Message of Murder Trilogy Complete Collection, page 29
“The same Mac Plamento who owns the Mac Mart where Nolan was murdered last night?” Dustin asks.
Grandma nods and the room falls silent. Jet whines from his bed, nervous from the heavy mood.
“He turned Nolan in, told the cult where to find him,” I say what we’re all thinking. “Go get him, Dustin. Arrest him.”
“I can’t arrest him for having a matching scar. I can take him in for some more questions, though.”
“Can I sit in on the questioning? I might be able to get something off him.”
“You can either stay here or go home, but you aren’t getting involved.” Hard, firm, his best police officer voice.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I snap without thinking.
“I can tell you what not to do.” Alexis clears her throat. Dustin rolls his eyes at her. “I’m asking you to stay here or go home.”
The asking still sounds like an order. “I’ll just call Lucas.”
Dustin goes stiff, his face turns red. “Well, asking didn’t work,” he says to Alexis. “You will not call Lucas and go behind my back again.” His eyes burn with an intensity I’ve rarely seen. I imagine he uses that look during interrogations and gets good results. I’m not a guilty suspect and I’m not afraid of him.
“I will do what I need to. There are killers and kidnappers out there and girls in trouble. If pissing you off means I can help them, I will. Why don’t you believe in me like Lucas does?”
“Lucas believing in you got him in trouble. I already got my butt chewed from Captain Simmons today for letting you be involved in the first place. Lucas got a similar and probably worse meeting with the Captain.” The words fall out of him faster and faster. “You want to help, but you get us in trouble. Lucas, me, the whole department. We all look bad. That news story put this whole investigation into jeopardy. Calling you might have gotten Nolan killed.”
“Dustin, stop it.” Grandma snaps. “Gabby did not get that young man killed.”
“And I didn’t tell Lacey anything. It was your own man who did it,” I point out. I’m breathing hard with hurt and anger.
Dustin blows air and runs his hands through his hair, exasperated.
Alexis pipes in. “What Dustin is trying to say, Gabby, is your actions reflect badly on all of us. This case already has the best detectives on it, let them do their job and stop interfering.”
I glare at my brother’s wife. Early in their relationship, I’d hoped we’d be close, like sisters. She’d never given me an opportunity for that kind of relationship, or any relationship. Until now, I’d had the impression she was quietly on my side, just blocked by Dustin. I was wrong. Her words sting more than I thought they would.
“My actions reflect badly?” I practically whisper. I’m raw, hurting, defensive. “Go home, Alexis. Take your perfect baby and your perfect husband and go back to your perfect life. I don’t want to taint you with my presence.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing them. “Grandma, will you take me home on your way to your party?” I ask as I leave the room to get my stuff.
Chapter 20
Gabby
It’s not until I get to my old room that I realize I don’t have any things to gather up to go home. I’m wearing Grandma’s clothes and an old pair of gloves. My phone is in the pocket of Grandma’s sweat pants. I have nothing else.
I sink onto my bed and wait for Dustin and Alexis to leave.
Misery and loneliness sit with me. Even Jet didn’t follow me.
I wipe tears of shame off my face with the hem of Grandma’s t-shirt, and wait.
Dustin’s car eventually leaves. I can only imagine the lecture they received before Grandma let them go. The childish part of me is glad Dustin got in trouble. The larger, grown woman part of me takes no joy in it.
“Gabriella? Do you still want a ride home?” Grandma calls up the stairs. “You can stay here again tonight if you’d rather.”
I scrub my face with the t-shirt again and call back, “Coming.”
I force my face to smile and my tone to tease, and pretend the last hour didn’t happen. “You guys look great. Is there a contest for best costume at this party?”
Grandma wants to ask questions, but thinks better of it. “I’m not sure. Which one of us will win if there is?” She forces her voice to happy as well. We’ve gotten good at playing this game over the years.
I examine both the women. “Probably a tie.”
Mrs. Mott joins the charade. “Tie? I’ll win for sure.” Her laugh sounds almost natural.
I sit in the back of Mrs. Mott’s car and the women chatter about people I don’t know. I tune them out and look out the window. Children in costumes fill the streets. I yearn to be one of them again, to be young and home with my family. To go back to the time when I had a family and a life and love.
Mrs. Mott turns down my street and, in the distance, toilet paper hangs from trees, blows in long strands across the street.
“Someone got t-p’d.” Grandma Dot says.
My stomach sinks. Halloween is a favorite night for the teenagers to target the town witch. I’m sure it’s my house.
Mrs. Mott and Grandma are surprised to see the toilet paper covering my trees.
“Oh, no, Gabriella,” Grandma exclaims as we park in my drive.
“Happens every year, don’t worry about it.”
“Your garage,” Mrs. Mott says. Brown streaks, that I can only hope are mud, run down the door.
I shrug it off. “Not the first time,” I say. “Sorry you had to see it.” I burn with shame. I’ve tried to protect Grandma from the vandalism that has become commonplace to me. I don’t want to upset her. Having her see first-hand what locals think of me cuts.
“Gabriella, call Dustin, report this.”
