Level Five (27 page)

             
“Look, I can’t tell you nothing more about her.  She’s just a chick that shows up here pretty regularly to see Jimmy.  Can I go now?”  His gaze darted back to the alley as he shifted from foot to foot.

             
“Get out of here,” Teddy said.  Jake wasn’t surprised when Bruiser headed back toward the alley.

             
“We should bust him for dope,” Teddy said as he and Jake got back into the car.

             
“That’s not why we’re here. Besides, that would open a whole new can of worms.  We just need to sit tight and see when this Jimmy comes home.”

             
Jake wasn’t sure what would be worse, Edie not being with him when he returned or her being by his side.

                        Chapter 25

Jake rubbed his weary eyes as ten o’clock in the morning rolled around.  Teddy was slumped behind the steering wheel of the car, snoring like a pug.  They’d taken shifts throughout the night, staying awake and waiting for Jimmy to arrive back at the motel.

             
Colette had called at seven to let Jake know that posters had been distributed all over town.  Jake thanked her but he didn’t think the posters would yield any results.  They hadn’t for Kelly Paulson.  They hadn’t for Maggie Black.

             
If Edie had been kidnapped by the same person, then they were hunting a ghost who’d managed to steal three women from their loved ones without being seen by anyone.

             
Of course it was equally possible that Edie’s disappearance had nothing to do with the other two, that Edie had willfully walked off on her own, perhaps to punish Jake for pushing her. Perhaps he’d pushed her right into the arms of another lover.

             
Sunday morning.  He should be waking up with Edie in his arms, with the promise of French toast and happiness on the agenda for the day.

             
Four days.  She’d been gone four days. Jake was beginning to entertain the idea that they might not find her at all, that she might remain a mystery in his heart, in his soul forever. 

             
It was almost eleven when an older man dressed like a street person staggered up to Jimmy’s door.  As he fumbled in his pants pockets for keys, confusion muddied Jake’s mind. 

             
This was Jimmy?   

             
“Let’s go check it out,” Teddy said as he opened his car door. 

             
Jake followed suit.  There had to be some kind of a mistake, he thought as his feet hit the hot asphalt.  Bruiser had to have been mistaken. Or the broken down drunk at the door wasn’t Jimmy.              

“Jimmy?” Teddy called out as the man managed to get the door open. 

              The old man turned and squinted rheumy eyes against the brightness of the sun.  “Yeah, I’m Jimmy.”

             
As Teddy and Jake drew closer, Jake could smell the booze that clung to the old man.  It seemed to not only cling to his clothes, but emanate from his pale brittle skin.

             
“We’d like to ask you a few questions.  Can we come in?” Teddy asked.

             
“Who are you?  What do you want?” he asked plaintively.  “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

             
“I’m Detective Burrows and this is Detective Warner.  We’re here because of a missing person.  We have information that you might know this person.”

             
Jimmy gestured them into the room, which stank as badly as he did of booze and garbage and utter despair.  “Who is it?  Crazy Eddie?  I haven’t seen him on the streets for a couple of nights.”  He swept a handful of newspapers off the foot of the bed as if inviting them to sit.

             
Nothing in the world would force Jake to plant his ass on the filthy sheets.  “Actually, it’s a woman we’re looking for.”  Jake handed Jimmy the photo of Edie.

             
Jimmy took a look at the picture and staggered backward, falling onto the bed as the back of his knees struck the mattress.  He looked first at Jake and then at Teddy, a frantic fear lighting his eyes.  “That’s Edie. What do you mean, she’s missing?  I’ll just call her.  She almost always answers my calls.”

             
He jumped up from the bed but Teddy stopped him before he could leave.  “What exactly is your relationship with Edie?”

             
“She’s my daughter.”

             
Jake felt as if he’d been slapped upside the head.  His daughter?  Edie had told him her father was dead.  “Do you have some proper identification?” he asked, his head reeling. She’d told him her father had died years ago in a car accident.  What other lies had she told him? 

