Last Words

11

Salsa or cheese?

Mia stood in front of the open refrigerator and debated the meager dinner choices. She hadn’t eaten since she’d picked up a muffin and a cup of coffee on her way into St. Dennis that morning. It was a little after eight and she was too tired to cook and too lazy to go for takeout, so she was stuck with what she had on hand.

She decided to go with the salsa, having snacked on cheese last night. Besides, it would go nicely with the bottle of red wine she’d opened and taken out onto the screened porch, where she’d set up a sort of temporary camp. The file she’d brought home lay open on the wicker table and the lamps had been turned on and repositioned where they’d shed the most light for reading. She poured some of the salsa into a bowl, grabbed the box of crackers from the counter, and with her foot pushed open the door that led from the kitchen to the small porch. She moved the table closer to the loveseat and sat, placing what would serve as dinner to the right of the file and surrounding herself with the extra cushions.

She filled the wineglass, then raised it in a mock toast and said, “Here’s to you, all wildlife lurking outside the fence. The pool is all yours. I’ve work to do. Tonight, however, snacks are not included.”

The setting sun left streaks of color in the low clouds that hugged the horizon, so she sipped her wine and watched until the last bits of lavender faded into the darkness.

“Time to work.”

She opened the file and began to read, then looked around for her phone before remembering she’d left it in her bag on the counter.

Mia retrieved the bag, found the phone, and set it next to her. She wiggled a bit to find a comfortable spot, then tucked a few more pillows behind her. Leave it to Connor to find a sofa with seat cushions that felt like concrete.

Well, she reminded herself, he does spend most of his time in places where-let’s face it-even this uncomfortable thing would seem like a luxury.

She smiled, remembering how shocked everyone in the family had been when her cousin actually bought a house for himself.

“So, does it have indoor plumbing?” Connor’s brother, Aidan, had asked with a perfectly straight face.

“Are you going to buy a real bed,” Mia’s brother Andrew had chimed in, “or are you going to use that grass mat you used to take camping?”

“Indoor plumbing, real furniture, a kitchen with a real stove and refrigerator.” Connor had laughed good-naturedly. “Granted, it’s tucked away by itself on a dirt road, but since I spend so much time alone, I figured a little bit of isolation will make it really seem like home.”

Well, he got that part right. It’s isolated.

Mia shifted again on the sofa, lifted her glass to take another sip, and frowned when she found it empty. She hadn’t remembered draining it, but not a drop remained. She refilled it and went back to her reading.

An hour later, she’d gone through all the interviews connected to the Colleen Preston murder. From what Mia read, it seemed that Colleen had been a really special young woman, liked and respected by everyone who knew her. That a stranger had taken her from those who loved her…

Ah, she told herself, there’s the thing. It wasn’t a stranger. She knew it in her gut.

Her rumbling stomach reminded her to eat, so she dipped into the salsa with the crackers and ate for a minute or two, focusing on what she’d just read. She drank a little more wine, then went back over the interviews to track the victim’s movements on the day she disappeared.

8:45-left home for work at women’s clothing store in shopping center near Chestertown

9:30-arrived at work

1:00-left store for lunch with friend at restaurant in shopping center (coworker interviewed-nothing out of the ordinary discussed, no mention of anyone or anything bothering her. Looking forward to upcoming weekend in Ocean City, MD, with three friends)

3:15-took break in store

5:45-rang up last sale

5:58-left store through back door

Mia put down her pen and refilled her glass. She went back through the notes made by the officers who first investigated the case, but found no description of the area behind the store. Was it a private parking lot? Who had access to it? Was someone waiting there when Colleen left work?

She blew out a long breath. In her mind’s eye, she saw the young woman leave, saw the door close behind her. Saw her starting for her car…

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to imagine what came next. Bastard. Had he taken her there, or had he followed her, taken her someplace else? Was he an acquaintance, or someone she knew well enough to trust?

She rubbed her temples. Sometimes the job just plain hurt.

Over the course of the two hours since she’d started reading, her muscles had cramped. She stood to stretch, reaching her arms over her head and bending from side to side, almost losing her balance as she leaned to the left. She caught herself on the arm of the loveseat and righted herself. Must have been sitting longer than I thought, she told herself.

She sat on the edge of the cushion and picked her bag off the floor, opened it and began to search through the contents. When she found the small tape player, she removed it and set it on the table, then slipped in the copy of the tape Beck had given her. She poured another glass of wine, then punched play.

“This is your chance, now, Colleen. If there’s anything you want to tell your parents, your brother, your sister, you’ll want to do it now.”

There was a sound she couldn’t make out in the background, then, “That wasn’t nice. I’m giving you an opportunity to leave something behind that might comfort your family.”

“Momma, Daddy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize…I never thought he’d…” Then sobs.

“Is that all? This is your last chance, Colleen. No words of wisdom for your sweet little sister?”

“Fry in hell, you disgusting degenerate psychopathic pig…”

Mia’s hands were shaking. She stopped the tape and sat in silence, tears welling.

Colleen Preston’s sobbing plea spoke directly to Mia’s own conscience. It spoke of that moment of recognition that there would be no second chance to make this right, no way to turn back the clock to that moment she’d somehow ended up in this nightmare. Mia knew that Colleen had wept not for herself, but for her parents, and the unspeakable pain her death would cause them. She’d wept because she knew that the loss of her life, her suffering, would bring infinite grief and sadness to those who loved her.

