Authors: Brenda Hill
“Put this on,” she said.
Tracy slipped into the coat; it was large enough to wrap around her twice. “Well?” she asked the group. Standing in the oversized platform shoes, the wig, and the over-sized raincoat, she looked like a bedraggled kid playing dress-up in her mother’s clothes.
“Wait a minute,” Greg said, leaving the room. Tracy glanced at Diana, and she shrugged.
“Here we are,” Greg returned, carrying a pillow, some tape, and a couple of his old sweaters. He put the pillow to Tracy’s stomach. “Hold on to it while I tape it up.” He moved in close, first taping across the pillow and then running it around her back.
As Greg worked, Tracy noticed her heartbeat increase. She began to sweat. She fought the urge to shrink away from him. What was wrong with her?
Greg worked his way around the front again, crisscrossing the tape to go around her back for added strength. Tracy’s heart pounded. She was afraid she was going to pass out. She began to whimper.
“Tracy?” Suzy asked, rising from her chair, “Are you okay?”
Sudden panic seized Tracy, and she jerked away from Greg. Suzy and Diana rushed over to her, Suzy folding Tracy in her arms.
“It’s okay,” she soothed.
“What is it? What’d I do?” Greg turned to Diana, and both of them turned puzzled looks to Suzy.
Suzy held Tracy. “You didn’t do anything,” she said to Greg. “This is a common reaction of rape victims to coming into close proximity to a man.”
“But I’m her friend,” he protested. “I wouldn’t hurt her.”
“It’s not personal,” Suzy assured him. “It happens with husbands and boyfriends. She’ll be okay.”
“Please,” Tracy said a few moments later, after she had gained some control. “Let’s continue with what you were doing.”
Greg looked doubtful.
Tracy came over to him and hugged him.
“Please,” she looked him in the eye, “let it be okay with us. Help me.”
Greg studied her. “Okay, I’ll do anything I can. But you owe me, you know. Having a woman collapse in tears when I touch her could damage my ego for life. Let’s see, how could you possibly make up for something as devastating as that?”
“I can’t imagine.”
“I know! How ‘bout some of your special chicken and dumplings? I’ll even provide the chicken.”
“You got it.” Tracy’s heart filled with gratitude.
“Oh you!” Diana swatted him on the rear. “Always thinking about your stomach.”
The mood lightened. Tracy held the pillow in position for him to resume taping. He taped across the front again, then ran the tape around her back. When he was through, Suzy said, “Now put the sweaters back on.”
She did, pulling them over the pillow. The first one fit with a few inches to spare, but the second was snug.
“You look like you’re ready to deliver,” Wendy said.
Greg hummed “Charge!”
“Now, for the pièce de résistance.” He picked up the coat and helped Tracy put it on.
Carefully, she twirled around for the girls’ inspection.
“Perfect,” Suzy said.
“I bet your own mother wouldn’t recognize you,” Karen commented.
“Why Greg,” Diana teased, “I didn’t know you were so brilliant.”
“I’ve been telling you for years. You oughta listen more often.”
Diana stuck her tongue out at him.
Suzy smiled and got up from the table. “Well, looks like we’re about ready.”
Tracy looked at Suzy. “This is it, isn’t it?” she whispered. “I’m scared.”
“Honey, that’s natural.”
“But if he’s watching, won’t he notice me anyway? Even if he doesn’t recognize me as me, won’t he think something’s funny if all of a sudden there’s a extra person leaving?”
“I won’t lie,” Suzy told her. “That’s always a possibility. But unless he’s really trained in observation, he probably won’t notice someone new in a group of women. That’s why we always arrive and leave at the same time. It presents a confusing picture and that’s what we want. It’s worked so far.”
Suzy came over to her and took both of her hands.
“I know it’s a risk,” she said. “It always is. But what’s your alternative? At least if this works, and we take the best precautions to make sure it does, you and Ritchie will be safe while you finish your recovery period and decide what to do.”
