The Woman in Blue

Dale and the other officers were now certain that Misha had been taken by Doctor Kinkade, especially given the odd coincidence they had just discovered: she no longer worked at the station, nor did she reside at her last known address. The woman had been smart enough not to leave any paper trails to wherever she now was, holding Misha captive. Dale did everything possible not to think of all the things the very sick doctor could be doing to Misha at that moment, as she stood staring out the kitchen window at a squirrel flitting from branch to branch on a nearby tree, as if it were an acrobat performing for an imaginary audience. Alexa and Shannon had insisted on not leaving her alone, but she needed to finally be allowed some space. She needed to think and be alone with her thoughts, as frightening as some of them might be. Everyone at the station, as well as those affiliated with it, had been questioned. Kinkade’s old neighbors had been questioned as well. Yet no one had any idea of where she might have gone. Dale shivered. The weather was turning chilly. She pulled the sweater draped over her shoulders tighter as she sipped her steaming coffee. After a few more sips, she set the cup down and slowly headed upstairs. How quiet and lonely the house was since Misha’s kidnapping! Dale first stopped at the guest room. She peered in and imagined it set up as a nursery, like she and Misha had done many times before, their child sound asleep, safe in its crib. Dale refused to believe that Misha, being the tough little survivor she was, could possibly be dead. She just had to be alive. Soon enough, she’d return, and life would go on. They’d have a child and do all kinds of things together as a family. The ringing of the phone snapped Dale out of her reverie. She went to answer it in the office. “Hello?” she said, sitting down in a chair. “Hi, Dale. It’s Grogan.” Detective Grogan was young but seemed to hold much promise for a career in law enforcement. She was sharp and a very quick thinker. Dale had met her in the department’s cafeteria and had immediately liked her attitude and personality. She was friendly, but not too friendly. Tolerant, but not one to take any shit from anyone either. An awful lot like herself, Dale had concluded. “What’s up, Grogan?” “Well, we just learned some rather disturbing news.” Dale’s heartbeat accelerated. “Not about Misha—about Susie Stevens.” “Who’s that?” asked Dale. “Susie was a student at a school for the arts when she disappeared two years ago. She was just nineteen at the time.” “Oh?” Grogan continued. “She and her family had just moved to California from Florida, so Susie hadn’t had a chance to meet new people or make friends. The only one to befriend her, unfortunately, was the not-so-good doctor herself. They began a serious relationship despite their age difference. When Susie confessed to her very religious family that she was with another woman and wanted to move in with her, they disowned her. They admit that they were very bigoted for a time, but after a little more than a year with no contact from Susie, their conscience began to wear on them. They began to miss her and regret not being more open-minded, so they looked up the doctor’s number and called her at home.” Dale listened intently, hand over her pounding heart. “Susie’s parents report that Kinkade insisted Susie had left her and that she had no idea where she was. The family had a hard time swallowing the story. For one, they believed Susie would’ve returned home had she left Kinkade. Also, something about Kinkade’s voice bothered them.” A queasy sensation formed in the pit of Dale’s stomach. “One day,” said Grogan, continuing, “Mom and Dad decided to visit Susie’s school and weren’t thrilled to learn she hadn’t attended since moving in with Kinkade. Then they drove out to the house, but the doctor wasn’t in. The next best thing was to visit the neighbors who lived near Kinkade. At first, they were afraid to talk, but the parents got them to open up after promising not to reveal their sources.” “And what did they say?” asked Dale, fearing the worst. “They said they’d heard all sorts of screaming coming from the place.” “Oh, great,” said Dale, placing her forehead in one hand. “Just great.” “Susie even broke away once and ran to them while they were out barbecuing. According to them, Susie said the doctor was prescribing all kinds of pain, punishment, and torture.” It was just then that Dale learned the true meaning of having your heart stop. “I’m so, so sorry to have to tell you this, but the girl was beaten, burned, and screamed at continually. The neighbors called the cops, but it was useless. Kinkade would insist the neighbors were disturbed—they were elderly, after all—and Kinkade was a highly respected doctor, so I’m sure that influenced who they believed.” “So what happened to Susie? Where is she now?” asked Dale. “She’s still missing.” Dale dropped the phone and screamed in anguish. When she was through, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The doctor had stalked her prey, and now Dale had her own prey to stalk.

