Authors: Brenda Hill
Tracy closed her eyes. Would she ever again feel safe? She was exhausted and could barely stand, much less take Ritchie and go anywhere. Maybe, after some rest, she would feel stronger. Just one good night’s sleep.
“Okay,” she finally said. “Just for tonight.”
“Good.” Diana patted her hand. “And honey, think about staying with us for awhile. Your things are just upstairs, and since you can’t go to work, you could watch Joey for me. Judy’s been great, but she’s getting older and needs a social life. I can’t keep asking her to watch a four-year-old. It could work out. It would give you a little money. You could call that detective, uh...”
“Sanders. Sergeant Sanders.”
“Yes, that’s him,” Diana said. “Call Sergeant Sanders and ask about protection for you and Ritchie. I’m sure he can arrange something.”
“The thing is, I was going to do that until that, that note came. Now, I can’t.” Tracy closed her eyes again. She wished she could just tell him everything and let him take care of it. It would be so wonderful, not having to be afraid anymore, not having to run. God, how did she ever get into this mess?
***
Reese scanned the taped sheet of paper. Jesus, what a sick fuck. He could imagine Tracy’s horror as she read that. No wonder she ran.
It all fell into place. Her son was the reason she had lied. And the perp had to be Karlton Wolfe; he would’ve had the opportunity to discover her love for her son. The perfect leverage.
Now he had to convince her to help him get the sick sonofabitch off the street.
He felt sure he knew where she’d gone. He pulled out his notebook, looked up the number and called Tracy’s home. No answer. Next, he called Mrs. Golden.
“Yes, Sergeant, I remember you.”
“Tracy has left the hospital,” Reese said, “and I’m trying to reach her. Is she there?”
“What makes you think she’s here?”
“Mrs. Golden, Diana, we both know that’s the first place she’d go. Let me speak to her. It’s important.” There was only silence. “Look. I can have a patrol car there in less than five minutes. I don’t think any of us wants that.”
He heard whispering. Come on, Tracy.
“I’m sorry you made the trip to the hospital for nothing,” Tracy said without preliminary. “But the fact is,” she continued, her voice soft, yet determined, “I can’t talk to you now.”
“Tracy!” Reese shouted over the phone.
After an eternity, he heard, “Yes?”
“Listen, Tracy, I saw the note. I understand why you left. But what are you going to do now? You can’t run forever.”
Tracy said nothing.
“At least give me a positive identification. Is it Karlton Wolfe? Talk to me, dammit! Let me help you.”
“I can’t! Don’t you think I want to? He knows everything I do. I don’t know how he knows, but he does! He knows who I talk to. He knew you were at the hospital. Don’t you understand? I can’t talk to you. He’ll kill my son if I do!”
“Tracy, listen, I can offer protection. You don’t have to be afraid.”
“What kind of protection? Can you watch us every minute?”
“I can put you in a safe place that no one knows about. And you’d be guarded by armed policemen.”
“For how long?” There was interest in her voice now, interest with perhaps a little hope.
“As long as it takes. To pick him up, and until he goes to trial. You’ll be safe.”
“But what if, for some reason, he gets off? What then? What happens to my son then? Can you still protect us?”
Reese let out a long sigh. He knew what was coming. He didn’t want to answer, but she deserved the truth.
“I’m afraid there aren’t enough funds to offer protection after the trial,” he admitted.
“I’m sorry, Sergeant Sanders, that’s not good enough. He’d know, and he’d come after us. I can’t take that risk. My son’s life is at stake.”
“Please let me help you—”
“I can’t...I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
All of Reese’s experience urged him to rush to the Golden home and demand that Tracy make a positive identification. But he heard the exhaustion in her voice and understood how desperate she must feel. He could give her today.
Meanwhile, he would talk to Cindy Harris.
***
Cindy didn’t want to let him in. She stood at the door in a long cotton robe buttoned up to her throat. The swelling in her face had receded and the bruises were a greenish-yellow. Even so, she was lovely. Only her eyes looked old.
“Please, detective—”
“Sergeant Sanders. But call me Reese.” He walked through the door, forcing her to step back.
“Can’t you just leave me alone? I’ve been all through it with that other... detective.” She began to cry. Reese looked away.
Her duplex apartment in the old bungalow home was sparsely furnished, but the hardwood floors, dotted with red and gold throw pillows, had a shine and the cracks in the plastered walls were camouflaged with prints of the Rocky Mountains. Ivy plants trailing from macramé hangers filled up the empty spaces. Reese sat on a wicker chair opposite a frayed loveseat. An open suitcase lay on the floor.
“Detective Cooper is a good cop. She’s doing her job.” Reese found himself defending her again to a civilian and he didn’t like it. “Look. Won’t you please sit down? I want to show you some photographs.”
“If it’s the guy you think attacked me, it won’t do any good. I’ve told you people over and over I didn’t see him. It was too dark.” She sank onto the loveseat.
“Just try.” Reese held photographs of five different men, mostly cops in the division, plus one of Wolfe. She didn’t take them and the moment stretched into an awkward silence. Still, he held them out to her, gambling on her sense of courtesy. Finally she took them and he breathed a sigh of relief. She shuffled through, giving no indication she recognized anyone.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t see—” She froze at one.
She recognized him, Reese saw in an instant. Years of training kept him from grabbing and hugging her.
Cindy quickly reshuffled.
“Who?” Reese asked.
“I told you, he wore a mask.” She passed them back to him, not meeting his gaze.
“Is it Karlton Wolfe?”
Head down, she said nothing.
“Look. I can’t begin to tell you how to live your life. I’m having enough trouble with my own.” Reese tried not to let the desperation creep into his voice. “But if you let him get away with it, he’s free to hurt someone else. The next time he might even kill them. Can you live with that?”
