The Thirteen Bends Page 2

I glanced around the Harmar Township Police parking lot. It was where the cops had taken Gina after they found out she was the girlfriend of the girl who had been killed. I had called Erkens on my way in to let him know everything that had happened. He still preferred phone calls to texts, so I’d been obliging.

  I gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “All Gina said was that a figure appeared on the first bend in the road and the body we saw was on the first bend,” I said quietly, not a hundred percent sure what to think . . . which was unusual for me.

  Erkens folded his arms over his slight paunch, his typical bulldog’s expression in place. “From what you said, this was a brutal murder. A ghost having that kind of rage is pretty rare.”

  I shot him an incredulous look. “Hi. Remember me? I’m the one you met when my best friend’s ghost turned into a woman in white and murdered three guys.”

  He glowered at me. “Yes, Madison. I’m aware how we met. But Emma was trying to show you the way she died. The violence of her death and the unresolved issues that ensued changed her spirit. This--” he waved a hand around the parking lot. “it looks more like a vengeful person than a vengeful spirit.”

  I frowned but couldn’t really argue. Erkens had been forced to retire from the police department after thirty-five years of service. He had seen a lot. The fact he believed Tanya Primis’ death was ‘man-made’ should be enough for me. It wasn’t, though.

  It had taken me a while but I had learned to trust my instincts. I knew we needed to take the case. There was no doubt in my mind. All I needed to do was convince Erkens.

  “You know all the legends that surround that road,” I stated, going on to forestall his usual gruff answer. “I know this is a case we need to take. Please just trust me.”

  Erkens humphed at me. “Madison, if I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t have hired you. You want to work this case, that’s fine. I will sign off on it but I have my own case to work. There’s a pack of werewolves running amok in Monroeville. I’ve got Spencer working with me so I’m going to ask that you take Ian with you on your investigations.” He raised his hand to stop me as I opened my mouth to speak. “Investigating alone is how mistakes are made. Ian is on the payroll. Use him, please.”

  I pursed my lips. “Erkens, I’m not arguing about being told to spend time with my boyfriend. I was trying to tell you that he decided to take a year off from college but he also works two jobs other than odd-jobs for you. He’s busy.”

  Erkens’ brow got furrowier than it had ever been before. “I’d feel better about working a different case than you if you had someone to be your backup at all times. And no, Madison, the cat does not count.”

  I snickered a little, reaching up to tap my lip as I thought it over. “I’ll come up with someone,” I told him, crossing my hand over my heart like a little kid making a promise.

  He rolled his eyes and turned toward his tough pickup truck. “This is your case, Madison but I want to be kept in the loop. Daily reports and if anything goes wrong, you leave. You do not run headlong into it like you usually do.”

  “You be careful too,” I said, a flutter of nervousness rising inside me as he got into his truck and pulled away.

  It was a strange thing to be facing my first solo-case. I did feel like I was ready but it was still nerve-wracking. The thing I liked best about it was the fact Erkens obviously trusted me.

  I had to do everything in my power to make certain not to let him down. I also had to figure out who my backup would be when Ian was busy. Spencer would have been my first choice if Erkens hadn’t already chosen him. Maybe I could ask . . . I had no idea.

  I sent Ian a quick text to let him know where I was and that he was my partner. After that, I brought up the contract Gina would need to sign.

  I had set the system up so that a person could sign our contract on one of our phones and as they did, both their fingerprint and picture would be taken. Just to be safe. I was not in the mood to deal with any more surprises from clients.

  My heart felt heavy as I walked into the police station. I couldn’t even imagine how difficult things would be for Gina. Her girlfriend was dead. Murdered. That, along with the loss of time she’d experienced made me sure she would be suffering in a way I didn’t even want to contemplate.

  One of the police officers raised his hand to wave me over, his eyes curious as I walked in his direction. “Madison Meyer?” he asked in a brusque way.

  I nodded, waiting to see what was going on.

  He motioned me toward the back. “Gina Vaso is asking to talk to you before she’s taken to booking.”

