Inevitable Sentences (7 page)

He signed with an elegant scrawl, tore the sheet from the pad, and set it aside. On the fresh page he began again: Dear Lovely Nancy. Elaine, Nancy—only the names changed as Chad wrote his many female pen pals and visitors, reassuring each that he would soon be with them.

An hour later Chad had completed ten letters and envelopes and added them to the ten he had written the day before. He placed a stamp on each envelope making sure that every one was absolutely square with the upper right corner. As he finished each one he stacked it neatly on the others, checking to be sure all the corners aligned.

Content with his work, Chad returned to lie on his bunk. He raised his head like a howling wolf and sniffed the air. He’d never get used to the wretched stench of urine and sometimes shit, sweat more powerful than in any gym, and mold that he could lift from the cell walls with his fingernails. Soon he wouldn’t have to smell it. Would the scent embedded in his nostrils ever leave?

“They’ll pay for what they’ve done to me. Every one of them.” His hoarse whisper cursed the fetid air in the cell block.

Shifting his back against the cold, damp wall, he reviewed the list of women he wrote to—each deserving to be his victim—the bored housewife who got her kicks through Web sex, the wealthy teenage groupie who liked to live on the edge, the born again Christian who planned to save him, and many—too many—more. He never stopped being amazed at how needy, gullible, and just plain stupid those women were. Yet those qualities guaranteed he would get up to a thousand dollars from every one of them. Some had already deposited more than half that amount into the account he gave them to use at a bank near his mother’s house. It gave him a kind of joy that it was money they no doubt had to sacrifice a lot to save. Money he was worth and ought to have.

Lizzie wouldn’t like that he was still having relationships with women other than her. Chad grinned in the dim light. She believed Chad had stopped all communications with them after she had threatened his visitors. How dumb could she be? Who did Lizzie think she was that she believed she could control him or anything he did? He, and only he, had power over others, not the other way around.

Besides, Chad’s personal business would stay his secret from all of them, except his mother. He told her everything. She had always been his only true ally, though he both loved and hated her. He loved her for her constant care, and hated her because in his eyes she was a whore. The line of men coming and going from his childhood home haunted his memories. Among those men was his wealthy father, a notable figure in his community who abandoned Chad’s mother rather than having his reputation tainted by a bastard child.

C
HAD UNBUTTONED HIS KITCHEN
whites and eyed the inscription across the back of the shirt: “Michigan Department of Corrections.” He wouldn’t be a part of the department’s chattels for long. He tossed the whites into a laundry bag. At least he wasn’t subjected to washing his own clothes. That nasty job was done by other inmates in the prison’s laundry. He untied his boots, crusted with droppings of food, and removed them along with his sweaty socks. He slipped his feet into flip-flops, wrapped himself in his state-issued towel, so worn that if he held it to the light he could almost see through it. The rag hardly could dry his hands let alone his entire body. He snickered, grabbed soap and shampoo, and headed to the shower. Suddenly, he needed to scour away the acrid odors from a day in the kitchen.

As he scuffed his way to the shared shower at the end of the block, Chad’s thoughts moved on to the women he had murdered. In many ways they were like his pen pals. They all had given in to his charm and good looks. And when he was finished with them? He had no choice but to eliminate them.

C
ELESTE WAS REACHING FOR
her parka when she spotted a white panel van pull into the driveway. She squinted at the lettering on the driver’s door, but the print was too small for her to make out what it said.

“Who is it?” Adrian came into the kitchen with a tray of coffee cups and breakfast dishes. “I heard a car.” She placed the tray on the counter near the sink.

“I’m not sure.” Celeste continued to watch the man at the wheel who, for the moment, hadn’t made an effort to get out. He only looked up from a piece of paper he held in his hand and studied the lighthouse. A dark knit cap hid any hair he might have had.

Adrian peered over Celeste’s shoulder. “I don’t recognize the van. Do you?”

“No.” Celeste stepped away from the window and faced Adrian. She felt a prickling sensation at the back of her neck. “I don’t feel right about this. He may be lost, or he could be looking for someone here.”

