Her Last Scream (13 page)

“Sondra?” a voice said. “Sondra, wake up.”

Rein blinked her waking eyes toward the window to see a sky still dark, the bedside clock indicating four a.m. Shapes at the foot of her bed resolved into Carol and Meelia. They’d brought her to the safe house last night, a garage apartment only blocks from the center.

“You had a visitor this evening,” Carol said. “At the center.”

“Tee Bull?” Rein knew she’d hear about Harry Nautilus’s visit, but didn’t expect to hear so early. “A big man with … things on his teeth?”

Carol’s voice got hard. Inquisitorial. “Did you tell him where you were? You did, right?”

Rein snapped up in bed, eyes wide for surprise, hand on heart for sincerity. A quiver in the voice for fear. “I’ve never mentioned anything about this place, ever. But other women Tee Bull knows … they’ve gone to shelters to hide. That must have been it.”

Meelia stepped forward. “This – this monster wanted you to get back to the same place. What did that mean? The truth, Sondra.”

Rein looked away, shame. “You know what Tee Bull is?” she whispered.

Meelia nodded. “We’re not stupid, Sondra. He’s your pimp.”

“Then you know what he wants from me.”

“But isn’t that where you want to be, Sondra? You’re here taking a vacation, right? A few days off to show Tee Bull how much he needs you. When you go back, he’ll have the crack pipe waiting and you’ll happily suck every –”

“I don’t do that shit no more,” Rein hissed. “I hate drugs, they steal me away from me.”

Rein knew this was part of the process, a hard-edged interrogation. It was like banging a hammer on a ship to make sure the hull was resistant to leaks.

“Off drugs one day, on the next,” Meelia sneered. “You’re like a light switch, girl, on, off, on, off. Getting clean for a while makes the dope that much nicer, right?”

“I told you, I don’t do that now,” Rein said. “Why are you being so mean?”

Meelia made her mouth into an O and performed air fellatio. “How many cocks you suck a day for Tee Bull, girl? Fifty? A hundred? I bet you especially like the ones that haven’t been washed in a week.”

Rein puffed out her cheeks, made gagging sounds and put her hand to her mouth, pushing past the two women and into the bathroom. She slammed the door and knelt beside the toilet, making vomiting noises.

A knocking at the door. “Sondra,” Carol asked tentatively. “Sondra, are you all right?”

“I-I’m OK,” Rein said. “I need to wash my face.”

Rein opened the door to hugs from the women, explaining their cruelty had been necessary. “We had to know you really want out of that life,” Carol said. “That you’ll do anything to escape.”

“All I want is freedom.”

“We’re gonna get you out of the area, out of the region,” Meelia said. “We’re going to put you into a system that will aim you toward a new life. It may take a week, it may take three, but you’ll be free and far away.”

“Tee Bull has eyes everywhere. He’ll track me down.”

“He can’t have eyes in the system, Sondra. It’s a chain made of black holes. No one can see in.”

Rein let her Sondra character consider the words, then washed joy over her face. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so much.”

“You have anywhere to go?” Carol asked. “A place Tee Bull will never look?”

“Don’t tell us where it is,” Meelia cautioned. “Just if there is one. And where it is from here: east, west …?”

“Down south on the Gulf,” Rein said. “I have a couple aunts near Mobile, wonderful people. I was always too ashamed to go there.”

“Tee Bull doesn’t know?”

“I never wanted a person like that to know my true past, y’know? I always told Tee I’d grown up in Detroit, left when my husband started drinking and beating on me. It was true, but not Detroit.”

The women looked between one another, communicating with glances. Something was going on, Rein knew. A decision was being made. But if they’d already decided to put her in the system, what was now being decided?

Within seconds, she had her answer.

“We’ve cleared things with people,” Carol said. “It’s never done this fast, but having a monster like Tee Bull after you makes you a special case. You’re leaving in a half an hour.”

Rein fought to control her surprise, thinking,
The suitcase. I have to get the GPS suitcase. And my gun.

“I need to run to my apartment,” Rein said. “I’ve got some money there. Clothes.”

Carol shook her head. “We’ve dug into our clothing stores and made you up a traveling kit with everything you need – clothes, hygiene items, some money. People at the other end will help you build a new life.”

