The Follower Page 13

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know. That’s part of what I want to find out. If I’m going to understand what happened, I need to know about her criminal history.’

  ‘Criminal history? I see. Officer Wilson, this case was not—’

  Then she stopped.

  ‘Again, I wish I could help you with your investigation, but without a court order, I can’t do a thing.’ She was chewing on her lip now, not happy. She wanted to tell him.

  Adam had an idea.

  ‘You have the file there. Let me ask you this. When I called, did you check it? To refresh your memory?’

  She sat up straight and adjusted her jacket. Her hand went up to her hair again. She was nervous. Disturbed. Ripe for this.

  Without taking her eyes from his, she slid her hand under a stack of papers and pulled out a yellowed file with worn edges, putting it on top.

  ‘I did, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘And that’s the one?’

  ‘It might be.’

  ‘Could I have some coffee, Ms. Martinez? I thought I smelled some when I was walking down the hall.’ She didn’t move a muscle. Adam was afraid to breathe. They understood each other perfectly.

  She stood up slowly, not looking at him now.

  ‘Of course. Excuse me. I’ll be right back.’

  She left the office, careful to close the door behind her. Without a second’s hesitation, he grabbed the manila folder and flipped it open.

  Adam sat there for a moment, stunned by what he saw. He couldn’t move, but finally remembered himself, picked up his phone, and took a picture of each of the report’s three pages. He rifled through it, expecting more. There’d been no arrest so unfortunately there were no photos and no prints. He closed the file and placed it back on her desk exactly where she’d left it.

  She returned a few minutes later and slipped back behind the desk. She hadn’t brought any coffee.

  Adam’s eyes watered. He hoped she wouldn’t notice but she handed him a box of tissues, looking at him quizzically.

  ‘Pretty sensitive for a police officer, aren’t you?’

  ‘Why’d you let her go?’

  ‘I told you. I had to. I couldn’t prove anything. The cops weren’t interested. In the end I had to take her word for it when she recanted.’

  She stopped, stared off in space for a few seconds, perhaps deciding whether to tell him something more.

  ‘Honestly, it was one of the biggest mistakes of my career. I felt it in my gut, and yet I let her slip away.’

  She paused.

  ‘I hope you find her. And I hope she’s okay.’

  Adam stood up abruptly.

  ‘Well, thank you for your time. I’ll let you get back to it.’

  He left without shaking her hand. He couldn’t somehow. If that woman had done something then, right then – gone with her instincts, even just followed the absolutely standard protocol for chrissakes – none of the rest of it would have happened. Everything would be different.

  He walked out, clutching his phone so hard his fingers were white, trying to process the ramifications of what he’d just learned, if it was even true.

  Elsa Sanders, Laura Martin – whatever her name actually was – claimed she’d been abducted. She’d told another girl at school who had in turn told her parents. She’d changed her story later, yes, and then had obviously slipped through the cracks of the social services system. But what if she’d been telling the truth?

  He’d seen in her file that she was born the same year as Abigail. It made him think. Their stories could have easily been the same. That could only mean that Laura’s case had come to him for a reason. It suddenly made him see the facts through a different lens. She might be a murderer, but she was also a victim, and his past made him uniquely suited to parse through these complicated dynamics.

  If it was true – if she had been abducted – then this case was more than a coincidence. It was his destiny.

  CHAPTER 23

  He was late, but that didn’t surprise her. He’d been avoiding her again at school so she’d had to resort to leaving him notes in his locker. On this one she’d underlined ‘important’ three times and followed it with a line of exclamation marks. He’d left a note taped to hers the next day with just two letters: ‘OK’.

  These circumstances didn’t bode well for a warm reception.

  She’d let herself into Joy’s apartment using the key they kept under the mat, and she sat on the couch with her shoes off and her feet tucked up beneath her. Finally the knob turned and in walked Reed, his expression inscrutable, detached. Despite herself, Cora felt her heart melt at the sight of him. Suddenly she felt she had to keep this baby no matter what, had to get more of his genetic material out into the world.

