Chapter 5

Jared Thompson groaned as his half-sister’s number flashed on the screen of his cell phone. He wanted to let voice mail pick up, but experience taught him that to ignore Jillian would only make her more persistent. He swiped to the right and put the phone to his ear. “What’s up, sis?”

“I’m out front. Open the door. We have to talk.” Jillian’s voice had an edge to it Jared hadn’t heard before, so he quickly rose from the couch and rushed to his front door. After yanking the door open, he lowered the phone as Jillian shouldered her way inside his apartment.

“Well, hello to you too.” He shut the door, then followed her into the living room. “Why are you here?”

She shrugged and nibbled on her thumbnail.

Jared blew out a breath. It was just like his sister to pretend she needed something pronto, then dither when it came to asking. He really wasn’t up to playing twenty questions. “Jillian.” He dragged her name out.

His sister continued to worry the skin around the cuticle with her teeth. “Melender’s out of prison.”

“What? She’s out already?” He sank onto the leather recliner.

“Obviously you haven’t called Mom and Dad recently.” She flopped down on the sectional but started tapping her fingers on the arm rest.

Jared pressed his palms into his eyes before lowering his hands. Melender was free. With Melender in prison, questions about what happened that night had stayed largely under the surface. Her release changed everything. “When did she get out?”

“Months ago. Dad tried to keep it hush-hush, but Mom found out. It’s all Mom talks about, ranting and raving about how justice hasn’t been served.”

His stepmother, Ruby, had never gotten over her grief when it came to Jesse.

“Apparently, Mom tracked her down and confronted her at a convenience store late last night—or I should say, early this morning.”

“What convenience store?”

“The Kwikie Mart near the Auld Sheeben restaurant in Fairfax.” Jillian pulled out her phone and scrolled through it. “Mom read a news article that mentioned a Mel Harman and thought it might be our dear cousin Melender. Last night, Dad and Mom went to the Kwikie Mart to confront the woman, who did turn out to be Melender.” She thrust the phone toward Jared. “Read this.”

Jared took the phone. Jillian had pulled up an article on the Northern Virginia Herald website dated four days ago.

Cleaner Foils Robbery

By Brogan Gilmore, Herald reporter

FAIRFAX – A two-liter bottle of Dr Pepper stopped a would-be robber from taking hundreds of dollars from the Kwikie Mart convenience store on Chain Bridge Road early Saturday morning. “She grab soda bottle and, wham! clipped masked man in side of head,” said owner Vihaan Patel, who had been transferring the day’s cash out of the safe at the time of the incident.

Mel Harman, an employee of Squeaky Clean, was cleaning the store in the early morning hours of Saturday. “I didn’t do anything special,” she said. “I saw someone in a werewolf mask holding a gun on Mr. Patel, so I chucked the bottle of soda at his head.”

“I was very lucky she had such good aim,” Mr. Patel said, adding that had the attempt been successful, it would have been the third time in less than two weeks his store had been robbed. “All three times, robbers wore masks.”

Police continue to investigate the incidents, cautioning against actions such as those employed by Ms. Harman. “We strongly urge civilians to dial 911 if they see a robbery or other crime in process rather than attempting to stop the crime,” said Capt. Bill Donovan with the Fairfax City Police Department. “While Ms. Harman’s actions did chase off the would-be robber, it doesn’t always happen that way.”

Mr. Patel sees Ms. Harman as a heroine. “This time, the robber seemed more nervous, jittery. I was very scared. Her actions probably saved my life,” he said. “I reward her for keeping me safe.”

Mr. Patel said he would hire a security guard until the thieves are caught. The police urge anyone with information related to these incidents to call 703-555-1212.

He handed the phone back, hoping she wouldn’t notice his sweaty palm. “What happened when Ruby showed up?”

“That reporter was there doing a follow-up piece, so Mom told him all about what Melender did and how Jesse hadn’t been found.”

Jared clenched his fist, wanting to pound something. He’d have to stop by the gym for a few rounds in the ring to work off his rising anger. Once again, Melender was messing up his life.

“Are you okay?” Jillian peered at him. “You look upset.”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “What’s Dad going to do about this fiasco?”

“He said he was going to make sure Melender didn’t cause any trouble.” Jillian waved her hand at him. “Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

He winced at the raw skin encircling her thumbnail. “How’s he going to do that?”

Jillian shrugged. “Who knows? I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Then why was she here?Jared didn’t voice the question that was on the tip of his tongue because he knew why—to warn him that Melender was out of prison and in town. And that Ruby would likely have one of her “spells.” Granted, Dad would do his best to convince Melender to leave town. Her presence meant no one in the family was safe. But if Melender decided to try to prove her innocence, there would be no stopping her. Unless… No, he wouldn’t entertain that possibility.

“Mom wants you to come to dinner on Thursday.”

Jared started to decline, but maybe it would be best to hear firsthand any updates from his father. “Tell Ruby I’ll be there.”

