Wrong Number (4 page)

“But are you sure my husband’s murder is connected to the call I received?” Aubree rubbed a hand over her eyes and listened to the hum of medical equipment surrounding her.

Haskins shook his head. “We’re not positive, but all signs point to that.”

Aubree’s eyes widened as she noticed the clock on the wall behind Haskins. It was already 3:30 p.m. “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. No wonder I passed out.”

“Sorry about that. We spent a lot of time in the interrogation room,” Cody said. “I’ll see if I can hurry them along with some food.” He closed the door quietly behind him.

“Can I call my mom?” Aubree asked Haskins.

“We’ve actually been trying to reach her already. I’ll let you know as soon as we talk to her. We’d like to keep you here a few days for protection.” Haskins fiddled with the radio hanging on his police belt. “I’m sure she’ll want to come out here from Idaho right away.”

“How’d you know where—”

“We’ve already got a ten-page file on you. Don’t worry; it’s all good stuff.” Haskins gave her a thumbs-up.

“So, am I still a suspect?” A chill ran down her spine when she considered the results of the phone call only hours ago. How could Devin really be gone?

Haskins’ pager went off and after glancing at the number, he pressed a button to silence it. “No, you’ve been cleared. There’s no way a woman in your condition could’ve lifted a 275-pound male into a manhole in an upright sitting position. And you’re not suspected as an accomplice because you have an alibi for the time of death.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence in my moral character,” Aubree said, feeling a little miffed. “When was the time of death?”

“Yesterday at about three in the afternoon. We figure he was shot and then moved to the manhole last night.”

“And I met with a client yesterday at 2:15 to show houses and didn’t finish until 5:00, but I’m sure you knew that.”

Haskins wiped his hand across his forehead. “Like I said, I’m very sorry about everything.”

Aubree looked at her stomach. The gauzy peach material of her maternity blouse was wrinkled and dirty. She felt grimy and clammy. Cody opened the door and helped a nurse with some food. Aubree’s mouth watered as she looked at the tray placed before her. A bowl of minestrone soup and a whole-wheat roll were sitting beside a large slice of carrot cake. She felt guilty for being so hungry. How could she eat at a time like this?

“Go ahead and eat. That baby needs nutrition no matter what’s going on in the world.” The nurse added a carton of milk to the tray. “When you’re finished, you can take a shower right in there.” She motioned to a door on the other side of the room, which Aubree guessed was a bathroom.

She stared at the tray and blinked away the moisture in her eyes.

“She’s right, you know,” Cody said. “It will help to have something in your stomach.”

The soup had a zesty smell, and Aubree made herself take a few bites, trying not to think about the turmoil in her life and focusing on her baby instead. She began to feel a bit more alive as she ate, but the tears were right below the surface no matter how many times she swallowed them away.

“We’ll give you some privacy now,” Haskins said. “We’re going to catch a bite, but I’ll keep trying to reach your mother.”

“Thank you,” Aubree said.

When they left the room, her spoon clattered on the tray, and she leaned back on the bed, letting the tears seep from her eyes. Sunlight fell in narrow strips across her bed, and Aubree looked at the window.

The shade was down, but the light shone through the space on the side. Dust particles fell slowly through the beams, and Aubree watched them. Her mind felt numb. With ragged breaths, she tried to keep her thoughts from returning to the moment that morning before she left for work. She couldn’t help it. Devin’s face flashed through her mind again— his wink, curly brown hair, and easy smile.

She didn’t want to think about how it was her fault he was dead. Some rational part of her mind knew it wasn’t really—she couldn’t control the man who had dialed the wrong number.

Aubree stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the water. She watched the steam rise to the ceiling. Then she stepped inside and let the warm water run over her body. She cried again, trying not to sob too loudly. She wanted a few minutes alone, but what she really needed was her mom. With her head in her hands, she pictured her mom’s clear blue eyes—the ones she had inherited.

“Mom, I need you right now,” Aubree whispered between ragged breaths. As the water poured over her shoulders, she prayed fervently. “Lord, please help me. I don’t know what to do.” She tried to ignore the raw pain that bubbled up with each sob and instead searched for a memory of peace. The fluttering motions of the baby reminded her of how excited Devin had been to feel the gentle nudges of their baby. She focused on that memory. Then she swallowed hard, stood, and washed the tears from her face.

After the shower, Aubree felt almost human again. She put on a clean hospital gown rather than wear her dirty, tear-stained clothes. Sitting in a soft chair, upholstered with sage green material, she combed her reddish-blonde hair. Even though she didn’t want to cry anymore, she couldn’t help it.

All of a sudden, she had become a single mother, and she couldn’t get used to the idea that her husband had been murdered. She needed to see him, to see his body, to make sure it was all true, but Haskins had told her she would have to wait until tomorrow. They were going to call the case a ‘robbery gone bad’ until they could discover what the killer had planned.

Before he left the room, Haskins had informed her that they were going to keep the media out of the loop as long as they could. Soon they would contact Devin’s family and release a statement to the press.

She rummaged through her purse until she found her checkbook. Photos of her family decorated the checkbook cover. She sighed when she saw the picture of Devin’s family. The photo was six years old, but she kept it close anyway because Devin’s parents had passed away five years ago in a house fire. Only Devin’s sister, Susie, and brother, Gabe, remained of the Stewart family. Aubree felt terrible that she knew about Devin’s death but couldn’t talk to anyone.

Aubree heard a light knock at the door, and then Dr. Samuels entered carrying another tray of food. “Now these are just some snacks, in case you get hungry later on. The police are going to be back to ask you a few more questions, and I told them you need your rest after that.”

“More questions? About what?” Aubree stood and walked toward the tray of goodies. She wrinkled her nose. “Haven’t I answered enough questions?”

