Larry knew where this was going. He leaned back in his chair and waited. “Yeah? What?”
“She told me that you took Melissa Nelson out last night.”
“It wasn’t a date. And Mrs. Berkley is loony. She floats in and out of reality. We can’t count on her story at all.”
Tony wouldn’t let him change the subject. “Did you or didn’t you take Melissa Nelson out last night?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I went by to see her, okay? I helped her clean up. And she needed to get out of the apartment, so I took her.”
“On a date.”
Larry stacked some loose papers on his desk. A telephone at the next desk rang. He wished it were his. “Call it what you want, Tony.”
Tony leaned forward, fixing his eyes on his partner’s. “Tell me the truth, Larry. You were disturbed by what Mrs. Berkley told us, right? And also by the stuff we found out yesterday about Melissa’s job. You wanted to get to the bottom of it, and that’s why you went to see her last night.”
Larry dropped the papers and began rubbing his temples. “Okay, yeah. And I did get to the bottom of it. She didn’t like criminal justice, once she started working in it. That happens. She decided to take a job doing clerical work until she could figure out what she wanted to do. And her sister had died, she was having trouble with the memories, and that’s why she came here.”
“A sister, huh?” Tony pulled a pad out of his pocket and jotted that down.
“What? Do you think she’s lying about that, too?”
“Just gonna check,” Tony said. “By the way, we have to testify for the grand jury day after tomorrow. Did you know that?”
“Yeah.” Larry looked at him again. “And what are you gonna say, Tony? You gonna go in there and tell them that, despite what you saw that night, despite all the evidence we found, you think she’s lying?”
Tony breathed a laugh. “Man, I’m telling you again. You’re losing your edge. When’s the last time I sat on a witness stand and told them whether I thought someone was lying or not? I’m being called to talk about the evidence, not my gut feelings.”
“Good. Because your gut feelings are wrong.”
A police radio on the hip of an officer nearby blared, adding to the grating noise of a teletype printing out a report.
Tony got up and looked down at his friend. “You’re getting involved with her, buddy. And that’s a big mistake.”
“I don’t do things the way you do, Tony. You’ve known that for a long time. I don’t have to account to you or anyone else on this force for my personal life.”
“Fine,” Tony said. “I hope you don’t have to eat those words.”
Larry watched Tony go back to his desk, then stared for a while at his blank computer screen. Things had been tense between them ever since they’d met Melissa Nelson, but that wasn’t his fault. Tony wanted to victimize the victim, and Larry wasn’t going to let him. It was as simple as that.
Still, he thought, it probably would be better if he didn’t keep seeing Melissa. Though he would never admit it to Tony, she was getting under his skin, and that wasn’t good. Later, after the case was laid to rest, maybe he could explore those feelings again.
He got up and went into the interrogation room, the only quiet place in the building. He stared out the window at what he could see of downtown St. Clair. He watched as citizens walked by on the sidewalk, trusting the officers in this building to keep them safe.
Was Tony right? Was he slipping? Was this protective feeling toward Melissa compromising his police work?
Maybe it was, he admitted reluctantly. Starting now, he had to put it behind him. He wouldn’t call Melissa Nelson again.
Melissa was trembling, two days later, as she sat on the witness stand in front of the grand jury that would decide whether Edward Soames would stand trial. Under oath, she told them her whole story—the way he’d shown up unexpectedly and shoved his way in, the struggle that had ensued as she’d tried to defend herself, the knife with which he’d cut her, his ultimate violation of her. She cried as she spoke, thankful that he wasn’t in the courtroom, since defendants weren’t allowed in a grand jury hearing. If he’d been sitting there, it would have been so hard . . .
But his attorney was there, and as he cross-examined her, she tried not to back up or stumble, tried not to sway at all or deviate from what she’d told them at first. When he suggested that she’d had a crush on Soames, she knew her repulsion was apparent on her face. He’d then gone on to badger her about inviting him to dinner—apparently Gretchen at work had testified before her—but his merciless bullying of her had only made him look like another monster, and her a victim suffering further abuse.
By the time they dismissed her, she was weak and exhausted. And the first person she saw outside the courtroom was Larry.
Needing his strong shoulder, she wilted into him, and he slid his arms around her and let her cry. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “It was just . . . I don’t know if they believed me. His lawyer was putting so many lies into their heads.” She wiped her eyes and stepped back. “Will you wait with me until they give the verdict? I don’t think I can stand to be by myself right now.”
“Sure,” he said, unable to deny her such a simple and heartfelt request. “I’ll wait.”
It was a couple of hours before the DA came out of the courtroom and found them sitting together. “Well, we have some good news and some bad news,” he said.
Melissa looked up, bracing herself. “Was he indicted?”
“Yes, he was,” he said. “But the bad news is that the judge let him out on $100,000 bond, pending trial.”
Melissa sprang up. “He did what?”
“I’m sorry, Melissa. I tried my best to convince him that it would be dangerous to let him out, but he said that it could take a year for it to come to trial, and he didn’t want to lock him up for that amount of time.”
