Authors: Iris Johansen
Todos Santos, Mexico
VICTOR CHILDRESS
He stared at the name on the ID card he had just purchased. Victor Childress. Not a name he would have chosen for himself, but it would do.
He pocketed the passport and turned toward the pounding surf. He couldn’t see the waves crashing on the dark beach though he could hear them. He took a deep breath. It should have been refreshing, but it wasn’t. It was like inhaling salt and dirt.
He couldn’t wait to leave this place.
Less than an hour from San Diego, yet a world away. A shit hole, to be sure, but it suited his purposes. No one knew him here, and no one would even think of looking for him. And after all those years in that prison, he needed the time to recharge his batteries and make preparations for his return.
It was time. Years of planning had finally led to this moment.
At his feet, a chunky Mexican man struggled to catch his breath as he rolled in a puddle of his own blood. The man’s lungs had collapsed, and he would survive only another minute or so.
He pocketed his knife and took another look at the forged California driver’s license, and then at the other items he’d been furnished. All the documents he’d ordered were superb. He slipped them into his pocket. The dying man had done magnificent work, but he couldn’t be allowed to live. Things had progressed too far to be derailed by an overtalkative tradesman.
He stepped over the dying man and walked across the warm sand. The wind suddenly kicked up, as if heralding the start of his journey.
He felt a surge of exhilaration. It was all coming together.
The waiting was over.
Eric Colby smiled. “This is it, Kendra,” he whispered. “Can you feel it? You will soon. This will be our masterpiece…”
“DR. MICHAELS? KENDRA MICHAELS?”
Still groggy, Kendra sat up in bed and adjusted the phone against her ear. Had she been more awake, she probably wouldn’t have picked up. She glanced at the clock. 7:25
A.M.
“Depends on who’s asking?”
“Sergeant Hank Filardi, Olancha Police Department.”
It took her a moment to make the connection. “Olancha … Right. You left a message on my phone.”
“Yes, ma’am. I apologize for the calls, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something.”
“I see. A homicide case? Is there something about the killer’s M.O. that makes you think I would have special interest in—”
“No,” he interrupted testily. “Dr. Michaels, we’re quite capable of handling our own homicide cases here. We don’t call on outsiders to—”
“Then why did you just wake me up?”
“I’m calling about a young woman named Beth Avery. Do you know her?”
“Beth.” Kendra tensed. “Is she okay?”
“Is she a relative of yours?”
“Is she
okay
?” Kendra repeated harshly. “Answer me.”
“She’s fine. Is she a relative?”
“No.” Kendra threw off the covers and stood up. “She’s the sister of a friend. Eve Duncan. What’s this about, Sergeant?”
“I wish to hell I knew.” His voice was surly. “I have a Beth Avery in my jail, and I don’t know what to do with her.”
“
What?
”
“She’s been in lockup since last night. She was arrested on assault and battery charges.”
Kendra shook her head. This conversation was getting more surreal by the minute. “Repeat that … You think that
she
…”
“There were witnesses. It happened outside a bar called Blitzed just down the street from here. She worked a guy over pretty good.”
“A guy? There has to be some kind of mistake. Beth Avery isn’t much over middle height and she’s not that strong. Besides, she’s not a violent person.”
“Tell that to the six-foot-two guy she put in the hospital.”
“This is crazy.”
“I agree. And what’s crazier is that she could have posted bail and been out before midnight, but she’s made no effort to do that or even make a phone call. She doesn’t appear to be an indigent, and she drives a nicer car than I could ever hope to own.”
Because Beth was a multimillionaire, and that car was one of the few indulgences she’d allowed herself since she’d decided to stay here in California. What in hell have you gotten yourself into, Beth?
“Look,” the sergeant continued gruffly. “I’m just trying to help her and get her out of our jail. She doesn’t belong here. We tested her for drugs, and she’s clean. Harley Gill, the guy she beat up, is a local and has a history of violence and misdemeanors. She seems like a nice woman, real friendly. I’d like to process her and send her on her way before he’s released from the hospital and this escalates into something out of control.”