“Oh, God…” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
“You can’t let this happen. Help me, Cindy, help me get him off the streets.”
“I can’t. Please, don’t you understand? I can’t.”
“If you need protection, I can arrange—”
“Get out, Sergeant, just get out.”
***
That evening, after everyone else was in bed, Tracy and Diana sat talking in Diana’s living room.
Sighing, Tracy sorted through the mail she’d received while in the hospital.
“Bills, and a reminder from Ritchie’s doctor for his last check-up. And rent. That’ll be coming up pretty quick. What am I going to do? I’ve got about two days pay coming, but that’s all.”
“Honey, don’t worry about the rent,” Diana told her. “You have enough on your mind. Between us we can make it just fine till this thing’s straightened out. You know Greg and I want to help, and we haven’t been able to do much. So let us help in the only way we can. Please.”
“Thank you.” Tracy felt so much gratitude that she knew she’d never be able to repay it all. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about staying here and babysitting. If I’m careful to stay in, and he doesn’t ever see anyone in my apartment, maybe he’ll think I left. It might work out, at least for a couple of days. Just until I figure out what to do.”
“Oh, honey, I’m so glad. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” Yawning, Diana got up from the chair. “I’m beat, and you must be, too. Let’s go to bed.”
As she rose, Tracy saw a postcard on the floor. It was from the business school.
Suddenly it all came back to her. She had been so concerned with Ritchie’s safety that she had forgotten that her plans for her future were in limbo.
“What’s the matter?” Diana asked. “You’re white as a sheet. Here. Let me see that.” Diana pried the card from Tracy’s trembling fingers. “It’s from the business school. What happened?”
“I looked at the card,” Tracy said, “and at first, I thought, ‘Oh! I better get registered.’ Then, I realized I can’t register. How can I plan to go to school? I’m already so behind in everything. I don’t know if I can go back to work to get the money, and if I can’t, how will I manage then? I can’t even plan on going to my own home! There’s a madman out there, watching me, watching Ritchie. How can I plan for a future when I don’t even know how I’m going to get through the next few days?”
“Oh honey,” Diana hugged her again. “I don’t know. We just have to hang in there and have faith that things will work out. You know I’ll help. Greg and I will do anything we can. Try not to think about next week, or next month. We’ll worry about the future as it happens. Let’s just take it day by day. The main thing is, you and Ritchie are safe here with us, and that’s all that matters.”
***
The next morning, Tracy fixed breakfast for Ritchie and Joey. Everyone else had left for work or school, and she enjoyed the quiet of the house. Later, when the kids were down for a nap, she would run upstairs and grab a few needed items. Mentally, she listed the things she needed, as she wanted to get them quickly and get out. Strange, Diana’s apartment was just downstairs, but here, she felt safe.
She heard footsteps at the front door, then the squeak of the mailbox lid. Wiping Ritchie’s face, she put him down on the floor to join Joey and went to get the mail.
Gathering up the envelopes, she saw a sale catalog from a department store, something fun to look through. Since her income was so low, she never charged anything, so she never received the catalogs. Wish books, her mother called them.
Back at the kitchen table, she put the catalog by her coffee cup and the envelopes in a neat stack for Greg and Diana. One was addressed to her at Diana’s address.
Odd, no one knew she was there. She picked it up and looked at it. No return address, and, no stamp. Her heart pounded when she realized that someone had to have personally placed it in the mailbox before the mailman came.
As if it contained a bomb, she carefully opened it and pulled out one folded sheet of white paper.
“You think you can hide from me?” she read. “I know every move you make. Told you I got connections. Ready to go another round?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Karr sat in his van and watched the Goldens’ house. He had parked down the street under the sweeping branches of a willow tree so he wouldn’t be too noticeable. He didn’t think Tracy knew what he drove, but it didn’t hurt to be careful. After all, that’s how he’d made it this far.
He picked up a Styrofoam cup from the dash. Damn, that coffee was hot! He set it down to cool. He rolled his head, getting the kinks out. He was getting a headache and his whole body felt like shit. What he needed was a good night’s sleep. If he didn’t have the back of the van loaded with all his stuff, he could sack out there. Bitch. It was all her fault he’d had to sleep in his van.
He took a bite of his egg and sausage sandwich and spotted the mailman striding up the street. Stuffing the rest of the breakfast biscuit in his mouth, he picked up the binoculars and aimed them at the mailbox by the Goldens’ front door. The mailman bustled up to the house, deposited the mail, then, hot damn! Tracy cracked open the door, got the mail and disappeared inside. Grinning, he put the glasses next to the warm sack of food on the passenger’s seat.
He knew she’d show up sooner or later. Her kid was there.
He’d better get the hell out of there, just in case someone came looking for him. He turned on the ignition and fought the impulse to floor it. Wouldn’t do to call attention to himself.
Heading down Colfax, he finished his coffee. Damn, he felt good. He’d sure like to be a fly on the wall when she opened his note. What a stroke of genius! Bet she turned all kinds of colors. He didn’t know what the hell he’d been thinking of, running like a scared rabbit. That put the control right in her hands. And didn’t he vow never to let another goddamned female have that kind of power over him again?
Thinking of females, maybe he’d look around for a broad. A good stunt like the one he’d just pulled was enough to give a man a hard-on.
But he’d be back. Just so he could keep an eye on everything.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Revulsion and horror washed over Tracy as she read the note from Karr. He knew she was at Diana’s! He was out there, watching. She crumpled the note and ran to the front door and quickly bolted the lock. The children watched her, their eyes growing larger and larger as she raced around like a madwoman, checking locks on windows and closing curtains.