“It’s all about expectations,” Mia said softly. “Your parents expect certain things of you. In your case, your parents expected you to outlive them.”

Colleen must have felt that she had placed herself in harms way. I didn’t realize…I never thought he…

Realize what? That this person you maybe knew-this he you perhaps trusted, was a raging maniac? That by befriending this person or maybe by merely speaking to him, making eye contact with him, stopping to answer a question for him-somehow you left yourself open for him to abduct you? Torture you? Take your life?

If something bad happens because we don’t realize the consequences, are we just as culpable?

Momma, Daddy, I’m sorry…

Mia could relate. How many times over the past two years had she whispered those same words?

“You’re going to have to be the little mother now,” an uncle had told the seven-year-old Mia on the day her mother was buried. “You’re the only girl in the family, you’re going to have to keep your brothers in line, just like your mother did.”

Yeah, well, we all know how that turned out, don’t we? If I’d been anything like Mom, I’d have known something was wrong. I’d have seen it coming.…

But I wasn’t like her, and I never saw what surely she would have seen. Dylan, Missy, even Brendan-they’d all still be alive if I had. None of that crazy shit would have happened.

I just wasn’t big enough to fill her shoes.

Mia tossed back what was left of the wine in the glass.

The phone rang, a lightning bolt of sound that jolted Mia out of her trance. She cleared her throat, hoping to clear her head at the same time, and picked up the phone after checking the caller ID.

“Annie, hi.”

“Hey, Mia. Sorry to call so late, I should have looked at the clock before I dialed. I was speaking with John about a case and he asked me to give you a call when we finished. He said you called him earlier, about a case you wanted to discuss with me?” Anne Marie McCall, one of the Bureau’s most respected profilers, was Mia’s first choice to work on this case.

“Right, I did. I have this case over on the Eastern Shore, maybe you heard about it? The killer is grabbing these girls off the street…maybe not off the street, we don’t know where he’s getting them or how, but he keeps them someplace and rapes them. At least we know the first one was raped repeatedly; the second one, she was just pretty much mush-”

“Whoa, Mia, slow down. You’re not making any sense,” Annie said. “You’re rambling.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Mia’s voice cracked. “It’s just so sad, Annie, and I thought maybe I could do the profiler thing, but not this case. Not this time. It’s too complicated. The killer’s too smart and if we screw up, another young girl is going to die. Maybe another one already has because we don’t have a clue-”

Annie interrupted, asking quietly, “Mia, are you all right?”

“Well, yeah, I’m fine, but these two vics we have…Annie, if you saw what he did to them…”

“Mia, what’s going on?” Annie hesitated for a moment. “It isn’t like you to fall apart like this.”

“I’ve never seen a case like this.”

“You’ve seen plenty of hard-core stuff over the years. I’ve worked with you on other cases.”

“Not like this,” Mia protested. “I’ve never seen anything this evil.”

“Mia, I have to ask…Have you been drinking?”

“I just had a little wine, while I was reading through the file.”

“How much?”

“Just a little, really.” Mia picked up the bottle and was surprised to find it was almost empty. No wonder her head was spinning and her focus was off. She took a deep breath. “I guess I didn’t eat as much as I should have today. I missed lunch, I missed dinner, then tried to snack on salsa and crackers, and I opened a bottle of wine to have while I was munching. I guess I lost track.”

“You do this often?”

“Of course not.” Mia forced herself not to snap. “I just got home late, and I was working my way through this file and just not paying attention. It’s all so sad, Annie. This guy is a demon. He’s a monster. This is one of the worst things I’ve ever seen.”

“Okay, tell me what you know.”

Mia stumbled through the case, unaware of how she was ambling this way and that. Finally, she said, “And he leaves these tapes inside the plastic wrap, all wrapped up inside with their bodies. You hear him talking to her, you hear his voice. And you hear her, Annie, she’s crying and telling her mother and father how sorry she is…”

“I see,” Annie said softly.

“Here, I’ll play it for you-”

“No, no, Mia, don’t put the tape on. Leave it for now. Close up the file and go to bed; you sound tired. We’ll listen to the tape when I get there.”

“I hate to ask you, it’s the weekend.”

“It’s okay. Evan’s working both days anyway. I’ll be there by afternoon so we can sit down and go over the case together.”

“Okay.” In spite of herself, Mia felt tears begin to well up again. “Maybe by two? I’ll need to tell Beck.”

“Who’s Beck?”

“He’s the chief of police in St. Dennis. I think he might be a very interesting man. Cute, in a hard-cop, all-business sort of way. Not that I’m interested in that type.”

“Of course not. Nothing appealing about cute, interesting, hard-edged cops who do their job.”

“Ha. You should know.”

“I do know. Now, do us both a favor. Don’t play that tape again. Just put everything in your briefcase and go to bed, all right? You need some sleep. And put the wine away for tonight, hear?”

I put it away, all right.

“Sure. Thanks, Annie.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Now go to bed.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Mia hung up the phone and slipped it into her bag. She closed the file and put it into her briefcase and snapped the lid. Took everything back into the kitchen. Set the plate with the remaining crackers on the counter and the empty wine bottle on the floor next to the trash can. Locked the back door and turned off the lights. She wouldn’t listen to the tape again, as she promised Annie.

She wouldn’t need to play it again to hear that tormented voice. It was there, in her head, amid the jumble of her own pleas for forgiveness.

Momma and Daddy, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…