Sam checked her phone to make sure it wasn’t on vibrate. Why hadn’t Matthew or Austin taken the bait? They should have called by now, or at least had their lawyer call charging her with harassment.
“My grandson is going to be shriveled like a prune by the time you finish, Samantha.” Abby held up a towel and waited for Sam to lift Dillon out of the tub.
“Sorry, Mom. My mind is several miles away.”
“Is it about that police officer who killed himself?”
“No. It’s the other suicides, the women I told you about.” Sam pulled up the drain plug to drain the water, then tipped the baby bath seat over to let it dry. “I’m meeting Forrest and Carrie tonight at the support center to ask them a couple questions.” Sam ran her hand down Dillon’s head to flatten the strands that were standing on end. She followed Abby down the hall to the nursery. “I spoke only for a couple minutes to Jake. He didn’t have time to talk other than to say the cops who worked with Stanhope knew he had a drinking problem, but he was a nice guy, never late for work, never called off.”
Abby placed Dillon on the dressing table and between the two of them got him diapered and dressed for bed before he had time to scream his disapproval at being tossed and tumbled. “What time are you leaving?”
“Around seven.” Sam lifted her whimpering son in her arms and trailed Abby to the kitchen. “It’s okay, sweetie. Grandma’s heating your bottle now.” Dillon whimpered again as he watched Abby place a bottle in the microwave to warm up. His attention was averted to Sam’s ringing cell phone which sounded like birds chirping. It was Beast. “Hey, got news for me?”
“Yep. Phone company gave me the message log of calls to and from that phone number. The last call she received was from another disposable phone and the call lasted four seconds.”
<><>
Sam drove trance-like to the Christian Family Center. Now there were four victims, or at least three with links to Morning Glory and Donna who was linked in a way not yet clear, but linked nonetheless. Traffic thinned out as she made her way to the older section of Chasen Heights. Shadows pulled back as though the beam from the Jeep’s headlamps would burn them. She swerved as she almost hit a rider on a bike. No lights, all dark clothing. Real smart.
It had been more than eight hours since she spoke to Crystal Bordeau and still not one peep from either her husband or his partner. Maybe Matthew Bordeau had a violent temper and Crystal knew better than to tell him anything that might anger him.
Sam switched on the bright lights. Street lights in this part of town were few and far between. It was suspected Chasen Heights’ law abiding citizens practiced their aim on the street lamps every time the city replaced the bulbs. Now it was getting too costly to replace them every time some idiot shot one out.
The parking lot at the Christian Family Center was small and L-shaped and Sam had to pull around to the side of the building to find an open space. The clock on the dashboard showed she was twenty minutes early. That should give her a little time to speak with Forrest and Carrie before the session started.
Sam weaved between cars and hurried down the steps to the basement entrance. She found Forrest and Carrie by the coffee pot. Grace gave her a quick wave, then turned back to a new member Sam hadn’t seen the last time she had visited.
“Hey, Sam.” Forrest gave her a hug.
“Coffee, Sam?” Carrie asked.
Sam declined as she led them several feet from the refreshment table. “Does the name Nina Logesta sound familiar to either of you?”
“No.” Forrest looked to Carrie, who shook her head.
“Who is she?” Carrie looked thinner than the last time Sam had seen her and Forrest looked as though he hadn’t slept in several days. Sam was hesitant to say too much to Forrest for fear he would charge into the Morning Glory Clinic demanding answers.
“Let me ask another question. Carrie, you said Carly had lost some weight before her final fitting. How was she able to accomplish that?”
Carrie shrugged. Sam forgot Carrie didn’t live at home any more, but she and Carly were close so hopefully she would be able to confirm what Sam already knew. “She dieted, I think.” Carrie took a sip of coffee, then paused. “Wait. She went to that clinic. It’s the name of a flower.”
“Morning Glory?” Sam prompted.
“Yes.”
“Wait.” Forrest rested a hand on Sam’s arm. “Marti went there to quit smoking when she first learned she was pregnant. But she only went for a few months. It ended months before Savannah was born. Do you think someone there had something to do with Marti’s death?”
“Okay, everyone.” Grace clapped her hands. “Let’s get started.” Attendees started moving toward the front of the room. The pink and blue streamers that had hung from the walls previously had been replaced with streamers and paper leaves in fall colors.
“Can you stay?” Carrie asked. “I want to find out more.”