“I just need a few minutes,” Rein pressed. “I’ll come right back and –”

Meelia stepped in. “You just said Tee Bull has eyes everywhere, Sondra. Going back is way too dangerous.”

Carole looked at her watch. “Best get showered and dressed, dear. You’re on the road in twenty minutes.”

Nine a.m. and I stared at my phone in disbelief. Harry was snoring in his small room, a fitful sleep overtaking him in the early hours. I called Amica Cruz with the news.

“It worked,” she said quietly. “But I never expected them to hit the launch button so fast.”

Gritting my teeth, I opened Harry’s door and jostled his shoulder. “Get up, bro. We overplayed the threats.”

He grunted to an elbow, looked up with blinking eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Rein’s in the system. They put her on the railroad.”

Harry sat bolt upright in the bed.

“What?”

“She just sent me a text.”

Harry grabbed the phone from my hand, squinted at the screen:

I said, “It translates to, ‘Surprise! I’m in transit and will call when I get a chance.’”

Harry stared. “She has nothing with her. Gun, the suitcase with the –”

“I know,” I said.

Harry stared at the message again, maybe hoping she’d texted
April Fools’
in the interim. “What’s that gobbledygook at the end?” he asked.

“She says she’s having a great time and wishes we were there.”

Harry glared at me. “That’s not funny, Carson. That’s not funny at all.”

“I’m not the one saying it.”

I was actually buoyed by Rein’s flip sign-off – staying cool – but kept it to myself, Harry was clearly not in the mood for glass-half-f optimism.

He was pulling on his pants as Cruz entered, shaking her head. “I’ve never heard of someone put on a train so fast. Usually there’s a meeting of the top brass. It takes days.” She raised an eyebrow at Harry. “What did you do last night?”

“You’re blaming me?”

“Blame? Whatever you did must have been Oscar quality.”

Harry met Cruz’s words with a look of disgust. “We’ve got to get Rein her piece and the suitcase with the GPS.”

“You might get close enough to pass her a weapon, though it’d be hard as hell, but how to explain a different suitcase?”

“Unless the case is passed over when Rein’s between caretakers,” I said. “Caretaker number two has never seen the case.”

Cruz frowned. “That’s a tiny damn window, and anything suspicious cancels the hand-over. By suspicious, I’m referring to one of you guys crouching in the shadows with a suitcase.”

“Shut the operation down,” Harry declared. “Tell Rein to come home.”

“Whoa, cowboy,” Cruz said. “My people put a lot of thought into this op. Let’s think things through before we start freaking out.”

“Freaking out? Listen, lady, that girl out there is –”

“A professional,” Cruz said. “Your Lieutenant called her the cream’s cream of your Police Academy.”

“She’s out there with nothing to protect her,” Harry shot back.

“She’s got brains and training,” Cruz said. “And you know fuck-ups are part of the undercover biz. If this officer is as resourceful as everyone keeps saying, we’ll get things figured out.”

“This is insane,” Harry said, throwing his hands high and storming outside. Cruz looked at me, perplexed.

“Uh, just between you and me,” I said, “officer Early is Detective Nautilus’s niece.”

Disbelief. It took a few seconds for Cruz to recover.

“Personal involvement is against every rule in the freakin’ book, Ryder. How the hell did Nautilus get assigned to a case with a family member involved?”

I tried a smile. “Seems no one knows about the relationship.”

Cruz met the smile with a scowl. “Apparently
someone
in this room did. If Nautilus blows up the operation, we’ll have to start from scratch. That won’t sit well with my people.”

My cell rang. I looked at the caller name: Reinetta. “Get Harry in here now,” I said, hearing the crackling of a drifting connection.

“Rein?” I said. “You there, Rein?”

A buzz of interference as I pressed the speakerphone button, Rein’s words filling the room. “Gotta talk fast here, guys. I’m at a rest stop by Castle Rock. They got me up at four, in transit by five. What did you do last night, Harry … strangle someone? A woman drove me south to a rest stop. Two minutes later my new carrier was a nice lady named Lena. Grandmotherly type, but a lotta backbone. No killer here. She’s taking me to her home – whereabouts unknown– for a day or two.”

