––––––––
Millie rapped her knuckles on the weathered door, as Sandy looked around at the shabby front lawn and general disarray of Joan Addams’ house. It seemed to take forever before the front door finally opened and a lone, brown eye peeked out at them.
“Joan Addams?” Sandy asked as the woman continued to stare at them without answering.
“Are you Joan Addams?” Millie repeated, slowly, as if speaking to a child and finally they got a nod.
“I’m Detective Harvey and this is Detective Chandler.” She continued, moving closer to the front door. “May we come in for a moment?”
“Why?” Joan asked, the surly tone to her voice not missed by the pair.
“We have a few questions for you regarding the Ashbys.” Sandy said, and then quickly added, “We won’t take much of your time.”
The front door swung open and as the detectives moved towards it, Joan stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her.
“House is a mess.” She said, staring hard at them. “We can talk out here.”
Sandy nodded, while Millie pursed her lips, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something.
Five minutes into meeting this woman, and already Millie could tell they were going to have their work cut out for them.
“We spoke to the hospital staff, as well as to Detective Anson, and we understand that you were in the cafeteria at the time of the incident?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?” Joan said, her dead-eyed stare on them as Sandy nodded.
“Right. Well, we have video footage that shows you going into a stairwell after leaving the cafeteria. We’d like to ask you a couple of questions about that.”
“Sure.” Joan replied, coolly.
“Why were you in the stairwell, Ms. Addams?” Sandy asked.
“I made a phone call.”
“To who?” Millie asked, adopting the same cool tone that Joan had, which made the woman look at her in amusement as a hint of a smile played across her lips.
“Called Ryan to find out where he was. I had already called him once and told him to come to the hospital because Carrie was having the baby.” She said, folding her arms across her bony chest.
“And did he answer?”
“No, went straight to his voicemail.”
“Did he ever call you back.”
“Not that I’m aware, but he was there once I got back to Carrie’s room.”
“And that’s when he attacked you.”
“Yes.” She said, “Look, I didn’t do anything wrong. I got my friend to the hospital when she needed help. And as usual, Ryan was nowhere to be found.”
Sandy nodded, as he watched Millie jot information down out the corner of his eye.
She was about to go in for the kill.
“You and Ryan aren’t exactly friends, are you?” Millie asked plainly, as Joan shrugged nonchalantly.
“Not really, no.” Joan said, staring over their shoulders at the neighbors who were suddenly involved in doing things outside their homes. All eyes trained on her and the two detectives.
“Have you spoken to him any more since they’ve been home?”
“Hell no. Why would I go over there? I have nothing to say to that drunken asshole.” She said, her voice full of contempt while shaking her head.
Millie gave Sandy a look as she could see that Joan was getting agitated.
“We don’t mean to upset you....” Millie said, sweetly as she wore a sour look on her face that belied the tone of her voice. “But we’ve spoken to Ryan and he’s not exactly a fan of yours either.”
“Look, he was the one that got drunk one night and said that the baby was a mistake, started yelling at her and stuff.” Joan snapped, the most animated they’d seen her yet.
“How did you get this information?”
“Carrie called me over a few weeks ago because he was drunk, as usual, and she was afraid for her safety. She ended up staying with me that night. You see how easily he hit me, didn’t you. Open your eyes.”
Millie stared at Joan, unwavering and then she nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
“We done here?” Joan asked, petulantly.
“For now.” Millie said, as Joan pivoted on her heel and stalked back inside of her house, slamming the door.
“I think that went well.” Sandy quipped, as Millie smirked and shook her head.
***
Joan watched through the slats of the blinds of the front windows as the two detectives started talking with the nosy fucking neighbors who had all but swarmed them on their way back to their car.
That blonde Barbie-doll had worked her last nerve.
“Bitch.” She said, aloud as she continued to watch.
Snorting a derisive laugh as she shook her head, she watched as Mrs. O’Reilly, an old Irish woman who’d been living in the neighborhood for more than sixty years, spoke to the black guy.
The blonde was now talking with Destiny Rivera, or at least trying to. It was obvious that Destiny wanted nothing to do with this and apparently had nothing to say to the police, even though Joan knew she was telling anyone who would listen that she’d had something to do with the Ashby baby’s abduction.
They didn’t know, not a one of them, that she would never do anything to harm a hair on that baby’s head.
She loved it, because it was a part of Carrie.
Joan moved away from the windows, her dull eyes washing over the unkempt living room that hadn’t been cleaned since her mother had died.
She just hadn’t felt like it.
She could almost hear the old bag banging her stupid cane against the wall that they shared between their bedrooms, yelling at her to get off of her lazy ass and clean up the house or go fix her a meal.
“Do you think you can at least do that?” she’d rail and rag at her, still banging the cane. “Worthless girl...”