  I gaped at him. “Booking? She was arrested?” I demanded, my voice at a far higher pitch than usual.

  He frowned like he believed my question was stupid, motioning me toward a hallway a little behind him.

  I stood still for a few seconds before turning to walk in that direction. What was going on? Why would they have arrested Gina?

  Other questions began a cross-examination in my mind. What had I missed? What could Gina have left out of her story? Could she have killed Tanya?

  No. That was ridiculous. I knew from Erkens that the significant other was always the first suspect in a murder investigation. But for them to believe Gina would kill her girlfriend, then impale her body and stick it in the ground? That was monstrous.

  I pulled up the name ‘Gina Vaso’ on my phone as I walked and did one of my usual searches. She was easy to find. Gina was a composer for the Allegheny Theater Company. She’d won awards for her work and had a stellar reputation.

  She had no arrests, no history of violence, no history of mental illness. What had happened? What could make the police believe that such an unlikely person had done such a heinous thing?

  I stuck my phone back in my pocket when I stepped into another waiting area. A suited man motioned me toward a door. He didn’t bother to introduce himself. All he did was open the door and allow me into what looked like an interview room.

  I narrowed my eyes as I stepped in. The room was very standard with a table surrounded by old, vinyl chairs, and a mirror along one wall.

  Gina sat in a chair on one side of the table while another man in a cheap suit sat across from her. I felt my skin crawl at the idea of being in that room but there was no choice. I had to figure out what was going on and help Gina in any way possible.

  Gina looked up at me and the vacancy in her eyes hit me like a ton of bricks. “I thought it was a dream. I watched myself bludgeon Tanya with the blunt side of an ax, then lift her up and lower her onto the spike I’d buried in the ground. I saw myself do it. I killed Tanya.” Her voice was drab, as lifeless as though she too had been impaled.

  It just didn’t feel right to me. None of it. There was something wrong with the story. The fact she had come to Erkens’ office first was odd but a sign that she had known something was wrong, something supernatural.

  I stepped closer but the cop next to me raised his arm and shook his head to keep me back. I kind of wanted to push my luck and walk over anyway. Fortunately, I managed to talk myself out of that idea.

  “Gina, you told me Tanya was your world. You came to me, asked me to help you figure out what happened. I do not believe that you would do that if you had murdered Tanya. I believe you’re innocent.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes and began to cascade down her cheeks. “If I was innocent, I wouldn’t remember doing it,” she said faintly, no emotion on her face at all.

  I looked at the two cops and shook my head. “I understand that a confession makes this an easy case for you but I’m asking you, please, give me a few days to try and figure out what really happened. There is a waiting period, isn’t there?” I questioned, praying that the information I’d gotten from TV shows was accurate.

  The cop who sat across from Gina stood up, his eyes flashing with fury. “No. There will be no waiting. Miss Vaso has confessed. She will be booked and processed and no con artist claiming to be an investigator will stand in the way of justice.
”

  I lifted my chin. “You’re right. A con artist investigator won’t. I will. I will stop you from committing an injustice,” I declared and turned to leave. “Gina, I’m taking your case,” I stated and walked out of the interview room.

  FOUR

  My whole body was shaking by the time I got out to my car. I had to figure out what had happened. It didn’t matter that the police believed I was a fraud. What mattered was to prove that Gina was innocent.

  “Hey,” someone called from behind me.

  I glanced back to find a woman in her early to mid-twenties marching toward me. Something about her struck me. She had dark hair, freckles, and fair skin, her clothes casual but expensive. Something about her made me feel like I’d met her before.

  Maybe I’d just seen her somewhere. I had no idea and things like that drove me crazy.

  She stopped when she stood directly in front of me and gave me a sharp look. “You were with Gina Vaso?”

  And it all made sense in one annoying blow. She must be a reporter. I didn’t know who she worked for but since I considered Gina my client, there was nothing to say to a reporter.

  I turned to get into my car without speaking, my shakiness from the encounter with the cops still in place.

