The Prey Bites Back: A Jesse Watson Mystery Book #8 (5 page)

“Don’t be so
happy just yet. It might’ve been better for her if she had died.”

“How can you say
that?”

“I ran out
before the cops left and asked about her condition. They said she was barely
alive, but at least she was alive. Detective
Downey
said the outlook wasn’t good. Most folks don’t survive a lightning strike and
the ones who do, suffer severe after affects.”

“Like what?”

“Burns, memory
loss, heart and liver problems. You name it. The list is long.”

“I need to get
to the hospital.” I got up on wobbly legs and walked over to the front door.
“Look. The storm’s just about over. I can go outside now.” I looked back at
Lila. “Call Adam’s office for me. I need to get some drugs for Athena. She
freaks out during a storm, so Helene suggested I get her some tranks. Hey, I
wonder if I can give her a Xanax.”

“I don’t think
so. You can’t give people pills to animals. It could kill them. I’ll call Adam
for you. He’ll give you something safe for her to take.” Lila walked off, made
the call, and then returned carrying a can of soda. “Here. Drink this. You’ll
feel much better if you do.”

“Why?”

“You need to
re-hydrate. Tranquilizers take it out of you. You need to drink a lot of
liquids. And don’t drink any alcohol today. It intensifies the effect of the
drug—in a bad way.”

I took the can
of soda, popped the tab, and took a long drink as I walked back to the sofa to
sit down. “Hmm. Good. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.”

“Adam wasn’t at
the office, but the woman I talked with said she’d pull Athena’s chart and have
something ready for you when you got there. Helene and your mother both called.
Helene was worried, and your mother wanted you to know that they still couldn’t
get out. The bridge is flooded over. Oh, and Billy’s still in bed. I guess the
stress wore him out.”

“He needs to
recover from getting drunk yesterday.”

Lila raised her
eyebrows. “That’s unusual for him. I’ve never known Billy to drink much. In
fact, I’ve rarely seen him drink at all.”

“Well, he did
yesterday. He had so much to drink, I thought he was going to fall down.
Luckily, he didn’t. We made it home, and he went straight to bed.”

“I can see why
he got drunk. He was still upset about his mother.”

There was a
lull in the conversation.

“I better get
on home. I wanna take a shower before I go see Mae at the hospital.”

“I’ll be glad
to drive you anywhere you want to go. That pill hasn’t worn off yet. You don’t
want me to have to worry about you, do you? The same thing that happened to Mae
might happen to you if I start worrying.”

We both
laughed, but not at Mae.

“I think I can
manage. I feel fine.” I began to feel woozy again. I sat back down on the sofa
and said, “Maybe you should drive me home.”

“I’ll get my
purse.”

We left the
office, stopped at the vet, and then headed home. The roads were littered with trash
and debris from the storm. Even though the storm had passed, accidents were
still being worked. But all in all, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been… well…
except for Mae.

Mae Bridges—I hated
having to tell Mom about her. She’d be devastated. She believed Mae’s
accusations and wanted justice. My old mom Minnie would never be in the middle
of something like this, but my new mom Minnie is a real go-getter. She has a
knack when it comes to getting at the truth. Why did I ever think she might not
be able to slink around in the shadows like a regular P.I.?  She can, and she’s
good at it. So is Eddie. No one suspects two little old folks.

My fear was: If
Mae’s story was accurate, Dakota Stone and Olivia Swales could be a threat to
anyone who nosed around in their business, or got in their way—the kind of
threat that leaves one dead.
The Body Shop
. Just the name gave me
visions of rusty cars, not a spa for everything your body and brain wants, needs,
and has to have.

I needed to
learn more about Mae and Nathaniel Bridges, and their daughter Marsha. After
that, I wanted to see
The Body Shop
for myself, inside and out.

Just a few
miles from home, I asked Lila for her cell phone. The battery was just about
dead in mine. She handed it over. I clicked on the image of a camera, the
screen came up, and then I turned around backwards and took several shots of
the SUV behind us… discreetly as I could. Immediately, I emailed the images to
my computer at home and to Billy’s cell phone.

“What was that
all about, Jesse? You’re freaking me out. Is someone following us?” Lila was
quickly coming unglued.

“Calm down,
Lila. Act as if nothing’s wrong.” I pulled my 9 MM from my purse and was on the
ready. My paranoia was in high gear. Death does that to me. “Just keep on
driving. Don’t look back.”

“Okay,” she
replied, fear in her voice.

Lila made a
right turn onto
Bear Mountain
Road
, but fortunately, the
SUV didn’t follow.

“Geez, Jesse,”
Lila said as she finally exhaled. “You scared the crap out of me. I thought we
were under attack. I could see our bodies lying in the middle of the road with
bullet holes in our heads, and blood pooling all around us.”

“That image will
be with me for a while. Thanks, Lila. Not that I don’t have enough bad ones
back there as it is. What’s one more?”

My plan was to
go home, check on everyone, and then call my mother, but I didn’t get a chance
to do the latter. Mom’s canary yellow 4Runner was parked in the driveway. The
flood waters on
South River
Road
must’ve receded.

Lila pulled up
next to Mom’s car, looked at me and said, “I’ll be right beside you when you
tell Minnie about Mae.”

We got out of
the car, walked up on the porch, and then into the house, all in slow motion. I
had a real heavy feeling in my heart.

Billy, Helene,
Eddie, and Mom were sitting at the kitchen table going through files, the kids
and the dogs were playing on the floor in the living room, and Spice Cat was
napping happily on the kitchen counter. I let that one go. I was too stressed
to worry about a cat on the counter, dropping hair and dander all over the
place. I’m glad I took that pill, or I’d probably be having a full-blown panic
attack right about now.