“Sure.” She moved to the door, and Jared followed.

Ruby wouldn’t let the issue of Jesse alone, not with Melender free from prison. All of them would be forced to relive those terrible days leading up to Jesse’s kidnapping. And he knew for a fact, Jillian didn’t want to rehash the time Jesse disappeared any more than he did.

Jillian opened the door and stepped outside. “I imagine Melender will start asking a lot of questions about Jesse’s abduction now that she’s out of prison. One of her first stops will probably be here. After all, you were supposed to be watching Jesse that night.”

* * *

Melender pulledthe tab on a can of chicken and gravy cat food, dumping half the contents into a bowl. Her Siamese-Maine Coon mix wound around her ankles, mewing his hunger. “Patience, my friend.”

She set the bowl on the floor. “Here you go, Goliath.” With one more yowl, the cat dove into his food.

She plopped another coffee pod into the Keurig, slid her mug beneath the funnel, and hit the start button. Her third cup of the day, and it was barely past noon. After the cops left, she hadn’t been able to go back to sleep. Usually, she slept until three or four in the afternoon after arriving home around seven-thirty from her overnight cleaning shift. The encounter with Ruby had contributed to a restless sleep, and the early wakeup call from the cops meant she was operating on less than her best. At least this was her day off, so she could have an earlier bedtime.

Her cell phone trilled Donna Summer’s “I Will Survive.” The ringtone never failed to remind her that she would make it through. She had to. Donna belted out the chorus as Melender retrieved the phone from her back pocket. She glanced at the screen. Fairfax, Virginia, along with a 703 area code, which didn’t confirm anything, given spoofers had perfected the art of identity camouflage. So few people called her that her curiosity got the better of her, and she answered the call just before it rolled to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“It’s Dr. Silloway.”

She nearly dropped the phone at the sound of the psychologist’s voice. How had she gotten her unlisted number?

“Melender?” The older woman repeated in her calm, measured tone.

“Dr. Silloway. What a surprise.” Melender had been forced to spend an hour each week with the prison psychologist, who had been more interested in probing the depths of her mind than actually helping Melender cope with her circumstances. The Keurig signaled her cup of coffee was ready. After hitting the phone’s speaker button, she set it on the counter before adding a dash of cream to her cup.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” As if she really cared. Melender suspected the doctor reported the content of her sessions to her aunt and uncle, a violation of doctor-patient confidentiality, but Dr. Silloway wasn’t one restricted by conventions, not when money was involved. Melender had no doubt Quentin paid a great deal of money to learn what she said in those sessions.

“Hmm.”

Melender took a sip of her coffee to stem any reaction to the doctor’s infuriating “hmms.” Dr. Silloway had usually uttered that sound while staring at her as if she were a bug under a microscope. Two of Goliath’s paws touched her calf. Melender reached down and scratched the feline under his chin. You’re right. I don’t have to talk to her anymore, now do I? “Dr. Silloway, what do you want?”

The woman chuckled, a sound that grated on her nerves. “You always were direct.”

Melender balanced on one foot to steady her thoughts, a technique she’d learned from the prison yoga instructor. As the silence stretched out, Melender had had enough. “You’re no longer my doctor, so I’m hanging up now.”

“Isn’t it time you gave the Thompsons closure about Jesse’s disappearance?”

Of course. The question confirmed what Melender suspected all along, that the psychologist didn’t believe she was innocent, despite her attempt to be sympathetic to Melender’s incarceration.

“Do not call me again.” Melender punched the end call button then blocked the other woman’s number before slipping the phone back into her pocket. She picked up her coffee, then moved toward the sliding glass door, Goliath at her heels. Once she’d opened the door and screen, she stepped out into the small enclosure, closing the door behind her to keep the A/C from escaping. The mid-morning sun hit the balcony full on, turning it into a sauna. But Melender didn’t care. She settled into the lounge chair, coffee on the end table and Goliath in her lap. With her eyes closed, she let the sun’s slanting rays soothe her body.

She had been biding her time over the past eight months, letting herself adjust to freedom in easy stages. The events of the last twelve hours meant she could no longer coast. The obstacles she faced loomed larger than her beloved Blue Ridge Mountains.

Quentin Thompson had been adept at manipulating public opinion for years and had many powerful friends as head of an international energy company, that much she’d understood at eighteen. His influence would only have grown larger during her years away, which probably fueled the rumors she’d read online about a possible political career in the next Virginia U.S. Senate race.

How to counter that influence occupied her thoughts. But now that the time had come to put her plans into motion, she vacillated. True, she wasn’t the same girl who had gone to prison. She was stronger, harder, more determined, and less trusting. But she had yet to test those qualities in the real world.

Unbidden, the reporter’s face with its strong jawline popped into her mind. Brogan Gilmore had already picked up the scent of a story. Maybe she could use that to her advantage. She needed an ally, and if her heart beat a little faster at the thought of spending time with him, she was entitled to a little flirtation, wasn’t she?