  She didn’t move closer to me but raised her voice so I could hear. “There will be twelve more deaths if we can’t find a way to stop it. If you want to walk away, that’s fine but I could use the help in figuring out what happened.”

  I turned back to face the woman, my mind sorting through what she’d said. That was when it hit me. She was right. Tanya had been left on the first bend in the road. If the legend was in play, twelve other deaths would occur.

  “How do you know this?” I asked in a weak voice, doing my best not to bombard her with the rest of the questions I needed answers to.

  She pursed her lips and huffed out a breath. “I know in the same way you do. I’ve lived through things similar to this,” she stated evasively, motioning across the street toward a coffee shop. “Can we talk?” she asked in a wary tone, her eyes narrowed in question.

  I glanced at the coffee shop as well, turning back to look at her before I answered. “Who are you?” I asked, baffled by the level of comfort I felt around her.

  “I’m Quinn Turner.”

  I smirked a little. “I’m Madison Meyer. Mind telling me more? Your name doesn’t tell me if I can trust you or not.”

  She considered for a few seconds, then sighed. “You can trust me. Not very many people do, though. I tend to piss people off pretty fast.”

  I let out a laugh. “That makes me like you. I’m the same way.” And I did trust her despite all the reasons in my life not to trust anyone. I motioned toward the coffee shop. “Are you an investigator?” I asked as we walked, curious about how much she’d be willing to share with a person she just met.

  Quinn shook her head. “Nope. I’m a computer programmer and Manga geek. You?”

  I stopped and stared at her. “You’re a programmer?”

  “AND Manga geek.”

  “Have we met?”

  “Nope,” she said glibly, popping her lips on the p.

  “Are you sure?” I pressed, certain there was something very familiar about her.

  Quinn started walking toward the coffee shop again. “Madison, I know who you are. I have read the very dramatic articles put out by the Driscoll kid but I knew who you were before. I made it my business a few years ago to find out as much about you as I possibly could.”

  “Why?” I squeaked, my heart starting to jackhammer in my chest.

  She kept walking but flicked her eyes toward me. “I was given up for adoption when I was born. When I turned eighteen, I started looking for my biological family. I found my mother. Cici Meyer told me she wanted nothing to do with me and that I was not to contact you.”

  I stumbled, my eyes so wide they burned. “Wh-what? You’re . . . my sister?” My voice cracked and my heart pounded even harder.

  Quinn shrugged. “Biologically, yes. Right now, what we are is two people working the same case.”

  A heaviness filled my stomach. My skin tingled. Could it be true? Could Quinn really be my sister?

  The familiarity of her face hit me again. It was because I looked so much like her. I saw that same face in the mirror. Every feature. My mom had always been harsh. Why would she be so cruel as to tell a daughter she gave up for adoption never to contact her again? Why had she kept me and not Quinn?

  That thought brought me up short. Mom had never wanted to be a mother. I didn’t know why she hadn’t given me up for adoption as well but Quinn had been the lucky one.

  She took my arm, guiding me through the door of the coffee shop and down into a chair. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if she’d guided me to a seat in the fiery inferno. I certainly didn’t notice the scent of coffee and pastries or the quaint little shop around me.

  I was busy having a mental meltdown. I had a sister? What was I supposed to do with that?

  I stared at her as she ordered us coffees, then took out my phone. I had to know for sure. I would not be conned by anyone for any reason. Never again.

  I sent Ian a quick text to let him know my change of location before I got into my mom’s medical records. I scanned through the information without the slightest qualm. Everything looked normal. Normal. Normal. Then, paydirt.

  Twenty-four years before, a pregnancy was listed in Mom’s records and the physician who’d delivered the baby noted that the baby had been adopted to the Turners. Quinn. She was six years older than me. I had an older sister.

  Quinn walked back and set a coffee down on the table in front of me. “Are you breathing?” she asked in a snarky way that made it easier to think.

