2,179The Price of Silence
Book Two
By Sammaras
CHAPTER 1
I'd been driving for six hours when I saw a sign welcoming me to North Carolina. I looked down at the black sports watch on my wrist, noting that it was 9:30 in the morning. Hector had given me the watch before he left last night, explaining it was equipped with a heart rate sensor, a GPS tracker that only he could access, a panic button for emergencies, and waterproof. He'd also provided me with an untraceable burner phone that had his number programmed into it. This would allow us to communicate while I was gone, with no one finding my location.
My eyes were getting tired, so I pulled off the interstate in Winston-Salem for coffee and breakfast before continuing to Bright Horizon's Assisted Living and Rehabilitation Center. I'd felt bad when Agent Kinkade told me that Sharon Richardson's grandmother couldn't travel to Trenton for the meeting with the other family members of Durant's victims. Since I'd pass her facility on my way to boot camp, I knew I had to stop in and see her. The woman deserved any peace I could give her.
After a bathroom break and biscuit with a large coffee to wash it all down, I turned my car toward Bright Horizon's. Agent Kinkade said Mrs. Moffitt had a stroke, so I prepared for her to be bedridden or unable to speak. I planned to answer Mrs. Moffit's questions about her granddaughter's death, if I could, and make sure she had everything she needed. After satisfying the tax man, paying for boot camp, holding ten grand back for myself, and repaying Ranger, I had $100,000 left from the reward money to give to Mrs. Moffit to make her life easier. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate because Ranger still hadn't cashed the check. But I couldn't think about that now. I'd deal with that when I got back.
A tall building flanked by two smaller buildings came into view. According to my directions, Mrs. Moffit lived in Building A, the tall building in the center. I parked and double-checked my messenger bag to ensure I had the money for Mrs. Moffit. The rest of the money was locked in the trunk. Traveling with so much cash was risky, but I couldn't write a check, not if I wanted to fly under the radar.
Taking the basket of muffins my mom and grandmother made from the backseat, I went into the building. As I approached, an older woman with gray hair looked up from the check-in desk. "Can I help you?"
"My name is Stephanie Plum. I'm here to see Odette Moffitt."
She typed on her keyboard and asked to see my photo ID. I gave her my driver's license, and she gave me a visitor's badge. "Display this on your lapel at all times, and when you're finished with your visit, come back here to check out." While I clipped the visitor's badge on my black V-neck sweater, she pointed to the bank of elevators. "Check in with the third-floor nurse, and someone will escort you to Mrs. Moffitt's room." I nodded my thanks and headed in the direction she pointed.
The elevator opened in front of a desk manned by a woman wearing lavender scrubs. She was about my mother's age with bleach-blonde shoulder-length hair, but unlike my mother, this woman had deep lines etched around her eyes and mouth. "I'm Stephanie Plum. I believe Mrs. Moffit is expecting me."
"Follow me." As we turned down the hallway on the right, she asked, "Are you a relative of Miss. Odette's?"
"I'm—" I searched for a way to describe my relationship to Miss Odette and settled on the gruesome truth. "I'm a friend of her granddaughter's."
"Her granddaughter?" She stopped walking and narrowed her eyes. "The same granddaughter who was killed by the Curio Killer?" Her face cleared as a crucial piece of information slid into place. Even though I found her questions obtrusive, I nodded but offered nothing further. Sensing my irritation and that she wouldn't get more information out of me, she pushed open the door to room 311. "Miss. Odette recently suffered a mild stroke. Having visitors is tiring. She may fall asleep in her chair or need to lie down. Press the button by the bed, and someone will come in to assist her."
"Will she be able to understand me?"
"She has slurring speech and weak motor function on her left side, but her mental faculties weren't affected. Just speak slowly and clearly and give her plenty of time to respond." She walked inside what resembled a small hotel room. My feet didn't make a sound on the dark blue commercial-grade carpet as I followed. A private bathroom was on my left, and a hospital bed occupied most of the room. A thin woman around my grandmother's age sat in a wheelchair, staring out the picture window. The morning light reflected off her silver hair, pulled back into a bun. "How are you feeling this morning, Miss. Odette?" I couldn't make out what the older woman said. The nurse turned the wheelchair to face me. "This is Stephanie Plum. She's here to visit you. If you need anything, I'll be at my desk."