“I second the motion. How did you find me?”
“I found your number in her phone under In Case of Emergency.”
Kendra nodded. The last time she’d seen Beth, six months before, she’d grabbed the phone and typed in the number herself. They had spoken several times since then, and Beth always seemed happy and well.
“Okay. Can I speak to her?”
“She doesn’t seem interested in talking to anyone. She said that she didn’t want anyone to know she’s here. I think she’d refuse to speak to you. You say you’re friends with her sister?”
“Eve Duncan, but she lives in Georgia. She probably couldn’t make it there before tonight.” She paused. “And Beth wouldn’t want Eve to know she’s in trouble. Eve really wanted Beth to stay with her and let her take care of her.”
“Not a bad idea,” he said sourly. “Look, I don’t know how you want to handle this. I can help you process bail for her, but I’m not sure if that’s what she wants or will accept even if—”
“I’ll come there,” Kendra said quickly, before even thinking it through. “I think I can be at your town a little after noon.”
“Well, she could definitely use a friend even if she won’t admit it. She’s being held at the Inyo County Jail in Independence. You got a pen?”
Kendra jotted down the address and prisoner number. “Thanks, Sergeant.” She hung up the phone.
She shook her head in bewilderment.
Beth Avery. In jail.
It was all wrong.
Beth had been illegally imprisoned for years by the corrupt director of a mental institution, and was only now beginning to taste the freedom that had been denied her for so long. Was it too much for her?
Possibly. Kendra remembered her own chaotic few years after she had first gained her sight. What she always referred to as her “wild days.” A world of sights and colors had finally been revealed to her, along with more freedom and independence than she ever imagined possible. She’d worried her friends and family sick in her relentless pursuit of every variety of sensory stimulation she could soak in.
A few nights in jail had also been part of her own package, Kendra remembered. As much as she said she didn’t regret anything in her wild days, she could have done without that particular experience. Or at least modified it a bit.
She picked up her phone and glanced through the calendar app. It was supposed to be a research day, compiling data for a music-therapy study she and a colleague at Tulane University were conducting.
It would have to wait.
Beth Avery needed her.
Inyo County Jail
12:30
P
.
M
.
KENDRA SETTLED INTO THE
tiny conference room, which usually hosted meetings between prisoners and their attorneys. The Inyo County Jail was located in the rural community of Independence, California, where miles of desert scrub brush collided improbably with a line of snowcapped mountains. She’d never had any reason to visit the place, and she doubted she ever would again.
The door swung open, and Beth Avery stepped into the room. She looked different than the last time Kendra had seen her. She liked the change. Beth was thinner than Kendra remembered her and wearing calf-high boots, jeans, and a blue plaid flannel shirt. But it was her demeanor that had undergone a transformation. Her color was high, and her blue eyes sparkled with energy. Despite her present situation, she was walking with a confident stride, altogether different from the hesitant gait she’d had after her release from the mental institution. Her shoulder-length dark hair flowed behind her with a healthy luster that had a vibrance of its own.
“Hi, Beth.”
Beth froze in her tracks as she caught sight of Kendra. She shook her head emphatically. “No. Only in case of emergency…”
“It seemed like it might head that way.” Kendra stood to give her a hug, but the guard gestured for her to back away.
“Does Eve know?” Beth asked.
“Not yet. I didn’t want to worry her until I found out what you’ve gotten yourself into.”
“
Then
you’ll worry her.”
“Probably.”
“No, it’s not necessary.” She took a seat at the small table, and Kendra sat across from her. “I’m sorry they called you, Kendra. I really wish they hadn’t.”
“Beth … Why in the hell are you here?”
“I’m making a point.”
“They’re about to process you. The woman up front says you’re about an hour away from getting a jumpsuit and joining the general jail population.”
Beth smiled as she looked down at her clothes. “Maybe you should have waited. A bright orange jumpsuit would have been much more striking.”
“I didn’t come here for a fashion show. I’m here to help you.”
“And I appreciate the effort, but I can help myself.”
“Not in here you can’t. What happened?”