“He’s getting out? When?”
“Probably today,” he said.
Feeling as blindsided as she did by this, Larry stood up beside her. “Melissa,” he tried, “you know he’d be crazy to come near you. He knows what the consequences would be.”
“He is crazy! Don’t you people get it? He’s going to come after me!”
“No, he won’t,” the DA said. “The judge laid down very specific instructions. He told him he’d throw him back in jail if he so much as thought about you.”
“This man doesn’t care what a judge told him!” Melissa insisted, starting to cry. “I’m telling you, this is a big mistake! He could kill me the next time!” She headed back toward the courtroom. “Where’s the judge? I have to talk to him!”
Larry grabbed her arm. “Melissa, you can’t. There’s nothing you can do. But I agree with Sid. I don’t think he’ll bother you.”
“You don’t think?” she shouted. “Well, what if you’re wrong?”
Jerking away from him, she turned and ran toward the door that would take her into the parking garage. Helpless, Larry just let her go.
She spent the rest of the afternoon hunting for a new place to live, then packing all of her belongings and moving. The move would wipe out her savings. And she hadn’t yet found another job. But it was the only way she could evade the man who would kill her if he found her.
Now, in her new apartment in a building several blocks away from her old one, she found herself still uneasy. As night had fallen and she’d made the last trip from her old apartment, she’d had the uneasy, panicky feeling that someone was watching her.
She locked the dead bolt, checked every window, then sat on the couch, her back straight, eyes darting about. It was safer, she told herself. Much safer. Too afraid to sleep in her bed, which sat right below a window, she tried to sleep on the couch, curled up in a fetal position.
And all night, she clutched a knife in her hand.
CHAPTER NINE
Across the street, in a phone booth that gave him a per
fect view of the second-floor window of Melissa’s new apartment, Edward Pendergrast, alias Soames, dialed the long-distance number he’d gotten from information. Keeping an eye on the window, he waited for it to ring once . . . twice . . . three times.
“Hello?”
It was the just-awakened voice of an older woman, probably in her fifties, and he got a mental picture of her right away—martyred, long-suffering, self-righteous. It pleased him to death to bring her in on this now.
“Hello?” she said again.
“Mrs. Nelson?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is this the Mrs. Nelson who’s the mother of Melissa Nelson?”
“Yes,” she said tentatively. “Do you know my daughter?”
“Do I know your daughter.” He chuckled then, and looked back at the window. “Yeah, I’d say I know your daughter. Listen, I need to get in touch with her. Can you help me?”
The woman hesitated. “Well, I’d be happy to give her a message for you.”
“I’d rather call her myself,” he said.
Again, hesitation. “Would you like to leave a message? I’ll get it to her tomorrow.”
He grinned. She probably didn’t know that her daughter had just moved. Wouldn’t she be surprised to hear why? “Yeah, okay. Give her a message. Tell her an old friend called. She’ll know who it is.”
“Uh—may I tell her your name?”
“Just tell her that,” he said. “Tell her I’ve been looking for her.”
“Would you like to leave a number?”
He smiled. “She knows how to reach me.”
He hung up then, and laughed out loud at the conversation that was probably taking place between Melissa’s parents. Her father would probably grill her mother over and over on what had been said, then convince her that it had no significance. It was just some prankster. Within minutes, they’d roll over and try to get back to sleep.
But they wouldn’t get a lot of sleep tonight.
His grin faded as he stepped out of the phone booth and crossed the street. If there was a weakness in that building, he would find it. And tomorrow, he’d have a huge new surprise for her.
The phone rang again, startling Nancy Nelson awake for the second time that night. She looked over at her husband, who was squinting to read the clock. “Three A.M.,” he said.
She reached for the phone. “Hello?”
“Hi. Me again.”
It was the voice of the man who’d called earlier—the old friend of Melissa. Covering the phone, she whispered, “It’s the same person.”
Jim sat up.
“Did you give Melissa my message?” the deep voice asked.
“No,” she said. “It was late. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ve found her.”
Something about the way he said that sent chills down her spine. “What do you mean, you’ve found her?”
“If you talk to her, Mrs. Nelson, tell her that she can’t hide.”
She caught her breath, and Jim snatched the phone away. “Who is this?” he shouted. “What do you want?”
“Ask Melissa,” he said. “She knows what I want.”
They heard a click, then a dial tone.
Jim got up and turned on the lamp.
“What are you doing?” Nancy asked, getting out of bed and reaching for her robe.
“Calling Melissa,” he said.
“But it’s three A.M. You’ll wake her.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “Something’s wrong. She needs to know about this call.”
Nancy went to sit beside him on the bed, and he reached for her hand and held it in a reassuring grip as he waited for Melissa to answer.
The ringing was interrupted by three ascending tones and an operator’s voice. “I’m sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected . . .”
He slowly lowered the receiver. “Disconnected,” he said. “Where is she?”
Nancy raked her hand through her hair. “Jim, you don’t think—”
Jim got up and went to the closet, flicked on the light. “Get dressed. We’re driving down to St. Clair.”