Miss. Odette smiled and held her hand out, shaking with the effort. "Come closer, child." I did as she said and put my hand in hers. "What did you say your name was?"
"Stephanie Plum from Trenton, New Jersey." I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and placed the basket of muffins on the little table beside her.
Her eyes widened, and her voice got stronger. "Are you the one who found my little Sharon?" She made it sound like I rescued her granddaughter when all I did was get myself kidnapped, but I nodded anyway. "And you came all this way to see me?"
"Agent Kinkade told me you had questions."
"Well, if that ain't something." She struggled to get her left hand to cooperate as she straightened her brown cardigan. "Most young folks wouldn't give an old woman like me another thought, but here you are—pretty as a picture." She took me in from head to toe and smiled. "How old are you?"
"I'm thirty-one."
"My Sharon would be about the same age… if she'd lived." Her lips quivered.
Giving her a minute to compose herself, I gestured to the basket of muffins. "My mother and grandmother made these for you. They didn't know if you had any dietary restrictions, so they made two different kinds. The blueberry has sugar, but the strawberry is sugar-free."
"That's very thoughtful." Her voice was soft with gratitude. "Please tell them thank you." She motioned to one of the wooden chairs tucked under the table. "You've come all this way. Why don't you sit a spell?" As I sat down, I noticed a framed photo of a little girl with brown curly hair and big blue eyes holding the hand of a much younger version of Miss. Odette. It must have been taken during Halloween because the little girl was dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, complete with ruby red slippers and a basket with a little brown stuffed dog sticking out. I swallowed heavily as I realized this had to be Sharon.
"May I?" She nodded, and I carefully picked up the frame.
"Sharon was six in that picture. We rented The Wizard of Oz over the summer, and she fell in love with the characters." Her voice broke, and she wiped her eyes. "She wore those ruby slippers everywhere she went and sang Somewhere Over the Rainbow at the top of her lungs to perfect strangers." She pointed to a framed photo of Sharon wearing a cap and gown. "That was taken the week before she was supposed to graduate. She was going to college to study nursing."
She faced the window, but not before I saw the pain in her eyes. I placed the frame back on the table and wracked my brain for the right words to convey my sympathy.
Before I could speak, she continued. "It took them two weeks to perform the autopsy and send my granddaughter home. I wanted to see her, to make sure it was really her, but the funeral home advised against it." She faced me again, her voice breaking with each word, yet she pushed on. "They said the condition of her body would be too distressing for me and suggested I have her cremated, but I couldn't do that to her. Sharon has been terrified of flames since my daughter and son-in-law died in a house fire."
I looked down at the floor, not knowing what I could say that would make anything better. I agreed with the funeral home. Seeing her granddaughter in that condition would have been devastating for Miss. Odette. She wouldn't have been able to get the image out of her mind. I was still tortured by gruesome memories of the women in the cellar, and they weren't my family.
Shifting the conversation, I asked, "Would you mind telling me about Sharon's service?"
She laid her frail hand over mine and gave it a gentle pat. "Even though Sharon had been missing for years, many people remembered her fondly. Her friends from high school filled the funeral home and shared stories of mischievous situations she'd gotten into back then. I felt closer to her than I had in years." I smiled thinly and pretended that I didn't have tears streaming down my face. "I never gave up looking for her." She stared intensely, willing me to believe her.
"I can feel how much you love your granddaughter," I assured her. "Sharon was lucky to have you."
She covered her lips, muffling a heartbreaking sob. After getting control of her voice, she said, "I didn't believe the police when they told me she ran away. I went straight down to the Kinko's and made flyers to pass out around town. For years, I looked for her in every young girl I passed on the street. I called the detective working the case so many times he tired of hearing my name. When he retired seven years ago, Sharon's case wasn't reassigned. They called it a cold case. That meant they'd given up looking for her."
I drew in a shaky breath and hoped what I said would give her peace. "You fought hard to bring Sharon home, and she knew that. As hard as this is to say, I don't think law enforcement would have ever found her. Even with all the wealth and resources the Governor of Indiana had, he still couldn't find his niece."
"Do you really think that?" She dabbed her eyes.
"Sharon had been a frightened kid when Durant took her. Even with my age and what wisdom I had gained, I was no match for him—not physically, anyway. It was by pure luck that I got away."
