Freak (10 page)

“Mr. Isaac, good evening. I’m Bernadette Barkley from
The Pulse
. We’re profiling Abby Maddox. Can I ask you a few questions?”

Bernadette who? From the what? Jerry shook his head. “Sorry, no time.” He lifted a hand, attempting to shield the bright light of the camera from his eyes.

Of course the reporter acted like she didn’t hear him. “Mr. Isaac, in light of Abby Maddox’s recent charge for the murder of Diana St. Clair, our viewers are wondering how you feel. Do you think she’s capable of murder?”

Was there no end to the amount of stupid questions a person could be asked? “How do I feel?” Jerry stared down at the reporter, who was a good foot shorter than himself. “How do I
feel
?”

Looking directly into the camera lens, he pulled down the collar of his turtleneck, giving them a clear shot of his scar. He could only imagine how ugly it would look on TV, especially in high definition, and the thought brought him immense satisfaction. “
This
is how I feel, ma’am.”

And then, deliberately slowing his cadence so there’d be no misunderstanding, Jerry spoke directly into the camera, squinting against the bright light. “Now get that camera out of my face, motherfucker.”

He was inside the building before the woman could respond. Thankfully, they weren’t allowed to follow him inside, but he latched the door behind him anyway.

The building in Fremont where Jerry leased office space was old, and he could hear the music blaring through the thin door before he was even halfway up the back stairs. He frowned. It was nearly midnight, and there should be nobody in the building at this time of night. Instinctively, he reached for a gun he no longer carried. He sighed. Old habits never died.

It had to be Danny playing the music, though he couldn’t figure out why she’d still be in the office this late. He took the stairs two at a time, the noise growing louder with each step. He inserted his key into the doorknob only to find the door unlocked, and he frowned again.
Dammit, Danny
. His twenty-three-year-old assistant was a smart girl, but she obviously had no sense of self-preservation. Seattle was a safe city for the most part, but they worked in the PI business, which meant they saw their share of angry spouses. An unlocked door at midnight was never a good idea.

Jerry sighed. Time for another lecture on the importance of safety.

He pushed open the door and sure enough, Danny Mercy’s back was turned and all he could see was her caramel-hued ponytail bobbing to the music. Heading straight for her desk, he reached for the speakers and pulled the plug. The sudden silence blared, and she jumped.

Danny whipped around. “What the hell, dude? You scared the crap out of me!”

He shrugged out of his coat, not caring that drops of rain were splattering across his assistant and her computer. “That was the point. The music was too loud, Danny.”

She made a show of wiping a speck of moisture from her cheek. “So? It’s midnight, nobody’s here—”

“And you didn’t lock the door.”

“Oh.” The annoyed look on her face was instantly replaced by an expression of contriteness. “
Lo siento, jefe
. I could have sworn I locked it.”

He sighed. Good enough. He was too tired to lecture her anyway. “Still taking those Spanish classes, huh?”

“Sí, señor
. My friend Pedro was helping me practice, but he just moved away, got a job in El Paso.
”

“What are you doing here?” He shot her a look. “English, please.”

She shrugged. “I left one of my textbooks here, then decided I might as well check my email. Didn’t feel like going home yet.” Her eyes narrowed. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I run the place,” he said. Seeing the look on her face, he softened his tone. “Didn’t feel like going home, either.”

He plopped down on the two-seater sofa in the reception area and stretched his long legs out. At the sight of his skinny ankles, covered in his usual white athletic socks which starkly
contrasted with his black faux leather sneakers, Danny smiled. He grinned back. All right, so he wouldn’t be modeling for
GQ
anytime soon. Life would go on.

“You look tired.” His assistant’s face was kind. “Long day?”

“Day from hell. You don’t want to know.”

But of course she did—she always did—and so he filled her in quickly on the events of the day, from the body at the Sweet Chariot Inn, to his face-to-face with Abby Maddox, capped off with all the horror movie fun at the cemetery.

Danny listened raptly, nodding every few seconds, never once interrupting. Other than her superb organizational skills, her ability to listen and not ask questions until he finished speaking was his favorite thing about her.

