OBSESSION'S PRICE

by Darlene Palenik

Her front porch offered little relief from the stifling summer heat and humidity. Not even the thunderstorm late last night had cooled the air. Mandy Barstow unlocked the door and stepped into her hot living room. She dropped her luggage and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. "Another neighborhood blackout," she muttered. She’d been gone three days. How long had the power been off this time?

As she closed the door, she became aware of a stomach-turning odor permeating her apartment. It was not coming from her kitchen. She moved cautiously down the hallway and peered into her bedroom. The smell was stronger, but nothing had been disturbed there. The bathroom yielded the same results.

The last time she’d smelled anything that bad was when she had found a dead rat behind her refrigerator. She hated rats.

The foul odor was strongest in the den and almost smothered her. She fought the sudden urge to retch.

Ever since childhood, Mandy had slept in a bunk bed attached to the wall. When she wasn’t using it, she could raise it and have space. She recreated this in her den and stored blankets and off-season clothes in it when it was raised. The foul odor seemed to be coming from behind it. Maybe a rat had crawled in there and died. Her stomach revolted at the thought.

Her legs shook as she walked toward the bunk bed and dropped it open. A blanket-wrapped body rolled out. Mandy screamed and leaped back. She shrank away, trying to get as far from it as she could.

The body landed face down, the edges of the blanket separating. Mandy stood mesmerized by the auburn hair curling up from the nape of the neck of the body. A feeling that she knew this person drew her closer, but she retreated as the stench overwhelmed her. Then she saw the two-inch scar that she’d made with a letter opener while defending herself. Mandy grabbed a broom and rolled the body face up.

"No!" She fell backwards until her shoulders touched the opposite wall. She huddled against the paneling. Her mind shut down as she recognized without a doubt the man’s identity. Jared Snow. The renowned journalist who had stolen her work and ruined her life. The man who had called her his girlfriend in public, but behind closed office and apartment doors….

His last words returned to her mind. "You can’t escape me, Mandy. I’ll find you, no matter how far you run."

Mandy knew she needed to find her cell phone and call the police. But she couldn’t move. Hate mingled with relief as she realized she would never again have to endure the abuse he'd disguised as love. Forgetting for a moment the questions her discovery would ignite, she shivered and whispered, "You finally got what you deserved, Jared Snow."

************

The closed door of the office she shared with Jared insulated Mandy from the familiar hubbub of the Features Department. Before leaving for the airport four days ago, she had been Jared Snow’s protégé. Now everyone suspected her of killing him. She had found the reason why on her desk this morning.

As she read the clipping, she could almost hear Jared’s mocking tones as he told the reporter, "Mandy Barstow has no talent. Her accusations that I stole her bylines are ludicrous. I had to rewrite everything she submitted to me because her work was substandard. Instead of suing me, she should be grateful that I chose to teach her what I know. She snapped her photographs with magazine equipment and delivered them to the company lab for processing. Had she processed them herself and copyrighted them, she might have a legal claim. This lawsuit will make her the industry’s laughingstock. Especially with her ridiculous claim that I stole her pictures because of our personal relationship. How dare she think I could love a woman who’s as frigid as the Antarctic? I need a real woman in my bed."

The article had appeared in the paper the day she had left. A torrent of emotions raged through her at his final comments. "Mandy belongs to me. I control her future. Without me, she is no one." Mandy crumpled the newspaper clipping.

She was a woman with hopes and dreams that Jared stole from her. The whole staff had heard their argument in this office when Jared confronted her after he’d been served with the papers accusing him of plagiarism and heard her vow to ruin his career. Everyone knew Jared’s reputation. The entire staff knew he routinely stayed late into the night with his assistants, claiming he did his best work with no distractions.

When he first accepted her as his protégé, Mandy agreed to follow his schedule and his instructions. She soon discovered what Jared’s "best work" meant. She grew to hate his orders and his innuendoes, and finally, refusing his demands, tried to quit. He threatened to blackball her within the industry and watched with self-satisfaction as she shredded her resignation letter. From that night on she lost the strength to fight him and did anything he demanded in order to survive, learning to hate herself more than she hated him. Then he gave that scathing interview.

No wonder Detective Davenport suspected her.

Her intercom buzzed. Sally Clark, the department secretary, said coldly, "The police are here to see you."

She wasn’t ready for another confrontation with Homicide Detective Kirk Davenport. "Give me a few minutes, then send him in."

"I thought I answered all your questions at the station," Mandy said as Davenport and another man entered. She didn’t rise, preferring to keep the desk between them.

