Unhinged, page 8
No shouts. No sound of pursuit. For the moment, she went unnoticed.
She glanced around, her eyes moving along the white-tiled walls beneath blue marble.
A man was finishing up at a urinal. He zipped up, turned, and gave her a highly speculative look. He snatched a briefcase on the ground and moved to hurry past her. “Carper?” she said.
But he didn’t show recognition, instead he shouldered past her and moved on.
Her gaze landed on a bathroom stall. There was a flushing sound, and then the stall opened. A figure emerged, approaching the sink, pumping soap, and humming to himself. The man had a briefcase, with the initials WC in silver.
She smirked at the irony but approached William Carper.
Cora knew she’d have to be quick, since security was still looking for her. If she was cornered in a bathroom with no windows, chances of escape would be minimal.
The shadow of Deputy Director Matthew Ogden still lingered over everything she did.
Cora tapped on the counter as water splashed into the sink and the humming lawyer flicked his fingers, discarding droplets of moisture. He glanced at her, still smiling, then did a quick double-take, frowning.
“Er, excuse me,” said Carper, looking embarrassed.
He was a small man, and yet his nose was similar in size to Brandon Clark’s. He had a pinched face and a dark combover. His jacket was open and revealed an impressive slim form that hinted at a runner’s physique.
At least she wouldn’t have to go about chasing the man.
“Excuse me,” she said slowly, “Mr. Carper?”
“I—do I know you?”
“No. I want to ask you about Mary Sue’s case.” Direct, to the point. No time for niceties.
He stared at her, then shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.” He tried to step past her, so flustered that he almost forgot his briefcase. Cora moved, though, intercepting him.
“Excuse me!” he exclaimed.
“You’re excused,” she shot back.
He huffed. “Sorry, do I know you?” he repeated more firmly.
But Cora again shook her head. She stood blocking the exit, feet at shoulder width on the tiled floor. “I don’t mean to alarm you, Mr. Carper. Unless you had something to do with Mary Sue and Mindy’s deaths. In which case I might put a pen in your eye.” She said it slowly, carefully.
He blinked at this last part. “Umm...excuse me? SECURI—”
She darted in fast, hand clapping over his mouth as he tried to scream, pushing him back against the sinks and holding him in place. She frowned, giving a quick shake of her head. “No, sir. Don’t do that.”
He was gasping heavily now, panic in his eyes. He struggled, trying to bite at her hand. When that didn’t work, he licked it.
“Gross!” she said, pulling her hand back.
He inhaled to scream again, so she pushed her finger against his throat. She didn’t hit him, nor even strike. Just a quick push of a thumb to the windpipe where the collar met the throat. He gagged and lost his breath.
“Stop,” she said in a quizzical tone rather than out of anger. She gave a shake of her head. “Please. I just need you to tell me about Mary Sue.”
“Who?” But his eyes betrayed the deception.
She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “No, sir. The case was thrown out. The cops here in Briarwood didn’t follow up. Why?”
“I...I don’t know...” He was glancing over her shoulder, but her view of the large mirrors above the sinks proved that, so far, no one had come looking for her.
She said, “I was just told by the DA that you were working the case, yes?”
He blinked wildly, swallowing, his tongue darting out like a frog’s wetting his lips nervously. At last, he let out a leaking sound. “O-ooooh. You mean that case?”
She snorted. “Yes.”
“Mary Sue wasn’t her real name.”
“What was her name?”
“Miriam Rivers.”
“Right,” Cora said. “I don’t care about the name. I care about the case. Why was it thrown out? Who was implicated?”
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t have a case unless you have a suspect. Who was it?”
He was stammering now, sweating profusely, and reaching up to wipe at his forehead with quick motions. He winced whenever he shook his head, clearly struggling to figure out what to do next.