  His attitude was so cold though, that her heart was sinking deeper by the minute. This was a fool’s errand. She should have gone straight to the abortion clinic, kept him out of this. The news wouldn’t change anything between them. She thought about running out the door. Keeping this her secret like everything else.

  Still, there was a tiny part of her that held out hope that the fantasy would miraculously come true.

  She smiled at him tentatively, testing the waters.

  ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said, gesturing for him to sit down beside her.

  He dropped his backpack onto the floor with a thud and took off his jacket, threw it down beside her. He remained standing.

  ‘What’s this all about?’ he said, taking out a pack of cigarettes. He didn’t offer any to her, but lit one for himself. He blew the smoke toward her without bothering to apologize or even wave it off in another direction. It wasn’t good for the baby, so she moved to the other part of the couch, out of its way.

  ‘I have something important to tell you,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I gathered from your note. Not just “important” but IMPORTANT. So, out with it.’ He finally sat down, but on the other half of the sectional. He studied his fingernails and took another puff of his cigarette.

  ‘I’m pregnant,’ she blurted out. It wasn’t the way she’d planned to tell him. She swallowed hard, terrified of his response. Her eyes began to hurt from not blinking.

  He looked at her seriously for the first time.

  ‘What? What are you saying?’

  She just stared back at him. There wasn’t much to explain.

  He sniffed.

  ‘Are you claiming it’s mine?’ Oh, he was cold. So cold.

  ‘Of course it’s yours. What do you think I am?’

  ‘I have no idea. I don’t keep tabs on you. I don’t even know where you live. What you do. For all I know, that’s your father’s kid.’

  It was worse than a slap in the face. Worse than anything she might have imagined him saying.

  ‘Well, trust me, it’s yours.’

  Reed’s hands were jittery as he mashed the cigarette stub into an overflowing ashtray on the floor.

  ‘I don’t see how you could let this happen, Laura. I mean, that’s pretty fucking stupid. What are you going to do about it?’

  ‘Reed, I –’ She moved toward him, tried to stroke his cheek, but he caught her wrist in his hand.

  ‘Laura, this is serious.’

  ‘Of course it’s serious.’

  ‘I mean, no more fucking around here. You have to deal with this now. How much money do you have?’

  ‘Not a lot. Not enough.’ She was starting to panic. What was she going to do now? She thought of what her father’s face would look like when he heard this news. She didn’t even know whether or not it was too late to have an abortion. She’d waited too long to deal with this situation and now everything was crumbling around her.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. She’d never seen him like this.

  ‘Jesus, Laura, you are making it impossible.’ He stared at her for a minute. She couldn’t read his expression. He sighed.

  The door clicked open and Joy and Johnny sauntered in. Joy was obvi
ously on speed, her fingers twitching as she twirled that infernal hair of hers. Johnny looked agitated, barely able to stand still. His face was flushed and his pupils dilated. Cora couldn’t believe it. The worst timing ever.

  ‘Why so serious?’ Joy asked, a half-smile playing at her lips. No one said anything until the silence became awkward.

  ‘She’s pregnant,’ Reed finally murmured.

  Joy’s eyes locked on his.

  ‘Yours?’ she asked through clenched teeth.

  Reed shrugged.

  Joy took a deep breath.

  ‘You fucking asshole. You told me nothing was going on. And you –’ she turned to Cora, her eyes two slits – ‘who do you think you are?’

  With a grunt of rage, Joy grabbed Cora by the collar of her shirt and yanked her up off the couch. She expertly dug her nails into the back of Cora’s neck at some sort of pressure point, and with the other hand took hold of her ear, twisting it back. Pain shot through Cora’s head with unexpected force. Cora picked up her backpack and tried to pull away, intending to run for it, but there was no getting loose. Joy had her in a death grip.

