Still Missing (20 page)

Seeing me glare at the mirror, Gary said, "No one's in there and we'll only turn the camera back on if you tell us it's okay." Wishing I could see through it, I stared hard at the mirror and hugged the packsack to my chest.

"Would you feel more comfortable if you had a look for yourself?"

I was surprised by the offer. I looked at his face, decided he meant it so there was no point in checking, and shook my head.

He started by asking me to describe in as much detail as possible exactly how The Freak had abducted me. Whenever he asked a question he leaned back in his chair with both hands splayed on the table in front of him, and when it was my turn to answer, he leaned toward me with both arms flat on the table and his head cocked to the side.

I tried to find a pattern to his questions, but I just couldn't predict where he'd go next, didn't even understand the relevance of some. The hair on the back of my neck was damp with sweat.

Retelling that day and describing The Freak made my mouth dry and my heart lurch around in my chest, but I kept it together until Gary told me the cops who'd investigated the "crime scene" had found The Freak's body.

"He appears to have been hit with something in the head. Is that how he died, Annie?"

I looked back and forth between them, wishing I could read their minds. Gary didn't sound accusing, but I could feel the tension in the room.

I hadn't even thought about what some of my choices or actions might look like to someone who hadn't been there. The room seemed hot, Diane's perfume overwhelming in the small space. I wondered how Gary would feel if I puked all over his nice suit. I raised my eyes to his.

"I killed him."

Gary said, "I have to caution you at this time that you need not say anything further, and that anything you do say may be used as evidence against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney and to have one present during our questioning. If you can't afford one, we can provide some phone numbers for legal aid. Do you understand?"

The words sounded routine and I didn't think I was going to be in trouble, but I considered asking for a lawyer. The idea of delaying this process to talk to another suit made my head hurt.

"I get it."

"You don't want a lawyer?" He said it casually, but I knew he didn't want me to ask for one.

"No."

Gary made a note. "How did you do it?"

"I hit him in the back of the head with an axe." I swear my voice echoed, and even though it was hot as hell, my skin broke out in goose bumps. Gary's eyes burrowed into me like he was trying to read my thoughts, and I busied myself with ripping my Styrofoam cup into little pieces.

"Was he attacking you at the time?"

"No."

"Why did you kill him, Annie?"

I looked up and met his eyes. What a stupid fucking question.

"Maybe because he abducted me, beat me, raped me pretty much every night, and..." I stopped myself before I said anything about the baby.

"Would you feel more comfortable talking with just Constable Bouchard about this?" Gary's face was grave as he waited for me to answer.

Staring back at them, I wanted to smear Diane's sympathetic expression across her face. I knew I'd rather deal with Gary's tough, no-muss-no-fuss approach than get one more understanding look from her.

I shook my head and Gary made another note. Then he leaned in so close across the table I smelled cinnamon on his breath.

"When did you kill him?" His voice was quiet but it wasn't soft.

"A couple of days ago."

"Why didn't you leave right away?"

"I couldn't."

"Why not? Were you restrained?" Gary's fingers tapped on the table and his head was cocked.

"That's not what I meant." I wanted to get up and walk out the door, but the firmness in his voice had me nailed to my chair.

"So why couldn't you leave?"

"I was looking for something." Bile rose in my throat.

"What?"

My body grew even colder, and Gary's edges blurred in front of my eyes.

"We found a basket," he said. "And some baby clothes."

The stupid rickety ceiling fan creaked as it went around and around, and I wondered for a minute whether it would crash down on my head. There were no windows, and I couldn't get a deep breath of air.

"Is there a baby, Annie?"

My head pounded. I
would not
cry.

"Is there a baby, Annie?" Gary wouldn't shut the fuck up.

"No."

"
Was
there a baby, Annie?" His voice was gentle.

"Yes."

"Where's the baby now?"

"She...my baby. Died."

"I'm very sorry to hear that, Annie." His voice was still gentle, soft and low. Sounded like he meant it. "That's a terrible thing. How did your baby die?" He was the first person to express condolences. The first person to say it mattered that she'd died. I looked at all the little ripped-up pieces of Styrofoam on the table. Someone answered him, but I didn't feel like it was me.

"He just...I don't know."

I clung to the calm in Gary's voice as he said, very gently, "Where's her body, Annie?"

The strange voice answered again. "When I woke up, he had her. She was dead. I don't know where he took her, he wouldn't tell me. I looked everywhere.
Everywhere
. You guys have to look, okay? Please, can you find her, can you--" My voice broke, and I shut up.