“‘Free Abby Maddox,’” Danny repeated when he finally wrapped it up. “You know there’s a site called FreeAbbyMaddox.com?”

“Are you serious?”

She typed it into her computer and he tilted the monitor toward him. Soon the screen was filled with images of Maddox’s face. Some were from her days at Puget Sound State, two were taken the day she was arrested and hauled back to Seattle, and there were a few photos of her during the trial.

“It’s not your typical fan site,” Danny said. “At first I thought it was a place that just had articles about her, but people post all kinds of stuff, and a lot of it’s sexual. A lot of sickos out there, you know? As soon as you mentioned ‘Free Abby Maddox’ being carved on the body, it made me think of it.”

Jerry’s face was grim. “Good work. I’ll text Torrance.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’ll take you thirty minutes; you’re terrible with text. Let me send him an email.”

He was too tired to argue. Her fingers flew across the keyboard and a minute later it was sent.

“So tell me,” his assistant said, looking up at him. “You and Dr. Tao actually talked to Abby Maddox today?” Danny had been a student in one of Sheila’s classes a couple of years before, and like all Puget Sound State University students, she was well versed in the Ethan Wolfe/Sheila Tao/Abby Maddox trifecta. She’d even had Ethan as her TA for a term. “What was that like for Dr. Tao?”

“Sheila’s a pro. Wasn’t intimidated at all.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. She’s about the coolest professor I ever had. I very nearly applied to the graduate psych program because of her.”

“Nah, you’re right where you should be,” Jerry said. “The world has enough psychologists. What it needs is more criminologists, like you’re going to be. Just wish you weren’t leaving me next month. You’ll be hard to replace. You’re the best intern I’ve ever had.”

“I’m the only intern you’ve ever had.” Danny smiled. “So what does Maddox know?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out. I don’t know if she can give us the killer’s name, but she seems to know more about what’s going on than anybody else. I have to go back to the prison tomorrow. Great way to spend a Sunday.” Jerry’s face sagged as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say that Maddox has been corresponding with the killer. Everything is just too coincidental.”

“Heavenly Rest is where Ethan Wolfe is buried.”

“Yeah. That’s right.” Jerry blinked in surprise. “How’d you know that?”

“You know I followed the case. Everybody did.” Danny fiddled with the papers on her desk, not meeting his gaze.

“It’s okay,” Jerry said, but he felt a twinge at the back of his
neck. He hated to admit it, but her interest in Ethan Wolfe bothered him, not that he blamed her. “Wolfe went to your school, and so did Maddox. I get it.”

“It’s just . . . she’s a psychopath.” Danny’s voice held an undertone of wonder. “I majored in psych, and I know a psychopath when I see one. And now I’m a criminal justice student,
hello
. I wouldn’t let my guard down around her, you know?”

“Smart girl.”

“By the way . . .” She hesitated. “There was a reporter hanging around outside today.”

“I spoke to her. You’d think they’d get tired of me saying ‘no comment.’ Right when I thought all that crap was dying down . . .” Jerry looked at his assistant sternly. “Remember, don’t ever talk to them.”

“Give me some credit, dude.”

Stifling a yawn, Jerry watched as she typed something into her computer. A moment later, another invoice was printed and added to the stack. He could feel his eyes wanting to close, and knew he should be signing off on those invoices before he passed out completely, but he couldn’t seem to get up off the sofa. The loveseat here was more comfortable than the one he had at home—Marianne had taken most of the “good” furniture with her when she’d moved out.

“Listen, it’s late. I’m heading home.” He forced himself to sit up, eyes bleary. “I don’t want you here alone. Want me to drop you somewhere?”

“I’ve got my bike.”

“We’ll put it in the trunk. Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

She shut down the computer and followed him out. He carefully locked the door behind them and they headed down the stairs to the parking lot behind the building.

“So, what’s next?” Danny was in front of him and her ponytail
bounced along with her as she skipped down the steps. “You said you found a third body. What happens now?”

“It’s back to the prison first thing in the morning.” Even just saying the words, Jerry felt the weight of it all on his shoulders. He honestly couldn’t think of a place he less wanted to go. “So Maddox can sign off on her deal. Then, she talks. And tells us what she knows.”