“You don’t have a weapon or your tracking device,” Harry said, as if explaining something to a kid.

“You can use my cell phone, right?” Rein said, calm as always. “To get a fix?”

“It’s only approximate to the nearest cell tower,” Cruz said. “Do you have a charger?”

“No, and my battery’s low. I’ll call when I’ve got something to report. Phones are a major no-no, so don’t – repeat, don’t – call. I’m afraid it’ll make a sound. It’s gonna be hidden anyway. I’ll call you when –”

Harry grabbed the phone from my palm. “I don’t want you out there alone, Rein. I swear I’ll –”

“I’ll be fine, Harry. Even my caution has caution.”

“I want you out, Rein. At least until we can get you the –”

“Carson,” Rein said, overriding Harry’s words. “Help me out here, willya? Gotta go.”

Rein wanted to stay in the system. Cruz wanted her there, too. So did I. Only Harry was trying to haul her out. “Rein, wait!” Harry bellowed into the dead connection in his palm. “Rein!”

I looked across the room and saw Cruz staring at me, her eyes saying,
How long you gonna let this go on?

I managed to calm Harry by assuring him we could get Rein her .32 and the suitcase. Cruz was dubious, but played along. “If she can figure when the next switch happens,” Cruz speculated, “we can try and cross paths. It’ll take luck and timing.”

Harry snapped his fingers. “Wait … we don’t need to get Rein the suitcase, we can pass over a smaller GPS. Like the ones they put on dog collars.”

“Something to consider,” Cruz said without conviction, nodding at the battered yellow case intended for Rein. “But our suitcase has a built-in battery stash. The case transmits for a couple weeks at least. A tiny tracker holds a tiny battery. It works for a bit, then craps out.”

“Usually when you need it most,” I muttered, having dealt with the things before. Nothing ever worked like in the spy movies.

“Let’s get the suitcase packed with everything Rein needs,” Harry said. “A spare phone and charger, her weapon and a few speed-loaders, maybe a spare GPS locator, a survival knife –”

“An inflatable raft,” Cruz said, rolling her eyes. “A parachute …”

“Here’s how we run it,” I interrupted, grabbing a map of Colorado. “If Rein was by Castle Rock, she’s heading south. Let’s bust ass toward Colorado Springs. Maybe between Rein and us we can dope out where she’ll make the next transfer. It’s usually a truck stop or a park, right?”

“Do you know how many parks are in this state?” Cruz said.

“Got a better idea?” I asked.

The Colorado State Police had readied us a surveillance van. It looked like a retired couples vacation-in-a-box but held several communication options, a tiny refrigerator and microwave oven, and a bit of room to stretch out when needed. I’d worked from similar units before and, while not the Ritz, it beat bagging out in the backseat of a VW Beetle.

We’d put a hundred miles under our wheels when my phone rang: Sally Hargreaves.

“We have another killing,” she said. “Last week a group of hikers were using an outhouse near Arches National Park in east Utah. One of them looked down and screamed.”

“A body,” I said.

“Female, Hispanic. Eyes removed and head shaved bald. One breast badly damaged, the other jabbed with something sharp. Vic is Tomasina Herdez, age twenty-seven, former address is Pittsburgh. Her sister filed a missing-persons report five weeks ago. The body was ID’d by dentition yesterday, the report hit the national logs an hour ago. I’ve been on the phone to Utah. The local pathologist estimates the corpse was in the muck for three days.”

“Our corpses were put on display, Sal. At the dump and in a wide-open settling tank. You sure this one belongs?”

“When the body got yanked from the shit stew, there were half-moons of closed-cell foam taped under her armpits. Get the picture?”

“No.”

“Think of life vests.”

I thought a moment, saw the physics. “She was supposed to float,” I said. “Face up.”

“Her head and shoulders were out of the muck, Carson, her face looking up as people urinated and defecated on it.”

“Jesus. Any evidence still on the body?”

“That strange mucilage on the belly – waterproof – and the ligature marks again. The Utah ME’s dating of the wounds as recent parallels the other cases.”

“You’re saying Herdez was held captive?”

