Treadmill (16 page)

“That’s Parrish’s dog tag,” Cooper said.

He watched Prentiss’ face as she absorbed the information, her head cocked, as she studied the photograph.

“Now there’s a connection,” she said.

Before they left the Shamrock, he tried Laura’s number once again. Again, it went to her answering machine.

“No luck,” Cooper said sadly. Prentiss’ expression reflected his gloom.

“Before I do anything I’ve got to piece things together in my own mind,” she said.

“So do I,” Cooper told her.

“We need Laura, badly.”

“Wherever she is, I’m sure she needs us.”

“We’ll find her,” Prentiss said without conviction.

“Yeah.”

Prentiss gave him her card and Cooper gave her his telephone number. Neither of them were encouraged by the prospects, but she promised to contact him tomorrow anyway.

“Speak to no one about this. No one. Do you understand?”

“Of course.”

Her commanding tone was encouraging. She was into it now, coming up with a plan.

By the time Cooper reached the Chevy Chase subway station his mind had exhausted all possibilities. Ideas churned in his head, including the proposition that this was all a coincidence, that Anni was not wearing Parrish’s dog tag, that it was her own. Also, only one side of the dog tag could be seen in the photograph. Prentiss had promised to check in the morning, to see if the dog tag was blank.

Although he had sobered, his stomach felt queasy and his head had begun to ache. He speculated that perhaps Anni and Parrish had had a relationship, and this was her going away present, which could explain what the woman’s yellow Honda was doing in front of Parrish’s building. Maybe Parrish didn’t want her to know that he had left town, and she had come to find him, just like Cooper.

When he entered the lobby of his building, the clerk looked up from his book, smiled weakly, then returned to his reading. With a low level of alertness, Cooper’s eyes drifted through the glass doors of the lobby. A car was parked, front end forward, in the alley across the street.

Laura!

Without considering any other alternatives, he dashed out of the building. As he ran, approaching the car, the headlights came on and the motor started up.

“Laura!” he shouted. The glare made it impossible to see inside. He was directly in its path, stubbornly refusing to move. Suddenly the car turned sharply to avoid hitting him. In frustration, he banged on the rear fender. The car went over the curb and into a grass strip beside the main road, where it sped away in an accelerating screech.

It all happened so fast, but he was able to make out some numbers on the license plate. He tried desperately to keep them in his head, certain that he would quickly lose them if he did not write them down. But he was convinced of one thing. Laura was not in the car. Surely, she would have acknowledged him.

Reentering the lobby, he borrowed a pencil from the man at the desk and wrote the numbers that still clung to his memory. It was, he had noted, a D.C. license that Prentiss could probably trace immediately.

Once in his apartment, he found Prentiss’ card and called her, and gave her the license plate number.

“I’ll check it out,” she mumbled. Her voice sounded husky and non-committal, and he wondered whether or not she was drunk.

“I called her. Still no one home.”

“I feel so…”

“Don’t drive yourself nuts, Cooper.”

“I keep thinking the worst.”

“It’s the damned night,” she said. “Let’s get through that first.” She hung up. He reflected on what she had said, and for the first time since meeting her, he saw her more as a person now than an institutional entity. She seemed separated from the common throng, an outsider. A loner too. He understood what she had meant. Getting through the night.

It was then that he discovered his rage. He felt an internal roar, as adrenaline surged through his body. He had been too passive, too relentlessly evasive. Now he could fully agree with Laura. He was in it, although he didn’t know why. Whatever it was, he was in it up to his eyeballs. This reality had barely penetrated when the phone rang.

“Yes,” he said, picking it up swiftly.

“That was fast.”

It was Susan, her voice a welcoming sound.

“I had just hung up,” he said.

“So, I have a rival.”

“Nothing like that.”

“You sound agitated,” she said. It seemed a direct inquiry.

“I am,” he admitted.

“I don’t want to pry.” The sound of her voice was soothing.

“It’s alright,” he mumbled. He felt disjointed, unmoored.

“No it’s not. I can tell.”

