Freak (8 page)

Sheila said nothing. Neither did Jerry. An uncomfortable silence descended over the room.

Abby leaned forward. “I sit in a tiny cell all day. All I’ve had is time to think. And I think if you got to know me—”

“I don’t want to know you,” Jerry said, his jaw working.

“I understand. You’re still angry.”

“Who says I’m angry?”

“You’d have to be.” Abby looked at Sheila, then back to Jerry. “What I did . . . it’s scarred you in a lot of ways, and not just physically. Anyone paying attention can see that.”

Jerry blew out a breath. “Okay, you’ve apologized. Now for the last fucking time, tell us what you know. You’ve got three minutes left.”

“I don’t know who the killer is,” Abby said.

“Fine.” Jerry stood up, pushing his chair back on the linoleum floor so hard it screeched. “Thanks for wasting our time. Let’s go, Sheila.”

“Wait.”

He ignored Abby and headed for the door. Sheila stood up.

“Jerry,
wait
.” The urgency in Abby’s voice caused him to turn around. “Please don’t go yet. I don’t know who the killer is, okay? But I know I can help you.”

“How?”

“I know where the next victim is.”

Holy shit
. Sheila sat back down, glancing at Jerry, but his dark face was impossible to read.

“Okay then.” Still standing, he pulled a small black notepad out of his back pocket. “Give me a name and I’ll call it in right now, have somebody pick her up before she gets hurt.”

“I didn’t say I knew who, I said I knew
where
.” Abby looked up at Jerry, her eyes never wavering from his face. “And she’s already dead. Before I tell you anything more, there are certain things you need to agree to.”

Jerry sat back down. “What things?”

Abby reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Read this first. From my lawyer to you.”

Jerry unfolded the paper. Sheila craned her neck, but from where she was seated, she couldn’t make out the words. As Jerry read, the lines in his face grew more pronounced.

When he finished, he looked up, incredulous. “Tell me you’re joking.”

The younger woman didn’t smile, but her eyes were shining in a way that made Sheila very uneasy. “I never joke when it comes to my freedom.”

It was the first honest thing Abby Maddox had said.

THEY’D FINALLY LEFT
. A good first meeting all around, Abby Maddox thought. Dr. Sheila Tao had been exactly what she’d been hoping for—open-minded, inquisitive, fearless. And not totally unsympathetic, as Abby had thought she might be. A long shot, but maybe there was something to work with there. Slowly, things were clicking into place.

The handcuffs weren’t necessary, but she was a high-level offender and protocol was protocol. Anticipating the hateful cold metal bracelets, Abby held her wrists out, but instead of snapping them on, Officer Mark Cavanaugh just smiled at her.

“God, I’ve missed you.” He leaned in.

Before his lips could make contact, Abby said, “Where have you been the last three days?”

His lips were less than an inch away from hers. Pulling back, he looked down, not answering. Which told her everything she needed to know.

“Again?” Abby said, her voice cold. “I thought you said it was under control.”

“I called in sick. I haven’t been feeling well—”

“Bullshit.” She touched his chin, tilting his face up with her hand. “I don’t care if you’re an alcoholic, Mark. I’m not your wife. I’m not going to get in your face for drinking too
much, because I actually don’t care if you drink yourself into oblivion. Your body, your life, your choices. But not right now, do you understand? Right now I need you strong and I need you focused.”

She let go of his chin. His head dropped again. A moment later, he looked up at her, his dark eyes searching her face. He leaned in.

“Not here,” she said.

“Come on, nobody’s watching.” Mark’s hand was still holding her wrists. His touch was gentle, his fingers grazing the delicate skin of her palm. A tingle went through her. “It’s the conference room,” he said. “No cameras, remember? I’ve missed you so much.”

He was right, this was probably the one place in prison they could be this close without the risk of anybody seeing anything. Turning her face up to his, she parted her lips and allowed him to taste her. She moved in close and rubbed against him, feeling him harden beneath his scratchy uniform pants. He groaned softly, as she knew he would, and his lips moved down to her neck. One hand pulled her closer.