Misha’s eyes flickered open. Her vision was blurry in the dim light. A dull ache throbbed in her ankle as she lay on her side. She lifted her head and glanced downward to find herself lying on a cold, hard gray cement floor. She sat up quickly and looked around. She was in a cellar. She struggled to stand despite the pain in her ankle—that was what she got for being thrown down the stairs. She had passed out upon hitting the floor. She shivered as she remembered the events leading up to her being tossed down like an old, unwanted sack of clothes. Once Gail had realized that she was not Susie, she took note of her wedding ring. The tiny diamonds glittered in the light. Gail gazed at them curiously, seemingly hypnotized by the shiny gems. “Get that off!” she had screamed, but Misha protested with all her might, insisting it was too tight to remove. A sprained ankle or not, she had won that one, she thought with a smile, glancing down at the beautiful ring that symbolized the love shared between Dale and herself. Oh, how she missed her! She physically ached to be safe once again in the arms of her loving, gorgeous Dale. Dale. Sweet, sexy Dale. How frantic with worry she must be now. Misha almost wondered if Dale might think she was more trouble than she was worth and regret taking her in as she did. She began to feel like a failure, like she’d let Dale down. First, she’d lost their baby, then she’d slipped, bonked her head, and become rather insane for a while, and now she was stolen—just taken right out of their home. She knew none of it was her fault, but she couldn’t help feeling like a general fuck-up anyway. Misha soaked in her surroundings. She looked up the stairwell straight ahead of her to the door that was shut tight, no doubt locked just as tightly. A naked, low-watt bulb hung overhead, barely illuminating the large room in which she now sat. Carefully, she limped around the square room only to find nothing but old furniture and boxes, along with a washer and a dryer. Something wasn’t quite right, though. What was it about the room that bothered her? Misha thought and thought. That was it! The room was square, yet the house was long and rectangular. Why didn’t the cellar run underneath the entire house? She circled back to the foot of the stairs in the center of the room. The cellar door flung open, and there stood her worst nightmare. “Get up here!” Gail demanded. Misha’s heart tripped with anxiety as she slowly made her way up the stairs. “Hurry up.” “You sprained my ankle when you threw me down here. I can’t move easily.” “I didn’t do a damn thing to you. Don’t blame me for your problems. You asked for any problems you have.” Misha reached the top of the stairs and turned to face Gail. “Did I ask for you?” Gail slammed the door shut with one hand and slapped Misha with the other. Misha smothered a cry from the stinging blow. “Get in the kitchen, you troublemaker.” Troublemaker? That was certainly a new one, she thought as Gail shoved her forward. Once in the kitchen, Misha again turned to face Gail, who was now smiling with admiration. If Misha didn’t know any better, she’d never have believed the fury that was on the doctor’s face just a moment ago. “You know, I like you,” Gail said. “You’re full of spunk, feisty. You’re going to be lots of fun, I can tell. You’ll be quite a handful, but I like a challenge. You’re nothing like Susie. Susie’s a little priss—just a true wimp at heart.” Misha noted that Gail was now speaking of her in the present tense. “Who’s Susie? A friend? A neighbor?” “None of your damn business, little lady. Now get to work!” “Work?” asked Misha, confused. “Yes, work. Or do you not know the meaning of the word? Perhaps that bitch you were with pampered you a bit too much, didn’t she?” “No, she didn’t. I cooked, I cleaned, and I brought in extra money doing computer work.” “You really piss me off,” said Gail, her nostrils flaring. “So then get rid of me!” Misha screamed. “If you don’t like your houseguests, kick them out.” “Oh, how convenient that’d be for you now, wouldn’t it?” A moment of silence passed as they stared each other down. Finally, Gail spoke. “I want this kitchen clean in an hour. I’ll be sitting right here at the table while you work, watching your every move.” Misha scrubbed for an hour. She even sang song after song, doing her best to mentally delete Gail’s presence along the way. When she was done, Gail stood up. “You have a beautiful singing voice.” She looked around. “And you did a great job.” Then she looked back at Misha. “Let’s head upstairs now.” “What are you going to do with me now?” asked Misha, trying to hide her nervousness. “Let’s go, get a move on it!” Gail marched Misha up the stairs and back into the master bedroom. From the looks of it, along the way, there seemed to be four bedrooms. It was definitely a big house. Once fully inside the room, Gail ordered her onto the side of the bed furthest from the door, where she had been bound before. Gail then pulled a pair of handcuffs from a dresser drawer and cuffed Misha to the headboard. “Why are you doing this?” Misha cried, struggling against the restraints. “Because I have some errands to run.” “Errands? What errands?” “Is it any of your business?” Misha thought about her next choice of words. “It should be. I’m your girl now, aren’t I?” Gail opened the closet door and glanced back at Misha. “I don’t know. Are you?” “I can be if you want me to be,” answered Misha, trying to keep the deceptiveness out of her voice. “But you have to stop being so mean to me. You have to learn to trust me and not be so mean.” “I’m not mean to you,” Gail said, donning a long-haired red wig. “What do you need that for?” “Misha, quit with the questions!” Gail yelled as she left the room, adjusting the wig on her head. Gail knew that if the damn media could just mind their own business, she wouldn’t need the disguise. As long as she had it, though, no one should ever recognize her. Misha listened to her descend the stairs. A moment later, she heard the front door slam shut. She strained, pulled, and struggled to break free of the cuffs, but they were bound too tightly. She resorted to screaming as loud as she could, hoping that somehow, somewhere, someone might hear her—but as she feared, no one did.