             
He was a detective for crying out loud, he was trained to be suspicious.  Why had he just blithely accepted everything Edie had told him about herself?  It was true.  Love was definitely blind.

             
Jimmy dug an old worn leather wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a state-issued identification card.  Jake took it from him, stunned again to see the name James Carpenter on it.

Edie’s father, not dead but very much alive and standing in front of him smelling like an old unwashed bar counter.  A simmering panic remained in his eyes.

              “What do you mean Edie is missing?  I need her.  She takes care of me.”  Jimmy’s voice rose with a note of hysteria.  “What will I do without her?”  He began to reel around the small room, like an out-of-control wind-up toy.  “You have to find her.  She’s all I’ve got.  She pays my rent, gets me groceries.  I don’t have my Frannie anymore.  She was daddy’s girl.”  He stopped and looked at Jake and then at Teddy.  “It was Edie’s fault, you know,” he whispered the words as if afraid who might hear them. “It was Edie’s fault that Frannie was murdered.”

             
“What are you talking about,” Jake asked with a rise of anger.  “Greg Bernard killed Frannie.”

             
Jimmy’s eyes burned with the fervor of his own beliefs.  “Edie didn’t follow the rules.  She didn’t wait for her sister after school.  They were always supposed to walk home together.  Edie left Frannie that day.  She left her to walk home from school alone and that bastard grabbed her.” 

             
Tears began to stream down Jimmy’s face and once again he continued his disjointed roaming of the room, pausing to open drawers and look in cabinets.  “She’s gone.  My sweet Frannie is gone forever.  God, I need a drink.  Where’s my bottle?”

             
A weak helplessness swept through Jake and he had to get out, get away from the man who was Edie’s father.  He stumbled toward the door and stepped outside.

             
He drew several deep breaths of the hot, humid air as thoughts and emotions tumbled over each other in an attempt to be realized.

             
Shame and guilt.  That’s why Edie had kept this secret. Her mother had left her. Her father had used her, leaving Edie with what must be a killing weight of guilt over her sister’s death.

             
What must it have been like to be raised believing that you were responsible for the murder of your beloved sister.  Edie had been ten-years-old, little more than a baby and yet it was obvious by her mother’s absence in her life and her father’s drunken ranting that she bore the brunt of the blame. Instead of the pedophile who had stalked and killed the pretty Francine, they blamed Edie.

             
Was this the secret that had kept Edie from committing to him?  Was it possible she’d believed he wouldn’t be able to accept the man her father was? Was it possible she didn’t believe she deserved to be happy? He wouldn’t know the answers until they found her. It was obvious this lead had gone nowhere.

             
Teddy left the room and stepped out to stand next to Jake.  “I don’t think we have to worry about him winning father of the year,” Teddy said.

             
“Did he say when the last time he’d seen her was?”

             
“He thinks it was four or five days ago.  According to Jimmy she came here about once a week or so to bring him groceries.  She pays his rent each month and takes care of his basic needs.”

             
“So, we’re back to square one.” Jake said once they were in the car and headed out of the parking lot.

             
“We’re not done yet, partner.  We’ll find her.  We just need to find out what other secrets Edie might have kept from you.”

             
Jake stared out the passenger window.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know any more secrets.  He just wanted Edie back in his arms.

A book.

             
A book that would be all about him and his monster of a mother.  The thought tantalized Anthony throughout Sunday and Monday.  She could write a book about him that would tell everyone what his bitch of a mother had done to him, what she’d made him.

             
Of course, there would be limitations.  Edie wouldn’t be able to use his real name and the book would have to be published posthumously because there was no way she could walk out of his house alive.

             
Still, was it possible that in the mere process of her writing his story, he’d finally find the peace he so desperately wanted?  So desperately deserved?

