Sandman (17 page)

TWENTY-EIGHT

When Meagan opened her eyes, the room was dark. She sat up slowly. Her brain was fuzzy as if she’d been drugged. She shuffled into the kitchen, regretting the light the moment she flicked the switch. Her eyes burned, and she rubbed them. It took a moment to adjust to the brightness before she could fill the teakettle with water and pop a slice of bread into the toaster. She felt as if she were sleepwalking. She had to concentrate on the simplest of tasks.

While waiting for the water to boil, Meagan went to the bathroom. She didn’t recognize the woman in the mirror; her red eyes were so swollen they were mere slits. She splashed her face with cold water. It felt so good, she continued to do so until the tea kettle called to her from the other room.

Just as she’d turned off the burner on the stove, she remembered that she had to call Lilah and make sure she had a ride home from work. She was surprised to see the light flashing on the answering machine, then she remembered that she’d unplugged the one in the bedroom.

There were two hang-ups, a message from Katy just calling to say hi, and the last was Drew.

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday. We made the deal and the boys and I went out to celebrate. I lost track of time. I called the salon, and they told me you were sick. I hope you’re okay. I’ll call you later.”

She called the salon. Darlene, the senior receptionist, answered.

“Oh, hi, baby. How are you feeling?” Darlene’s warm, motherly concern was a welcome sound. Meagan almost broke down just hearing it.

“I’m better, thanks. Where’s Lilah? I was worried because this is one of the nights I normally drive her home.”

“She didn’t show up for work today. She didn’t even call. Jerome is livid, says he’s going to fire her.”

“He can’t do that. I’m sure there’s a good explanation.”

“Oh, he’s just being a pest. I doubt he’d really fire her.”

“I hope you’re right,” Meagan said. “I guess I’ll call her at home and check in on her. I’ll talk to you later.”

Meagan quickly dialed Lilah’s number. Lilah’s father answered on the first ring, “Hello!”

“Hi, Bill, it’s Meagan. Is Lilah around?”

“No, she’s not here,” he sounded wrung out.

 Confused, Meagan asked, “Isn’t she sick?”

“No, she didn’t come home last night, never called. I don’t know
where
she could be.”

“That doesn’t sound like her. Who did she go out with last night?”

“No, you don’t understand. She never made it home from work! I’m worried sick and I don’t know what to do.” His voice cracked.

“But I thought you were picking her up.” Meagan’s heart picked up a beat.

“No. She called and told me a friend was bringing her home. I never thought to ask who.”

“What did the police say?” Meagan scratched her head.

“They said they couldn’t file a report for at least twenty-four hours. I didn’t go to work today. I’ve been sitting here by the phone.”

“Look, I’ll check into this, and call you right back.” Meagan disconnected the call, then dialed the number for the salon. “Who closed with Lilah last night?” she blurted out the second she heard Darlene’s voice.

“Let me check the books.” After a brief pause, she was back on the line. “Sarah, Mi Ling and Jerome. Why, what’s wrong?”

“Lilah didn’t make it home last night after work and her father still hasn’t heard from her. You know as well as I do that’s just not like her. Something’s wrong. Go ask them if they saw who she left with.” Meagan talked so fast that she forgot to breathe.

“Okay, hold on. I’ll be right back.”

Darlene came back a few agonizing minutes later.

“Sorry, Meagan, no one saw anything. She left out the front door. They were either having a cigarette in the back or finishing their cleanup. What are you going to do?” Darlene’s voice went up an octave on the last word.

“I don’t know.” Meagan stared at the ceiling as if it had the answer.

“Call me if you hear anything,” came Darlene’s worried voice.

Meagan hung up and called the police. Her words tumbled over themselves. She wasn’t sure the woman on the other end understood what she was getting at until she asked for Lilah’s address and promised to send an officer over to take a statement from the father. By the time she hung up, Meagan felt better, but not much.

She called Bill Carpenter back, told him the police were coming by, and asked him to call her the minute he received any news.