Mark was a good-looking guy, with a hard body to match underneath the CO uniform, but that wasn’t why Abby was into him. It was really very simple. Abby was into Mark because he was into
her
. The desire in his dark eyes, his eagerness to please her, his willingness to risk himself to do whatever it took to make her happy—she knew she could use him.

He steered her back toward the table, then hoisted her up onto it, his hands moving fast underneath her cotton top. She felt his fingers graze her breasts over her ugly prison-issue brassiere, fumbling to find her nipples. His other hand reached for her pants, tugging at the elastic waistband. He snaked a hand inside, moving aside her underwear, and she sighed. For three
minutes, she closed her eyes and allowed him to pleasure her, his fingers touching all the right spots. She came quickly and quietly, moaning softly in his ear as she reached orgasm.

She opened her eyes to find Mark watching her, a satisfied grin on his face.
Men
. All he’d done was something she could do to herself anytime she wanted, but you’d think the guy had just won the Super Bowl.

“My turn,” he said, reaching for his belt buckle.

She stopped him. “No.”

“Come on, I’ll be quick.” He leaned in again, his breath hot on her neck. “I promise. I just want you so fucking bad—”

“I said no.” Abby’s voice was soft but unyielding.

He saw that she meant it. Grudgingly, he stepped back, adjusting the material around his crotch with a grimace. “What’s the matter with you? This is the perfect opportunity.”

She slid off the table, tucking her shirt back in and smoothing her hair with her hands. “This is a delicate time for me, you know that. I have to be extra careful. I can’t take any chances right now, and I can’t have any violations. If all goes well, I’ll be leaving here soon. You want that for me, don’t you?”

Mark’s chiseled face was sullen. “I don’t know, actually. I like having you here, close to me. I get to see you every day.”

Abby sighed. He might be pretty, but he was oh so stupid. She gave him a reproachful look. “That’s a bit selfish, don’t you think? A minimum-security prison means more freedom for me. The possibility of getting outside more. Walking around unrestricted. More visitation. Maybe even a private cell. It’s not like you couldn’t put in for a transfer.”

“Really?” His face lit up. “You’d want me to?”

“You’re my boyfriend. Sure I would.” She held her wrists out. He dutifully pulled out the handcuffs and snapped them on. He kept them so loose, it almost didn’t matter that she was
wearing them, but she hated the feel of the metal against her skin. “Celia was telling me about that place. She says there are a lot of little nooks and crannies where two people can sneak off and be alone for a few minutes without anybody noticing.” Celia was Abby’s cellmate, and she’d said no such thing.

“I’m your boyfriend?” Mark smiled. “I like that.”

Of course that would be the one thing he’d jump on. So fucking predictable. All married men were. “Unless I’m just a fling.”

“Of course not.” He moved in close and kissed her again. “You’re so much more than that. I think about you every minute of every day. I dream about you. When I wake up in the morning, I’m hard because—”

“We should go,” she said. “They’re going to wonder what we’re still doing in here.”

Sighing, he unlocked the door and led her out, his arm on her elbow. Both of them nodded to Sergeant Briscoe, who was standing a few feet away from the door as if she’d been about to come in. She frowned at them, her middle-aged eyes narrowed into slits. Her gaze lingered on Abby’s face a little longer than necessary. Abby smirked. Briscoe looked away.

“Hey, Sergeant,” Mark said easily enough, guiding Abby past the older woman and down the hallway.

“Officer Cavanaugh.” Briscoe’s voice was flat.

The COs were always careful not to refer to each other by their first names. It was prison policy, a way to keep their identities safe, not that it made any difference. It wasn’t hard to find out what you needed to know. It had taken Abby five seconds to learn Mark’s first name.

“How much longer before you get me what I asked for?” she murmured as she and Mark headed down the hallway. They paused in front of the double doors at the back of the
building, and a second later were buzzed through. They had to cross the quad in order to reach the Close Custody Unit where Abby was housed. “I need a replacement. I can’t go any longer with one that isn’t working properly.”

“Oh yeah, I meant to tell you.” Mark stared straight ahead, not smiling. Out here, there were cameras everywhere, and someone would be watching. His tone, though, gave away his excitement. “The new one’s under your bunk. Make sure Celia doesn’t see it.”