Tracy didn’t move. She felt gentle pressure from Suzy’s hand.
“Come on now, think. If you don’t go with us, what will you do? How will you take care of Ritchie?”
Tracy thought irritably that Suzy must’ve learned her persuasive technique from a high-pressure salesman. She didn’t let go of Tracy’s hands and she didn’t break eye contact. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” Suzy smiled, and before she let go of Tracy’s hands, she gave her a brief hug. She turned to the group.
“Now, we’ll get Ritchie and we can leave.” She walked to a large cardboard box covered with the same logo design. Perfect round holes, about the size of silver dollars, dotted the front and back.
Tracy eyed the box. “What are the holes for?”
“Air.”
“You’re going to put him in there?” She examined the box. Soft blankets lined the bottom.
“I know it looks like a terrible thing to do, but believe me, it’s just to the car and he’ll be fine. We’ve done it before. And tonight, with Greg here, we can even take advantage of someone with muscles carrying it out for us. We don’t always have that good fortune.”
“Isn’t there any other way?”
“Don’t worry,” Wendy said, “I felt the same way, but it doesn’t hurt the kids. I should know. I had to smuggle three of them out.”
“Believe me,” Margaret chimed in, “Suzy’s got this down to a fine art. We’ve all done it. If the kids are awake, they think it’s fun to ride in a box.”
“It has to be your decision,” Suzy, said, “but decide quick. We need to get moving.”
What should she do? Tracy looked at the box, then to Diana, the rest of group, then to Suzy. Did she trust Suzy or not? She nodded.
“I’ll get him.” Diana rose and left the room.
Fortunately, Ritchie had fallen so fast asleep that he did not awaken when they placed him into the box. Tracy covered him with his special blanket.
Finally, when everything was ready and everyone was by the back door waiting to leave, Suzy gave last minute instructions to Tracy.
“When you walk out, don’t look around. Keep your face straight ahead. Same thing after you’re in the car. Just keep your face turned to the front. Don’t look out your window. If he’s out there, we don’t want him to see your face.”
Diana hugged her. “Don’t worry about things here, we’ll take care of what we can. The main thing is, get out of danger, then worry about straightening out this mess.”
“I know.” Tracy hugged her friend as much as she could with all that padding between them. “Thank you for everything, for being there. You too, Greg. I don’t know what I would have done...” she broke off, fighting tears.
“Hey,” Greg said, “don’t keep everyone waiting while you two blubber at the door.” He put his arms around Tracy and gave her a hug. “We’ll see you when we can. Like Suzy said, it’s not a good idea for us to come there, but you know how to reach us.” He picked up the box with Ritchie inside. “Let’s go.”
Diana held the door open as each prearranged grouping of two women stepped out from the back of the house. First, Suzy and Karen, each going to a different car, then, holding the box securely, Greg trailed slightly behind them. Two steps behind him, Tracy started out, with Margaret on one side, Gail on the other, and Joyce in back. Suzy opened the back door of her car and Greg quickly slid the box in. Tracy started to get in beside the box, but Suzy blocked her.
“Get in front,” she hissed. “I’ll explain inside.” Once they were settled with the doors locked, Suzy explained. “Don’t you think it would look strange if a pregnant woman sat in the backseat by herself?”
“Of course,” Tracy said. She placed her hand on the box, steadying it for when they started moving.
But no one moved except the last car in line. It slowly backed out of the driveway. The rest sat idling. Let’s go, she shouted in her head, let’s get out of here. What if he runs to the car?
“Why are we waiting?” she asked, holding herself rigid, her teeth tightly clinched.
Suzy reached over to squeeze her shoulder.
“I know this is torture, but just hang on. We’re moving now. If we’d all taken off with tires screeching, we wouldn’t look like normal folks.”
Tracy nodded and tried to relax. She fought the urge to look. Was he out there? More important, had they fooled him?