Meagan disconnected the call and collapsed in the nearby chair. It seemed that the day from hell just wouldn’t end. Then she remembered her tea and got up. When she entered the kitchen, she noticed the toast standing in the toaster. She tossed it into the trashcan; she wasn’t hungry anymore.

The phone rang, Meagan ran into the other room.

“Hello?” Silence. “Hello, Hello, Hello!” By the last word she was yelling. “Dammit!” She slammed the phone down.

Carrying the handset of the cordless phone with her, Meagan curled up on the couch and wrapped a blanket around her. She stared at it, willing it to ring with good news about Lilah, and fell asleep praying she was all right.

She was jolted awake by the ringing phone right next to her head. Her heart hammered in her chest. She swung her legs around and sat up before answering it. “Hello?” The clock above the TV read two-fifteen.

At first there was nothing but silence. Just as she was about to hang up, Meagan heard something. She put the phone back up to her ear.

“Hel-lo Mea-gan my pr-et-ty. Iee- le-ft yo-u a pre-sent. Iee ho-pe yo-ou li-ke it.” Click.

Goosebumps enveloped Meagan’s body. “What the hell was that?” The voice was mechanical, the words broken up. She jumped up, looked around, then scurried through the house shutting and locking windows, yanking the curtains. She checked the locks on the front door, then raced to the back.

But when she tried to lock the door, it wouldn’t click into place. She was going to have to open and slam the old door hard. The wood warped sometimes. She turned off the kitchen light, then pulled the curtain back just enough to peek out. She didn’t see anyone lurking, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Then a twinkle caught her eye.

There was something sitting on the table between her two chairs. She couldn’t quite make out what it was, but there was a tiny spot on it that glittered in the moonlight. She eased the door open a crack and quickly scanned the yard to make sure she was alone, then her hand groped the inside wall for the switch on the porch light.

It took a moment for her brain to catch up with her eyes. Then a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the quiet night. Her knees gave out; she crumpled to the ground in slow motion. Then everything turned black.

TWENTY-NINE

Thomas glided through the crystal clear aquamarine water, the wind in his hair, salt spray on his face, enjoying the speed and freedom. He was flying, not a care in the world. He handled the 25-foot sailboat with an expertise he didn’t know he had.

He loved the tranquility. Victoria stood on the beach beckoning to him. Just a few more minutes, he thought. Slicing through the water so fast gave him a rush. He looked to his right where dolphins playfully raced the boat. He smiled; he wanted this ride to never end.

But Victoria stood among the palm trees, her arms waving more frantically with each second he delayed. Not wanting to, but knowing he should, he started toward the beach and his wife.

Thomas awoke with a start. His phone was ringing. Sluggishly, he reached for the receiver, then searched for a pen and paper. He hung up, and dropped his head back down onto the pillow. He didn’t want to get up; he wanted to go back to that tropical island with Victoria. He laid there for a minute, fighting sleep, the conversation running through his head.

She said she knew he wasn’t on call, but couldn’t reach any of the other detectives. They were either out on other cases or sick with the flu. The captain said he was to take the initial call, then they would see about getting someone else to work the case so he could focus on the Sandman. But one phrase kept rolling through his head, “They had a body, sort of.” He was sure he had misheard that.

By the time Thomas pulled up outside his destination, the place was lit up like a Christmas tree. Black-and-whites littered the street, their lights flashing red and blue. The coroner’s van was there, along with CSU. He had to park way down the street. As he walked up to the crime scene tape, he had to flash his badge to gain admittance. The rookie standing guard didn’t know him.

He lifted the tape, and let Thomas through, pointing to the side of the house. The klieg lights they had set up made the area as bright as day. He turned the corner, but all he saw were people busy at work. No body yet. Cheryl’s assistant, Brody, bent over to examine something Thomas couldn’t see. Light bulbs flashed like strobe lights. The moment they noticed Thomas, a hush came over the crowd, and they backed out of the way.

Brody was the only person to speak. “We waited for you before we took her away.”