  “A little,” I said, shaking my head as I looked at her. “What . . . how . . . did Mom tell you who your father is?” I blurted, my mind too muddled to come up with a cohesive question.

  Quinn tapped her fingers on the top of her cup. “Lawrence Hopkins,” she said, making the bottom fall out of my world again.

  “Dad,” I whispered, scrubbing my hands over my face. “They were on and off for so long. Mom would sometimes go years without seeing him, then they’d get back together for a little while. I just . . . does Dad . . . know?”

  “I doubt it. According to the way Cici acted when I asked about him, I’d guess he’s as in the dark as you were a few minutes ago.”

  I swallowed back the lump that rose in my throat and fidgeted with my phone. “I knew my whole life they had a seriously screwed up relationship but the idea they made two different babies makes me exceptionally uncomfortable. I always figured I was a mistake,” I prattled, my shaky hands fiddling with everything on the table around me.

  Quinn laid her hand over mine when I started rearranging the sugar packets. “I’m not trying to mess up your life. I wasn’t planning on telling you at all but as soon as we started talking, it was like I had to.”

  I felt very much wrong-footed, wishing my brain would function in its usual, analytical way. “Why are you here?” I asked quietly, my stomach one big ball of writhing, hatchet-wielding butterflies.

  She picked up her cup and toasted me with it. “The company I work for has a consultant who . . . let’s just say she sees things most people don’t see. She told me that death had come to the thirteen bends, so I did some research. I just happened to see you drive up at the same time I did, so after I’d checked out the scene, I checked to see what was going on with you.”

  I raised both my hands in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Okay, let’s table the personal thing for right now. Let’s talk about how you found anything out about me.” I didn’t mean to make it sound as combative as it came out. My brain was struggling to deal with that news.

  Finding at the age of eighteen that I had a sister was dumbfounding. The idea of there having been someone out there that I might have been able to lean on during the tough times or even to help her during her own tough times
, it was a staggering thought. Mom was the advanced malware of my existence.

  A single tear spilled its way down my cheek as I realized why Quinn had looked so wary of me when she’d first walked up to me. She thought I would be just like Mom. She thought I would reject her in the same way Mom had.

  The door opened, allowing in the cool spring air and also my favorite person in the world. Tall. Hot. Dark blond hair. Bold blue eyes. The moment I saw Ian, the tears intensified. It was like the dam had broken, releasing the floodgates of pain over years of Mom’s hatefulness.

  Ian rushed over and wrapped his arms around me, making shushing noises into my hair as he tried to get me to tell him what was wrong. It was a wholly embarrassing thing to have lost it like that in public but I wasn’t a girl who’d ever cared what people thought of me.

  After a minute, I pulled back, taking the napkin Quinn offered to me. “Ian Gregory . . . this is my sister, Quinn Turner,” I croaked, my throat tight from so much emotion.

  His head reared back, his mouth opening a little. “Sister?” he asked, clearly as dumbfounded as I was.

  She nodded. “It’s the word of the day,” she said, though there was understanding on her face as she nudged my coffee cup closer to me. “You should drink that, Madison. There’s honey in it. I think you might need the sugar.”

  I picked up the cup and glugged it down, crumpling the napkin in my hand. “I guess I can’t push that personal stuff aside after all.”

  She smiled. “I would have worried about you if you could. I’ve had years of therapy, learning how to deal with my own emotional state. If I bottled things up, I’d be a little unpleasant or more unpleasant than usual.”

  Ian looked from me to Quinn, then back before he shook his head. “Uh . . . Mads, this is a little creepy. You two look even more alike than Emma and I did,” he stated, moving to sit in the chair next to mine. “I saw you,” he said to Quinn, his blue eyes wide with wonderment.

  Quinn smiled. “Yes, you did. And I saw you too,” she agreed, glancing at me with a shrug. “Like I said, I kept an eye on you. When I heard you went missing last fall, I might have kind of gone off the deep end trying to find you. I ran into your boy here on the day you found your way home. I was in the crowd outside the brewery.”