Danny pushed the back door open and headed for her bike, which was chained to the rack beside the door. “Sounds easy enough. Can I come?”

“Where? To the prison?”

“No, to the Taj Mahal.” Danny rolled her eyes. “Yes, the prison.”

“I guess it’s not a terrible idea.” Jerry popped the rear hatch on his Jeep and lifted her bike up. “I could use the help.”

What he didn’t say was that he could use the
buffer
, someone else in the room with himself and Maddox to keep things civilized. It had helped having Sheila there today, and he dreaded going back alone. He didn’t trust himself around Abby Maddox.

Danny climbed into the Jeep’s passenger side. When Jerry got in beside her, she said, “So you think she’s been corresponding somehow with the killer. That’s really sick when you think about it.”

“Damn skippy.” He started the engine and pulled out of the lot.

“You think he writes to her?”

“Don’t know, didn’t ask.”

“What would the letters say?”

“Don’t know, haven’t seen them yet.”

“Does she—”

Jerry finally laughed. “I don’t know. You can ask her yourself tomorrow.”

Danny snuggled back into the seat, her young face glowing in the light. He could tell she was excited to meet the notorious criminal, and while it was irritating, Jerry really couldn’t take it personally. She was just a kid. She wasn’t trying to offend him.

Ten minutes later he pulled up in front of the converted warehouse she called a loft. He’d seen where she lived once before, in the daylight, but right now it looked positively unsafe. It was surrounded by abandoned buildings and Jerry was pretty sure one of them had been a crack house at some point.

“You should move,” he said, rolling down the window. He kept his eye on the small group of men smoking near the building’s entrance. “I don’t like the unsavory looks of your neighbors.”

Danny chuckled and reached for her bag. “Two of those unsavory guys are my bandmates. We practice in the abandoned building next door. Some kind of machinery used to be manufactured there, and the whole place is soundproofed. We can play as loud as we want.”

Okay, so maybe that was pretty cool. Danny was the lead singer in an alternative rock band—Jerry couldn’t remember the band’s name, or maybe he’d never asked her—and he could see that a warehouse would be the perfect place to rehearse.

But playing music here was one thing. Living here was another. He didn’t care if the real estate analysts had declared this neighborhood an “up-and-coming” area of Seattle. In his opinion, it was much too industrial to feel like home.

“Seven sharp, okay?” he said as they got out of the Jeep. He popped the back and hefted her bike out. “Be outside on time. Don’t make me buzz you. We have to be at the prison by eight.”

“Why so early?” Danny stifled a yawn and pointed to her friends. “I still have a couple of hours of rehearsal tonight.”

“You’re kidding. It’s midnight.”

She gave him a look that made him feel old. “It’s the only time we could all meet. We have a gig tomorrow night at the Pink Elephant. You should come. Show starts at eleven.”

“Hell no. Way past my bedtime.” Jerry pointed at her and raised an eyebrow. “And girl, I come back for you tomorrow and you’re not waiting for me outside, I keep on driving.”

“Chill, dude. I’ll be ready.”

MORRIS WAS RED,
Morris was heaving, and Morris was pacing. None of these things was a good sign, but all three combined? Sheila clutched a pillow to her chest and braced herself for the onslaught. Maybe she should have waited till morning to talk about this. They’d both had a long day, and midnight wasn’t the best time for a serious discussion.

He pointed a large finger at her and she cringed. “You’d better explain this to me before my head explodes.”

“Morris—”

“What in the
world
would possess you to go to a prison and talk to that psycho bitch?” Morris shouted. The sound actually hurt Sheila’s ears and she wondered if the neighbors could hear them. Morris was not a soft-spoken guy to begin with, but at full volume, she could feel the walls shaking. He continued to stomp around their bedroom, not waiting for an answer. “I’m gonna kill Jerry for bringing you there. Goddammit, he knows better. Abby Maddox is dangerous, Sheila. She’s a murderer—”

“We don’t know that yet,” Sheila said.

He stopped and turned, his face growing redder. “Excuse me? We don’t know that? Since when don’t we know that?”

She clutched the pillow tighter. “You need to hear me out. I know what I’m doing.”