Adrian cupped her hands over her eyes and leaned against the window. “I can’t get a good look at the guy.” She stepped away from the window. “Maybe it’s Joe, the regular delivery guy. Sometimes companies add trucks during the holiday season. The rush is about to begin.”

“Joe doesn’t have a beard like that man,” Celeste said. “Unless he’s grown one in the last couple of days since he delivered the sheets I ordered.”

Adrian looked out the window again. The man was getting out of the van. “You’re right. It’s not Joe,” she said.

“Take the other women and children and go to my bedroom,” Celeste gently directed. “Don’t come out until I tell you it’s okay.”

“Who do you think he is?” Adrian asked. She picked up a dish towel and carefully matched the corners as she folded it. Then she shook it out and folded it again. “Do you think one of the men found us?” Her fear of that reality nearly froze her in place.

“I honestly don’t know.” Celeste shook her head and took the towel from Adrian. “It could be nothing. However, we should act on the side of caution. I do know one thing—I’m not taking any chances.”

Celeste noted the fear in Adrian’s eyes. She placed her hands on Adrian’s shoulders and tenderly turned her toward the bedroom. “Please do as I ask. The best thing you can do is stay calm and keep the others quiet. Stop them from panicking, and for heaven’s sake don’t let them come out here.”

“Okay. Shout—”

“Yes.” Celeste smiled tightly. “If I need help, I will.”

Adrian headed back to the other women.

Celeste returned to the window to see the man was retrieving a box from the rear of the van. She allowed herself a short sigh of relief. Perhaps Adrian was right—he was bringing them a package. The respite was short-lived, though. She hadn’t ordered anything besides the bedding items and no one ever sent parcels to the house. No one had a reason to. Very few people knew who even lived at the lighthouse.

Should she give the man the benefit of the doubt? Could he really be at the wrong address? Much as she wanted to believe this was a harmless situation, Celeste’s intuition told her otherwise. She reached for her cell phone and tucked it in her sweater pocket. Speed dial #1 was programmed to reach Sheriff Hunter directly.

Within moments the man knocked on the door. Celeste took several deep breaths and braced herself for the worst—that someone had found the location of one of the women.

She let him knock a second time. She didn’t want to appear too eager. She cracked the door open, keeping one foot braced at the bottom to hold it in place, or if necessary, to kick it shut.

“Yes?” she said, peering through the small opening. He had a salt-and-pepper beard and a nondescript black jacket with no identifying logo.

“Hello, ma’am.” The man nodded and smiled broadly.

Too friendly, Celeste thought.

He looked at the box. “I have a package for Adrian Chappell.”

Celeste’s heart skipped. Adrian’s cop husband had found her. Celeste had prepared and even mentally rehearsed for a time like this. She wouldn’t give this man even the merest hint that she recognized the name.

“Who?” She opened the door a little wider to appear more confident. Although she wanted to ask for identification, she decided she was better off playing dumb rather than being suspicious. If she acted too wary, he might get the idea she was hiding something.

“Adrian Chappell, ma’am. She has to sign for it, too.” He showed her a form with Adrian’s name typed on it.

Celeste knew this wasn’t the normal routine. “I’m sorry you had to come all this way. There’s no such person here,” Celeste asserted coolly, her tone implying polite regret, but also boredom.

“Oh?” The man tried to peek around Celeste.

“I’m sure I have the right place.” He tilted the package and pointed at the address.

Celeste glanced at the name and address on the shipping label. She looked the man straight in the eyes. “Someone has made an error. As I said, there’s no Adrian Chapp … what is the last name?”

“Chappell.”

“Well, anyway, no such person lives here.” Celeste started to push the door closed, but the man grabbed it to keep it open.

What was he planning to do? She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her cool. Her stomach was churning. Her heart was about to explode through her chest. How was she going to get rid of this man who, she had no doubt, intended to do harm at the least to Adrian, and probably to all the rest of them, too?

“My boss will be upset if I don’t deliver this.” The man seemed to be trying to convince Celeste how worried he was about his failed delivery. “You see, today is Friday. It’s Adrian’s birthday.” The man produced an insincere smile.

Celeste’s heart raced. It was Adrian’s birthday. Celeste had planned to surprise her with a cake from the bakery.