Chapter Thirty-One
The next morning, Reese sat at his kitchen table sipping coffee and reading Anna Mae Foster’s file. He didn’t notice the coffee had cooled or that the cup was leaving wet brown circles on the table.
According to the original investigator who interviewed Anna Mae’s neighbors and co-workers, she was, “nice, friendly, kind of shy, didn’t have a lot of friends. She dated occasionally,” he’d noted, “not a lot, seems she lived pretty quietly. But everyone agreed she was “friendly, and,” Reese turned to the last page, “always had a nice smile for people she knew and liked.”
He compared her date of employment to the dates Fang Security sent Karlton Wolfe on assignment. Sure enough, during that time, Wolfe had worked at a nightclub a couple of miles away.
But the proof was still circumstantial; he needed a positive ID. From Tracy. He’d swing by the Golden home, tell her about Anna Mae, leaving out her name, of course, and go over some options available for her and her son’s safety. At least she’d spent a couple of peaceful days.
The phone rang. He picked up the black cordless. “Your dime.”
“Sanders, what the hell are you doing at home?”
Cooper. Shit. She was supposed to be back on the job today and he’d forgotten to leave word for her.
“I suppose it’s a little warm,” she continued, “so you decided to stay home.”
“Uh, Cooper, I’m glad you’re feeling bett—”
“I give up on you,” she interrupted. “I’m going to Captain Tate and tell him I’m through. I’ve got enough headaches without worrying whether or not you’re following up—”
“You sure do,” he cut in, “and I wouldn’t blame you a bit.”
Silence.
Go with it, Reese thought. At least she was listening. “I wouldn’t want to babysit some asshole who screwed up all the time.”
“Sanders, I just tried to reach Tracy Michaels. She left the hospital without authority and Mrs. Golden says she’s not at her home. So where is she? You’re supposed to be on top of this.”
Holy shit. Tracy left the Goldens’? No, she wouldn’t do that, not with a baby and no place to go. Mrs. Golden probably told Cooper that just to keep her away.
But he’d better check it out. Damn. He’d slipped up. He should have picked Tracy up as soon as he knew where she had gone. What the hell was wrong with him? Was his head in his ass?
“Don’t worry,” he said. “She’s okay. She was getting threats from that asshole and I know where she is.” He prayed he was right. “Let me take care of it. I’ll get in touch with you later. Someone’s at the door.”
“But—”
Reese slammed down the phone and opened the door to Carly Shuler, his neighbor on the third floor, who was a deeply tanned bleached blonde with boobs the size of melons. Her clothes were like Loni Anderson’s, every top cut low to exaggerate her cleavage. Today she wore a pink tank top and white shorts tight enough for him to see little indentations at her crotch. Glossy red lipstick outlined her lips. She stood with one leg cocked like a model’s pose, and held out a plate of cookies. She smiled and he had the urge to suck in his gut.
“Hi, big boy,” she said, her voice low and sexy. “Want something to eat?”
He flushed all the way up to his faded blond roots. For some damned reason, she always made him feel like a schoolboy.
She grinned and edged her way into the apartment. As she passed him, he smelled warm peanut butter. His favorite cookie.
Reese was reluctant to close the door, knowing that she might take that as an invitation to stay. Maybe he was a macho pig, but he sure felt uncomfortable around a hungry woman.
How to get rid of her without offending her? Might just come a time that he’d want to take her up on it. But not now, not when he was right in the middle of a mess.
“Got a drink for a neighbor?” She headed for the kitchen, swinging her ass so he could get a good view. He’d have to be blind not to see everything she offered. A good three inches of rounded cheeks hung below the shorts. Pushing some papers aside, she set the plate of still-warm cookies on the table.
“Well, I tell you, Carly,” he said, “this isn’t a good time. I’m right in the middle of something.”
“Oh, I can see that.” She glanced at his piled kitchen table, then turning, she took in his dismal apartment, the functional sofa and barren coffee table, the green shag carpet matted at her feet. A couple of months ago, she had brought him a shiny green plant. It died from lack of water.