"This is my partner, Tom Warren." Davenport approached her desk while Warren stayed near the door. "I’m not sure you were completely honest with me about your relationship with Jared Snow."

Her heart raced. "I told you everything I know."

"You told me you were in Rochester, NY. You never mentioned the article or the lawsuit." Davenport pulled a folder from his case. "A few hours after your argument with Jared on May 5, you sent an e-mail to your aunt, Kathy Patterson, from your office computer. You had just purchased a ticket from an airline that would let you change your flight times without penalty."

He was trying to make her look guilty. "They had the cheapest fare."

"Why was Jared so determined to speak to you? His cell phone records show that he made numerous brief calls to your number on the evening of May 5."

"He reached my answering machine."

"Jared placed his last call to you at 9:45 a.m. on May 6. It lasted 3 minutes. Then he told Miss Clark he was heading to your apartment. He never returned to the office." His gaze pinned Mandy to her chair. "Would you care to elaborate?"

A cold, intense fear settled over Mandy as she tried to explain. "Jared wanted to see me. I refused and hung up. That’s the last time I spoke to him. Jared never said he was coming to my apartment. I never saw him."

"Your neighbor says Jared entered your apartment at 10:45 a.m."

"I wasn’t there!" Now she wished her nosy neighbor had seen her leave.

"The autopsy report revealed that Jared was killed by a gunshot wound to the chest around 11 a.m. Ballistics has confirmed that your gun was the murder weapon."

"My gun was—" Mandy tensed. Had she remembered to put her gun in her safe before she’d left? She’d been so upset by Jared’s call. Could she have forgotten to secure it? If she’d left it in the drawer, any intruder could have found it. And used it to kill Jared.

Davenport closed the folder. "Where were you between 10:30 and noon on May 6?"

"I was in the overhead train to downtown." She wondered if he would believe the truth. She’d been sweltering with a car full of strangers. "The train broke down for five hours. I missed my airport connection and my flight. I rebooked on another flight, but that was canceled. I got on the first plane going anywhere."

"You were desperate to leave town, weren’t you?"

If she looked at him, Davenport would know she was lying. She knew Jared was on his way to confront her anew and he was angry. She fled the moment she hung up the phone. She couldn’t tell Davenport what Jared had vowed to do to her when he got to her apartment. It was too degrading, and it would give Davenport the motive that was eluding him. "It’s not what you think," she finally said.

Davenport’s smug smile chilled Mandy. "Then correct me."

He was going to accuse her of killing Jared! She looked for a hint of compassion or understanding from Davenport. When he put the folder back into his case, her hopes shattered. "I didn’t kill Jared," she whispered, knowing he wouldn’t believe her.

Davenport motioned to his partner. Mandy shrank deeper into her chair as Warren pulled out a pair of handcuffs and came forward. "Mandy Barstow, you are under arrest for the murder of Jared Snow. You have the right to remain silent…."

************

Mandy stared out the window of her living room, recalling in vivid detail the horror of the last 24 hours. She would never forget being taken to the station and interrogated. She had been able to disassociate herself from the indignities of being searched, fingerprinted and photographed, but the clank of the cell door as it was closed and locked behind her was more than Mandy could bear. The next morning she was brought before the judge and arraigned. Her uncle had posted her bail. When she got home, she found a letter of termination from her boss.

The doorbell rang. Expecting to find another reporter, Mandy kept the chain lock fastened and opened the door a crack. "Sally?"

"The police took most of your personal items and Jared’s from the office. These were left." She held out the box to Mandy. "I’m glad Jared’s dead. He was a cruel bastard. He used me just like he used you."

Mandy wondered if she’d heard correctly. Had Sally Clark been Jared’s lover? Was Sally the woman who had given Jared the pleasure he craved and the fulfillment Mandy, herself, had never been able to give him? She opened the door. "Please stay and have lunch with me. Tell me about Jared."

************

"Jared invited me to dinner at a restaurant. We had fun and talked until nearly midnight." Sally sipped her water, then continued. "I never should have told Jared my husband was out of town. Jared seduced me and promised to make me happy. I was a fool to go to his hotel suite. That night changed my life. Every time I saw him at work, I remembered the passion we shared. I couldn’t stay away from him. Jared wanted me as badly as I did. But after a few months, he changed; he became abusive and cruel. Even though I hated him, I needed him. He was my life. When he threw me out, I begged him to take me back or I’d tell my brother how he used me. Jared wasn’t afraid of anyone. He was insane. I knew I would never be safe from him. Not as long as he was alive."