Cooper felt his determination to keep her out of it waning. Parrish had again loomed in importance in his mind. And she had been the last person he knew to speak to him.

“I need to talk to Parrish,” he said.

“Parrish?” She seemed startled. “Sounds like you can’t put the man away.”

“He does keep coming up,” Cooper admitted. “Are you sure you never saw him with a girl? Someone you may have passed on the stairs?”

“No. I’m certain,” she said.

“A Filipino woman,” he pressed. “Who drove a yellow Honda?”

“Jack, what’s going on?” Susan was agitated. “Who have you been talking to?”

“I wish I could tell you more.”

“Why can’t you?” she asked.

He felt sorely tempted, but Prentiss’ commanding voice thundered back at him. He felt the temptation recede.

“Jack?”

“Parrish is important,” he said. “Did he give you any hint of where he might be?”

“Why do you need to find him?” she asked, her voice taking on an uncommon edge.

“I don’t want to involve you, Susan. This is very serious business.”

“What is?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes I do,” she persisted.

“I’ll tell you this weekend. I promise.”

“You should tell me now. You’ll feel better.”

“I can’t.”

There was a long silence. He could hear her breathing.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“About Parrish. You asked me to search my memory. I’m searching it.” He sensed some annoyance in her tone.

“California,” he prodded.

“What difference would it make,” she sighed. “He wouldn’t have a phone. He’d be impossible to trace. You know that. As for his love life? Why would I know anything about that? And you haven’t even told me why it’s so important. Here I’m trying to establish an intimate relationship with you, and you won’t even confide in me.”

He hadn’t expected such an outburst. He was shocked. All softness had suddenly disappeared. He had truly offended her.

“I’m so sorry, Jack. I didn’t mean that. I’m just edgy. I’m worried about you.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” he said. “And I’d like to do it now, in person.”

He listened through a long pause for an answer.

“I have a tough schedule tomorrow,” she said finally. “Dr. Kramer is going on vacation next week. He wants to clear his cases before he leaves.”

Kramer!
The name suddenly connected in his memory.

“I’m concerned about you, Jack,” she said softly. “What I want most of all is a relationship without secrets, not like my life with Carlton.”

“Nor mine with Margo.”

“I wish you could hold me in your arms now,” she said.

He knew where that was going to lead, but he felt that his enthusiasm would be deflected by all his anxiety.

“Friday night,” he said.

“I can’t wait. Goodnight.”

He hung up the phone. Helplessness engulfed him. He felt tossed mercilessly by events, no longer in charge of himself. His consciousness drifted away in exhaustion.

****

Cooper awoke in a cold sweat, thankful that what he had just experienced was a dream. He remembered in horrifying, vivid detail: Laura was pinioned to a moving treadmill, stakes in her feet and hands, being gang raped by men whose faces Cooper recognized: Blake, Kessler, the Doctor, Haley, and the skeletal form of Parrish. The only flesh on his body was his engorged penis. But the worst and most devastating image was of himself drinking Laura’s blood. It was then that Cooper awoke. He could still taste what he imagined was her blood in his mouth.

Before he got out of bed, he called Laura’s number. Again, he got her answering machine. He hung up and called Prentiss. No one answered. Then he called her office.

“Not in,” a voice said. “Early for her. Any messages?” It was six in the morning.

He gave his name and the number of the club. Whatever was happening, he knew the club was the central link.
The damned club!
The truth of it was that he had no desire to go back there. It held too many strange, bitter memories.

But it was impossible for Cooper to stay in his apartment. He needed to act, to do something. Dressing quickly, he jogged to the club. As it was the day before, he was the only one in the exercise room.

Have I missed something?
Questions rolled through his mind, most of them impossible to answer.

Glancing over towards Blake’s office put an idea in his mind. He knew that the door was never locked. He let himself in, and looked through Blake’s address book. The only name he recognized was Riggs Haley.

