Share with your friends.
Chapter
39
Wally
felt silly joining a dating website for older women and younger men. He thought
that Fish in the Sea was a stupid name. At first, he thought about using a fake
name, but Fish in the Sea asked for his social security number. Wally finished
his membership and bought only a month, which was a whopping fifty bucks. This
was a very expensive site compared to other sites he’d been on and was
constructed very poorly. It had few bells and whistles, and Wally wondered if
that was because it focused on older women.
The
next five hours he looked for Patricia Wilson or Constance Daniels when another
familiar name popped up: Gladys Boardman.
He scanned her profile and then printed it out. He continued the process and when Comedy
Central’s Daily Show came on at ten o’clock, he got another hit: Becky Whitney.
He printed her profile and as Stephen Colbert was telling everyone good night,
he found Patricia Wilson’s profile.
Immediately after that, he found Constance Daniels. It had been tedious,
boring and time-consuming, but he’d found what he wanted. Now, they could
compare facts. Since all these women were registered with Fish in the Sea
except for Vickie Taylor, he had to assume that they were dating younger men.
All the women had identical profiles except for Constance Daniels. Constance
was the only one out of the four women who had been married at one time. From
news accounts, it appeared that all of the women were in some type of therapy.
He found it strange that the police never mentioned that fact in any public
reports about the disappearances, except in the case of Becky Whitney. She was
the first to turn up missing. Were the police hiding the fact? The therapy
angle came from friends of the missing women. Vickie Taylor’s parents informed
the news media that Vickie was in therapy.
For some reason, they blamed the husband, Rick Taylor, but the police
confirmed that he had a solid alibi.
Wally
rubbed his eyes. They burned from staring at a computer screen for so long.
Mrs. K had been right about joining Fish in the Sea. He wasn’t surprised that
the records of the missing women were still online. He’d joined a site once and
five years later, his record was still active for others to see.
The
clock in the kitchen pointed to eleven forty-five. Tired, but not sleepy, the
adrenaline rush would keep Wally awake for another hour. His next step was to
find out as much as he could about Vickie Taylor’s husband. He was the unknown
factor in this entire mess. The in-laws didn’t like him, but what’s new about
that in a lot of families? He was a retired police officer who now was an
officer in a security firm. It would be logical for Vickie to talk to him. But
she didn’t.
For
the next fifteen minutes, Wally searched the web for information on Rick Taylor
and printed it out. He was about to call it quits when Rick Taylor’s name
appeared in a veteran’s newsletter. Could this be the same Rick Taylor? Wally
thought. The short article focused on a local MP company that was sent to
Afghanistan. He clicked on the link and Wally recognized Rick Taylor from
earlier newspaper photos. There wasn’t
anything specific about Rick Taylor. He was about close it out when he noticed
under related stories: Rick Taylor finally comes home. He had a new prosthetic
on his left leg, and he walked with a cane. He’d spent the last three months in
Walter Reed Army Hospital in Washington D.C. recuperating from an explosion
while overseas. Although the article didn’t specifically mention it, it
appeared that Rick suffered some mental problems from the war.
He was
about ready to call it a night when his phone rang.
It was
Samantha.
“Wally?”
“Yeah?”
Her
soft voice made him forget they were upset with each other.
“You
mad at me?”
“No,”
he answered. “Not really.”
“Can I
come over?”
“Now?”
“I’d
like to see you,” she whispered. “You’re my best friend. I thought about how
stupid this whole thing is. It’s really over nothing. Don’t you agree?”
“You’re
my best friend, too,” he said. “You sure you want to come over?”
Her
voice was so low that he could hardly hear her.
“Yes.
I can’t sleep. Were you in bed?”
“No.
Your mother got the idea that I should join Fish in the Sea. I’ve made some
important discoveries.”
Samantha’s
voice perked up.
“Did
you find Patricia Wilson?”
“I not
only found Patricia, but everyone else.”
“Vickie
Taylor?” she asked.
“No,
Vickie was not on the site. She is the only one that appears to have had some
kind of normalcy in her life.”
“That’s
strange,” Samantha said.
“What?”
“If
she had such a good relationship with her husband, why didn’t she tell him what
was going on? Why didn’t she confide in him?”
“I
think Rick suffered some problems from Afghanistan. He came back with a prosthetic on his left
leg, and I’m guessing some mental problems. She probably couldn’t confide in
him.”
“Oh,”
Samantha said.
“I
don’t know what to say. I can’t think of a way to talk to the husband. Carol
thought they were very happily married.” The mention of Carol brought silence
to the phone line. “Sam?”
“I’m
here. Let’s not mention names right now, okay? I won’t mention a name, and you
won’t mention a name. Is that fair?”