  ‘Jesus, Joy, what are you doing? Hey, guys, come on, let’s talk about this,’ Cora screamed. She was used to violence, but she usually knew when to expect it. The disorientation was what shocked her now.

  ‘Nothing to talk about, Laura. This won’t do. It won’t do at all. We’ll have to take care of it.’

  Reed and Joy looked at one another across the room until he nodded at her ever so slightly.

  Joy led the way out the door with Cora in tow as the other two trailed behind. Cora struggled to pull away, but the more she moved, the more pain Joy inflicted on her ear. Cora flung her backpack at Joy’s head in desperation, but Reed intercepted it. He yanked it out of her hands and slung it over his shoulder.

  ‘Reed, what are you doing? Help me!’ But he wouldn’t look at her.

  Johnny caught up to them and pinned her arms behind her back. She had no chance against the three of them, she realized, as she staggered along, trying to keep up the pace enough to stay upright.

  They went through a wooden gate behind the apartment complex into a deserted, fenced-in yard. Even if the neighbors had been around, they’d never notice what was going on. This space was built for privacy, the tightly set boards of the fence at least six feet high.

  Off in the distance somewhere a dog was barking. Cora heard a car drive past the front of the building.

  In a panic, Cora’s eyes scanned the windows across the back of the building hoping to find someone to pay attention. The curtains were all closed, except for a flutter of fabric on the third floor. As soon as she noticed it though, those too were hurriedly drawn. ‘Someone’ wanted to stay out of it.

  She wondered if anyone would help her if she yelled loud and long enough. Not in this neighborhood. Maybe not anywhere.

  She looked right and left, searching for another exit, a direction to run if she could break free. The backyard was scrubby, with patches of newly sprouted grass trying to poke through here and there between expanses of mud and rock. In one corner, there was a small pile of gravel and a stack of cement blocks, half of them broken. The only way out was the way they’d come in.

  It was the absolute end of the world.

  Joy pushed Cora down onto the ground on her stomach. Cora fleetingly thought of the baby’s safety, but then she knew it was true: there wasn’t going to be any baby. They’d make sure of that.

  Johnny kneeled down beside her, pushed her face into the wet mud and held it there. She thought she might suffocate – she couldn’t get any air – but he released her head just as she started to black out.

  Reed leaned down on one knee and whispered into her ear soft and close the way he used to. But this time there were no sweet nothings.

  ‘You should have listened to me about sex, Laura. You dirty, filthy whore,’ he hissed.

  And then he walked away, still carrying her backpack, leaving Joy and Johnny alone with her in the back lot.

  CHAPTER 24

  Cora counted the steps in a whisper as she carried the tray up to the girl’s room. For weeks she had held on to her resolve to stay on the Path of Righteousness, but without James there to reinforce the message, she’d felt it gradually slipping away. She hated herself for her weakness, but she could not keep her thoughts clean. James insisted that the girl had been sent for a divine purpose, yet Cora couldn’t help but feel bitter serving her day in and day out.

  The morning’s rations consisted of a bowl of scraps from Cora’s meals over the last two days. Fat she’d cut off from the bone and fried in a pan with her leftover spinach. Oatmeal that was hardened into a dry chewy mound. A cup of water she’d taken from the rain barrel, two tiny fruit flies drowned and floating on top. It was her one solace: she’d make sure the girl was never given any special treatment, would never rise above the animals in the barn. They at least provided sustenance. This girl only took from her, confused her, and messed with her mind.

  Cora rapped on the door to get the girl’s attention as she peered in through the window in the door. She waited for her to get into position, but the girl was still lying on the bed, her sheets wadded up on the floor next to it. Cora knocked again. She’d move. She knew better than to ignore her.

  Finally, she saw the girl slowly drag herself upright, looking dazed.

  True, it was awfully early in the morning but why should this girl get to sleep in? This wasn’t a Hilton or some fancy day spa. The girl had probably seen plenty of those places during her pampered young life and didn’t know anything different. Well, now her horizons were expanded.