“But it’s 400 miles!” Nancy said, reaching for the phone. “I’m calling the St. Clair police. She may need help now.”
Jim nodded. “If only we knew some of her friends to call. People she works with.”
He waited as she got the St. Clair police on the phone and asked them to check on Melissa. When she hung up, she was just as troubled as she had been when she’d called.
“What did they say?” he asked.
Nancy shook her head as she began to get dressed. “They said they’d go check on her and ask her to call us. And they advised us not to make the 400 mile trip until we’d tried to reach her at work. But tomorrow’s Saturday, and even if she does have to work, she won’t be in for another five hours. Something could happen to her before that.”
Nancy threw some clothes into a suitcase while Jim closed and locked the windows. Keys in hand, Jim grabbed the suitcase. “We’ll stop at a pay phone and call home every hour or so and see if the police have left a message on our machine,” he said.
“Okay,” Nancy agreed. Grabbing her purse, she dashed out behind him to the car.
CHAPTER TEN
The next day, tired from the fitful sleep of the night before, when she’d stirred at every noise—ever aware that she had no phone hooked up with which to call for help if he somehow found her—Melissa went to a pay phone and had the telephone at her new address hooked up with an unlisted number. They gave her the new number and told her it would be on later that day. While she was at the pay phone, she called her parents to tell them her new number.
No one was home, so she left a message, explaining that she’d gotten aggravated at her landlord because of a leaky sink, and had moved to a new apartment. She had also taken a new job, she lied—to keep them from trying to reach her at work—and she’d let them know soon what that number was.
Then she set out to make truth out of her lie, checking the want ads for a job.
It was nine o’clock when the Nelsons pulled over to a pay phone for the fifth time since leaving home and called home for messages. Jim caught his breath when he heard Melissa’s voice. “It’s her!” he told his wife. “Listen.”
Nancy put her ear next to his and listened to their daughter’s explanation. Her voice sounded calm, not troubled, and everything made sense. She would be out this morning, she told them, but would call them tonight after her phone was turned on and update them on everything.
As Jim hung up the phone, they fell into each other’s arms, laughing with relief. “She’s okay!” Nancy cried. “She’s fine.”
“Now what?” Jim asked. “We’re only a couple of hours away from St. Clair. Should we go on? Maybe she needs help moving.”
“She didn’t leave her address,” Nancy said. “We wouldn’t know how to find her. Besides, there’s no need to let her know how badly we overreacted. Let’s just go back home and wait until she calls tonight.”
Jim thought that over. “I guess you’re right.”
The two parents got back into their car and headed back the way they had come.
Melissa managed to find a job doing clerical work for a chemical company, a job that didn’t pay very well, but which seemed to be located in a safe place. It was a plus that they would let her start Monday. The sooner, the better, she thought.
It was almost dark when she got home and checked her phone to see if it was on yet. It was, so she dialed her parents’ number, then cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder as she began to unpack one of her boxes.
“Hello?” Her mother’s voice was always a sweet sound.
“Mom? It’s me.”
“Melissa, thank heaven! It’s so good to hear your voice. We tried calling you last night, but the operator said your phone had been disconnected.”
“Didn’t you get my message this morning?”
&nbs
p; “Yes, but until then . . .” She let her voice trail off and sighed. “Well, we’re just glad you’re all right. After those phone calls, we were beside ourselves.”
Melissa frowned. “What phone calls?”
“Some man called last night. He was really kind of scary. At first he said he was an old friend, but I don’t think he was a friend at all.”
Melissa could feel the blood draining from her face, and she slowly sat down. “Mom, who was the man?”
“‘An old friend’ was all he said. We were going to come down and look for you, but then we got your message this morning. Melissa, are you all right?”
She clutched the phone so tight her knuckles were turning white. “Mom, what did he say?”
“The first time, he just asked us if we knew how he could get in touch with you. He said he was an old friend, but he was a little rude, calling so late. But we wouldn’t give him your number. Then he hung up, and a little later he called back and told me that he’d found you. He said to tell you you can’t hide. Melissa, do you know who he is?”
Melissa swallowed hard, and her heart began to race. He knew who she really was, she thought frantically. He had called her parents.
He had figured it out.
“Melissa?”
She tried to steady her voice. “Mom, it’s this guy I worked with.” She stopped, tried to regroup her thoughts and manufacture the story as she went. “He kept coming onto me, and when I wouldn’t go out with him, he got a little hostile.” She closed her eyes and tried to stop trembling. “He’s harmless, really. Just annoying. Whatever he says, just ignore it.”
“So hostile that you had to change your phone number, your address, your job?”
Her hand was trembling so hard she could hardly hold the phone. Maybe her explanation had been too frightening. She’d have to tone it down. “I told you why I moved, Mom. The manager wouldn’t fix my sink. And the job . . . well, it just wasn’t what I wanted. None of it had anything to do with him. Mom, did he say anything else?”
“No,” Nancy said. “But, Melissa, what is this about your hiding? What was he talking about?”