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Pete was getting aggravated with his cell phone ringing once or twice and then, when he answered it, there was no one on the other end. After the third time in less than an hour he’d had enough, putting a trace on his own cell phone. He’d at least get to the bottom of this problem, since nothing else was making any sense either. Marla’s case was cold as ice. Nothing was making sense and Captain Perkins was still missing, or at least he thought so. No one except him seemed to be too concerned about her not coming into work. He had tried to meet with the chief of police, even the mayor, but apparently they were away on a fishing trip together. He discovered they had been best friends since childhood and this wasn’t unusual behavior for them. They’d be back later today and, if necessary, Pete would go to the chief’s house to get a minute alone with him. Again his cell phone rang with the same ‘unknown’ number appearing on his caller I.D. He decided to let it go to voice mail. Sure no one was there anyway.
Pete went back to the task of trying to figure out the password for Marla’s protected files. He had been able to find out through an old acquaintance that there was a computer program that he could run that might figure out the password for him. He didn’t know Captain Perkins well enough to guess at what the password might be.
After spending a couple of hours on the password game he’d been playing with the computer he glanced at his phone, noticing that the message light was blinking. Maybe it was some good news for a change. He put the phone on speaker so he could get a fresh cup of coffee while he listened to the message.
“Pete! It’s Marla! Captain Perkins is dead and Dillon is really Alonso Fortuna. He’s the one that killed Captain Perkins. We’re at the Marriot in…..” Then the message stopped as he heard the click of the hang-up. Pete ran to the phone and listened to it three more times, then turned to his computer to try and trace where the call had come from. Unfortunately his computer was still busy running the password program. He tried to kill the program but it simply ignored every command Pete gave it. He grabbed his coat and ran to his car, trying to get to the police station and a working computer. He prayed that there was a long enough message to even narrow down which towers had been used to make the call.
After working out where the call had come from and which Marriott’s were within that coverage area, Pete headed for the chief’s office. His secretary sat smugly at her desk, using it like a shield of armor, as she explained that the chief wasn’t in and she didn’t have any idea when he would be. Impatiently Pete explained that this was a matter of life and death, requiring the chief’s immediate attention.
After thinking about it for a moment she finally called the chief’s cell phone, nervously explaining why she was interrupting him, when Pete grabbed the phone and identified himself. He quickly tried to explain the situation but was halted when the chief bellowed into the phone that he had no idea what the fuck Pete was talking about. That was enough to get Pete’s attention, and he started back at the beginning, frustrated and pacing in front of the secretary’s desk as he explained everything all over again. Revelations came over the phone, one after the other, slapping at Pete as if physical blows. Blinking furiously as he digested the information one piece at a time. He realized there was no FBI involvement, the chief had never heard of Marla, although he did admit to knowing the bakery well. Furthermore, he had never heard of anyone named Alonso Fortuna, knew nothing about Marla being in protective custody, and hadn’t heard from Captain Perkins since before he had left on his fishing trip. This forced Pete to slow his roll even further, explaining everything as if the chief were a three year old, ending his lecture by playing the message from his phone into the receiver for the chief to listen to.
“This is quite a fantastic story you just told me Officer Jensen. What is it you expect me to do about it?”
“I need several police departments to check with their local Marriott’s and see if anyone matching Dillon or Marla’s description are staying there. I’ll start driving there now, since it’s a few hour’s drive from here. Once we locate them I’m going to need backup before I go in. We can’t tip them off or we’ll end up with a standoff on our hands and possibly a few more death’s. I need the element of surprise if this plan is going to work. I’ll need you to make the arrangements with the other departments, maybe even designate someone in the squad room as liaison while I’m on the road.”
“Done. Keep in touch and give the phone back to my secretary so I can get started.” Pete thrust the phone back to the secretary, explaining that the chief needed to talk to her as he ran out the door.
Pete jogged to his car, filling up at the police gas pump while he looked at the map and planned his route. Within fifteen minutes he was speeding out of Wynott, siren off but lights on, to find Marla and his baby.