“That’s
fair,” he replied, silently breathing a sigh of relief.
“Wally,
may I come over?”
This
time Samantha’s voice was almost a plea. Wally desperately wanted Samantha to
come over tonight. He didn’t care if she couldn’t love him. He had a basic need
to be with her. The attempts he’d made since high school to put Samantha out of
his life had met with miserable failure. They were like two magnets drawn to
each other. He didn’t know whether that was good or bad. He did know that life
without Samantha would be unbearable. Some people can live their life alone.
They don’t need the comfort of other people. Wally couldn’t do that. He needed
that touch, the caress and nearness of the other person. He needed Samantha.
“Yeah,
come on over.”
“Push
the buzzer and let me in,” she said. “I’m outside at the front door.”
Wally
laughed to himself as he rushed over and pushed the buzzer. He opened the front
door a crack and waited. The elevator whirred as it slowly descended to the
first floor. It was quiet before the whirring started again until it stopped on
his floor. He heard the sound of feet exiting the elevator and walking quickly
on the carpeted floor. He opened the door wide as Samantha approached his door.
She didn’t stop. With her arms wide open, she catapulted into his open arms.
Wally held her tightly. She finally opened her eyes and kissed his chin.
“I
can’t stand the thought of you being mad at me,” Samantha said.
“Me
too,” he said. “Let’s go inside.”
“Don’t
let go of me,” she pleaded.
She
giggled as they walked locked-step to the sofa. Wally’s bulky frame plopped
down on the soft cushion causing Samantha to bounce. Samantha did something
she’d never done before. One hand gently caressed Wally’s cheek as her lips
found his. The kiss was hurried and clumsy. Wally was so surprised by the
action that he pulled back for a second.
“Don’t,”
she murmured and climbed higher on his frame.
Wally
pulled her tighter, mashing his lips on hers and the years of frustration
poured out of him. Samantha writhed like a wild animal, clawing at him and
climbing higher on his body.
“Bed,”
she gasped.
Wally
swooped her up in his arms and carried her effortlessly across the room to the
bed. He gently laid her down as Samantha nuzzled his neck, kissed him and giggled
like a teenager. There was playfulness in her eyes as she pushed away from him
with her feet. She bounced to the head of the bed until her back rested against
the headboard. Wally tossed his shirt to the floor and started to unbuckle his
pants when the look of joy on her face turned to pain. Samantha’s hand slowly
withdrew from under the pillow and held Carol’s thong high over her head.
“No,
Wally. No, no, no, no!”
“Wait,
Sam!” he pleaded.
Samantha
clamored out of the bed and threw the thong on the floor with disgust. As Wally
attempted to approach her, she held up her hand and slowly backed away
“Why,
Wally? Why?”
“How
was I to know, Sam? Sometimes things just happen. I’m human, just like you
are.”
“No.
It’s not supposed to be this way.”
Samantha turned on her heel and ran for the
door. Wally started to follow but she stopped and faced him, tears spilling
from her eyes. The hurt on her face said it all. His dream had come true only
to be shattered. Wally stood helplessly as Samantha turned and left. The front
door closed with a loud bang.
Chapter
40
Olivia
heard Samantha slip in late and tiptoe to the extra bedroom. She wondered what
was going on because this was the second time that Samantha had sought refuge
in her condo. Muted sobs echoed down the hall to tear at Olivia’s heart.
Something had happened, but Olivia knew from past experience that Samantha
would resist any attempts to comfort her. She lay awake all night listening and
aching for her daughter. Thankfully, the alarm clock finally rang. She put on her robe and walked to the spare
bedroom to peer through the partially opened door. Olivia found Samantha asleep
spread-eagle across the bed and still in her clothes. She gazed at her daughter
for a second and then tiptoed back down the hall and into the kitchen.
It was hard to believe it was Thursday. So
much had happened this week that the days had melded together, leaving her
exhausted. Olivia brewed coffee, picked up an afghan and walked out on the
balcony. She set her coffee down, curled into a chair and wrapped the afghan
around her shoulders. Her eyes felt heavy and before she could pick up the cup,
she’d fallen asleep.
Vickie
appeared as a hazy, wavy picture. Olivia didn’t recognize her at first. When
Vickie finally came into focus, she waved at Olivia as though they were old
friends. Olivia thought to herself how stupid it was for Vickie to wave at
her. This time they didn’t go flying
through the air. They were walking. Vickie smiled and pointed at an eagle
flying overhead and muskrats swimming in a pretty lake. The west and south side
of the lake had townhouses that looked vaguely familiar to Olivia as she took
in her surroundings. They stood on a dam and below them a creek wound around,
tall trees lining its bank. Olivia continued to walk and saw a familiar shed
come in view. The wind gently pushed the tops of some bushes, and she quickly
eyed the dumpster. They were at South Lake!