Sally’s story disturbed Mandy. She hadn’t seen the subtle ways Jared was using her. He had vowed to never let her go, and Jared Snow always kept his promises. Even though he was dead, she still couldn’t escape his control.

After Sally left, Mandy examined Jared’s belongings. Though she didn’t want them, the remnants of Jared’s life belonged to her by default. Sally had said that only a few of the magazine staff had attended Jared’s funeral. No family or friends had come. She realized now that Jared insisted on knowing everything about her and her family, yet he never reciprocated. She managed to keep him from learning about her childhood; she pretended her life began in New York City instead of with her aunt and uncle on their upstate New York farm. She was embarrassed to let him know she’d grown up poor. Now she wondered about his personal life. Did he have any family? Did anyone care about him?

A company envelope lay on the bottom of the box; her name was written on it in Jared’s bold scrawl. Her hands trembled as she opened it.

Inside she found a journal.

************

Callie was beautiful. The wallet-sized picture highlighted her aristocratic face, long blonde hair, expressive blue eyes, and easy smile. Callie could have been her twin. Jared had loved Callie in his fantasies because she would never let him touch her. When she married another man, Jared went crazy. He couldn’t accept that another man had gotten what he couldn’t. He became a womanizer, controlling the life of every woman who entered his sphere of influence. Jared met Sally. Then he met her. But he had kept Callie’s picture. At one point, he had crossed out Callie’s name on the back and written "Mandy". Underneath he’d added, "my fiancee".

Mandy crumpled the photo in her fist and hurled it at the wall, then she buried her face in her hands and shut her eyes against unbidden tears. Jared had transferred his obsession with Callie to her. She had to hide this information. If Davenport got hold of this, he would have the proof he needed to convict her. Anyone reading this journal would believe she killed Jared to free herself from his fixation with her.

Her first impulse was to burn the journal, and any other papers in her desk inside the den that might hint at her personal relationship with Jared. She had to go into the den.

The yellow crime scene tape haunted Mandy’s nightmares. She took it down and stepped into the room for the first time since she’d found Jared. White tape marking the position of Jared’s body was still on the floor. Traces of black powder were on the desk, the windowsill, the bunk, the walls—everywhere. And the bottom drawer of her desk was open.

She froze. That drawer contained her correspondence with her attorneys, the notes on her meetings with them, and all the documentation for her lawsuit. It should not have been opened. She looked through all the folders and checked the filing cabinets as well. Everything was gone.

"What are you doing here, Miss Barstow?"

Davenport. She whirled to face him. "I live here, Detective. This room is part of my home." The journal dropped from her hand and clattered against the wooden floor. "Why are you here?"

Davenport’s anger faded for an instant; then his expression hardened as he hauled her up. "I could arrest you for violating a crime scene." He looked at the journal. "What’s this?"

Mandy tore her arm from Davenport’s grip and tried to snatch the journal from the floor. She watched in anguish as Davenport reached it first and began thumbing through it. His triumphant expression made her shiver. Her last hope died.

************

Second shift in Homicide was usually a madhouse. Today everyone was out working cases. Detective Davenport was not happy about being called in on his day off; he was even less happy that his partner was following a new lead on the Snow case and wasn’t expected to return for at least another hour. Davenport had plans for today and they didn’t include getting called out on a case. His only good news today had been a call from the D.A. The journal he had confiscated from Mandy had strengthened his case. Once he had the trace evidence report, the D.A. could take the case to the grand jury for indictment.

The new lead worried him. But what troubled him more was that Tom hadn’t left him any notes about the call, and wasn’t answering his cell phone or pager.

"Detective Davenport?"

He looked up as a young man approached and offered him a folder from the top of the heavy stack he carried.

"These are the results you wanted on the trace evidence from the Jared Snow case. I know you put a rush on it, but there were some inconsistencies. We ran the tests several times to be sure."

He took the report and opened it. "What kind of inconsistencies?"

"The results weren’t what we expected to find."

Davenport scanned the contents of the folder, a somber look on his face. When the phone rang, he glumly tossed the folder to one side and, picking up the receiver, listened briefly. "I’m on my way." He stood up and headed for the door before remembering the technician. "I may have more questions for you after I read this. Leave your card on my desk."

Davenport was out of the office before the technician could acknowledge his request. The young man put down the stack of folders on the desk to pull out his card from his shirt pocket. He placed it on the desk, then picked up his bundle of folders – it had been a hellish morning with everyone in a hurry for reports on scores of cases. He didn’t notice as he headed out the door that in lifting his stack of folders he had accidentally knocked the report on Jared Snow’s murder to the floor.