"The FBI wouldn't tell me much." Her eyes pleaded with me to tell her everything, yet I debated. I didn't want to cause this fragile woman more stress. "I need to hear the truth before I leave this world. Can you grant this old woman the courtesy that no one else has been able to?" I nodded.
"He stopped to eat lunch at the park across the street from the dry cleaners where Sharon worked. He injected her with a sedative and had her in his car and on the road to New Jersey before she knew what had happened. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Tears streamed down Miss. Odette's face. "Are you sure you want me to continue?"
She nodded, unable to speak.
"I don't know if it was the same for Sharon, but after Durant took me, I woke up on a metal bed with my ankles and wrists chained together and a collar around my neck. He didn't hurt me at first because he wanted me to fall in love with him." Her body became rigid as she listened carefully. "Sharon fought to stay alive for twenty months. I was in the cellar for twenty-nine days and was already about to break. Sharon was so strong to make it as long as she did."
"But it wasn't long enough, was it?" Biting anger seethed from her, although it wasn't directed at me. Hesitantly, she asked, "Did he—?"
I knew what she was asking, but I couldn't tell her that Durant admitted to raping the women right before they died and probably after. I shook my head confidently and finessed the truth to give an old woman peace. "He couldn't maintain an erection."
A gust of air escaped, and her body caved in with relief. "What's going to happen to that horrible place?"
"The cellar?"
"Yes."
"Agent Kinkade said the land was owned by an elderly couple with no plans to do anything with it."
Her voice was determined as she asked, "Can we get someone to blow it up?"
I had the same thought but would let some time pass before taking action. "I'll take care of it," I assured her.
She squeezed my hand. "Blow that place to hell for all of us."
"I promise." I pulled the envelope out of my bag and explained the reward money. "I want to give you…."
"I won't hear of it. That money is for you, honey. You are the one who got away and killed that bastard. If it wasn't for what you did, I'd have died without knowing what happened to my little Sharon."
"It's a lot of money," I told her. "Sharon would have wanted me to use it to take care of you."
"I bought six cemetery plots when Sharon's parents died. I figured that would be enough for Sharon and her husband to one day be buried with the rest of her family. It's comforting to know we'll all be together in the end. I used the last of my savings to pay for Sharon's funeral and burial. Giving me money will only interfere with my benefits. They might even kick me out of here, and as much as I complain about this place, I like the staff and residents."
"I'd like to make your life easier," I tried again. "I feel like Sharon would want that."
"That's a lovely thought, but I have everything I need." She patted my hand and changed the subject. "Now, put that money away and tell me how in blue blazes you ended up being a bounty hunter?"
"Desperation?" I shrugged. "I was about to lose my apartment after being laid off. It was either work for my cousin Vinnie or go broke. After I brought in my first fugitive, I realized I hated wearing pantyhose and sitting on my butt all day behind a desk. I decided being a bounty hunter might not be that bad after all."
"You must have some interesting stories?"
"I don't know about interesting. Mostly, I'm busy trying to keep from being covered in garbage, wrestling naked old men into cuffs, and keeping my cars from being blown up."
She quirked her eyebrow, more intrigued than horrified. "Naked old men, you say? I knew your job was interesting."
I couldn't help but laugh as I leaned back in the chair. "You wouldn't say that if you saw Mr. Balog greased up with Vaseline. He thought if he made himself slippery, I wouldn't be able to cuff him and return him to the system." I grimaced at the memory of bringing in Punky Balog. "While my partner, Lula, and I were sitting in my car outside his house, psyching ourselves up to go in and get him, he was rubbing his big, wrinkly, hairy butt back and forth on the glass, taunting us. That was bad enough, but then he turned around and waved to us with his," I cleared my throat, "little friend." Miss. Odette snickered as she most likely imagined the old man waving his Johnson around. "Lula refused to touch him because she didn't want to mess up her clothes, so I kicked the back of his knees and held him down while Lula delicately cuffed him without getting too much Vaseline on her."
Miss. Odette was laughing so hard she struggled to catch her breath. I sat forward, ready to help her, but then she calmed. "Oh my, you paint a vivid picture, child."
"That's easy for you to say. You didn't have to throw away your best pair of jeans."
She held out her hand. "Hand me one of those muffins, would you?"
"Do you want sugar-free or…?"
"I'll take a blueberry one." She interrupted me. "I don't have dietary restrictions." She took a bite of muffin and made a sound of enjoyment. "This is good," she said as she chewed.