Thomas didn’t answer, because now he could see the vic. The “her” in question was sitting on top of a plastic outdoor table. At least, her head was. She was a young woman, probably early twenties. Her eyes were wide open in terror, her mouth frozen in mid-scream. Her hair was blonde, about chin-length, and her pierced nose held a small diamond that glinted in the light. That tiny speck of beauty amid the monstrosity of the scene perverted it even more, if that was possible.

He stared at the abomination for a moment. “Okay, talk to me. Did this woman live here? Where is the rest of her body?”

The officer standing nearby—his name tag read Harrison—filled him in. “The woman who lives here found the head. The neighbor lady heard a scream and ran over to find the lady of the house on the ground. She had fainted. Her name is Meagan Laurel McInnis. It was the neighbor, Lisa Willis, who called 911. Her husband took her home the moment we arrived. Ms. McInnis hasn’t said a word.”

“Did anyone get the neighbor’s statement?”

“I was on my way when I saw you pull up.”

“All right, thanks.”

Thomas made his way through the wave of people and stepped into the house. He found the witness sitting on a couch.

Her arms were wrapped around her legs; her chin rested on her knees. She looked as if she wanted to disappear, and he couldn’t blame her. The redhead’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen, staring straight ahead without blinking.

Thomas retreated to the kitchen and searched the cupboards until he found the liquor, what little there was. He snagged a glass and poured two fingers of brandy, then returned to the other room. He grabbed a blanket off the couch, wrapped it around her shoulders, then sat next to her.

He brought the glass to her lips and told her to drink. She took a big gulp, then coughed.

“So, you are alive after all.” He smiled.

“What are you trying to do, drown me?” She wiped her mouth.

Her eyes focused on him. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house? Where’d the cops go?” Her body trembled.

“They’re still around. My name is Detective J.J. Thomas.” He pulled the blanket around her tighter. “It’s okay, you’re safe. I just need to ask you a few questions.”

She looked uncertain at first, then her shoulders relaxed.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

Her eyes began to glaze over again. He picked up the glass and put it to her lips. This time she took a sip without much prompting. After she swallowed, her face screwed up, and her body did a little dance.

“That’s awful. I think you like torturing women.” She shivered again.

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ve got me pegged. I love getting up in the middle of the might and wreaking havoc on poor unsuspecting women.”

Turning serious again, he asked her if she was ready to talk to him. The story she told was more than he’d bargained for. It seemed that the woman had a stalker who’d been tormenting her for weeks. First with phone calls in the middle of the night. Then the morning before, she’d found her dog murdered.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, she discovered the decapitated head of a friend in her back yard. Thomas really felt for the poor woman; she’d been through hell. But he could tell she was strong. A lesser person would have turned stark raving mad by now. Instead she told the story in a calm voice, staring down at her painted red toenails. He noticed she wore a couple of toe rings. Her eyes were dry; she obviously had no more tears left.

“So he’d never spoken before tonight?”

“No. Like I said, the calls have been increasing over the last few days, but this is the first time someone actually spoke.”

“Tell me again what the voice sounded like.”

“It was a deep mechanical sound, he spoke really slow. Not like a stutter, but he seemed to hold the words out. Like Maaaa-gunnn,” she mimicked the caller. “You know what I mean?” She looked up at him. Her crystal blue eyes searched his face. He was stunned into silence.

He cleared his throat. “Um, I’m trying.”
Trying to get my thoughts back on the case that is. “
Tell me again what he said.”

“Hello, Meagan, my pretty. I left you a gift. I hope you like it.”

“So this guy knows your name.”

She shuddered. “Do you think I’m next?” He watched as she started shutting down again.

Thomas put his hand on her arm. “I won’t let that happen.”

He listened to himself say the words, and inwardly cringed. How the hell was he going to manage that? He had his hands full with the Sandman case. The captain flat-out told him that there were no uniforms to spare. But there was just something about this woman that made him want to protect her at all costs.

He noticed Harrison standing at the entrance of the room, and led him into the kitchen to talk. The CSU had packed up and left. The coroner’s van had gone.

“Do you need me for anything more?” Harrison asked.