So Joan had done her best to keep the peace by doing as her mother asked. All she wanted in return was for Doris to leave her alone and stop nitpicking her over every little thing all of the time.
It was her mother’s own fault, what had happened.
Doris just kept on, and kept on.
Bitch never knew when to fucking quit.
Joan squeezed her eyes shut as she thought back to that fateful day six months ago.
All she wanted was for Doris to be quiet. To quit banging that cane against that stupid fucking wall and screaming at her.
Her own mother treated her like a servant, never giving love or kindness, just spiteful, raging hate.
Joan recalled the look of surprise on her mother’s face as she’d barged into the woman’s bedroom, snatching the cane out of her withered hands.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Joan!?” she’d raged as the water glass on the nightstand had fallen over, the glass crashing against the wooden floor as the water seeped everywhere. “Oh, you idiot...stupid, worthless girl....”
The first blow had taken Doris quite by surprise, as well as the second one. Joan had hit her mother with that fucking cane again, and again, and again and again.
Even once her mother’s body had gone limp, Joan kept at it.
She didn’t stop until she felt better, tears of relief rolling down her cheeks and she began to laugh as the wooden cane actually broke in half across Doris’ back.
She had sat with that bitter old crone for hours before getting a washcloth, pail and soap to clean her up.
Of course, Doris had voided both her bowels and bladder, Joan disgusted at having to take care of it, but it was a small price to pay.
She was free.
“Don’t worry, Mother.” She’d giggled as she stood over the body, her smile a mile-wide, “I’ll get right on cleaning up the mess you made. Yes, ma’am....”
After she’d straightened up the room and changed Doris into a clean nightgown, she had called the police.
They took her word that Doris had died peacefully in her sleep sometime in the night, carting the body away as onlookers gawked at the scene.
The bruises on the body were explained away as Joan told them that her mother had mobility issues. The whole neighborhood could vouch for this, since Doris was a regular sight trying to take her daily walks. More than once, an obliging neighbor had gotten her up off the ground when she’d taken a spill.
Carrie had been the only one to approach her as she stood outside and watched them load Doris’ body into the ambulance and take it away.
Only then, had she let herself cry. Not in sorrow, but in relief.
She was free.
***
Ryan was at the windows, his brow furrowed as he watched a heavyset woman get out of her car and make her way towards Joan's house. It was the first activity he'd seen at Joan’s house since the police had talked to her outside about a week ago..
At the advice of the police, he had stayed away from Joan and they had promised him that they were looking into things.
He made his way to the front door as he saw the woman begin to take photos of Joan's house with a small camera.
"What in the hell...." he muttered, opening the door and going outside.
Ryan looked back over his shoulder at his own house, knowing that Carrie was still in bed. The same bed she'd been in since this whole thing happened. She barely spoke these days, but she was slowly starting to come around.
The media had subsided somewhat over the two weeks they’d been home, and of that he was glad.
He watched the woman take more pictures and make notations on a small notepad.
“Excuse me.” Ryan said, as the woman whirled in surprise with a little yelp.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, and then laughed as she put a hand to her ample bosom. “Hello!”
“Yeah, hi.” Ryan said, his eyes on the notepad and then on the logo from a local real estate office on the sides of her car. “Are you looking for Joan?”
Her brow furrowed for a moment as recognition of the name set in and she smiled again.
“Joan? No. We’ve done all that we had to with her contract.”
“Contract?”
“Yes, we will be listing this house on our web site now that she’s gone...”
Gone?
Ryan felt his heart hammer as his world spun out of control. Joan was gone?
“Hey,” the woman said, looking at him warily, “Are you feeling okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“When?” he managed.
The woman looked at her paper, and then back at him.
“A few days ago. She came into the office and stated that she needed to sell. Of course, that’s what we love to hear....”
“Did she say where she was going?” Ryan interrupted as the real-estate agent pursed her lips, eyes rolled up in her head as she struggled to remember. But he knew that there was no way anyone would remember old, bland Joan.
“I don’t think so.....” and then she looked over his shoulder. “Is that your house over there? You know, we are always in the market....”
Ryan pivoted on his heel and walked away, slamming into the house.
Wait until he told Carrie this shit.
***
Joan checked behind her carefully before going into her room at the La Quinta Inn. She had taken the Long Island Expressway all the way out to Bohemia and checked in under a fake name, as she’d been instructed to do. No one had paid any attention to her as she carried her solitary bag to the elevators and then went upstairs to the top floor. She had seen a few places to eat along Veteran’s Memorial Highway, just off of the hotel’s location on Aero Road. She would order something from there and then wait.
The sudden ringing of her cell phone startled her and she jumped. After it rang a third time, she answered it to keep it from going to voicemail after seeing who it was.