Cora just waited for the preamble to end. She said, “Sir, I would like to do this the nice way. I don’t know if you’re involved, so I won’t hurt you. Yet. But look...I know your name. I know how to follow people. I know how to break into houses and bypass security. You must have a nice house, yes? A lawyer like you? Big money, isn’t that right?”
He was turning red.
She continued. “And so, if I have to come back and visit later, at night, when the two of us have a bit more privacy, I can’t promise I’ll be so gentle. Especially if I find out you killed those women.”
“I didn’t!”
“No...No. I guess it’s unlikely. But if you’re covering for them, or if you’re involved in—”
“I’m not!” he said, the panic evident in his eyes. “I was the one who wanted to proceed with the case. Judge Winchester threw it out!”
“Why?” she said testily, leaning against the counter and still surveying the mirrors. No one had arrived behind her yet.
He let out a long breath, closed his eyes and then pursed his lips. “I d...d…don’t need this!” he snapped. “I—the judge doesn’t even like me.”
“William, what are you talking about?”
“God dammit. The judge’s son was implicated. Is that clear enough for you, madam? Herman Winchester. It wasn’t an airtight case, not by any means...”
“No, don’t backpedal. Stick with me here, William. So, you were going to bring charges against the judge’s son, but he threw it out? Seems a little bit like a conflict of interest, no?”
“The DA is a friend of his. The state has minimal oversight. Half the police force...” he trailed off.
“Half the police force, what?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. I don’t know. I’m just...just saying...”
But at that point, his eyes brightened, and Cora glanced in the mirror. Two large men in blue uniforms had appeared in the door. Both of them had their hands on their holsters and were scowling at her. Cora winced, muttered, “Mind if I borrow this?”
“I—what!”
She snatched the briefcase and flung it at the nearest security guard. Then, she feinted for the second, and he stumbled back, but instead of striking, she bolted between the two of them. She raced back into the hall, arms pumping, realizing now that she was kicking over hornets’ nests, poking bears and somehow expecting to make it out without getting hurt.
Still, she hurtled recklessly through the building, racing away from the scene. The guards shouted after her. Other figures were screaming. Cora grimaced as she hurtled towards the back entrance, following “EXIT” signs.
Hardly a subtle entrance and extraction.
But she’d got a name. Still...the more she got up to, the more likely someone was going to recognize her who was local. A lot of these career types were transplants. At least that was a benefit.
She hit a metal door, pushing the arm. It opened and an alarm began to ring.
“Great,” she muttered beneath her breath.
She hadn’t taken the car this time, deciding that a bullet riddled vehicle would prove difficult to hide outside a courthouse. Now, she moved between two alleys. Sirens were wailing again.
This, she decided, was beginning to turn into something of a routine for her.
She muttered darkly, picking up the pace, moving along the walkway and breaking across the street towards the small bagel shop set on the open road.
She didn’t stop moving until she’d crossed two parking lots, through a suburban backyard and onto a jogger’s path.
Again, her knowledge of the area helped.
Now on the path, inhaling and exhaling rapidly, Cora kept shooting looks over her shoulder. No pursuit. She dropped her gaze and continued jogging as she passed another runner heading in the opposite direction.
The jogger smiled at Cora, giving a little wave. Cora winced, trying to smile back.
She pretended like she was out for an afternoon run, but her mind was the fastest part of her. Running over what the lawyer had said.
The judge’s son was somehow involved. The judge too? If he’d thrown the case out, then perhaps...Cora cursed, considering her options. If corruption was involved, then the son was only a pawn.
Yes...yes. The only choice then would be to confront the judge himself.
“Shit,” she muttered to herself, scattering pine needles off the path as she hastened under low-hanging boughs. She continued forward, breathing heavily, and realizing that if she wanted to do this right, she was going to need some help.
Her fingers tapped against her phone. Brady had banned her from contacting him. But she didn’t need eyes in the sky. Otherwise, Johnny, her old SEAL buddy might have been the best option.
But no, she needed boots on the ground.