“I will not be calling Dustin, or anyone else, ever again.” I state firmly. “Tomorrow I’ll clean it up.”
“But….”
“Now stop worrying about me,” I say lightly. “You two go have fun. I don’t want to mess up your party.”
I lean over the front seat and kiss them both on the cheek. “Now go. There’s handsome men dressed as pirates and vampires waiting for you.”
As I hoped, this brings half-hearted laughs.
“Be careful,” Grandma can’t help adding.
“Always am,” I say and escape the car.
Toilet paper flies overhead in eerie white streaks in the darkness. Costumed children go door to door. No one ever comes to my door. A ninja and a transformer go to Preston’s door for candy. He sees me standing in my driveway as he hands candy to the children. He gives me a small wave and motions for me to come over.
I just want to go home, hug Chester and mope. “Give me a bit,” I call in answer.
He smiles his charming smile and closes the door.
I avoid looking at the soiled garage and climb the three steps to my front door. I don’t have my purse. It’s still in my car held as evidence.
No keys.
“Crap on a cracker,” I mumble. I stand on the step, shivering without a jacket or shoes. Grandma has a spare key, but I’m not going to further ruin her evening of fun.
Distracted with the toilet paper and mess on my garage, I didn’t realize my lights are on inside until now. “Did I leave those on when I left last night?” I ask the air.
I try the door knob and it turns. The door swings open. “Must not have locked up either.” I try to remember last night before I left. It is a blur of hurry. I shrug and step inside out of the cold.
Something feels off. My tattoo tingles, so lightly I convince myself I’m imagining things. I lock and chain the door behind me, and turn off the living room light.
Wavering light dances across the room, spilling in from the kitchen. Curious, I look.
A single candle sits on my kitchen table.
The flame dances and sputters in the wax pooled at the base of the wick. More wax drips down the sides of the candle. I stare at the light, confused. Another trick from a teenage vandal?
The candle looks familiar but I know it’s not mine. Whoever put it here brought it with them. The dancing flame creeps me out and I turn on the kitchen light.
I blow the candle out, careful not to blow wax all over the place. A trail of dark smoke rises, and I remember where I’ve seen this candle before.
It’s the same kind they used on Addlynn.
I jump away from it as if it would burn my palm all on its own.
On the table is a plain white card. It reads, “Join us.”
The house is so quiet around me, I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears.
Too quiet.
“Chester?” I call out for my cat. He always meets me at the door, always greets me. He’s not here now.
Panic floods. “Chester?”
I search the house for my cat, my friend. The search doesn’t take long, my house is so small.
I find him on my bed, curled up like he’s sleeping. “Please be sleeping, please be sleeping.”
He’s limp and heavy as I pick him up. Warm, not cold. “Chester? Oh, God, please let him be okay,” I beg.
Chester makes a sound of protest as I turn him over in my hands.
He’s alive. But my hand comes away with blood on it.
I search him for injuries and find several small cuts on his front feet. Thankfully, they seem superficial. Painful, but not threatening.
“You tried to fight them, didn’t you?” I ask the cat. “They cut you.”
I cradle him against my chest, thankful beyond measure he’s okay. The cuts on his paws will heal in a few days. The cuts on my soul will take a while longer.
Fury courses through me. These people were in my house. They hurt Chester.
My fury has no outlet. I don’t know who did this or where to find them.
I clean Chester’s cuts in the kitchen sink, then return him to my bed to sleep and heal alone. I throw the candle and note in the trash with a crash. Then think better of it, and wrap them in a plastic bag. There could be fingerprints or something helpful.
The wrapped candle sits on my kitchen table, and I sit and stare at it. What should I do now? I don’t want to call the police and don’t know who else to call about the break in. If I hear “we don’t have anything to go on” one more time, I might actually lose my mind.
Jumping up, I grab the bag and shove it into a cabinet. I slam the door with a satisfying clash.
Anger and frustration course through me, and I slam the door one more time. It bounces open again and I hit it hard. This time it stays shut.
I want to do more than slam cabinet doors. I want to hurt someone.
There’s no one to hurt, except some mysterious “they” and I have no idea where to find them.
I sit on my couch and concentrate. I close my eyes, open my mind to the universe. I touch my tattoo, hoping it will guide me. “Where are they?” I ask the room.
Listening with my mind, I wait for a direction, a place to look. Anything.
My mind finds nothing.
My tattoo says nothing.
I shove my face into the blanket on the couch and scream in frustration.
Feeling a little better, I check on Chester on my bed. He looks up as I enter.
“Who did this to you?”
He licks his wounds in response. I lie next to him and gently rub his fur. He ignores me and continues to lick. I stare at the wall, my mind whirling.
My phone rings, and I snatch it, grateful for the diversion.
It’s Haley.
“Missed you at work,” she says. “That place is really starting to suck.”
“Not sorry I missed it,” I grumble. I’m not in the mood for a chat about work. Besides Haley rarely ever calls me. We’re more the occasional text type of friends.
“I hope you won’t be mad, but I was thinking about this Addlynn thing you’re involved in and I got curious.”
