
Naked, hunched over, the cage not much bigger than her body.
 
Her hair was black, her skin bruised, bloody.
 
Underneath the elevated cage was a bucket for human waste.
 

"My name's Detective Jack Ridge, can you speak?"
 
The girl turned her bruised and battered face towards him.
 
It was the face he'd been agonizing over for months.
 
It was Angelina.
 
She was alive!
 

"Christ."
 
Jack searched for a way to pry her cage open, something to smash the lock.
 
He could hear the officer walking across the ceiling upstairs.

"Detective Ridge?" the officer called out.

"Down here!
 
Call an ambulance!"

CHAPTER 67

The top of Laura's head had struck the sharp corner of the kitchen counter before smashing onto the linoleum floor.
 
She was out cold, a small puddle of blood pooled under her hair.

Rebecca collapsed beside her mother.
 
"Mommy!
 
Wake up!"
 
Rebecca shook Laura, trying to rouse her.
 
Michael kicked Rebecca onto her backside.
 
He reached for her, but she pushed off with her legs, sliding across the floor until her back was up against the wall.
 
Michael stepped forward, bent over, and callously slapped her hard across the face.
 

Rebecca's cheek stung, the shock of the blow left a loud ringing in her ears, making her dizzy.
 
She'd never been struck by an adult before. Her entire life, her mother had never once laid a hand on her. Laura had made a vow never to strike her children during a particularly vicious beating doled out by her father when she was 15.
 
One night he'd come home drunk after losing big at a poker game.
 
She was in view and he needed to vent.
 
Laura lost a tooth in the attack, and kept it as a reminder.
 
She would never hurt her own child.
 
Ever.

Rebecca clutched the side of her face, but fear overshadowed the pain.
 
The man from her nightmares was standing over her, his breath real, as was the back of his hand.
 

Michael kicked open the side door and went outside.
 
Rebecca felt a huge wave of relief — the evil was gone.
 
But in the time it took her to slowly roll onto her side and wipe her eyes, he was back.
 
Kicking the screen door open again, nearly taking it off its hinges, he stomped into the kitchen carrying a duffel bag.
 

"Do you love your mother?" he asked.
 
Rebecca squirmed.
 
He grabbed her by the hair viciously.
 
"Sweet girl, why do you look so confused?
 
You seemed so certain just a few moments ago."
 

Rebecca blinked, she felt her insides knotting up in fear.
 
"Okay, I'll ask again, do you love your mother?"
 
Rebecca shook.
 
He tugged at her hair like reigns on a horse, but spoke calmly.
 
"Answer me."
 

"Yes."
 

"Of course you do.
 
Now, tell me, and don't lie,
because if you do you won't like the bad things I do to Mommy.
 
Understand?"

She nodded hard and fast.

"Good."
 
He opened his fist, releasing his grip on her hair.
 
It fell back onto her head and spread across her face.
 
He gently brushed it from her eyes and lifted her chin.
 
Tiny tears rolled down onto his fingertips.

"Tell me, who else lives here?"
 
Rebecca's eyes darted back and forth.

"Just us."

"Who's us?"

"My mother and me."
 

Michael leaned in close to her face.
 
"What did I tell you about lying to me?"
 
The calmness in his voice stood her hair on end with terror.
 
"We're both artists.
 
We both pay very close attention to detail, don't we?
 
When I arrived, I noticed a photo — of you, Mommy, and I'm guessing… Daddy?
 
Where is Daddy?"

"I…I don't know," Rebecca cried, closing her eyes, awaiting the worst.

"You don't know?"

"He left, moved away.
 
I don't know where he went.
 
We don't know, I swear."
 

Michael released her chin, letting her head droop.
 
Her body shivered like she was naked in snow.
 
He sat back and stared at her with pity.
 

"Jeez, I think that's the saddest thing I've ever heard.
 
I believe you, darling."
 
Rebecca exhaled, she had been holding her breath the entire conversation.
 
"Now, I'm going to make sure Mommy doesn't do anything stupid."
 

He reached for her again.
 
She turned her face inward, tucking it into her shoulder like a bird cleaning its feathers.
 
"The only danger would be if you tried to run while I'm making sure Mommy is secure.
 
Do I have your word?
 
Because it sounds like Daddy was a real jerk — he'd have to be to leave two beautiful ladies like you behind.
 
And I don't want to have to do anything that would leave you all alone to fend for yourself in this cruel world."
 

He waited.
 
Rebecca didn't look, but she nodded into her shoulder, whimpering.

"Good girl."

CHAPTER 68

Several EMT's wheeled Angelina on a stretcher to the back of a waiting ambulance.
 
The elderly woman stood in the doorway on her walker, looking confused as all hell.
 
An officer spoke with her, making about as much progress as Jack had earlier.
 
The EMT's carefully collapsed Angelina's stretcher and guided it in.
 
One man sat beside her, holding up an IV.
 

Jack was on his cell phone, listening to the dial tone for the fifth time.
 
"Shit.
 