“There isn’t anything more…yet. But I want you, Carrie, to talk to your mom. Find out if Carly ever spoke about anyone in particular she befriended. And Forrest.” She clasped his hand between hers, hoping not to agitate him into some action he would regret. “I need you to go through Marti’s files and notes. Maybe talk to any close friends and see if they know if she was having problems with someone. Maybe they both witnessed something. I’m grabbing at straws right now but it’s all I have to go on.”
“What about that other woman you mentioned?” Carrie walked back to the coffee pot and refilled her cup.
“She’s another name that popped up in my investigation. When I find out how and if she fits into the puzzle, believe me, you two will be the first to know.”
<><>
Sam walked into the dark parking lot, confident she was vague enough to be assured Forrest would not act on his own. She clasped her keys in her hand. There was a small LED flashlight hanging from it. She pressed the button and the halogen beam lit up a path to the Jeep. The air was thick with the odor of wood burning in a nearby fireplace and she couldn’t wait to curl up in front of her fireplace with a cup of hot tea.
Forrest had made a good point. Savannah was nine months old. If Marti had stopped her therapy at three or four months into the pregnancy, then it had been over a year since Marti was at Morning Glory. Had she been continuing her therapy after Savannah was born without Forrest’s knowledge? How could Morning Glory be involved after so long of a time?
Sam was too engrossed in the case and focused too much on the pavement in front of her to notice that it was unusually quiet. The normal chattering of squirrels, chirping of crickets and other multi-legged creatures were missing. If she had been more observant she would have heard the warning from an owl in a nearby tree. She even ignored the tingling creeping up her spine, dismissing it as the crisp chill in the air. Muffled footsteps rushed from behind and suddenly someone grabbed a handful of her hair and slammed her against the brick building. She felt grit and sharp edges bite into her forehead. Sparks flashed before her eyes as she felt herself falling. The car keys and flashlight skidded across the pavement as she reached out an arm to break her fall. But her attacker wasn’t done. He grabbed her hair again. Sam struggled to get up but he was too strong. She saw a slice of the LED beam shining on her attacker’s brown deck shoes, no socks. He leaned down and growled, “Keep your damn nose out of other people’s business or the next time I won’t be so gentle.” He slammed her head down again. Sam ignored the pain as she reached out and dug her nails into his bare ankle, feeling the skin scrape.
“You bitch!” He scrambled up and just as Sam thought he was leaving, she caught a glimpse of his foot rushing toward her, connecting with the right side of her body, just below the rib cage. She tried not to cry out, and instead remained still so she could listen to the footsteps. There was only one set, only one attacker. She heard a car door slam in the distance, probably parked on the street. An engine from some type of sports car grumbled and roared to life. Soon after she could hear it race down the street.
Then the tears started. Sam lay on the pavement smelling dirt and grease and not caring. She was trying to assess her body parts, sense if any ribs were broken. She reached out to grab the flashlight but it was out of her grasp. After several minutes she slowly pushed herself to a sitting position and stifled a sob. She felt something running down her face and dripping onto her sweater coat. Her forehead started stinging and her side throbbed where she had been kicked. Sam dragged herself to the nearest car and held onto the bumper. Her keys and the flashlight were within reach. She grabbed them with a shaking hand, careful to only use her left hand. Through the throbbing pain, tears, and anger she smiled. She had her attacker’s skin and blood under her nails and she wasn’t about ready to ruin the evidence. After several seconds she pulled herself up and leaned against the front of the vehicle until the shadows stopped spinning.
With her left hand Sam pressed the remote to her Jeep, turning on the headlights. The Jeep was two vehicles away. Sam staggered like a street bum, stopping once to wipe the blood out of her eyes and wait until the nausea passed. It was then she thought of the baby…babies. She took deep breaths and concentrated, as though somehow she could tell if there was any damage to the fetuses. Her attacker messed with the wrong woman.
With anger morphing into fury, Sam found the strength to reach the Jeep. She climbed in and sat still for several minutes. She didn’t have the energy to walk back into the center. She could lay on the horn and hope someone inside heard it. Jake was the last person she could call. He was still neck deep in the murder/suicide. And until Sam got her evidence to Benny, she couldn’t handle Jake’s rage. Not yet.
Sam touched the Blue Tooth button and called Alex. She tried to keep her voice calm but hearing his deep, soothing cadence, she lost it. “Alex…I need help.” After telling him where she was, Sam leaned against the headrest and wept tears of pain, anger, and fear. She had shaken someone up and if he had already killed four women, he wasn’t afraid to add a fifth.