             
He’d spent most of yesterday away from the house, gathering treasures and thinking.  He’d consciously willed himself to stay away from the paper room, to stay away from her as he thought about the idea of a book.

             
He also understood his own limitations and feared that if he spent Sunday with her she might do something or say something that would provoke his darkest emotions and she’d be dead before he could make a final decision about her proposition.

             
So he’d left her alone and now sat in his office, still thinking about her and about a book.

             
He leaned back in his chair and templed his fingers thoughtfully.  He’d known she was the one.  The minute he’d seen her publicity poster in the bookstore window he’d known.

Maybe this was all meant to be. She was a true crime
author, he had a story to tell. He’d known she was the one to tell it.

             
Even if she didn’t use his name, the story would still be about him. And she only wrote books about the victims of crimes.  What his mother had done to him had been a horrendous crime.

             
It was brilliant, really.  When she finished it, she could send it to her agent or editor or whatever.  There was no question that eventually it would make its way to the bookstores.  He didn’t care about the money it would make.  What he liked was the fact that Edie was well known enough that a lot of copies would be sold. People would be talking about him. 

             
It would truly be all about him as it had never been before. A rush of emotion whirled through him. He realized with surprise the alien emotion was pleasure.

             
At that moment Susan appeared in the doorway of his cubicle.  “Ah, sweet Susan,” he exclaimed.

             
Her cheeks grew pink as she offered him a brilliant smile.  “I baked some of those chocolate chip cookies you loved last night so I thought I’d bring you some.”  She held out a ceramic platter with half a dozen cookies on it.

             
“You are the greatest woman in the world,” he said as he looked around for someplace to place the cookies so she could have her platter back.

             
“Just keep it,” she said, obviously recognizing what he was doing.  “I’ll get it back from you another time.”

             
“We’ll plan something together over next weekend and I’ll bring it to you then,” he said, although he wasn’t sure at all he’d follow up on any weekend plans with Susan.

             
Edie was in his paper room and he wanted every minute possible to spend with her, to work on the project they would complete together.  He smiled, realizing he’d come to a decision. He focused back on the woman in front of him.

“I’ll call you or we’ll talk this week.”  He recognized the promise in his voice and as usual it was enough for the stupid cow.

              “Great. I’ll let you get back to work.  Enjoy the cookies and I’ll keep my weekend open.”  With a wiggle of her fingers she left.

             
Of course she’d keep her weekend open, he thought with derision.  She was his little chess piece that he could move around at will. 

             
He picked up one of the cookies and chewed, his thoughts returning to Edie.  If they worked together often enough she could probably get the book written in four to six weeks.

             
All he had to do was maintain his control of his wrath. All he had to do was make sure in the process of writing his story, his temper didn’t get the best of him. He couldn’t kill her before they were finished.              

                     Chapter 26

Sunday had been the longest day yet for Edie.  She’d awakened with her eye completely swelled closed. Her body hurt as it never had before.  Bruises darkened the outside of her thigh and the ribs on the side he’d managed to kick. There was no question in her mind that if she hadn’t managed to stop him, she wouldn’t have survived.  He would have kicked and punched her until he’d killed her.

             
She’d spent most of the day curled up on the floor, her body too sore to move. She feared at any moment that he’d return for another day of abuse. 

             
As she’d waited her mind raced with thoughts.  She should have married Jake when he’d asked her the first time.  Funny, at the moment she couldn’t remember exactly why she’d told him no. 

             
She tried not to think about him too much.  It was too painful to remember what they’d shared, to realize she might never see him again. She also tried not to think about Rufus.  There was no question in her mind that he was dead. Thinking of life without him was almost as agonizing as the thought of never being with Jake again. 

             
Most of her thoughts were consumed by Anthony.  There was no question he was a narcissist, probably a sociopath to boot.  It was a dangerous combination.  He saw the world only as it revolved around him. He had no capability to empathize with anyone. 