She slowed now, and pausing near a park bench, breathing heavily, she listened to the pleasant silence, a momentary respite.
And then, she reached a decision. She couldn’t involve anyone she liked. It was too dangerous for that.
But someone she didn’t like who she had dirt on?
The perfect opportunity. She allowed herself a humorless smirk and pulled her phone from her pocket, placing a call that she knew wouldn’t be received with welcome.
Either way, though, if she really was going to do this, she needed to know everything she could about Judge Winchester.
CHAPTER TEN
Donna Lee trembled, frozen in place, trying not to cry. Dry tears cooled her cheeks, but weeping wouldn’t help her here. She knelt in the dirt on the side of the road. Lights cut through the evening from the dark SUV.
The rest stop was a poorly traveled one. Rarely used.
And now, the three men surrounded her, glaring. “Do your job, get in, get out—nobody gets hurt,” one of the men was saying from behind his dark mask, his voice cracking like a whip. Each phrase peeled off from the others and delivered with severity.
The woman wiped tears, staring at the black bag on the ground. “I—what if I’m caught?” she whispered.
Two of the men snorted. The one with the whip-like voice said, “Who the hell is going to catch you? Hmm? Don’t worry about that. Worry about us.”
Her fingers shook horribly, reaching for the bag, trembling as she gripped a long, black strap. She knew that she was in too deep to back out now. But the fear settled on her like a dark cloak.
“So, this is the plan, right,” one of the other men said. “Make the delivery. Bundle the bills. And bring it back. If even a single dollar is out of place...” he pointed his gun at her head.
“No—No I swear!” she said, her voice a squeak.
The third man, who hadn’t spoken, was smiling. This was the man she was most frightened of. The other two were in this for the money. That much was obvious. Greed in their eyes. She even thought, despite the ski mask, that she recognized the one in the middle.
But the bearded man off to the left, the quiet one? He was smiling whenever he heard fear in her voice. As if he enjoyed it. She shivered, suddenly—in a very strange way—grateful that the two other men were there. And armed.
She knew men like the quiet one. Knew sadists. In her line of work, those were the ones girls were most frightened of. They warned each other. Passed around names, pictures, and license plates to be avoided. But when working, it wasn’t always possible to catch everything.
Eventually, despite their best efforts, a girl was picked up by the wrong type.
And that was when they made the news.
“You know what we do to whores who don’t listen, huh?” said the quiet one now. His voice was strangely high pitched. He’d made no effort to conceal his bright, orange beard. He spoke in a nasally voice, too, as if his nose was plugged.
She shook her head. “I won’t...I promise. I’ll do it!” She snatched the duffel bag and pushed to her feet, her knees caked in mud.
Behind her, the trees watched, dispassionately. The old road passing along the rest stop was empty. A few portable latrines had toppled off to one side, abandoned near overgrown holes that had once been dug but left unfinished.
The area smelled of urine.
The man with the lilting voice, though, was grinning again. He moved towards the back of the SUV. “Maybe, maybe she doesn’t get it,” he said in a singsong voice. “Maybe we should show her.”
The two other men stood to the side, both grim-faced, neither saying anything. A look was passed between the one with the whip-like voice and his henchman. Both of them, she’d noticed, also seemed uncomfortable with the sadist.
But they didn’t intervene. Didn’t intrude.
All of them were bad men.
Evil, she knew, came in different sizes.
The door to the SUV was opened. The tinted windows had concealed anything within. Now, she could hear the sound of whimpering. Crying. A faint, shaking voice. The man with the beard reached into the back, making a mocking, shushing sound. He struggled for a moment, trying to grab the arm of the person in the vehicle, and then he pulled her out, nearly yanking her arm from its socket.
He flung this newcomer onto the ground by Donna’s feet.
And instantly, Donna recognized this newcomer. “Julie?” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Julie was crying though, shivering on the ground. She shook her head, desperate. “I didn’t mean to!” she was protesting. “I—I just couldn’t help it, man. I got most of it. I did!”