“That might be a little difficult.”

“The less who know, the better.” They paused at another set of doors, and waited a moment. Finally Mark yelled, “Open!” and a second later, the doors buzzed open.

Mark steered Abby past the guard’s booth to a glaringly bright blue metal door a few feet away. Pausing for a moment, both of them looked through the huge glass windows at the three tiers of cells inside. The common area in the center was busy. The other inmates were socializing, everyone dressed in identical gray scrubs with the letters
DOC
stamped on the back. Branded like cattle.

Mark sensed the shift in her mood. “Chin up, baby,” he said in a soft voice. “It won’t be for much longer.”

No, it wouldn’t. Because Abby had a plan.

Abby watched the activity inside the CCU. She didn’t have friends here. The place was a fucking zoo. Every day she woke up to noise—inmates yelling, fighting, singing, cackling with laughter. Abby missed her freedom, yes, but what she missed most of all was the
quiet
of the outside world. This place might have been somewhat bearable had it just been quiet.

Freedom could not come soon enough. If she was in here for much longer, she was going to lose her mind.

Mark removed her handcuffs. The door to the CCU buzzed
open and Abby stepped through, adjusting her posture so she was standing perfectly straight. Nobody had ever messed with her in here, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. She always had her eyes open.

“Check your bunk,” she heard Mark say in a low voice before the blue door shut behind her.

A few moments later, alone in her top-tier cell, Abby did check. And it was exactly where he said it would be. She smiled.

Game on
.

THERE WAS ONE
simple reason Jerry didn’t like cemeteries. They were full of dead people.

Standing a safe distance away (lest any dead bodies spring up from the earth and attack him), he watched Mike Torrance pace a little too close to the perimeter of the eight-by-four hole being dug by a couple of workers. Off to the right sat a small forklift, not yet in use.

“Maddox better not be lying.” The detective stopped and glared at Jerry, as if it would somehow be his fault if she were. “I swear to God I’ll show up to every fucking parole hearing for the rest of her sentence if she’s lying about this.”

“You and me both.”

“I can’t believe she wouldn’t give you anything else other than the location.” Torrance started pacing again. “You
did
try, right?”

“What did you expect, Mike?” Jerry snapped. It had been a long day already, it wasn’t nearly over, and the question was insulting. “This whole thing is a chess game to her, and she’s the reigning grand master. We’re lucky she’s even letting us play. I told you, this is what she does.”

Jerry had questioned Maddox at the prison for over an hour. Sheila had sat quietly, listening but not interrupting. Of course
he’d tried to get as much information as he could, but Maddox wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite. She held all the cards and damn well knew it. She would tell the police what she wanted them to know when she was good and ready, and not a moment earlier. He could still picture the look on her face as she spoke—serious, but slightly amused, enjoying every second of their undivided attention.

“She’ll be mid to late twenties, dark hair, slender. She’ll resemble me. But you knew that already,” Maddox had said to him, her eyes shining in a way that had made Jerry uneasy. “She’s buried somewhere in Heavenly Rest Cemetery. Her body will be underneath someone else’s casket. Check for graves that are fresh; she was probably killed in the last couple of weeks or so.”

“Name?”

“No idea.”

“And you know all this how?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow, when you come back to tell me I was right.”

“And why the hell would I believe you?” Jerry’s jaw was clenched and the words were almost painful to spit out.

“Because you know I can’t bullshit about something like this.” Maddox had been unfazed by his frustration. “It’s a simple matter of checking, Jerry. If you don’t find a body, then you know I’m lying. If you do find a body, then you know I have something to offer your investigation. Right now, all we have is trust.”

She was fucking deluded if she thought he’d ever trust her, but okay, she had a point.

“Tell me this at least,” Jerry had said. “How’d he manage to get the body in the ground before the casket was buried?” He paused for a moment, trying to re-create the scenario in his head. “That doesn’t even seem plausible.”

“It’s all in the timing.” That glint appeared in her eyes again, and it was unnerving. “And when you see that I know what I’m talking about, I’d like you to come back tomorrow with my deal in place. You. Not the cops or the PA.”