They all jumped
up and greeted us, sans cat. Billy gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and then
stared into my eyes, warmly. He was telling me everything was okay. He was
himself again. My heart melted and my anxiety fled. I kissed the kids, patted
the dogs, and then shooed the cat off the counter.

Mom was holding
up a sheet of paper. “You have to see this, Jesse,” she said. “I told you Mae
was right. There’s something funny about that place and those wicked women who
run it.”

I handed Helene
the bag containing the bottle of pills. “These are for Athena. Lock them up
somewhere, and never give her more than one at a time.”

“Will do,” She
replied. She looked at Lila. “Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thank
you.” Lila looked over at me. “I should get back to the office.”

“Go ahead. I’ll
get my car later. Thanks for the lift.”

No one asked
about my car.

After Lila
left, I began my account of the storm, my office visit, and Mae’s badly-timed
departure, but Mom stopped me before I could finish. “We already know the whole
story,” she interrupted. “I called the hospital, and Mae isn’t dead. That’s
what counts.”

“Whew,” I said,
relieved. “I’m so glad to hear that. I knew you’d be upset about her. I even
expected you to cry. I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I am upset
about her being struck by lightning, but I can’t do anything about it. That was
in God’s hands. I’m concentrating on righting a wrong. Snooping on people and
fixing things. Dakota Stone and Olivia Swales are killers. All we have to do is
get the evidence. The cops sure can’t seem to get anywhere on this case, and
you know they must’ve questioned everyone who ever set eyes on the man. Plus,
the wife is always the first they go after. They accuse and harass them to no
end. Oh, I’m sure they checked her inside and out. They know she was a member
of
The Body Shop
. Perhaps they actually had the common sense to question
the folks there. You know… check out the wife and all her associates… something
like that. Hey, the first thing the cops probably did was check out her bank
account to see if she’d recently withdrawn a large sum of money—hit man money.”
Mom’s head bobbed up and down and her eyebrows arched in the way they always do
when she’s sure she’s gotten to the truth of the matter. “Hmm… you’d think the
cops could do better. I’m just glad people have us to rely on.”

“She’s got the
bug,” I said, looking at Billy. “She’s a goner.”

We smiled at
each other… and it felt so good.

“What bug?” Mom
asked, knowing the whole time what I’d meant.

“You know what she’s
talking about, Minnie,” Helene joked. “You and Eddie are going to be another
Jesse and Billy, just a little older. You’ve got the itch… the fever… and the
nose for digging up the dirt. In other words, you’re good at investigating. You
know the right place to look and the right questions to ask. You’re old. Folks
trust old people.”

“Geez, where
have I heard that before?” Mom smiled.

Helene motioned
to us. “Everyone sit down and I’ll fix some sandwiches.”

“I am hungry,”
I said. “I missed breakfast and lunch.”

“This’ll be a
late lunch,” Helene said, grinning.

“By the way, I
talked to Mae’s daughter, Marsha,” Mom jumped in. “She called me from the
hospital. Nice girl. She sure loves her mama. Mae’s pretty bad off. Her whole
body is red like she has a real bad sunburn and in some places she has huge
blisters. Her memory’s gone, and her internal organs are messed up. The doctor
says she’s going to have a long recovery. Lightning strike victims don’t
usually live through it, but Mae’s a fighter. She’ll be okay. It’ll just take a
while. Don’t know about the memory thing. Doc says that might take longer to
come back… if ever. That’s the long-term outlook. For the present, they just
hope Mae doesn’t suffer a heart attack and die. Her electrical system is whacked
out, and that’s bad on the heart. They’re just not sure of anything right now.
Only God knows. She can’t have any visitors yet.”

“We’ll do what
we can,” Billy said. “If Dakota Stone’s a killer, she has to be stopped. When Mae
does recover enough to know what’s going on, we’ll have this case solved.”

“Y’all must
know something I don’t,” I said, inquiring. “Where’s the proof. Got any clues,
hints, or ideas?”

Mom dropped a
sheet of paper down in front of me, and said, “Here it is.”

I looked over
the document and discovered a very interesting and vital piece of information.
There was no record whatsoever that Dakota Stone ever existed until four years
ago when she opened her spa/killer/shop.

“How…”

“Billy said we
could use his private computer.” She pointed to the back where our home office
was. “So, we did. After Eddie and I got back from our honeymoon, we went right
to work. I joined that spa and started snooping. Eddie did the research. He’s
the one who found this.” She pointed to the document.

I looked over
at Billy. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Dakota Stone
is not who she says she is.”

“So who is
she?”

“If you like
that,” Eddie said, passing another piece of paper my way, “you’re going to love
this.” He went on to explain as I scanned the printout. “Both women are using
stolen social security numbers from dead women.”

“How on earth
did you get their social security numbers?”

“Computer.”
Eddie grinned. “If you know the right place to go, you can find out anything on
the web.”

“Now you’re talking
like a hacker,” I said, shaking my head. “I hope you didn’t leave any
footprints.”

“He knows the
drill,” Billy assured me. 

Eddie
continued. “Olivia Swales is using the social security number of a woman who died
five years ago in a car accident in
Wilson
,
North Carolina
, and Dakota’s social security number
belongs to a dead woman in
South
Carolina
. In 2010, Dakota
opened her shop and had to list her social security number on the business
license, and I found Olivia’s listed on a hospital admission form. She was
admitted to
UVA
Hospital
around the same time both women appeared in
Charlottesville
.
Somehow, I feel there’s a connection to Olivia’s hospital stay and their
arrival. I can’t find a single thing on either woman before 2010. It’s as if they
didn’t exist until four years ago. Go figure.”

“I’m no private
eye,” Helene said, placing food down in front of us, “but even I know that when
someone changes their identity, they’re either running from someone or
something.”