“Hi.” She nearly whispered, her lips spreading in a happy smile, “No, I’m fine. Just fine. What do you want me to do now?”
***
Ryan smiled as Carrie came to the kitchen table. She looked fresh and clean, having just taken her shower. The police had exhausted all leads, but were optimistic on a new lead they had just gotten. Carrie had cried when she heard that Joan had vanished.
“How can she just leave like that?” she had asked, as Ryan held her in his arms. “Did she really sell her house and just leave? What about our baby?!”
He didn’t have an answer to that one and stood feeling helpless as his wife continued to cry.
After he had gotten Carrie calm, and ordered a pizza from Papa John’s, they had dinner and sat quietly watching the news.
Carrie shivered as a diaper commercial featuring a cute and smiling baby came on and Ryan felt his heart break as he watched his wife’s eyes fill with tears.
“I have another appointment with Dr. Cooke tomorrow.” Carrie announced suddenly, and Ryan nodded. “I want you to come with me this time, Ry.”
It wasn’t a bad idea and hell, he could do with talking to someone as well. Carrie had been going to this therapist for a few weeks and it seemed to be doing some good, slowly but surely.
“If you think it’ll help.” Ryan answered, snaking his arm around her as he pressed a kiss on top of her head. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
And it was just a few days later that they sat in a doctor’s office in one of the medical complexes on Lakeville Road. The whole street was lined with medical offices and were all just a stone’s throw from Long Island Jewish Hospital.
“Carrie Ashby?” someone called as Carrie slowly rose to her feet with her handbag, and squeezed Ryan’s hand before disappearing into the inner office.
He picked up a magazine and thumbed through it without really seeing it, pondering on whether or not he should just make an appointment for himself.
Ryan had been all for it, but ultimately decided that Carrie needed it more than he did. It didn’t mean that he didn’t care, but his wife had completely fallen apart from this.
It seemed like Carrie was gone for quite a bit when the door suddenly opened, and to his surprise they called him to come inside.
Hesitantly, Ryan followed the receptionist down a long hallway and into an office where Carrie sat on a plush sofa. He didn’t miss the mounds of used tissues littered around her, or the redness of her eyes which told him that she was pretty upset.
“Mr. Ashby, I am Dr. Cooke.” the doctor said with a soft smile, “Please come in.”
She was a middle-aged woman, handsome and all business as she made brief pleasantries with him and then started asking him questions.
How was he holding up?
Did he have trouble sleeping?
Was he suffering from anxiety?
And all kinds of things as Carrie sat quietly, holding his hand.
“Ryan....may I call you Ryan?” she asked as he nodded. “Carrie has something that she would like to say to you. I am here just as a mediator. Nothing more. This is an open forum and you are free to speak your mind here without worry. Anything you want.”
“Okay.” Ryan said, wondering where this was leading to.
“Carrie?” the doctor said, as Carrie shifted in her seat and faced him.
“Ryan. I know we’ve had a hard time with this, and I’m not blaming you, but I really wish that you had been there when I had the baby. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten taken if you had been there to keep an eye on things. I was there all by myself...”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
He had gotten there as fast as he could and it was not his fault that Joan took forever to call him, which is something he had told the police about. When he asked, he had been told that Carrie had been in labor nearly fifteen minutes before Joan finally called him.
“I got there as fast as I could, Carrie.” He said with barely contained anger, as Carrie’s eyes filled with tears. “You know, maybe if you hadn’t gone traipsing around with your friend Joan in the first place, when you knew how I felt about it, maybe you wouldn’t have gone into early labor!”
“Ryan.....” the doctor tried to reason, but it was too late.
“So it’s my fault?” Carrie sobbed, as Ryan jumped to his feet and started pacing the room. “I had just had a baby! What was I supposed to do!?”
He was so mad right now that he couldn’t even see straight. He had to get out of here before he said something that he couldn’t take back.
“Glad to know how you really feel.” He snarled at her as her shoulders shook with sobs and she covered her eyes, “You know, since this is an open forum and all.”
Ryan could hear Carrie wail his name as he slammed out of the office and down the hall. He went straight to the car, almost tempted to leave her ass there.
He had felt the hostility exude from her the first day or so after this had happened, and he knew some part of her blamed him. But for her to actually say it out loud was something that he wasn’t prepared to deal with.
They were supposed to be in this, together, and he’d been off drinking. She hated when he drank, and she used the opportunity to blame him.
Ryan thought about this often as guilt stabbed at him.
But then she had made her own decision to go out, even after he’d told her to be careful.
How was that his fault?
Obviously, they had a deeper problem here that required more therapy.
Carrie came out a few minutes later and hesitated as she approached the car, before finally getting into the passenger seat.
They didn’t say a word to each other during the ten minute ride home and when he pulled up to the front of the house, his jaw remained set rigidly as Carrie got out of the car.