Pick up Laura…"
 
Jack hung up and looked into the back of the ambulance.

"Is she going to be alright?"

"She's dehydrated, her pulse is weak but her vitals are stable.
 
She's gonna be fine, we'll take care of her."

Jack saluted the man and rushed to his car, still running.
 
He threw it into gear and sped off, racing back to the main road, taking the turns way too fast.
 

He slalomed around other cars as if they were standing still.
 
His car drifted up onto the shoulder doing 90mph, his tires churning mud and rocks into the air.
 

Maybe Laura took Rebecca out somewhere.
 
Maybe the meeting was cancelled.
 
An overwhelming feeling of dread washed over him.
 

His cell phone rang.
 
Please, please
…
 

"Laura?"

"Jack, it's Jennifer.
 
I just got off the phone with Northville Psychiatric Hospital.
 
They're claiming Bishop was a patient there from June to October of 2009."

"Yes, I know-"

"Well, according to the report you brought back from Ann Arbor, Lisa Delgado was murdered in August 2009.
 
So there's no way Bishop could have committed that crime."

"I know he couldn't."

"How?"

"Because I found her."

"Who?"

"Angelina.
 
She's alive."

"Oh my God.
 
How did you-"

"No time to explain- tell Harrington to call off the search."

Jack checked oncoming traffic, accelerated around a large truck in his way, then swerved back into the lane.
 

"I don't get it, why would Bishop lie?"

"Linking himself to a pattern of homicides makes it easier for him to plead insanity."

"Where are you?"

"I know who he is, his name is Michael Ketcher, he's a professor at Monroe College for the Arts.
 
Carmen was his student!
 
That's why he was so careful to bury the body.
 
It was too close to home."

"Jesus."

"Send whoever's available to 31 Cedar Road.
 
I'm on my way there now."

"Okay, but-"
 

"Just get everyone there as fast as you can.
 
And call Carl, he's at the arraignment.
 
Tell him the good news; they're bringing her in right now.
 
Tell him… she's gonna be okay."
 

"Be careful, Jack.
 
Wait for backup."

Jack hung up and pushed the accelerator to the floor.
 
He dialed Laura's number again.

"Please, Laura, pick up…"

CHAPTER 69

Michael reached across the countertop and grabbed the ringing phone, ripping the cord from the wall.
 
He smashed the receiver on the ground and kicked it across the floor.

It had taken him less than a minute to bind and gag Laura where she lay.
 
He used the same framing wire he'd taken from the art classroom.
 
It hurt, and it didn't give.
 
Laura's eyes remained closed, her breathing was short and slow.
 

Rebecca hadn't moved the entire time, she sat wedged in the corner, her hands over her ears.
 
She hoped this was just another nightmare, that any minute she'd wake up in her bedroom.
 
The dream started off wonderful, especially the bike.
 
But now she wanted it to end
,
this was the worst one ever
.

He stared down at Laura, satisfied with the job he'd done.
 
She rolled onto her back, her eyes flickered.

Laura moaned through her gag, then suddenly — as if the blow to the head had merely hit the pause button — she came to with a jolt, picking up right where she'd left off.
 
Her head lurched forward and snapped back.
 
She quickly realized she was immobile; she screamed through her gag with an awful, muffled cry that vibrated the walls.
 
Rebecca covered her face and wept.
 

Laura saw Rebecca coiled up in the corner and her eyes went wide.
 
She lost all sense of self and started rolling back and forth, squealing, desperate.
 
She pulled with all her strength, but Michael had wrapped her bindings too tight to even wriggle.
 
She could feel blood running down her hair and into her ear.
 
She fought, like a weightlifter who had reached fatigue, trying to summon that last ounce of strength for one more rep.
 
She lurched and spasmed several times, much to Michael's amusement.

"Go ahead, I could teach a class on that.
 
You're not going anywhere."
 

Laura stopped, exhausted.
 
She struggled to get air through her clogged nose, her nostrils puffed in and out like gills on a fish.
 
Blood started to seep into her eyes, it stung.
 

Michael heard a voice coming from the den.
 
He entered the room, the TV was still on, a reporter at Bishop's arraignment was speaking:

"With the apprehension of Edward Bishop, the public can finally exhale, knowing a killer who has had this community on edge is no longer roaming the streets."
 

Michael watched with a smug expression.

CHAPTER 70

Carl sat at the back of the courtroom as Bishop stood before the judge.
 
The room was wall to wall with onlookers, many of them recognized Carl from interviews he'd done on TV.
 
And as the charges were read aloud to the judge, everyone turned to gawk at Carl's reaction.

"Of the rape and murder of Teresa Mason, how do you plead?"

Bishop's lawyer held up his hand to keep his client from answering, but there wasn't much chance Bishop would break his silence.
 
His lawyer's theatrics were all for the cameras, he'd hit the 15 minute celebrity jackpot and would be checking his reflection for hairs out of place for the next two years.

"My client pleads not guilty by reason of insanity."

"And of the charge of rape and murder of Angelina Rosa, how do you plead?"