Chapter Ninety-Eight
Ninety-Eight
‘Detective Kendall,’ she asked back, instead of answering the question. ‘Is he in?’
‘I haven’t seen him this morning,’ the officer replied.
‘What the fuck is going on?’ Mary asked herself, trying to figure out why Detective Kendall hadn’t come back to her first, apologize for arresting her, and, second, to thank her for leading him to a serial killer who they had no idea existed.
She came up with only two answers to that question – either Detective Kendall had bullshitted her about going back to the house to check for the basement, or they were still there, with CSI…
FBI… DA’s office… the lot… trying to understand the hell-room that they had just stumbled upon.
‘Do you want to use your phone call or not?’ the officer tried again.
‘Yes,’ Mary replied. She had no idea what was going on, but it was better to have someone by her side than not.
The officer guided Mary back to the same room where she had been fingerprinted and photographed.
‘You can make one call.’ He indicated a wall phone. ‘Five minutes.’ The officer didn’t leave the room. He simply stepped back and leaned, shoulder first, against the wall.
Mary picked up the receiver and brought it to her ear. She didn’t have her cellphone with her and by heart, she only knew three numbers – Quaddra’s private number, Denise’s burner cell and Dr. Fox’s personal number. She dialed Dr. Fox’s.
‘Hello?’ Dr. Fox picked up after the second ring.
‘Dr. Fox? It’s Mary… Mary Smith.’ Mary had never given Dr. Fox her new married name. ‘I need your help.’ The urgency and desperation in her tone was almost palpable.
‘Mary, are you OK? What’s going on? How can I help? Is this to do with your friend? The one with the photos in the basement?’
‘Yes,’ Mary replied, as she felt a rush of chemicals wash over her body. ‘Did you have a chance to look inside the package that I gave you yesterday?’
‘I did.’ Dr. Fox’s voice tensed up. ‘You should’ve come clean about your husband earlier, Mary. I could’ve helped you.’
‘I know,’ Mary interrupted her. ‘I just thought that this time it would be different, you know?’ She lied again. ‘I really wanted it to be different, but after I found that basement, I just knew it wouldn’t be.’
‘Hold on a sec, Mary.’ Dr. Fox’s tone went from tense to anxious. ‘Are you telling me that that basement with the photographs is in YOUR house? The friend you mentioned… that’s – YOUR husband?’
‘Yes.’
‘Jesus Christ, Mary. Are you OK? Are you hurt? Are you in the house right now?’
‘That’s why I need your help, Doc.’ Mary proceeded to tell Dr. Fox everything that had happened since last night, followed by where she was at the moment. ‘Could you please contact a lawyer for me. Don’t worry about the fees. I can afford it. Just please get someone with tons of experience.’
‘Yes… of course.’
‘And could you please bring that package over to the station. I think that they will want to see those Polaroids and listen to those Dictaphone tapes.’
‘You don’t have a backup?’ Dr. Fox sounded surprised.
‘No,’ Mary told her. ‘That’s why they are Polaroid photos and analog tapes, Doc. Their format alone testifies to their veracity.’
‘I understand… and of course I can bring them to you. I can be there in an hour… an hour and a half… tops.’
‘Thank you, Doc. I really owe you for this one.’ Mary disconnected from the call.