No Escape

Lauren caught a couple of hours of sleep before she had to get up for work, and Shania slept throughout most of the day. It wasn’t until noon that she was jarred out of a sound, surprisingly dreamless sleep by someone knocking on the door. She had expected to have nightmares of Maureen coming to life and coming after her with a bloody knife or something, sporting fangs that were dripping with blood, reeking of death as her partly decomposed body lunged toward her, hell-bent on killing her. Shania sprang upright, heart pounding wildly in her chest. Again, the knock came. “Housekeeper,” she heard the older man call out in his heavy accent. “No—no thanks,” Shania called back, stumbling to the door. “I’m not feeling too well today. Could you come back tomorrow?” “Tomorrow? Okay.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Then, once her heartbeat slowed to normal and she stopped shaking so much, she went and fixed herself a cup of coffee. She noted the few telltale bloodstains that still dotted the kitchen floor and set out to give the entire kitchen a thorough cleaning once she finished her coffee. When Lauren got in from work that afternoon, she was beat. She slept until late in the night when they were to go to Maureen’s room and clean it out. Shania fell asleep for a while too, but most of the time she read or watched TV until Lauren arose at 10:30. After they had a late dinner, they showered and drove across the street. They parked by the side of the building and cautiously approached the door to the room Maureen had been in. The motel was as brightly lit as theirs was, and even closer to the highway. This meant that if they were going to be seen, there was nothing they could do to prevent it. Still, it was worth the risk to make it look as if Maureen had simply checked out and left. “Hope she didn’t bring anyone with her, though I doubt that she did,” said Lauren. “Doesn’t look like she had a vehicle of any kind,” Shania said, pointing out the empty parking space that was assigned to that room. “She must’ve rented a car for the trip, so I wouldn’t recognize her car if she needed to follow us around.” “It’d sure make things easier if she didn’t have a car. That way, the cops will only be looking for her and not a vehicle, too,” replied Lauren, slipping the card into the slot and pushing the door open. “You got the trash bags?” “Yes.” Lauren flicked on the light. “Wow, these rooms sure are bigger than ours,” Shania said. “Yes, but they don’t have internet access.” They began to comb through the items Maureen had, one by one, but nothing stood out in any way. “It’s all just regular, everyday stuff,” Lauren finally concluded. “Let’s bag up what won’t fit in the suitcases.” Yet they managed to get everything into the one suitcase Maureen had taken with her, including a small duffel bag and her purse, which contained nearly a grand in cash. Pocketing the cash, Lauren said, “Now I feel like we’re criminals, but it’s okay. We’re doing the right thing. I know we are.” “Don’t you think a big old suitcase like this would look suspicious sitting in a dumpster somewhere?” Shania asked. Lauren nodded. “Let’s take it up to the mountain tomorrow and burn it.” “Burn it? Are you kidding? You don’t light fires in a forest in August, Lauren. The forest rangers will come running in no time. It’s just too dangerous. Keep it in the trunk till we can find a dump. There’s got to be one around here, and it’d be better than burying it on the mountain or anywhere else.” “That’s true. God knows I don’t want to have to return there as it is, so we’ll take your advice and stash it for now, then we’ll find a dump to take it to tomorrow after work.” ________________________________________ Bailey hated this part of the job. Dealing with possible missing person cases was almost as bad as dealing with domestics. Especially when it involved a seemingly unstable, promiscuous woman who had just lost her job. Still, the young, blue-eyed blonde had been encouraged to follow in her father’s footsteps, and so she had. This meant taking the good cases with the bad, the interesting with the boring, and the challenging with the easy. The policewoman sat beside Erin on the sofa in the expensively decorated living room—the kind you were afraid to so much as breathe in for fear of damaging something. She glanced up at the man who had been her partner for many years. He gazed at her expectantly. She then turned back to Erin. “So, you’re saying that your niece went to Oregon to look for these two wanted women?” “Yes,” said Erin, trying not to sound hysterical. As it was, the woman didn’t seem to believe her. Neither did the man, an older, graying, distinguished-looking gentleman who had no doubt dealt with calls like these time and time again. “She left her cat here and took off, but this was weeks ago.” “Is it not like her to run off like this? You said she lost her job before she left. Is it possible she may’ve found work up in Oregon?” “No way,” answered Erin, shaking her head adamantly. “She’d have called and told me so if she had.” “If these women were wanted, why was she going up to deal with them herself? Why not call the police and let them handle it?” “I urged her to call them, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She just wanted to see them for herself, I guess. She was the confrontational type, you could say. She believed in her mind that they had done her wrong. Particularly the McCarthy girl.” Erin filled the officers in on why Maureen was so upset with her. The policeman remained quiet while his partner did the talking. “If she used your late husband to get the McCarthy girl committed, as you say she did, and then she felt she was responsible for her miscarriage and your husband’s death, just what do you suppose she had in mind to do once she reached Oregon?” Erin sighed with exasperation. “Maureen was never very stable. I got the distinct feeling that she was out for revenge. She said she would call the police once she got there and found them, but I don’t think deep down that she had any intentions of doing so. At least not before she had it out with them herself. I just didn’t want to jump the gun and make any false assumptions, but now I know in my heart that she did reach Oregon and that something went very wrong, because it’s just not like her to stay away this long without contacting someone.” “Why didn’t you call the police yourself when she first told you where the women were?” “I don’t know. I know I should have, but I just don’t know anything anymore. I guess maybe I didn’t want to believe she’d do anything stupid. I should have known better, though. I should have.” She placed her head in her hands. “Mrs. Hoffritz,” the male officer said, startling Erin. He had been so quiet that she’d forgotten he was even there. “Do you know exactly where in Klamath Falls she planned to stay?” “No, I don’t.” “Did she say where McCarthy and Cohen were?” “No, she didn’t. All she told me was that she was going to Klamath Falls, Oregon. I’ve been there once myself. This was before Jonas and I were married. I started off liking it up there, but then I decided it wasn’t for me. Too cold in the winter, and of course, I don’t like snow. It’s a small town. Can’t be much more than fifteen or twenty thousand people there.” “We’ll do our best to locate your niece as well as the other two women. We’ll broadcast their photos and get the public’s attention up there. The only problem is that these women aren’t likely to look like they normally do,” said the policewoman. “Yes,” her partner agreed, “they’re bound to have altered their appearance by now. But haircuts, wigs, and dye jobs don’t save them all. We’ll do our best. Of that, you can be sure.” Could she be? Somehow, she doubted that any kind of happy ending lay waiting at the end of this one. ________________________________________ Jasmine turned and headed back to her room. She’d heard enough standing at the top of the stairs, listening to her mother talk with the police officers. Damn those bitches! she thought to herself. First, they caused so much trouble for her father before he died, and now her favorite aunt was missing. Maybe what her mother claimed her aunt had said about the one they referred to as Shania McCarthy was true. Maybe her father would be alive if he hadn’t had to stay late that day at the clinic to deal with her, leaving Jasmine to be the one to have to deal with her mother all by herself. After all, their house hadn’t been affected by the earthquake—just a few tremors, nothing serious. She felt a sense of panic begin to well up in her chest. What if they never found her aunt? First her dad, and now her aunt. And all because of this sick, twisted lunatic, along with an equally twisted therapist. Damn them! she thought again.