Half an hour later, Tom Warren walked into the office. His grim expression scared the volunteer filing the never-ending backlog of paperwork. "Leave the filing, Alice. Go to the lab and wait for the test results they are running now. Bring them directly to me."

As he approached Davenport’s desk, he spotted the folder on the floor. Tom picked it up and realized this was the trace evidence analysis they’d been waiting for. He noticed the technician’s card on top of Davenport’s desk and placed it inside the folder. He could now compile the results and have them ready for Davenport’s review and approval tomorrow.

As he read the file, Tom’s frown intensified. He never liked puzzles, and this report was not giving him the answers he’d expected. He pulled the technician’s card out and phoned him. After he hung up, he made another call.

************

The door locked behind Mandy, trapping her in unnerving blackness. "Are you here, Detective Davenport?" Her tremulous voice echoed through the silent warehouse. An hour ago, a Homicide Department clerk had called and asked her to meet Davenport and a crime scene technician here. She had no further information and was simply relaying the message from the detective. Hoping Davenport had found something that might clear her, Mandy rushed over. But when she arrived, she found no vehicles outside and no apparent activity. She turned back toward the door. "I must have the wrong address—"

"You’re in the right place." Davenport’s voice came from somewhere in the darkness.

Mandy moved further into the warehouse, attempting to accustom her eyes to the darkness and see the detective. Instead, the walls of the building seemed to close in around her. "Why did you ask me to come here?" She hated the way her voice sounded weak when she needed to be strong.

"I seem to have run into a problem," Davenport said. "The lab results didn’t give me the results I expected."

"That bothers you?" she asked, perplexed.

"I don’t like loose ends."

She wished she could see Davenport’s face. Instead of his usual arrogance, he sounded frightened. Why would he consider her a loose end? She was innocent. The possibility that he might have tried to frame her for Jared’s murder crossed her mind, but she dismissed it. He would never risk his career that way. Or would he? "The lab results proved that I didn’t kill Jared?" She backed toward where the door should have been, but her outstretched hands touched bare concrete. In the darkness she had lost her sense of direction. Where was the door?

"I can write a report any way I choose. Files disappear. That’s an unfortunate, but frequent, occurrence in an overworked and undermanned department."

She froze. Indignation grew as the clear implications of his words confirmed her suspicion and penetrated the terror holding her prisoner. Angry words poured out before she could stop them. "You know I didn’t kill Jared, but you were determined to convict me. You never even looked for another suspect. There were others who hated Jared Snow more than I did; others he hurt far worse than me, who might want to kill him. But you didn’t care about that."

"Sally Clark did not kill Jared Snow."

He knew about Sally. The realization reverberated through her mind as she slunk further back against the wall. Turn on a light, she wanted to beg. Can’t you tell how terrified I am of the darkness? Her instincts warned her to move, but which way should she go? Where was he? She reached out, felt only air and started running forward.

Davenport’s hand grabbed her arm and dragged her back. "You can’t leave now."

Cold metal pressed against her temple. A gun. Uncontrollable tremors wracked her body. "You killed Jared."

Davenport laughed, a mocking laugh that chilled her. "Don’t sound so shocked. When my sister told me she’d talked to you, I knew a jury wouldn’t convict you. I had to kill you."

He was the brother Sally adored and had spoken of so dearly? The brother Sally trusted with her life and who knew every intimate detail of her ordeal with Jared Snow?

"Sally told you that Jared was coming to my apartment," Mandy said.

"She knew I was determined to make Jared suffer for ruining her life. I didn’t intend to kill him. I planned a more fitting revenge for him. A revenge you would appreciate. Jared played on Sally’s need for a man to find her desirable. He was hungry for a woman who would fulfill all his fantasies. He captivated her with his charm and fake promises. Sally actually believed the bastard loved her. Jared ripped out her heart. He used her in the cruelest ways, then tossed her aside when she stopped satisfying him. He shattered her self-esteem so completely that she tried to kill herself."

Mandy remembered when Sally had taken a medical leave of absence several months ago. Sally had returned a few weeks before the newspaper article with Jared’s demeaning comments came out. "I thought he broke up with Sally when he started working with me."

"She couldn’t let him go. She was obsessed with him. She begged him to take her back and the bastard did. She gave him her body when you wouldn’t. No matter how cruelly he abused her, she always came back to him. I watched him turn my sweet, gentle sister into a withdrawn shell. She began to live only for the moments she spent with Jared.

"One night, Sally called me," he went on coldly. "She said she couldn’t live without Jared. By the time I got there, she had taken a bottle of sleeping pills and was nearly dead. I’ve never forgotten the sight of her battered body. I vowed that I would make Jared pay for his cruelty."