Celeste mustered all the courage she had. She wanted this intruder off her property. “Look. I already told you. There is no one here by that name.

I cannot accept a package addressed to someone I don’t know. My best suggestion is for you take it back to the place you got it and tell them they’ve made a mistake.”

“Mom.” Marcy peeked into the room. “I need your help.”

Celeste was not happy about Marcy showing herself, even though the man would have had a difficult time getting a good look at her. “I’ll be right there. This gentleman is leaving.” She never took her eyes off of him.

He hesitated for a moment and stared deeply into Celeste’s eyes as though searching for a way to break her down.

She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction and stared back with equal determination.

Finally, he tapped a finger to his head and said, “Thank you for your help. Have a nice day.” He sounded sarcastic.

Celeste locked the door and watched the man get into his van. He set the package on the passenger’s seat, studied the house for a few moments, and drove off. Although Celeste wrote down the plate numbers, she was certain whoever sent the package would not be easily identified, especially through something as obvious as a license plate. She leaned against the door, gathering her composure and her thoughts.

“Quit wasting your time and get a handle on the situation,” she told herself aloud.

She immediately telephoned the sheriff’s office and Sheriff Hunter reassured her. “I’ll put on an extra car out there and keep it close to your place. Meanwhile, I’ll run the plate.”

“Thank you,” Celeste said. “How soon do you think the car will be here?”

“About a half hour,” Hunter said and added, “Don’t worry. I doubt he’ll be back any time soon. This is a fishing expedition. If I get anything on the plates, I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, again.” She hung up and gazed around the kitchen. It seemed so ordinary, yet with the arrival of the van, everything had changed. She couldn’t kid herself that she’d actually convinced the driver. Probably all she’d done was buy time.

Well,
she told herself.
Maybe buying time is okay. Maybe the sheriff can track the guy down. Then this new cloud would disappear.

While she headed to her bedroom to let the women know they could come out, she also planned on gently scolding Marcy for taking a chance on being discovered, even though her appearance had encouraged the man’s exit.

Celeste barely reached the door when Lorraine burst through, screaming, “She’ll get us all killed.”

“What are you talking about?” Celeste asked.

“Adrian and that cop husband of hers. If he knows she’s here, it will only be a matter of time until we’ll all be found.” She spoke with such venom it frightened Celeste.

Lorraine must have eavesdropped on the conversation between Celeste and the man at the door. Of course. Probably they all had.

“No such thing is going to happen.” Celeste put all the no-nonsense attitude she could muster into her tone. “The sheriff is putting a second car out here to patrol the road to the lighthouse. No one else will get through. I—” she hesitated, then said firmly, “I promise.” But could she really make such a pledge?

“Big deal. Another cop.” Lorraine spun around to engage Adrian. “You should pack up and get out of here.”

Marcy gasped. “Lorraine!”

“Maybe she’s right, Celeste.” Adrian could barely get the words out. “I’ve put everyone in jeopardy.”

“You’ve done no such thing. You’ll stay here. I need you.” Celeste turned to Lorraine. “I’ll send no woman or children packing. No matter the perceived threat, you are all safer here.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Lorraine said and stomped off.

“Lorraine, don’t be that way,” Marcy said. She turned to Celeste. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Thanks. Sometimes Lorraine can be trying,” Celeste murmured.

Marcy nodded. “Can’t we all?” She smiled and left to find Lorraine.

Adrian began to cry. “I can’t believe he’s found me.”

Celeste circled her arms around Adrian to stop her shaking. “We suspected this would happen to one of you, at some point. We prepared for it, didn’t we? I doubt, with the added protection from the sheriff, your husband or his messenger will do anything foolish.” She hugged Adrian close to her. “If your husband knows—or thinks he knows—you’re here, I can almost guarantee he is aware of the added patrol car.” She kept her voice calm and low. “Besides, I doubt the deputy will let anyone down this road unless they’re cleared by the sheriff’s office.”

“I pray you’re right.” Adrian pulled a tissue from a box on the windowsill and blew her nose. “Although”—she blew her nose again—“the intruder could work his charm and persuade the deputy to let him through. You know, do a favor for a fellow cop.”