Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
The long drive has exhausted me but eating and then drinking a few cups of strong coffee have made me more determined than ever to discover my mother’s name.
The GPS tells me that the prison is another half a mile away.
It’s difficult to miss. It looms in the distance like a stain on the countryside.
It’s surrounded by high walls topped with razor wire and I can see guards with guns peering from the watchtowers.
As I drive into the parking lot the blacktop shimmers under the baking Florida sun.
I step out and push my hat on my head. The noise from cicadas is almost deafening and the atmosphere around me is depressing.
I scan the area and notice a squat building with the sign VISITORS in tall letters.
I go inside and note the sudden drop in temperature.
Immediately a corrections officer demands my ID and confirms my pre-approval for a visit.
He looks me over and a smile quirks the side of his mouth.
It’s as if he’s already made up his mind why I’m here.
I’ve read about women who are attracted to murderers and maybe he figures I’m one of the same.
I ignore him and head to a waiting area.
It’s a sterile-looking room. Along one side vending machines offer snacks and the chairs are bolted to the floor.
Above, fluorescent lights buzz and flicker.
A corrections officer, this time a woman, demands I place all my personal items into a bag.
My heart races as she pats me down searching for weapons.
I’m escorted through a series of very heavy doors that clang shut behind me. This has suddenly got serious.
“You’ll be allowed a non-contact visit.” The corrections officer might as well be a robot for all the emotion she shows. “Pick up the phone to speak to the inmate and if you want to leave before the end of the visit press the red button by the door.”
My hands are trembling but I meet her gaze and nod.
“You look like a scared rabbit.” She shakes her head. “Why are you bothering to visit this animal?”
I stare at my hands. “It’s personal.”
“That’s what they all say.” She opens the door and waves me through.
I step into a booth and the smell of disinfectant burns my nostrils.
Before me is a chair positioned in front of a glass panel.
Hanging on the wall is a black phone receiver.
Suddenly the idea of touching the phone with the mouthpiece so close makes me wish they had allowed me to bring in a pack of sterile wipes.
Sucking in a deep breath, I sit down and stare into the empty space.
Waves of nausea roll over me and my stomach cramps in fear.
The door opens and a man wearing an orange jumpsuit, with his hands and feet in shackles, shuffles toward the chair and sits.
He lifts the phone and so do I. It crackles and I wait for him to speak first.
“Oh, I like young ones.” Barnes’ syrupy voice runs over me like acid. He smiles and his eyes twinkle. “Do you think you can change me too? They all say that, you know, the ones that come to visit.”
I stare at him trying to make out any resemblance.
He must be fifty and appears to be about five ten.
His dark hair is streaked with white and mine is a dirty blonde.
His eyes are blue and so are mine, and the same shape.
I note he has a long straight nose where mine turns up at the end.
Maybe I got that from my mother? I have interviewed so many people over the years and yet suddenly I’m struck dumb.
All the questions I wanted to ask him seem to be stuck in my throat.
I gather my courage. “I’m your daughter.
” I wait for a reaction and only see his eyes widen slightly.
He doesn’t know I exist. “My mother was your last victim, the one who survived and testified against you. I came to see you because I want to know her name. It’s not in the court documents. It’s been redacted.”
“You have her mouth.” A wide grin spreads across his face. “You don’t get anything for nothing in this world, missy. What will you do for me for the information?”
He is trying to get control over me but after reading about people like him I understand what he’s trying to do.
You can’t reason with a psychopath. “Nothing. I’ll leave now if you’d like or I can maybe come back and visit you.
I don’t believe any of your family ever have since they discovered you’re a serial killer.
” I push my chair back as if ready to leave.
“If you have a good life, you shouldn’t pursue her.
” Barnes leans in closer to the glass partition, his eyes growing cold.
This is no longer a game for him. He looks like a predator.
“She was very young and out flaunting her body for any man who had ten bucks in his pocket. Likely she’s killed herself with drugs by now.
As your pa, I advise you not to chase her because it will only make life bad for you. ”
The way he is looking at me terrifies me. I know now how a mouse feels just before a cat pounces. “I want her name. If she is in trouble, I am in a position to help her.”
“I tried to help her.” A slow smile curls his lips. He licks his fingers one by one. “I can still hear her screaming. If you weren’t my daughter, I’d jump right through the glass and make you scream too.”
I’ve come too far and driven four hours through the heat and I refuse to leave before I get the truth.
I want to know the name of the woman who gave me life and nearly lost her own.
My mother’s courage put this man behind bars for the rest of his life and stopped him murdering anyone else.
I stare him straight in the eyes as anger wells up inside me.
It’s like an uncontrollable rage. “Her name.”
“What’s your contact details?” Barnes taps on the glass. “I’ll write to you. Just leave your details with the guard.”
The change of tactic doesn’t work with me. I’m afraid of him but my anger isn’t subsiding and adrenaline is pumping through my veins. “Her name first.”
He shakes his head slowly and the chains clink as he rubs his chin. “Rachel Stackhouse, she was a runaway from Glades County.”
So, my mother came from Florida.
“She’ll need to keep running after testifying against me.” He inclines his head and stares at me. “You look like your brother.”
The ground melts under me, taking away my confidence. Please don’t tell me I have a sibling—from him. I lift my chin. “I don’t have a brother.”
“Yeah, you do.” Barnes chuckles and moves so close to the window I cringe away.
“He’s just like me—but they haven’t caught him yet.
I can live outside through him. He’s closer than you imagine.
Don’t go looking for him, now, will you?
You won’t like what you find.” His gaze moves over my face. “Give me your name.”
His words twist in my mind. He’s just like me. I push the chair back and stand. “Never, and I hope you rot in hell.”
My hands shake as I slam the receiver back into the cradle.
Knees weak, I turn and press the red button on the wall.
How much of what Barnes told me was a lie?
My mother came from humble beginnings and somehow, I ended up with wealthy adopted parents, who gave me everything except the truth.
After I gather my things, I run back to my vehicle and settle back into the hot seat, allowing the air conditioner to cool my sweat-soaked face.
Confusion rolls over me. If what he said is true, my mother might be an addict and likely a sex worker and I have a brother out there raping and murdering women.
Do I want to go there? Do I really want to get to know her?
I need to consider my next move—I have a good reputation now and if the truth about me got out, would famous people invite me into their homes and confidence?
For now, I’ll immerse myself in Isabelle’s story and get my head straight before I make a decision.
I stare into the rearview mirror. “I’ve spent my life writing other people’s stories and I don’t even know my own. ”