  Cora swung open the door with one forceful push. Immediately, the smell of vomit hit her full in the face. She covered her nose and mouth with her apron, got out of there fast, and slammed the door behind her.

  Disgusting animal, she thought, as she bolted the locks back again.

  ‘What have you done, girl?’ she yelled through the slot.

  ‘I … think I’m sick,’ she barely managed to choke out.

  Cora gritted her teeth. There was always something to slow her down around here.

  She set the tray on the floor, kicking it over into the corner, and started back downstairs to get a bucket and some rags, muttering to herself the whole way.

  This girl was up to something but Cora Jenkins would not fall for any chicanery. She knew how conniving girls could be.

  Returning with the bucket and a pile of tattered rags, Cora hauled them over to the bed and plunked them down on the floor, splashing water everywhere. She wasn’t stupid enough to bring in chemical cleaning products though. That’s probably just what the girl wanted. She’d try to dash them into Cora’s eyes so she could steal the keys and her knife. She probably intended to turn the tables on Cora and leave her locked in the vomit-filled room. Cora wouldn’t fall for that though. She was much too smart for this know-nothing kid.

  She stood towering over the girl hunched on the bed, staring down at her near-lifeless, shivering form.

  She did look awfully pale. But still.

  ‘Clean it up,’ Cora said over her shoulder as she turned abruptly and walked away.

  Leaning against the wall in the hallway, Cora counted once again. She didn’t want to look. This was the last thing she would be able to deal with when she had so many chores to do. No time for this nonsense.

  On the count of thirty, though, she forced herself to check in through the window again.

  The girl was trying, she’d give her that. She’d rolled off the bed onto the floor and was wiping up the dull greyish liquid, dry-heaving all the while. Cora rolled her eyes, but even still she felt a fleeting pang of – what was it – pity?

  No, she’d push that away if that’s what it was, coming back on her again. This girl was faking it.

  Then suddenly a different thought occurred to Cora. She felt the blood drain out of her face as she tightened her crossed arms, digging her nails into their
fleshiest parts. Her head spun.

  Perhaps it had happened. The Revelation.

  The girl swiped half-heartedly at the floor, obviously pretending to be too weak for this task, but Cora would make her finish it before she went in. She’d wait outside until she was done, even if it meant postponing her own relief.

  She pounded on the door again.

  ‘Hurry up. And get it done right. Clean up every last bit.’ Cora’s voice was unexpectedly shaky.

  The girl tried to hurry, but then, with one great spasm, she opened her mouth and a torrent of fresh vomit spewed across the room.

  Cora winced. There was so much of it.

  She shook her head with exasperation, clenching her teeth.

  At this rate she’d be cleaning all day. This girl would never finish the job before the vomit dried and Cora would be forced to take over. She’d have to tie the girl to the bed and soak it up with rags right in front of her. What a victory for the girl, watching Cora scrub the floor at her feet.

  Her patience was running out. She had to go in. She had to know.

  She went back in, locking the door behind her. She reminded herself to be careful, that she had a live one on her hands. Cora grasped her switchblade in her pocket. She was skilled with it, so the girl better not get any ideas.

  As their eyes met across the room, Cora saw the fear flash in the girl’s face. Oh, yes, she’d better be afraid. That showed good sense at least.

  Cora approached her slowly, watching her continue to wipe up the wet mess around her, but Cora couldn’t wait. She grabbed the girl off the floor by her stick-thin arm and shoved her onto the bed, ignoring the slippery tiles beneath her feet. She held her down easily with one arm and yanked up her sweatshirt. The girl fought her with her last waning bit of strength, kicking and struggling to sit up, but Cora was stronger and nearly twice her size. She overpowered her with little effort.

  Yet it was Cora who shrank back in horror when she saw the skeletal structure beneath the baggy shirt. No longer the healthy specimen James had brought in, she was now skin and bones, her pale flesh marked with cuts and bruises.