Maddie sighed and ran her hand across her forehead. She had a splitting
headache. It felt as if someone was hitting her in the center of her head with a
heavy hammer, timing it to coincide with the beats of her pulse. She was tired,
thirsty, hungry and nearly in tears with worry. She kept thinking that this was
all a dream and any second now, she would wake up and run to tell Wendy about
it. She sighed again.
Her dad reached over and patted her on the leg.
She leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. "I can't believe this is
happening," she said so softly Ron had to strain to hear her.
"I know,
baby. But we're gonna be OK. He's gonna be OK," he wrapped his arms around her
shoulders and squeezed her to him.
They nestled into each other, took
comfort and strength without saying a word. Ron reached out and grabbed Paul's
hand.
"Mr. Morse?"
They looked up to see a guy in a wrinkled
brown suit. The only thing that identified him as being a cop was the badge hung
around his neck on a ball chain. "Yes?" Ron asked.
"Sir, we got the
initial report back from the crime lab." The detective cut a glance at Maddie
before continuing. "The incision was definitely man-made. It has straight edges,
rather than the jagged edge you would get from a rock. This was done by a knife
or some other sharp object."
There was silence as the three people tried
to assimilate the fact.
"So…" Maddie had to swallow her tears and start
over. "So, you're saying that someone…someone tried to kill me?"
Ron
grabbed her by the shoulder and hauled her into his arms. She had put into words
his biggest fear and it was almost more than he could handle. He rocked her back
and forth, crying silently as the detective spoke.
"Miss Morse, at this
point, we really can't even begin to try to guess this person's motive. There is
a possibility that what you said is true, I can't lie to you about that. But
this was very sloppily done. Cutting someone's brake line just basically means
that at some point, they're going to run out of brake fluid. But there's no
guarantee of when or where. It's most likely some kids who saw it on TV and
thought they'd try it out in real life."
"Do you think this is related
to what happened with the cat?" Paul asked.
"The cat?" the officer,
Harrison, turned to him.
Maddie's cell phone rang in the middle of
Paul's explanation. She excused herself and moved away to answer it. The
familiar voice at the other end of the line almost brought tears to her eyes.
"Oh, mami, you OK? I'm on my way. My flight should land in about three
hours. How you holdin' up, sweetie?"
"I'm OK."
"Well, did la
policia say what happened?"
"Someone cut the line on purpose."
Romero gasped. "It was intentional?"
"Yeah."
"OK, mami,
listen. I'll be there in a few hours. I'll meet you at your house. We're working
on keeping this under wraps. We don't need everybody in the world knowing your
business. I'll see you in a little bit, OK?"
"OK."
"You be
strong girl. Vaya con Dios. Yo te amo."
"Yo tambien. Bye, Romie." Maddie
flipped the phone closed and stared at it, not really seeing it. She wasn't
really thinking about anything. She was just there…the sound of her breathing
was gentle in her ears. She just wanted to tune everything out. To go back in
time to before any of this had happened.
Again she found herself
fighting back the tears that stung her eyes. Crying wouldn't help Jake. She
sighed again; it seemed to come from the very depths of her soul.
Someone had cut her brake line. Someone wanted her hurt. Or dead.
But who?
Why?
And why that way?
There were a
million and one ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident. To leave
evidence behind like that…it was as if this person was taunting her, as if this
was all some big game.
Maddie began to wrack her brain, trying to think
of anyone with whom she may have had a grievance. The only thing she could think
of was the tongue-lashing she had given Britney Spears all those weeks ago.
'But that's ridiculous. She may be a little misguided but she's a good
person…Who else is pissed at me? God,' she scoffed, 'you have to be a lot more
than pissed at a person to want them dead.'
A sob caught in her throat
but she forced it down, not wanting her dad or Paul to worry.
She
glanced at Wendy, asleep in one of the chairs. A flood of affection filled her
at the sight of her friend. She had sent the others home but Wendy had refused
to go, protesting that Jake was just as much her brother as he was Maddie's.
She heard her father and brother talking to the police officer. She took
a deep breath, squared her shoulders and prepared to join them.
She
turned around and took one step before she stopped in her tracks.
He
stood in the doorway, eyes downcast as he spoke into his cell phone. A black
leather duffel bag was slung over his shoulder.
A barrage of emotions
overwhelmed Maddie, most of which she couldn't decipher. Seeing him made her
feel…safe. It was irrational, she knew, but when did emotions ever make sense?
She hadn't realized how unprotected and vandalized and just…out of sorts she'd
felt until she saw him. Unintentionally, just by being there, he'd taken it all
away.
He looked up and his eyes found hers. She saw rather than heard
him say, "Chris, I'll call you back." He disconnected his cell and his hand fell
to his side.
Standing there, staring at him, Maddie again became aware
of the traces of him that were left on her skin. She'd been in too much of a
hurry to shower before she'd left New York. She'd attempted to wipe herself in
the tiny bathroom on the airplane. From the airport, they'd gone straight to the
hospital. For a moment, she felt dirtied, sullied, horrified at the thought that
THAT was still on her. But then she thought about her brother, lying broken and
twisted on some operating table and how it could have, should have, been her and
she felt a pain in her stomach so sharp it took her breath away.
She
would have doubled over in pain but all of a sudden, he was there; holding,
soothing, caressing. And then she was weeping into his chest, the last of her
wall having crumbled.
At the sound of her anguish, Paul and Ron turned,
ready to comfort her. Both were surprised, and yet not, to see Justin Timberlake
standing in the middle of the waiting room, holding Maddie as if she were the
most precious thing on earth, tears clouding his eyes because he felt her pain.