Gary's shoulders stiffened, his face flushed under his tan as his jaw tightened, and his hands balled into fists on the table like he wanted to punch someone. At first I thought he was mad at me, but then I realized he was furious at The Freak. Diane's eyes were shiny in the fluorescent light. All the walls closed in. My body was drenched in sweat, and sobs tried to come out of my throat but I couldn't breathe and they piled up, strangling me. When I tried to stand, the room tilted, so I dropped the packsack and gripped the back of the chair, but it started to slide. My ears rang.

Diane rushed to my side and lowered me slowly until I was lying on the floor, halfway across her, with my head on her chest and her arms encircling me. The harder I tried to suck some air into my lungs, the more my throat closed up. I was going to die there on that cold floor.

Crying and gagging at the same time, I pushed Diane's hands off me and tried to pull away from her, but the harder I struggled, the harder she hung on. I heard screaming, realized it was me. I was powerless to stop the screams, which bounced off the walls and echoed in my head.

Up came the coffee and muffin, all over myself and Diane. She still wouldn't let me go. My head rested on her huge boobs, which smelled like warm vanilla cookies. Gary crouched in front of us, saying something I couldn't hear. As Diane rocked me back and forth in her arms, I wanted to struggle and take back control, but my mind and body wouldn't cooperate. I lay there, sobbing and screaming.

The screaming finally stopped, but I felt so cold, and everyone's voices seemed to be coming from far away. Diane whispered, "Everything's going to be okay, Annie--you're safe now."

What a crock. I wanted to tell her I was never going to be okay, or safe, but when I tried to form the words, my lips froze. Then there was a new set of feet in front of me next to Gary's crouched figure. A voice said, "She's hyperventilating. Annie, my name is Dr. Berger. Try to take some deep breaths." But I couldn't. And I don't remember anything after that.

So I finally heard from Gary at last, Doc, but I'm not sure I feel any better. He didn't tell me where he'd been--I didn't ask and he didn't offer--which annoyed me a little. When I told him about the timing of the robberies and my new "freaky friend" theory, he said the kid could be changing his pattern to throw off the cops, or it could be a crime of opportunity--he might have just been walking by and seen me leave with Emma.

I was still mulling that over when he said, "These guys usually work alone."
Usually?
I asked him what the hell that meant, and he said he knew of a couple of cases where two guys worked together--one the finder and one the doer--but he doubted that was the case here because it didn't fit with The Freak's profile. Then he said, "And other than his comment about the cabin being hard to set up, he never did or said anything to make you think he had a partner, right?"

"Guess not. But he had an older picture of me, and that's weirding me out big time."

"What photo? You never mentioned a photo."

Then he started hitting me with the same questions I've been asking myself. Where could The Freak have gotten it from? Why would he have wanted that one in particular? And then he said something that still doesn't make sense. He said, "So anyone had easy access to the photo if it was at your office." His final question was, "Does anyone know you brought it back with you?" When I said no, he told me to keep it that way.

It was the first time I can remember feeling worse after talking with him. Put me in such a bad mood I took it out on Luke. I just don't know what's going on with us these days anyway. I figured our visit and honest talk would bring us closer, but when we've chatted lately there was a lot of dead air, and the last time he phoned I ended the call, told him I was heading to bed. I wasn't even tired.

I can't seem to let go of the fact that Luke was late that day. Was he being nice to some customer while I was being abducted? Why didn't he drive to the open house as soon as he realized I wasn't home? And why the hell didn't he call the cops the second he knew something was wrong? Calling Mom could have waited. It's horribly judgmental, because God only knows how I'd have handled things if I were in his shoes, but I keep thinking every second he delayed lessened any chance of my being found.

During our relationship I saw him as laid back but now I'm beginning to wonder if he's just passive. He'll complain about a waitress or one of his cooks, but he doesn't
do
anything about it.

The whole time Luke and I were together he was never anything but patient, loving, honest--just so
nice.
Sometimes, like right before I was abducted, I wondered if I should be wanting something more than nice, but on the mountain all I ever thought about him was how wonderful he was. Now he's still being patient, loving, and honest--he's the nicest man I know. So what the hell's wrong with me?

My first image on opening my eyes after my meltdown at the cop shop was of Mom and Gary standing at the foot of my hospital bed. There was no sign of Wayne. I didn't notice Diane sitting on a chair beside me until I heard her say, "Look who's up."

She gave me a kind smile and I remembered her rocking me, which made my cheeks burn. Then Mom realized I was awake and almost knocked the IV out of my arm as she crawled halfway on top of me, sobbing, "My baby, my poor Annie Bear."