Marla cut off the call quickly when she heard the toilet flush, knowing it would just be a matter of seconds before Alonso/Dillon came back into the room. She quickly put it the phone back, carefully making sure it was exactly as he’d left it, and went back to the movie she’d pretended to be watching in her room. She had lain back on the bed as if she’d never left, pretending to be engrossed in the film. Lucky for her she had seen Fried Green Tomatoes so many times she knew it by heart, just in case he tried to question her about it later. At least this time she had gotten some of her story out before she’d had to hang-up. Wishing she could get her hands on a laxative of some type so she’d have some time alone with Dillon’s cell phone.
Alonso/Dillon wasn’t one to linger in the bathroom, so Marla didn’t have many opportunities with the phone. Next time she got alone with the phone she decided to just pick-up the conversation where she had just left off. No starting from the beginning now that half the story was already out. Eventually she’d get the story out, as long as she was able to keep up the charade of everything being normal. She shuttered at the thought that soon Alonso/Dillon’s patience would run out, causing him to become violent. If she knew where the damn diamonds were she would gladly tell him, but she didn’t.
All Marla cared about was staying alive and, in turn, keeping her baby alive. She had decided that once this whole ordeal was over she would go to a new town and start over yet again, someplace where she could raise her baby anonymously, maybe even changing her name again, just for the fun of it this time. At least she had a decent savings account to tide her over until she found a job. This time she wanted a bigger town. A place with better job opportunities, public transportation and a good school system, not that Wynott’s schools were bad. She knew she could never face the good people of Wynott again. Already resigned herself to the fact that she’d lost her business, she just couldn’t become the town project again.
No, this time was an entirely different situation. Now she could take care of herself and her baby without becoming the town charity case. It wouldn’t be easy, but then she was already used to that, wasn’t she? Hopefully her previous employees had been able to hook up with a new job, maybe even one with better benefits than she had been able to offer.
This time she would stand on her own two feet. They were the only feet one could really rely on anyway. You never knew who you could trust, so it was better to only trust yourself. She had learned the hard way, thinking about the betrayal by Pete, Captain Perkins and the rest of the Wynott P.D. It struck her like a blow to the gut as tears filled her eyes. Just then Alonso/Dillon walked into her room.
“What’s wrong?” His look of concern almost made her laugh out loud. What a fucking fake.
“Oh, this damn movie does it to me every time. You’d think I’d stop the crying because I know what’s coming, but no, I do it every time. Do you think it could just be my hormones? Even if it’s not, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” She pretended to chuckle as she wiped her eyes with a tissue.
“I just came to see if you’re hungry for dinner yet.”
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br /> “Not really. I thought I’d take a nap. I have a bit of a headache. Maybe a nap will take care of it. You pretty much know what I like by now, so if you order something just order mine too, I’ll eat it when I wake up.” She hoped the nap and headache story would lead him to believe that some of her memory might be coming back, even though it wasn’t she didn’t need him knowing that.
“Okie dokie.”
Marla had lain on her bed, eyes closed and thinking while she pretended to sleep. She wondered if Pete had even gotten the first phone message yet. Even if he did he probably would just ignore it, thinking it was some kind of prank or something. It had never once occurred to her that Captain Perkins hadn’t been working with her best interests at heart. All the other times she had come to check on her she had been nothing but professional. Now she wondered who Dr. Stravinsky really was. Was she even a doctor? She had decided to stop taking the anti-depressant the minute those thoughts had struck her, just sticking to the pre-natal vitamins. The only reason she would continue with those was because they were samples that Dr. Stravinsky had taken out of the cupboard right in front of her, and they were clearly labeled and sealed. If her stomach hadn’t started to stick out she might even doubt that she was really pregnant. Being stuck with no contact to the outside world she was more than a little concerned that she hadn’t felt the baby move yet. But right now there was nothing she could do about that so she set those fears aside. If she didn’t make it out of this situation it wouldn’t be an issue anyway. Before all the drama had started she had intended to ask Dr. Stravinsky about it. What she really needed was a visit with a good ob/gyn and decided to put that on the top of her list of things to do once she was free. If that day ever came.