             
His pain.  His need.  That was all that mattered to him.  He’d obviously go to any lengths in an attempt to alleviate the bad feelings he carried with him.

             
Would he bite on her offer to write his story?  Hard to tell.  Certainly it would appeal to the narcissistic tendencies he possessed. What concerned her was that if he agreed to the plan, it was possible that in chronicling his childhood his killing rage would explode out of his control.

             
It was a risk she had to take.  She had no other bargaining chips.  “My name is Edie Carpenter and I love watching Criminal Minds,” she said aloud.

             
She’d forgotten her affirmation when she’d first opened her eyes.  The pain had been too intense. How had Colette managed to survive for so long?  Edie had known that with Colette she was writing a book about a woman of strength. She’d had no idea what kind of strength Colette had possessed in order to survive for so long.

             
She knew the floor where she laid held the blood stains of others.  She’d couldn’t help but remember the tooth she’d found.  Had those women fought to survive until the very end?  Or had there come a time when their bodies had been so broken, so injured that they’d begged for death to take them?

             
Edie wasn’t anywhere close to that place.  Her fight for life was still as strong inside her as the day he’d first taken her.  If Colette could survive her ordeal, then Edie was determined to somehow survive this.

             
Sunday passed without him coming into the room, and she’d been grateful for the time to heal, to screw her head back on straight, to prepare for the next battle she’d have to endure.

             
However, as usual when she heard the familiar ding of the microwave on Monday evening, fear flooded through her veins and a sharp alertness cleared out the fog from her brain.

             
She had to be alert to face him.  She had to have her wits about her so she could be careful with what she said. Any movement she made might set him off.  The way to survive as long as possible was to identify additional triggers. When she saw the veins in his neck pulse with blood, she had to curl up in a fetal ball to protect internal organs from whatever punishment he might mete out.

             
Minutes passed and then he entered.  A flutter of anticipation went off inside her stomach as she saw that he carried a laptop computer and another bag from McDonalds.

             
She wasn’t sure which she was happier to see.  Her hunger pangs had been constant throughout the day. What she really longed for was a tall cup of coffee and a chocolate éclair.

             
“Fish today,” he said as he tossed her the bag.  “And a side salad instead of fries.”

             
The thought of cold lettuce with a couple of juicy cherry tomatoes or sliced cucumber was as enticing as the idea of an éclair.  He sat on the chair he’d left in the room the night before with the computer on his lap.  “Eat,” he commanded.

             
Dutifully she opened the bag and grabbed the salad.  She opened the plastic container, grabbed the plastic fork that had been provided and began to eat.

             
She ate slowly, savoring each and every bite, her good eye gazing at him frequently.  When she finally finished with the salad she spoke for the first time.  “I don’t know what you want me to do with the container.”

             
“I’ll take it.”  He set the laptop on the floor next to him and took both the plastic container and the fork from her.  “I keep these.”

             
Of course he did, she thought as she unwrapped her fish sandwich.  He kept everything.  He was a level five hoarder just like his mother before him.  She couldn’t begin to imagine what his house looked like outside of this room.  What did surprise her was that she was becoming accustomed to the smell.

             
When she was finished with her sandwich, she carefully folded the paper and bag, ridiculously pleased when he nodded with satisfaction.  “Thank you for dinner.”

             
“You’re welcome.”  He set the salad container on the floor and picked up the laptop.  “I spent most of yesterday and today thinking about your suggestion that you write my story.  I like it.  I want you to do it.  I want everyone to know that my mother was a monster. I’m just her helpless victim.”

             
He got up and handed her the laptop.  “It’s only loaded with one program…Word.  There’s no internet access, no games, nothing else except what you need to do your job.  Of course, it’s going to require that we spend a lot of time together and you’ll have to use aliases for me and my mother.  When it’s finished you’ll send it to your agent and then our work together will be done.”  His eyes took on a shine of pleasure.  “And I’ll be whole.”