Whatever shit they'd given me was starting to make me nauseous, so I said, "I'm going to be sick," then burst into tears. A doctor reached for my arm and I pushed him away. Then there were more hands holding me down and I was fighting all of them. I felt a prick in my arm. The next time I woke up, my stepdad was sitting beside me with his cowboy hat clutched in his hands. As soon as I opened my eyes he jumped out of the seat.

"I'll go get Lorraine--she just went to make a call."

"Let her finish," I whispered. My throat was sore from screaming, and the drugs had dried it out. "Could you get me some water?"

He patted me on the shoulder and said, "I better find one of the nurses." With that he was out the door, but the drugs kicked in again and I was asleep by the time they came back.

Hospitals are strange places--doctors and nurses touch and prod your body in areas you would never let an ordinary stranger near, and I had at least two panic attacks that first day. They put me on something for the anxiety, then something at night that made me wake up feeling hung over, then something for the nausea. It was a small hospital, so I usually got the same nurse, and she always called me honey in the gentlest voice. It made me tear up every time and I wanted to tell her to stop, but in my shame I just turned my face away until she was done. Before she left the room she'd run her warm hand down my forearm and squeeze my fingers.

On my second day in the hospital, when I was a little calmer, Gary told me the Crown was reviewing all the information I'd given at the station, and they'd be deciding whether to charge me with anything.

"Charge
me
? For what?"

"There was a death, Annie. No matter what the circumstances we still have to go through the process."

"Are you arresting me?"

"I don't think the Crown will go in that direction, but I still have a duty to inform you of the situation." At first I was scared, and kicking myself for not getting a lawyer, but when I looked at Gary's flushed face I realized he was embarrassed as hell.

"Well, if the Crown does decide to charge me, they're going to look like a bunch of assholes."

Gary grinned and said, "You got that right."

He started asking me a couple of questions about The Freak, and when I reached up to scratch my neck, I realized I wasn't wearing the necklace anymore.

Gary said, "The doctors took it off when you were admitted. You'll get it back when you're released--it's with your personal effects."

"The necklace wasn't mine. He gave it to me--he said he'd bought it for another girl."

"What other girl? Why didn't you say anything about this before?"

Hurt by his abrupt tone, I said, "I got used to wearing it, so I forgot--maybe if you guys backed off on the questions once in a while I'd have had a chance to tell you. Besides, in case you haven't noticed, I've been a little distracted." I shook my arm with the IV in it at him.

In a calmer voice he said, "Sorry, you're right, Annie. We've been hitting you with some hard questions, but it's really important you tell us
everything.
"

Over the next couple of days I tried to fill him in on what I knew of The Freak's history--including his mother, his father, and the female helicopter pilot. Gary often stopped me with questions and sometimes his body was stiff with tension as he leaned toward me, but he was careful to keep a calm tone of voice and he let me get the story out at my own speed. If we talked about the rapes, or The Freak's schedule and system of punishments, his hand would tighten on the pen as he took notes, but he was good about keeping a neutral expression. Half the time I couldn't look at him. I'd stare at the wall, counting cracks, and recite my abuses like I was listing the ingredients to a recipe from hell.

Mom insisted on staying by my side when he talked to me and she usually sent my stepdad to get a coffee--I've never seen a guy look so relieved. If I hesitated for even one second when Gary asked me something, Mom jumped in saying I looked tired or pale and suggested we call one of the doctors, but I thought she was the one who looked pale, especially when I talked about the rapes. And she developed this habit of tucking the blanket tight around me. The harder the words, the tighter she tucked, like she was trying to contain them within me. I didn't appreciate the attention, but I knew she had to be feeling pretty helpless, listening to what I went through, and hell, if it made her feel better...Besides, I didn't have enough strength to fight her.

On my third day in the hospital, Gary told me that the cabin being so customized had helped convince them I was telling the truth, and he was pretty sure the Crown wasn't going to be putting forth any charges. Diane had stopped coming along by then, and Gary said she'd gone back to Clayton Falls to handle "other aspects of the investigation."

I tried to be patient when Gary asked me to describe the same things over and over again, because I knew they were having a hard time identifying The Freak. It didn't help that he didn't have any fingerprints. They extracted some DNA but Gary said that's only useful if they have something to compare it to, and there weren't any hits in their system. The Freak's face wasn't looking so good after he'd been left in a hot metal shed, so they took a photo and touched it up on the computer, but they weren't getting any workable leads. When I asked about dental records Gary said they weren't conclusive. Even the van wasn't helping them. It had been stolen, along with the plates from another van, from the parking lot of a local mall that didn't have a security camera.