Beth took a deep breath and looked away, as if deciding whether or not to tell her.
“Beth.”
“Okay, I was at a bar in Olancha last night. A place called Blitzed. There were two UCLA girls there who were on their way to Tahoe. Nice kids. One of them stepped out to make a phone call, and I saw a scary-looking guy slip out a minute or so later. So I went out there just in time to see the asshole trying to force himself on her. I told him to stop, but he didn’t.” She shrugged. “So I made him stop.”
“How exactly did you do that?”
“I put him down face-first into the parking lot,” Beth said casually, as if it were an everyday occurrence.
Kendra nodded. “You drew a weapon on him?”
“No.” Beth was clearly insulted by the suggestion. “I used his weight against him. I dislocated his shoulder and most likely cracked a rib or two.”
Kendra stared at her for a long moment. “Where in the hell did you learn to do that?”
“Bakersfield. I was there for a couple months, and I spent almost every day taking self-defense classes from this amazing older woman.”
“You studied martial arts?”
“I studied everything that works. After all those years of feeling helpless in that mental hospital, I decided that I’m never going to let myself feel that way ever again. I’m still learning. I have a bunch of her videos on my iPad, and I practice every day.”
Kendra could understand her need for independence. The staff of the hospital had orders to keep Beth weak and drugged, and they’d done it for the years she’d been kept there. Falsified reports and diagnoses by corrupt doctors and officials had assured that she remain almost in a zombie state. Now, free of those drugs, there was nothing in the least zombielike in her personality or vision of life. She’d taken control with a vengeance.
“I see.” Kendra’s lips turned up. “So you’ve become The Terminator.”
Beth grinned. “Nah, I liked the way Linda Hamilton put all the bad guys down in those movies. She used brains and not superhuman brawn.” Her smile faded. “The guy had it coming. That college kid was just there to have a good time, and he tried to make a victim of her.”
“I don’t doubt he had it coming. So what happened next?”
“The girls freaked out and hit the road. Bubba-Joe’s friends came out of the bar and—”
“Bubba-Joe is the guy you put down?” She frowned. “That’s not the name the police gave me.”
“I didn’t pay much attention to what the police called him. I was too busy arguing and trying to keep from being thrown into jail. He looked like a Bubba-Joe, so that’s how I think of him.”
“Gotcha.”
“His friends came out, and it must have occurred to him how bad it looked to have his ass handed to him by little ol’ me. So he made up this story about him enjoying a smoke outside and me attacking him from behind with a heavy metal beer sign. By the time the cops got there a minute or so later, his friends were claiming to have witnessed the whole thing, just the way he said it.”
“Nice. And the UCLA girl was nowhere to be found.”
“Exactly.”
“You could have made bail, Beth. For God’s sake, you’re a wealthy woman. Besides your family money, I know you got a fortune in your settlement from that Seahaven mental health institution. When the state board found out about the corruption there and what they’d done to you, they couldn’t recommend a high enough compensation in the courts.”
“I don’t want bail.” Her jaw clenched. “I want to stay and fight. I want everyone to know what he did. And I want everyone to know I don’t belong here.”
Kendra could understand. As tough as Beth appeared to have become physically, she was still carrying emotional scars from her years as a prisoner. “We’ll get you a good lawyer. The best. Put this behind you, and let’s get out of here.”
“Not yet, Kendra.”
“Seriously?”
“I know I could make bail, get some super-duper lawyer, pay the guy’s medical costs, and be done with it. I don’t want to do that. I’m not paying him a dime. I’m going to stay here and get a good local attorney and maybe a private investigator. We can’t let scum like that bully people.”
“You can fight him from anywhere. You can hire an army of lawyers and investigators to make his life miserable forever. You don’t have to stay here to do that.”
“It will put more pressure on the locals to do the right thing. ‘Wealthy heiress detained in small-town jail’ will attract a lot more attention than ‘Entitled Rich Bitch Victimizes Local Man.’”
“I have a third headline for you: ‘Former Mental Patient Might Be Crazy After All.’”
“Very funny.”