             
And I’ll be dead, Edie thought in desperation.

 
              Nine days and eight endless nights. 

For Jake it felt like an eternity that Edie had been missing.  The case had gone public and sightings were being called into the tip line. Most of the calls were from psychics and crazies, but occasionally something came in that had to be followed up on.  Those calls had yielded nothing more than a mistaken identity.

Chief Decker had pulled together a task force to investigate the possibility of a serial kidnapper working in the area, a man who targeted women with long dark hair and bright blue eyes. 

Jake was still on personal leave and so wasn’t privy to the task force information except through Teddy, who had told him the men on the team were spinning their wheels and going nowhere.

As the sun broke over the horizon on the ninth day she’d been gone, Jake lay in her bed, where the scent of her still lingered in the sheets and memories played through his mind.

He’d been in the bed for the past two days, too weary to move, too broken to act.  The transcripts from Edie’s cell phone company had arrived but there had been nothing in the
texts to provide any kind of clue as to what might have happened to her.

Rufus was still at the vet’s.  He was well enough to come home but Jake hadn’t summoned the energy to go get him yet.

Hopeless.  Somewhere in the past forty-eight hours Jake had plunged into the abyss of sheer hopelessness.  He hadn’t had a real meal in a week, hadn’t even showered in the past two days.  Everything felt like such an effort.  Living without Edie seemed almost impossible.

He turned away from the morning sunshine and squeezed his eyes tightly closed, trying to recapture the feel of Edie in his arms, the sound of her laughter, the taste of her kisses.

He’d always considered himself a tough guy, he’d faced killers without flinching, had taken down hopped up crackheads without hesitation.  But this, this thing with Edie was too much. 

It wasn’t just the fact that she was missing that ached in his
heart, it was the fact that she’d never known what it was like to be loved unconditionally.  Her parents had abandoned and blamed her.  Was it any wonder she was reluctant to believe in any kind of love that lasted?

He burrowed his head deeper into her pillow where the scent of her vanilla shampoo lingered faintly like an afterthought. Another day or two and even her scent would be gone.

Then there would be nothing left for him to hang onto, nothing left of her.  The hollowness of his heart nearly consumed him at the thought.

“What do you think you’re doing?”  The deep voice thundered from the bedroom doorway.

Jake shot up in surprise to see Frank Burgess standing next to the bed.  Like a huge grizzly bear disturbed from his winter hibernation, the big man looked pissed.

“Get up,” he snapped.

“Go away,” Jake replied and he burrowed his head beneath Edie’s pillow.  “Just go away and leave me alone.

“I’m not about to go anywhere,” Frank replied.

“Why are you here?”

“Your partner called me and told me that you’d lost it, that you’d fallen apart.”  The bed shook and the pillow was plucked off Jake’s head.  “Get up, dammit.  Get your ass out of that bed.”

Jake turned over and stared up at Frank.  “There’s nothing to get up for.”

“So, you’re just going to wallow in your own self-pity.  That’s how you plan to spend your time?”

              Anger stirred Jake to a sitting position.  “What, exactly would you have me do?”

             
“Certainly not give up on her.”  Frank kicked the bed, making the mattress shake. “Trust me, man.  I’ve been where you are but you can’t just quit.  It’s only been nine days.  You could still get a happy ending.”

             
Once again a wealth of anger stirred in Jake’s heart and drove him out of the bed.  “You and Colette were one of the lucky ones. Happy endings just don’t occur in my line of work.  I find the bones of women years after they’ve gone missing.  I find their decomposing bodies.  I’m the guy that has to break the news to their families that their loved one is never coming home. I have to hear their screams of pain, their lives ripping apart.”

             
“But sometimes you get a lucky break.  Sometimes they do come home, Jake.  Elizabeth Smart, Jaycee Dugard, Shawn Hornbeck, do I need to go on?”

             
“Miracles.  Those were damned miracles, not the norm.”