Innocent enough
, Cooper concluded. There was no mystery about him being the Vice President’s trainer. He did a hurried inspection of the drawers of Blake’s desk. He found nothing there to trigger any suspicion. Then he looked into the filing cabinet. There was Anni’s file. He saw various vital statistics that Blake had collected, routine things like height, weight, age, category of physique and other information, BMI, and ideal pulse rate. But again, he could not find anything suspicious. Even Laura’s file – as Beth Davis – seemed routine, although seeing it and reviewing her various statistics merely added to his concern.

Then something odd caught his interest. The Kessler file was nowhere to be found. Then he looked up Melnechuck. No file there either. Then Dietrich. Nothing. He did not have the time to contemplate this long. In a few moments the regulars would descend on the room. He was about to close the file cabinet door when another idea crossed his mind. He checked again, there was no record of Jack Cooper.

He heard a noise in the corridor, and quickly slipped out of Blake’s office. He started his workout on the treadmill. The two women regulars came in, then Melnechuck, then Blake, then Kessler. Seeing them arrive raised his expectation that in a moment Laura too would appear. She didn’t.

Blake approached him with an uncommon smile, and again asked Cooper if he wanted to review his workout. Again, Cooper declined.

“Maybe next week,” Cooper said.

“Next week?” Blake chuckled, while making no move to leave.

“Terrible about that lady,” Blake said.

“What lady?”

Cooper felt a lump jump into his throat. His ears, too, felt suddenly stuffed, as they did not want to absorb the information.

“In the papers today. Anni.” Blake said.

“Never read them,” Cooper blurted, recalling his dream, summoning the nerve to accept what he felt was coming.

“She worked out right here,” Blake said. “One day she was doing her sets, working the treadmill, the next day…pow! Raped and strangled.”

A thin film of sweat oozed out of his pores. He wanted to strike out at Blake, smash his supercilious face.

“Paper said there’s no suspects,” Blake added. Cooper felt his ears suddenly clear. But the lump did not dissolve.

“Hope they nail the bastard,” Blake said. “She was very dedicated to her workouts.”

Cooper gathered his courage and hoped his voice would remain steady.

“They say she was a good nurse,” Cooper said cautiously, turning his face to confront Blake’s.

“Who says?” Blake broke into a new dimension of alertness. Cooper could see he had made an impression. It was, he decided, an opportunity not to be missed.

“People at Holy Cross where she used to work.”

Blake cut him a puzzled look. Cooper braced for his follow up, his eyes leveling on Blake.

“Gets good marks from Vice President Haley’s crew.”

At this revelation, Blake’s smooth features reddened. His eyes narrowed and his mouth opened slightly as if he were searching for some appropriate response.

“Where did you get that?” Blake demanded.

Cooper shrugged. “Was that supposed to be a deep dark secret?”

“I just asked where you got it, is all.”

His effort to appear casual was not very convincing. There was no question in Cooper’s mind that he had unsettled him. Observing Blake’s reaction gave Cooper encouragement, although he had to use every ounce of discipline to keep his voice from wavering.

“She told me,” he said cautiously, fixing his eyes on Blake, making certain that Blake knew he was probing him.

“You seemed to have been pretty chummy. What else did she tell you?”

“She was very frank,” Cooper muttered.

“About what?”

“Oh, about her work.”

“Like what?” Blake pressed.

“With the Vice President,” he said cautiously. An involuntary tick seemed to erupt suddenly in Blake’s jaw.

“What did she tell you?”

“Why are you so curious, Blake?”

He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, obviously searching for a credible answer.

“No big deal,” Blake mumbled. “I’m the Vice President’s trainer.”

“Still?”

“What do you mean ‘still’?”

“You know what I mean.”

Blake seemed to have developed a profound restlessness. He was greatly agitated. Cooper forced himself to remain calm, knowing he had hit a nerve.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do,” Cooper persisted.

Blake stood back on the balls of his feet, studying him.

“You say she told you things?”

“That’s what I said. A lot.”

Blake brushed the back of his hand against his lips. Cooper noted a thin film of sweat on his upper lip.

“Was it something to do with the Vice President?” Blake asked.

“Look, Blake, that was between her and me,” Cooper said.

“He’s a very important man, Cooper. She didn’t say anything that could hurt him, did she?”