The minute she closed the door, he squealed off leaving her there staring after him sadly.
He needed a drink.
***
The woman worked quickly while she had the office to herself, casting a look over her shoulder at the empty hallway through the large glass walls. Plugging her cell phone jack into the front of the computer tower, she was able to move files from the computer and to her phone.
She had thought about this long and hard, and it was the right thing to do.
She needed to make it right.
As she looked furtively over her shoulder again, she could hear voices in the hall and she silently urged the computer to work faster as she watched the green color fill an opaque rectangular bar at a snail’s pace, from left to right on the computer’s built-in monitor as well as on her phone’s screen.
(6) files have been moved to folder ASHBY
Working quickly, she backtracked and removed all evidence of the video files being copied from the server and snatched her phone up, the universal serial bus cable jerking free from the computer’s port just as someone came into the room.
“Hi.” She said with a pretty smile, tucking the USB cable stealthily into the pocket of her jacket as the man stared at her. He was a relatively new employee and she struggled to think of his name. “Dave, right?”
The man nodded, his green eyes on her intently and then on the computer she’d been at before and then back at her again.
“What are you doing in here? This area’s off limits.” He said, but he looked nervous at being caught outside of the server room. There was usually always someone here in this room because of the amount of data stored there, to protect it. The room was always to be monitored, yet Dave had left his station. Probably for a smoke, from the smell of tobacco coming off of his uniform jacket.
There were nine computer towers, each with their own little built-in screen so that the IT techs could access or move files whenever they chose or on command from the Security Director, Charles Armbruster.
“I was looking for Charles. He said he wanted to talk to me about something with one of the servers. Is he around?” she asked.
“Oh.” He said, seeming as if he recognized her now. “I think he’s downstairs somewhere.”
“Okay, I’ll come back later.” She said quickly, leaving as she felt the man’s suspicious stare burn into her back.
She only hoped he hadn’t seen her unplug her phone from the computer. She knew that there were no cameras in the office, but there was one out in the hall that may have picked something up. She kicked herself for not remembering to disable it.
She couldn’t worry about it now.
Back in her office, the woman connected her cell phone to the computer and then printed out the pictures to her local printer, not wanting to take a chance doing it on the network printer and IT tracing the print job back to her. She put the newly printed cell phone photos she’d taken on the sly, added a flash-drive containing the videos and packed them into a large envelope, along with documentation showing this person’s information, or at least what she’d been told.
She had already uploaded the files to the safety of one of her many online hard-drives, for insurance reasons in case they tried to set her up to take the fall. The shit was going to hit the fan, and soon. The hospital was on heightened alert and new security protocol had already been implemented.
It wasn’t going to be easy, but again it would be easier than living with the guilt she had for the past month.
Before she could change her mind, the tall red-head took the envelope and her purse, leaving her office and heading to the post office kiosk in the main lobby.
***
Detective Sandford Chandler was looking over the papers he’d received at the station, addressed directly to him with no return address. They were photos of a woman, whose face was hidden by her dark hair, but the baby tucked in her arms was clear as day.
It was the Ashby baby.
It had to be.
There was also a timestamp on the bottom corner of the photo, dated approximately at the time of the abduction.
Sandy got up and walked towards the doorway of his office and stuck his head out. He saw his partner sitting on the edge of her desk, her well-toned legs crossed as she spoke on her cell phone. She had been with him for about six months, and although they didn’t look it, they got on very well. If he had ever had a daughter, he would want her to be like Millie.
Twenty-three year old Millicent Harvey had graduated from the police academy practically right after her twenty-first birthday. She had been an auxiliary officer in her Manhasset neighborhood in her teens and had come from a family of cops.
Father, both brothers and two uncles had been or were still in some sort of law enforcement. A cousin of hers had died during 9/11 and it had hit her hard, since the two had been the same age and had grown up on the same block.
But nothing was going to stop her.
Millie lived to be a cop and it was obvious she loved her job.
She had risen up through the ranks quickly, promoted to detective only a year ago and then sent here.
She had plenty of letters of commendation in her file and the kid was sharp.
He was nuts about her.
“Millie, can you come in here for a second?” he asked, as the young blonde woman gave him a quick nod as she finished up her phone call.
A moment later she was at his desk.
“What’s up, Dee?” she asked, as he shook his head and handed her the photos.
“Looks like someone is trying to tell us something.”
Millie nodded as she looked over the close-up shots that appeared to have been taken with a mobile phone and then set them down on the desk.
“Interesting.” Millie said, hands on her narrow hips as Sandy spread out the rest of the documentation hastily written on hospital stationery. “Hospital?”
“Hospital.” Sandy answered, as they both grabbed their jackets and headed out the door.