“By her killer. There were older wounds and scars as well. Miz Herdez was an ongoing victim of domestic abuse in Pittsburgh. Busted nose, broken fingers, cracked cheekbone. Miz Herdez put the boyfriend in jail for the last beating. He was three days from completing a six-month sentence when she disappeared. I figure he was gunning for her and she had to get gone fast.”

“So Miz Herdez dropped into the women’s underground?”

“Confirmed by the Pittsburgh cops. There’s a women’s center in Pittsburgh and Miz Herdez was on the railroad. No one knows where she was going, of course. But the sister who reported her missing lives in Baja California.”

I studied a map of the continental US in my head. “A rough center line of a Pennsylvania to Baja trip crosses the Boulder to Mobile line, Sal.”

“Exactly. It looks like Miz Herdez crossed into the perp’s territory and got killed.”

I rubbed my eyes. “Where you going with this?”

“I’ll stay in touch with the Pittsburgh cops and keep digging down here. You guys being careful with Rein?”

“Trying our best,” I said. “Gotta go.”

I relayed the ugly news to Cruz. Harry and I drove in silence, both thinking of the kind of mind that would float a woman in a latrine. My phone beeped.

“Text from Rein,” I said. “Plnes ovrhd. Sgn: Devine 5.”

Harry veered to the side of the road, Cruz ran up and I showed her the message. “Planes overhead,” Cruz translated. “And a sign reading ‘Five miles to Devine’. That would be under the approach to the Pueblo airport. We’re maybe forty-five miles north of Devine, just east of Pueblo.”

Cruz took the point with siren and flashers, pulling forty-plus miles under our tires in a half-hour. My phone tinged the arrival of another text. I tossed the phone to Harry.

“It says, ‘Styng sf h nr Rck Frd.’”

“She’s going to a safe house near something. Call Cruz. Put it on speaker.”

Harry relayed the message. I watched her on the phone in my rear-view; not hard, she was fifty feet from my bumper.

“Rocky Ford, ahead about twenty miles. I dunno about a hand-over at a truck stop or park on this one, guys.”

“Why?” Harry said.

“Any back road would work as a transfer site. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of the desert.”

Reinetta Early ran to the Hyundai Sonata from behind a tumble of rocks and sagebrush, her phone in her underwear. They were in a flatland nowhere, baked dirt with scruffy undergrowth, rocky mounds, and the occasional house. The roads were signless, barely roads to begin with.

“Better, dear?” the woman at the wheel asked.

“Yes, thank you, Lena,” Rein said, pulling her seat belt back on. “I guess it’s the tension. My insides are kind of acting up.”

“We’re near my house,” Lena said. “I’ll get some Imodium in you. Then we’ll have an easy-on-the-digestion supper and you can relax.”

“There’s a Rocky Ford near where I’m from, Lena,” Rein lied, never having heard of a Rocky Ford until now. “Very green, and surrounded by hills and meadows.”

Lena chuckled. “That’s not mine. All I see looking out the window is desert and sky. And that damned cell tower.”

Rein laughed, improvising as fast as possible. “A friend of mine had a house on the beach with a beautiful sunrise view. Then a cell tower went up. Now the sun throws a shadow of the tower into his yard.”

“I fought the blamed tower,” Lena said. “But there it is today, eight hundred feet away.”

“Not in your sun, I hope.”

“Off to the west. Something to be thankful for, I suppose.”

“I hope there are some trees or hills between you and the tower, Lena. So you don’t just see the thing.”

The woman sighed. “Nothing. Just my little white ranch house and that big blinking tower.”

Rein made a grunting noise and put her hand over her belly. “Uh, Lena …”

“Sure, dear, I’ll pull over just ahead. See? There’s a little place behind the sagebrush where you can relieve yourself.”

Two minutes later a message appeared on Carson Ryder’s phone:

“I gotta learn this stuff,” Harry said. “What’s she saying?”

“She’s at or will be at a white ranch house eight hundred feet southeast of a cell tower outside of Rocky Ford,” I translated, going silent to read ahead. I said, “Holy shit, Harry …”

“What? What’s it say?”

“She wants us to leave her .32 and any small stuff we might have at a corner of the cell tower and to mark it with one of my bandanas.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. Rein had not only sent along her position, she had arranged a drop. I felt like pulling the van over and dancing: the girl had magic.