"Do you think we'll ever find out who he was?" I said one day. "Or who the other girls he hurt were?"

"Anything you remember can help us."

I sat up so I could look him straight in the face. "Don't give me a line from a police training manual--I want to know what you think. What you
really
think."

"Honestly, I don't know, Annie, but I'm going to do everything in my power to get you an answer. You deserve that." There was an intent fervor in his eyes I hadn't seen before. "It would be a lot easier if your mom wasn't here when we're talking. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, it is pretty hard to talk about this in front of her."

When Mom came back in, reeking of cigarettes, Gary said, "I think it would be best if I did the interviews alone, Lorraine."

She held my hand and said, "Annie should have family with her."

"It upsets you too much, Mom." I gave her hand a squeeze. "I'll be okay."

She looked back and forth between Gary and me.

"If that's what you want, Annie Bear, but Wayne and I will be sitting right outside if you need us."

In between my getting interviewed by Gary and prodded by doctors, the next couple of days were a blur. It was bad enough I wasn't allowed to leave because I was dehydrated, among other things. After my meltdown at the police station and my reaction at the hospital, the doctors were concerned that I might be a danger to myself and wanted to keep me for observation. But then after a few raging nightmares and another panic attack, triggered by an interview with Gary, they started playing with my doses--up and down I went, and it was getting increasingly hard to separate my dreams from life. I'd hear a baby cry and think they'd found mine or I'd wake up with a doctor leaning over me, and in a panic, thinking it was The Freak, I'd push him away. I lived in terror all over again as my last bit of control slipped away to pharmaceuticals.

It was during that endless confusion of questions, an over-attentive mother, and drug-happy doctors that Luke and I had our awkward reunion. Christina was spared the same treatment since she was on a Mediterranean cruise at the time. Aunt Val also made the trip, delivering an enormous bouquet of flowers, but Mom allowed her only fifteen minutes of small talk before she told her I needed rest. I actually found Aunt Val more sensitive than usual, even asking if there was anything she could get me, "anything at all." She must have said something that pissed Mom off, because I didn't see her again until I got home.

I'd been there for about eight days when Mom and Wayne headed back to Clayton Falls--the hotel was too expensive for them. Once they were gone I realized I'd been letting Mom, the cops, and the doctors decide what was best for me. It was time I made a few of my own decisions.

The next morning, I stopped the nurse about to give me more drugs. The doctor who was called in said either I took them or I consented to see a shrink. I'd been refusing to see one up to that point, but by then I'd have agreed to anything just to get the hell out.

They were such a small hospital they didn't have a psych ward or a resident psychiatrist, so they brought in some kid who must have been straight from shrink school. Even though his questions were ridiculous, I made myself sound sane while still managing to shed enough tears so he wouldn't think I was handling things
too
well. I'd rather have walked over hot coals than tell that guy how I really felt.

The doctors wouldn't let me have any newspapers, and boredom was making me bitchy. Gary started to bring me fashion magazines, probably in self-defense, when he came to talk to me.

"Want me to cut out some photos of designer suits for you?" I said the first time he handed me one.

He grinned and tossed a couple of chocolate bars on the bed. "Here, maybe these will keep that smart mouth of yours busy."

He also started to bring me coffee laced with hot chocolate, and one time he brought some crossword puzzle books. I didn't mind the questions so much when he came bearing gifts. In fact, he was becoming the highlight of my day. It didn't hurt that his voice was so low and smooth. Sometimes I just closed my eyes, focusing in on his voice. He had to repeat a few of his questions more than once, but he never sounded annoyed--amused, but never annoyed.

When I asked him to explain about his job and rank, he told me he had a sergeant, two corporals, and a few constables working under him. So he
was
the top dog--not of the whole office, but of the Serious Crime Unit, and that was reassuring. He always clammed up when I asked him specific questions about the investigation, though, and said he'd tell me when they had "concrete information."

Once he came in during the tail end of one of my shrink sessions and turned to leave, but I asked him to stay. The shrink said, "Do you think you might have some anger towards the man who abducted you?" Gary raised an eyebrow at me behind his back, and I had to struggle not to laugh.

After about two weeks of doctors, hospital Jell-O, and pacing my room, the shrink gave me a final assessment and said he didn't see any reason why I couldn't go home, but the doctors had to review the assessment before I could be released. I didn't have any more freedom than I'd had on the mountain.