Mandy shuddered. She remembered how Jared had seduced her. How she’d fallen for his charms… how close he’d come to destroying her, too.

Davenport pulled her against him and tightened his grip. "You know how that feels, don’t you? You know how Jared treats his lovers—"

"Shut up!" Tears of impotent rage streamed down her face. "You’re worse than Jared Snow ever was." She struggled vainly against his grasp. "When Sally told you Jared was coming to my apartment, you saw the perfect opportunity to kill him and frame me."

"I planned to make it look like you killed Jared then killed yourself. No one would ever know I was in your apartment. You complicated my plans when you left before I arrived."

Mandy jabbed him in the ribs, loosening his viselike grip. But before she could pull free, Davenport retightened his hold. "I’m going to kill you, Mandy. Stop fighting and I’ll make your death easier."

"Never." She had to stall for time. If she could keep Davenport talking, she might have a chance. "You were waiting for him in my apartment."

"Of course. I left the door unlocked and he came right in. The bastard never suspected you’d already left. When he realized you were gone, he headed for the den. He had just found your lawsuit files in the bottom desk drawer when I surprised him. He pulled your gun from the back of the drawer and fired at me before I realized what he was doing."

Jared had momentarily gotten the best of Davenport? Perverse satisfaction flashed through her, but she banished the feeling. She couldn’t risk even a momentary distraction.

"But his aim was as worthless as his character. He missed. He fought with a madman’s strength. The gun went off and Jared was hit. I knew instantly that his wound was fatal. I couldn’t remove his body without being seen, so I wrapped it in several blankets and hid it. Then I called a crime-scene cleaner and had her go over the den until it was spotless. After she left, I put the body in the bunk."

Mandy shivered. Davenport spoke as if killing Jared was part of his job. He didn’t care that he’d ended a man’s life. He would care even less about ending her life. But she had to keep fighting him as long as she could.

"I intended to dispose of Jared’s body, but your nosy neighbor never slept. I figured someone would file a missing person's report on Jared eventually; of course, he would never be found. No one would have suspected the truth. And Jared Snow would never hurt another woman the way he hurt Sally." Davenport shifted his grip and pinned her arms behind her. "I can’t let you live. You won’t be willing to go to jail to keep my secret."

"Neither will Sally," Mandy said, her quivering voice betraying her terror. She fought with all her strength as he dragged her deeper into the blackness, then shoved her face down against the floor and cuffed her.

Turning her on her back, he put his face close to hers. "Sally will do anything I tell her to do. I gave Sally back her life when I killed Jared. Once you are dead, no one will ever know that I killed him. In another five years, I’ll retire and collect my pension." He leaned back and pressed the gun against her temple.

"You won’t be able to collect on death row."

"Defiant to the end, aren’t you, Mandy?"

She heard the gun cock and felt the tension coiling in Davenport’s body. Then the only sound she heard was the frantic beating of her heart.

"Put down the gun, Kirk. It’s over."

Mandy scrunched her eyelids against the sudden brilliance as the lights came on. She heard Tom Warren shouting orders, then she felt Davenport being dragged from her. The gun clattered to the floor. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Warren and half a dozen uniformed officers surrounded Davenport.

"I’m not guilty of anything," Davenport said. He glared at Tom.

"I read the trace evidence file last night," Tom said. "You have a rare blood type and it was on Jared’s clothes and under his fingernails from where he scratched you. And I'm betting the swatch of fibers the technicians found snagged on the edges of the bunk match those of the jacket you wore to work three days before Jared’s body was found. Of course, it helps to have just heard your confession."

Davenport struggled against the arms holding him prisoner. "I'll deny it. It’ll never stick."

Warren reached into Davenport’s pocket and removed the handcuff keys, then he took Davenport’s badge. He signaled to one of the uniformed men. "Book him for the murder of Jared Snow."

As Davenport was led away, Tom knelt beside Mandy and removed the handcuffs, then he helped her stand. "I’ll be dropping all the charges against you." His eyes were troubled as he looked at her. "You’ll have to testify against him. Kirk Davenport has a lot of friends who won’t want to see him convicted. I can arrange for you to be under protective custody until the trial. Can you handle that?"

Mandy nodded. "And after this is over, I’m going home to the small town where I grew up. I can continue my career from there and I’d like to sleep on my old bunk bed." With her skills and credentials, she could live on the farm and free-lance, and begin her life again. Suddenly her future looked brighter than ever before.

THE END

Copyright 2001
by Darlene A. Palenik

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