It was odd; something they had no clue was going to happen, but when it did,
they recognized the rightness of it.
Justin smoothed her hair from her
face and let her cry out her worry, her fear, her pain. His heart ached for her,
for Jake, for her family, and for himself though he wasn't sure why about the
last. He wished he had a magic wand he could wave and make all this go away.
When Maddie quieted, he tucked her under his arm and led her over to a row of
chairs and sat.
She tried to sit in the seat next to him but he stopped
her. He pulled her into his lap, cradled her against him and hummed softly to
her until she fell into a light sleep.
Justin sighed into her hair and
placed a kiss on her temple. On the way down, he'd doubted himself, the reasons
for him coming. He scolded himself that he had delusions of being some modern
day knight in shining armor. But as he gazed down at her sleeping face, he knew
he was exactly where he needed to be.
He sighed again, nuzzled his cheek
against her hair and closed his eyes.
Ron looked at the resting couple,
a frown marring his usual jovial features. They were going to have to tell
Maddie about the letters. She would be frustrated and upset that they had kept
this from her but what else could they have done? All she would have done is
worried about it and for no good reason. There was nothing they could have done
about them. As the letters became increasingly more perverse, the higher-ups at
Jive had decided to go on record and had Ron bring all the letters to the
police. But since the letters arrived with no return address and postmarks from
all over the East Coast, there was no way to trace them. They'd even go so far
as to dust for fingerprints but nothing.
He glanced over to the doorway
to the waiting room. Jacob stood sentry, guarding against any overly ambitious
reporters and anyone else who shouldn't be there. Since Maddie was who she was,
they had been shown to a sort of VIP room. He ran his hand over his face, a
gesture that bespoke of his fatigue and heartache at what was happening to his
family. He searched his pockets for his cell phone. He wanted to call and check
on Nicole and Travis one more time. Mike was gone on a camping trip and didn't
even know yet that Jake had been hurt.
"Dad?"
He turned to find
his oldest son standing before him, the look of anguish in Paul's eyes
identical, he knew, to the look in his own.
"I talked to the nurse. He's
out of surgery and they're taking him to a different room. She said it might be
a while though."
"Yeah." Ron was silent for a moment. "Do me a favor.
Take them home." He pointed over his shoulder to where Maddie and Wendy were
sleeping. Justin peered at them through bloodshot eyes, his arms still wrapped
tightly around Maddie.
"Yeah, OK."
Ron sighed again, then
wrapped his arms around his son. "I love you, Paul."
"I love you, too,
Dad."
~*~*~*~
Lionel Archer smiled to himself and sang along
with the music as he developed his prints. The light from the red light bulb in
the developing room gave his skin a sickly glow. He smiled as the image began to
appear.
"You may hate me, but it…oh yeah. Oh yeah!"
He used
tongs to pull the picture out of the wash and held it up to the light to inspect
it.
"Perfect," he murmured, his eyes roaming over every inch of the
photo. It was a macabre scene: Jake's face, tortured and screaming as the
paramedics pulled him out of the wreckage.
Lionel turned and used a
clothespin to adhere the picture to the line next to another picture just as
chilling. It was of Maddie as she got out of the car at the Emergency Room
entrance. Her face was a portrait of pain; with the high-powered zoom scope on
his camera, he had been able to capture the haunted look in her eyes and the
tracks of her tears.
Lionel started to hum again as he turned to the
next picture. He wasn't a dumb person, he knew that he was setting himself up
for a fall…if the police ever saw these pictures…
But they'd never find
them. Lionel had learned his lesson. He knew where he had gone wrong before.
Lionel had meticulously planned this; the day he'd gotten the first phone call,
he'd locked himself in the basement and come up with the perfect plan. There was
no way the police would catch him this time.
He checked his watch. It
was almost time. Leslie was going to call in a few minutes. He had no idea who
Leslie was, couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman. Leslie had first
contacted him three and a half months earlier. It seemed that a certain singer
was becoming a royal pain in the ass for whoever this Leslie-person was. So
Lionel's job was simple: Give her hell. And for that (which he would have done
for free), he was paid handsomely. Very handsomely.
Lionel discovered a
thrill he hadn't known before. Stalking a celebrity was so much more…fun!…than
stalking your average Judy Schmoe. There were schedules and itineraries and
security; he'd had to step it up a notch. It was a challenge and he loved it.
And lately it was almost as if terrorizing Maddie had become his own personal
religion. He couldn't wait to hear Leslie's reaction to what had just happened.
At first, Lionel had been furious that it was Jake in the car and not Maddie.
But then he realized that Maddie would realize that it was meant for her but had
hurt her brother instead and she'd feel worse than if it had happened to her.
The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He smiled, already imagining
the praises Leslie would bestow upon him. He might even get a cash bonus for
this.
"Hello?" he sang into the receiver.
Silence.
"Hello?"
"What the fuck were you thinking?" the synthesized
voice exploded over the line. "I want her scared shitless, I don't want her
fucking dead!"
"But I thought-"
"You were given a job to do.
Nothing more, nothing less. I pay you to do what I tell you to do, got it?"
"Yes, but-"
"You pull another stunt like that…You forget that I
have you on file. The police would love to know about you…A convicted sex
offender who changed his name…that's illegal. A convicted sex offender who lives
within 1000 yards of a playground…that's illegal, too. Oh yeah, and didn't you
skip out on your probation?"
Lionel faltered, wondering what was going
on; when had this taken a bad turn? This wasn't the way it was supposed to go.
"You get it right, Richie Boy, or I'll have your ass in jail so fast you
won't know what hit you. I'll call you in three days. No more fuck-ups…or else!"