Vickie
tugged on her arm. The light brown eyes were hypnotic against her tan skin.
They continued to walk along the dam until they reached a concrete spillway
where tall and invading sycamore trees below the spillway stretched high above
their heads. Vickie’s fingers wrapped around Olivia’s arm and squeezed. She
pointed down through the rough rippled water to Cora Brandon’s golf cart lying
on its side beneath the water. Cora’s
crumpled body had been thrown out of the front seat. One arm was entangled in
the steering wheel as her head gently pushed against the canvas top. Cora’s
opened eyes stared helplessly at the sky. Olivia stared for a moment, wondering
what had happened and where was the mastiff that rode beside her? Olivia
reached down to see whether she could touch the water, but Vickie restrained
her.
“What
happened?” Olivia asked.
Vickie
shrugged her shoulders.
“The
dog. What about the dog?”
Vickie
pointed to a small island that sat in the middle of the lake. The mastiff pawed
at the water and low, guttural whines touched Olivia’s ears as the dog moaned
for its owner. The dark terrorizing shadow from yesterday morning had become a
trembling frightened animal that didn’t know what to do. Olivia reached out, as
if she could stroke the mastiff to ease its pain, and the scene before her
began to melt away resembling heavy rain on a window.
All
was black.
Olivia
woke. Her body trembled and her heart beat so fast that her chest hurt. She
took a deep breath and held it until her lungs felt as if they would explode.
Slowly she exhaled through her nose, sat up and threw the afghan aside. The
coffee was cold and tasted bitter. It was later than she thought judging by the
constant hum of traffic from the morning commute. At the moment, it took all of
her effort to keep from crying. Guilt swept over her as she realized she was
more concerned about the mastiff than Cora Brandon. Next came that familiar
feeling of indecision about what to do. This would be the third time she’d
called the hotline this week. Did she call the police again or wait? Then, she
remembered that Margaret asked her to call her the next time she had a dream.
She got up and strode back inside, wondering why Vickie had taken her to see
Cora. What did Cora have to do with all this? Olivia found Margaret’s card in
the crumpled jeans that lay on the floor of her bedroom. She dialed the number
and was taken to voice mail.
“Margaret,
it’s Olivia. I’ve had another dream. I think there has been an accident at
South Lake. Cora Brandon’s golf cart is in the lake, and she drowned. Give me a
call when you can.”
Without
thinking, Olivia dialed the Tips Hotline. A woman’s voice came on the line.
“Tips
Hotline. How may I help you?”
“I—I
want to report a drowning.”
“Where
did this take place, ma’am?”
The
conversation unfolded like the last two times. The minute she hung up, the
phone rang.
“Olivia,
this is Margaret. I was in the shower when you called. What happened?”
“I had
a dream again, Margaret. Vickie came to me in a dream. I don’t understand it,
but she took me back out to South Lake.”
Margaret’s
voice was calm, almost motherly sounding.
“South
Lake? You mean where they found Patricia Wilson’s body?”
“Yes,
but this time she showed me that woman in the golf cart.”
“What
woman are you talking about, Olivia?”
Olivia
had to catch her breath. Everything was accelerating out of control. It felt
good to hear Margaret’s soothing voice.
“That
woman in the golf cart—Cora Brandon. I saw her in the lake.”
“How do you know it was Cora?” Margaret asked.
Olivia
was now impatient.
“Because
I saw her.”
“You
saw her?” Margaret asked suspiciously.
“In my
dream, Margaret. Vickie came in a dream, took me to the lake and pointed at
Cora Brandon in the water.”
“Did
you say Vickie took you?”
Olivia
was now becoming irritated.
“Yes,
dammit! In a dream. In a dream.”
Margaret’s
reply was clipped and curt.
“Take
it easy, Olivia. I’ll call downtown and let them know.”
“I
already called the hotline when I couldn’t get you.”
There
was silence on the other end. Olivia thought it was an eternity before Margaret
came back on the line.
“l
thought we had an agreement,” she said softly.
“We
did—we do. I had to tell someone about it, Margaret. I guess it has now become
a habit to call the hotline.”
“Don’t
do that again,” Margaret admonished. “Do you think the police will have an
understanding of what you’re saying? They’ll think the only way you would know
is if you were involved. It is going to be hard enough for me to explain as it
is. This is the third time you’ve called the hotline with accurate information.
You are hurting yourself, Olivia. Call me next time.”
“I—I’m
so sorry, Margaret. I promise to call you next time.”