She has my attention now. “Okay?”
“Before I stopped going, I was a computer science major in college. I dreamed of being one of those hackers on TV, you know?” she starts.
“Uh-huh.”
She seems embarrassed and hurries on. “I wasn’t really that good, at least not the TV kind of good.”
“Haley, I’m sorry, but I’ve had a really crappy day. Where are you going with this story?”
“I’m not TV good at hacking, but I know my way around computers and the internet.”
I rub my face, impatient, “And?”
“I think I found your cult.”
Frozen with shock, I manage to choke out, “What do you mean?”
“I dug around and I found a place that matches what you described and isn’t that far away.”
I jump off the bed and start changing clothes. “You have an address?” My voice shakes with excitement.
“I do.” She sounds so proud of herself, so excited to help.
“Haley, you’re amazing. Where is it?” She reads me the address and I scribble it on a scrap of paper.
“What are you going to do with it? Tell Lucas or your brother?”
“Forget them. They won’t listen anyway. I’m going.”
“Going? To the cult?” Her voice has risen so high, I choose this moment to pull the phone away from my ear and slip a sweatshirt over my head. I miss a few words, but catch “Are you crazy?”
“That’s what they tell me.” I shove my feet into running shoes. “I won’t do anything, I just want to go check it out.”
Haley isn’t convinced. “You won’t go in or anything, right?”
“Not sure what I’ll do. I’ll figure it out once I see what I’m dealing with.”
“I only wanted you to tell someone, not to go there yourself,” she’s starting to whine.
“I’ll be fine, I promise. I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing. They hurt Chester.”
“Who’s Chester?”
“Never mind.” I dig a heavy jacket out of my closet and shove my arms into it. “I’ve got to go. Thank you for your help, Haley. Really.”
“If you get hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.”
Chapter 21
Gabby
Dressed for battle and ready to attack, I leave my house and lock the door carefully behind me. I have no car.
In my excitement, I forgot that small detail.
The crush of costumed children has passed, but Preston’s front light is still on. I’d forgotten he was waiting for me. I crunch across the fallen leaves and climb his steps.
He opens the door with a smile and a “Would you like some candy, little girl?”
One look at my face, and he realizes I’m not in the mood for jokes.
“Can I borrow your car? Mine is still held as evidence.”
“I guess so, or I can drive you somewhere.”
“You don’t want to come where I’m going.”
He looks puzzled. “Come in and tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t have time. I got the address to the cult and I’m going now. Can I borrow your car?” I’m losing patience, I just want to go.
“You can’t go to the cult,” he says, surprised.
“I can and I am. The car? Yes or no?”
He searches my face, realizes I’m not giving up. “I’ll go with you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You didn’t ask.” He grabs a coat and turns off the front light. “You’re not planning on going in, right?”
I don’t want to lie, so say nothing.
Once in the car, I tell him about how Haley got the address. I give him a short overview of my argument with Dustin and why I won’t call him.
His lips press into a hard line, but he keeps driving. “Don’t make me regret helping you,” he says after long thoughtful moments.
I can’t promise that, so say nothing.
We follow the map app on my phone out into the country. After many late night drives, I’m familiar with every road in the county. As we draw closer to the pin on the app, I realize I’ve driven this road before. I’ve been close to these girls, and never had a clue they were here needing help. I couldn’t have known, but I feel I’ve let them down just the same. I should have known. Should have come years ago.
The map shows we are at the location Haley gave. Bare branches hang over the back road, trees push in on all sides, stretching into the darkness. An ordinary mail box and a gravel track into the woods are the only hint to human habitation.
“I don’t see a compound, or a farm or anything,” Preston says. “Maybe Haley was wrong.”
I’d agree with him, except my tattoo started tingling when we turned on this road. It sends tiny shocks up my arm now. I can’t tell Preston about the tingles.
“Drive up this track and let’s see where it goes.” Preston’s shoulders tighten and I know he wants to argue. “Please,” I add sweetly.
Dried weeds and leaves cover the track and in places only the narrow gaps in the trees let us know we’re still on the road.
The burning on my arm increases as we drive and adrenaline pulses, making me jumpy. Far into the woods, we come to a gate. In both directions from the gate, a tall chain link fence reaches beyond the lights from the headlamps.
“What in the world?” Preston breathes.
I crane my neck to see the top of the fence. A double line of barbed wire stretches the length.
“It looks like a prison,” he says.
“It is,” I say and climb out of the car.
Preston scrambles after me. “What are you doing? You can’t go in the gate or the fence. Just get back in the car and we’ll call Lucas.”
His concern buzzes my head like a fly, pointless and ignorable.
“Turn off the car, they’ll see the lights.”
“Gabby, let’s go. This is bad.”
I turn on him, angry. “I’m not stopping. Now turn off the lights or drive away. Your choice.”
He reaches into the car and kills the engine.
The darkness feels complete after the glare of the headlamps. I blink a moment, adjusting. I feel Preston staring at me, his concern rolling off him in waves.
“What now,” he whispers. His voice sounds loud in the woods.