“That’s what I said, but apparently you haven’t.” Dr. Samuels shook her head, and her short black hair swished back and forth. “I need to check your vitals and monitor the baby’s heart rate one more time, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Aubree leaned back on the hospital bed awkwardly as Dr. Samuels hooked up the monitor. “Thank you for helping me.”

“It’s been my pleasure. I’m only sorry it couldn’t have been under more pleasant circumstances.” Her mouth turned down slightly, and she brushed a stray hair away from her dark eyes. “You’re looking great, Aubree. Keep up the good work, and you should have a healthy baby soon.”

“I hope so.” Aubree swallowed hard, and her lip trembled.

“It’s okay to cry, but I want you to concentrate on growing your baby. You’ve lost your husband, and it’s not going to be easy without him, but you’ve got to try to keep your chin up.” Dr. Samuels patted Aubree’s wrist and smiled.

Aubree felt anger rising in her chest. How could this woman give her advice only hours after her husband’s murder? But as she formed a retort, she looked into Dr. Samuels face and saw genuine concern there. Aubree blinked, and the tears cascaded down her cheeks. She felt Dr. Samuels’ arms around her as she cried. After a few minutes, Aubree took a ragged breath and wiped away her tears. “I’ll be okay now,” she said.

“I have to run along, but I want you to remember what I said. Keep your chin up, keep your mind alert, and be aware of your surroundings.”

“Okay.” She watched as Dr. Samuels left the room. Why did she sense the doctor knew more than she was saying, as if she were trying to warn her about something?

Aubree thought about Devin and how she’d blown him a kiss that morning. She recalled his sleepy face when he poked his head around the
corner to tell her she could borrow his cell phone. She covered her mouth and shook her head.

When he died, Devin was probably doing the same thing he had done every morning since he’d found out she was expecting: reading the morning paper and circling names. Aubree watched the tears fall onto the blue and white hospital gown. He was probably eating a bowl of his favorite bran flakes along with half a banana. He would linger over the paper and run his fingers through his curly brown hair as he read the sports section and circle names with his red pen. Names he liked that he would later talk to Aubree about. Names he wanted to give their child.

Some of them would make Aubree laugh. Devin had been known to circle the names of stores like Kinko’s or Panda Express or especially nicknames of athletes. But several things he circled were names he truly liked, and a few times he had marked them with big red stars.

Since their baby had been too shy when Aubree had her ultrasound, the doctor hadn’t been able to tell if they were having a boy or a girl. So Devin always circled both boy and girl names, or sometimes he would circle a name like “George” and then write “if it’s a girl” beside it. There was a stack of newspapers at home that Aubree had saved with names she especially liked.

She let the images of the newspapers run through her mind and then sobbed even harder. Devin would never know his child. Her husband would never get to hold their baby and say its name. Suddenly, Aubree knew what she had to do.

A few minutes later, another knock announced the entrance of Haskins and Cody.

“I’m sorry to keep bothering you. We have a few more questions,” Haskins said as he sat in the chair by her bed.

Aubree sat up and spoke a little louder than she’d intended, “I need to have the paper Devin was reading this morning. Please make sure the police don’t ruin it.”

Haskins looked puzzled, and Cody frowned. “The paper could be ruined already, and it may be catalogued as evidence.”

“I need to see it. It was the last thing my husband read before he died. Please.”

“I’ll have to check with the investigating officer and see what we can do,” Haskins said.

Aubree noticed Cody was holding the notebook she had written in earlier. He coughed and looked at her writing. “I wanted to check with you to see if there’s anything else you can remember about the wrong number today.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I tried to remember everything he said, but I don’t know.”

“You’ve done well to remember what you did,” Cody said. “How positive are you about the use of the word
intruder
?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Intruder? He must’ve said it. I don’t know why else it would come to mind.”

Haskins turned down some chatter on his radio and looked at Cody. “It seems to stand out, and so we wanted to ask if you could remember exactly how the speaker used the word.”

“I’m trying to remember.” She picked at a string on the hospital blanket, wishing her brain didn’t feel like it was in some kind of fog. She didn’t want to hear that voice again—the one they thought was responsible for Devin’s murder—but maybe if she could remember what he had said, then she could forget.

“Do you think he said, ‘An intruder’? Or, ‘The intruder’?” Haskins asked. “I know it’s a small thing, but we’re working on some leads.”

“I’ll keep trying to remember. I want to help you find these people.” Aubree gripped the blanket in her hand.

“Thank you for trying,” Cody said. “Maybe some rest will help.”

As soon as the officers left, Aubree yawned. She eased into the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin. She wanted to escape into the unconscious realm of sleep, and exhaustion was about to overcome her when a thought came to mind. If the killer knew they had the wrong cell phone, he must realize the mistake he’d made in killing Devin.

She’d already reported the information she’d heard to the police— the location of the body—and it had been found. It would probably only be a matter of time before the police tracked down Tidmore. What danger was left to her after he was behind bars? Was she truly in any real danger for the fragment of conversation she’d heard that morning? She doubted it.

Aubree hoped that the police would come to the same conclusion by tomorrow.

F
OUR

T
HE NEXT MORNING, SUNLIGHT
peeked through the blinds and warmed Aubree’s face. Opening her swollen eyes, she tried to remember why she was in a hospital bed. Then the realization hit her full force, and she groaned. A clean, citrus smell hung in the air, and she could hear people talking outside her door. Her husband was dead. How could it be true that Devin was gone?

Closing her eyes, she imagined Devin’s face and tried to hear his voice, his laughter, anything that would make him feel closer. The edges of her mental picture were fuzzy, and her grief seemed to crowd out happy memories.