"I'll let my mother and grandmother know you liked them."
"This muffin reminds me of our neighborhood bakery." She smiled nostalgically. "I haven't had one of Belle's bear claws in so long I don't remember what they taste like. I could stand at that counter, smelling the delicious aroma for hours." She shook her head sadly. "I haven't had anything as good since I had my stroke and had to move in here. The cafeteria is decent, but it's nothing like what Miss. Belle makes."
"Miss. Belle? Is she a friend of yours?"
"We grew up together and married our high school sweethearts. While I got my teaching certificate, she followed her dream of opening a bakery called Delectabelle's." Her gaze became distant, as if she saw something playing out that I couldn't. "Benjamin and I used to walk through the neighborhood every evening after dinner and stop to share a treat. Back in those days, money was tight." She let out a laugh. "Heavens to Betsy. My Benjamin could pinch a penny."
She fell silent for a few minutes, probably with her mind stuck back in time. I searched for something else to say to breach the silence. "What was it like being a teacher?"
"Help me lie down, and I'll tell you." I wheeled her closer to the bed and supported her while she stood. The next thing I knew, she had her arms around me, hugging me tightly. I've never been good in situations like this. I could already feel my throat choking against the emotions. Still, I latched onto her as if she were my grandmother and I would never see her again. I hugged her for Sharon, imagining that this was how she'd feel if she'd made it home like I had. When Miss. Odette released me, I helped her slide onto the bed and pulled a crocheted throw over her legs. As soon as she was situated, she said, "Some days it was rewarding to be a teacher, and some days it was plain hell."
"I can see that. I wasn't the best student." I laughed as I pulled the chair closer and sat back down with her hand in mine. "I was more interested in talking than learning."
"You weren't the only young person with that problem," she said. "I taught fourth grade for forty-three years, and in all that time, I never encountered another boy quite like Edgar. I remember him fondly. He was skinny as a rail and quite a rascal. We were all poor, but he had less than most. There was a girl with long, flowing blonde hair. She was a bit of a kiss-up, I think you young people call it. She constantly tossed her hair over her shoulder and onto his desk. It annoyed him to no end, and I didn't blame him. Finally, he tired of it, and the next time she got up to sharpen her pencil, he pulled his desk backward, leaving some space between. Sure enough, she flipped her hair back, but it fell into the space instead. He slid his desk forward and waited with an evil little smile on his face. I knew what was going to happen and didn't say a thing. I thought she had a lesson to learn, so I called on her. Her head fell back when she stood, and her hair was pulled pretty hard." I chuckled. Edgar sounded like someone I would have been friends with. We laughed together for a couple minutes, and then her smile fell. "Sharon loved when I told stories about Edgar. She called me a rebel, and I guess I was compared to some of my other female friends."
"How so?"
"Everyone was getting married and settling down to raise families. They expected me to quit my job and do the same, but after I married Benjamin, I kept working."
"You were a trailblazer for women."
She thought about that for a minute. "I guess I was, but after Sharon went missing, I couldn't think about returning to work. I retired and devoted my time looking for her."
We both knew how that had turned out, so I looked for something else to say. My eyes landed on a book of crossword puzzles and a hardback book that was part of the same series of books that Julie collects. "Would you like me to read to you?"
"That'd be nice." She sighed and closed her eyes.
I opened the book and began reading where she had left off. "The ship chugged and sputtered as I ran to the control room. Loud beeping and flashing lights had my chest beating so hard I could barely hear Delio yelling for us to brace for impact. If I couldn't get us back online, we wouldn't be able to steer through the giant asteroid belt, and if we took another direct hit, I feared it could be our last. We could be left aimlessly drifting in space."
I read for an hour, and when I looked up, Miss. Odette was sleeping peacefully. I put the book back on the table and gently kissed her cheek. I would stop and see her on my way home from boot camp, but first, I would find Delectabelle's bakery and have an assortment of sweets delivered to Miss. Odette twice a week. With any luck, Miss. Belle would make the delivery herself and visit with an old friend.
AN: 8/11/23
This is the second book in my five-part series. Even though this book is complete, I still love to hear from you guys, so please leave a review for each chapter as you read, if you can, or at least a review at the very end. Getting these reviews keeps me motivated to write future books in the series. Thank you so much.