But now the bearded sadist was clicking his tongue. His fingers were in Julie’s hair, holding tight so she couldn’t run.
“Cut it out,” said the henchman. “Just get it done.”
The sadist sneered at this but shrugged. He looked at Donna and said, “Cross us, and you’re next. That clear?” And then he pulled a gun from his waistband. He pointed it, waiting for Julie to see. Again, more than anything, he seemed to enjoy her terror.
And then he fired twice.
She collapsed on the ground, dead, and Donna held back a scream.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I mean...what the hell, Shields?” Gabriel Finch said, crammed in the back seat of his own truck and glaring at her in the rearview mirror.
Cora ignored him. She pointed down the street. “That the house?”
“I don’t know! I’m guessing here. Dammit—just...I thought you said you’d leave me alone.”
Cora frowned. She turned back, looking over the seat. “When did I say that?”
“After I helped you at the hotel!”
She snorted. “I mean...barely helped. You were awful.”
“I’m not Hollywood! I’m West Virginia. I’m not supposed to—”
“Okay, okay,” she said quickly. She turned back to peer through the windshield, her eyes on the largest home settled at the far side of the cul-de-sac. “I’m not trying to get you in trouble, Gabe. Think of this as penance.”
Finch blinked. “Er...penance for what, Father Shields?”
“Harhar. Just...you know. Don’t be an ass. Sit in the truck and wait for me before driving off.”
He snorted, momentarily looking amused at the thought of driving away without her and leaving her stranded. She frowned, glaring at him. “You know what, on second thought...” She yanked the keys out of the ignition and pocketed them.
“Hey!” he yelped. “What the hell? Why am I here if you’re just taking my keys!”
“Needed a car they wouldn’t recognize.”
“They? They who? Wait, I thought you said this was an ex-boyfriend’s house.”
Cora shrugged. “I mean...I’m sure Judge Winchester is someone’s ex.”
Gabe stared at her, his eyes flashing in the dark. A combination of hazel and green, his gaze fixated on her. He reached up, adjusting the flat cap he’d chosen to wear again. He shrugged his broad shoulders, sitting cramped as he was in the back seat. “You think I’m stupid, then? Just bait to be used?”
Cora hesitated, considering this comment.
“I mean, alright, whatever. I’m not getting out of the truck.”
Cora nodded, smiling happily. She slipped from the front seat and patted the tall man on the arm. “I don’t expect you too,” she said firmly. “Just stay put, and do as you’re told.”
Gabriel descended into a series of dark mutterings, but she didn’t pay much attention to this. Cora shut the door behind her, keeping the keys in her pocket. She hesitated, though, as they jingled. The whole point of bringing a getaway driver was to have someone maneuverable and prepared to dash at a moment’s notice. She didn’t want to find herself in a situation where either of them was rummaging around for the keys waiting to start the truck.
She gave a frustrated sigh, muttering, “it’s impossible to find good help these days.” She said it loud enough for him to hear. And then she tapped on the window, opened the door, and tossed the keys where he sat in the back. “Be ready. If you hear me calling for you, come running.”
“I assume you don’t mean literally.”
“Just…” She trailed off, biting back more than one scathing retort that had occurred to her.
She slammed the door again and marched off in the direction of the judge’s house. A combination of searching online and a quick text to her old buddy, Johnny, had conjured the address for the Winchester residence easily enough.
Part of her felt guilty about reaching out to Johnny for more information without so much as a hello. But the two of them had a vibrant history that was often best left without discussion.
Now, she circled around the back of the nearest house, keeping to the tree line and glancing towards the windows. She wasn’t sure if it was customary in a small town to put security outside of judge’s house. She guessed that if threats had been made, this would be the case, and she wondered if her comments back at the courthouse would be construed as threats. Then again, would Carper sell her out?
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