Wrong Number (2 page)

At ten o’clock, she called Devin again but still couldn’t reach him. She pushed the papers into a pile on her desk and gazed out the window. When someone knocked on her office door, she jumped.

The secretary, Carla, poked her head in and whispered, “There’s a police officer outside, and he says he needs to talk to you.”

Aubree’s pulse accelerated. “Did he say what it was about?”

“No. Are you okay?”

“I think so.” Aubree tried to remember to breathe. She got up slowly and walked out of her office. A husky policeman with graying hair stood with a frown at the front desk.

“I’m Aubree Stewart.” She tried to ignore the click and grind of the fax machine as it ran out of paper. She noticed the lines and wrinkles on the officer’s face and guessed that he was in his late fifties.

“Mrs. Stewart, I’m Officer Haskins.” He offered his hand, and Aubree shook it. Her palms felt like she’d just taken off a pair of winter gloves, or maybe his were just unusually cold.

“I wonder if you could come down to the precinct with me to answer a few questions.”

“Why?” Aubree felt the blood draining from her face. She noticed bits of sunlight reflecting from his gold-toned watch from the skylight above.

The officer lowered his voice. “It’s about the phone call you received this morning.”

“Did they find a body?” Aubree said. Carla gasped.

“I’d rather not say too much until we reach the station. Can you come with me?”

Aubree’s heart pounded in her ears. She put a hand to her temple and glanced at the couch in the waiting area, wondering if she could make it there before she fainted. The officer moved toward her in alarm, staring at her protruding stomach.

“You’d better lie down for a minute and take some deep breaths. It’s dangerous for the baby if you pass out.” He helped her to the couch, and Carla brought her a bottle of water.

“Do you want me to call your husband?” she asked.

Aubree nodded and took a sip of the water. Her neck felt hot and clammy. She took a few deep breaths. “Carla, can you get my purse from my office? I’m going to go with this officer. Cancel my appointments for the day.”

The officer knelt beside the couch. “I’m sorry to have frightened you that way.” He cleared his throat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes. I have a weak stomach and, well . . .” Aubree patted her belly and tried not to look as miserable as she felt. Her mind kept clicking through scenarios that would explain why the police officer had come to her office. What if they had found a body, and now they thought she had something to do with it?

Carla handed Aubree her purse and a damp paper towel for her forehead. “I can’t reach your husband, but I’ll keep trying.”

“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Do you need to call your doctor?” Carla helped Aubree to her feet.

“No, no, I’ll be fine.” She concentrated on breathing as the officer helped her to his patrol car, and she wondered where Devin could be. It was usually easy to reach him at work. Aubree thought of the computer programs her husband helped write and repair, and she smiled. Maybe he was listening to some ’80s band on his iPod—working “without interruption.” Aubree shook her head and hurried to follow the police officer.

Officer Haskins walked a couple paces in front of her, and she noticed he limped slightly, favoring his right leg. He told Aubree they needed a brief statement from her and tried to reassure her. As she leaned back into the seat, she wondered what kind of trouble she faced.

The drive to the police station only took about fifteen minutes, and Aubree tried to think of something to calm her nerves. It was hard to concentrate on anything besides the police radio, which periodically barked reports amid static. She could hear a lot of commotion going on as they neared the station, and the phrase, “10-85 echo, echo confirmed,” was repeated several times. She didn’t understand the code, but Officer Haskins kept leaning forward to listen, the fibers of his neck stretching with tension. She wondered if the police chatter had something to do with the call she’d reported earlier.

When the patrol car came to a stop, Aubree undid her seat belt with shaking hands. Officer Haskins helped her out of the car. She followed
him inside the precinct and blinked as her eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight outdoors to the fluorescent lights of the waiting area.

“Come this way,” Officer Haskins said.

Aubree took a few steps to follow him but stopped abruptly and gasped as she felt a brief pain shoot across her abdomen. She winced and held her stomach.

“Are you okay?” Haskins asked.

Biting her lip, she nodded.

“We’re just going to the end of this hall, and then you can sit down.”

“I think I’d better use the restroom first.” She pointed at the sign for the women’s bathroom, and he nodded. Aubree hurried inside and locked the stall. As she dialed Devin’s work number on the cell phone and listened to it ring, her lip trembled—he still wasn’t answering. She’d never been inside a police station before, and she wished Devin could be there. Pausing in front of the bathroom door, she waited for the rising fear to subside.

She tried to reassure herself of her innocence and the validity of her story. She wasn’t guilty of anything and had nothing to hide, but Officer Haskins was treating her like a suspect. What if he didn’t believe she’d heard about a dead body because of a wrong number? The truth was all she had to rely on, and she couldn’t linger in the bathroom, so she decided to face her fears head on.

Opening the door, she smiled at Haskins and walked with him down the hall. A colorful boondoggle hung from his cell phone case, and Aubree surmised that under his crusty exterior, there was a grandpa on the verge of retirement.

Near the end of the hall, Haskins opened a beat-up metal door. Aubree shrank back before taking a step inside the interrogation room. It didn’t look exactly like the movies. The walls were painted light blue, and the furniture looked comfortable yet worn. When she saw another officer sitting at the end of a rickety table, she swallowed several times.

He stood and extended his hand. “I’m Detective Rawlings. I’d like to get some more details on the phone call you received today.”

“Do I need a lawyer?” Aubree asked.

T
WO

N
O
, I
DON
’
T THINK
that’ll be necessary.” Detective Rawlings motioned for her to sit.

Aubree’s nose twitched at the woodsy scent of cologne. Detective Rawlings was much younger than his partner, maybe thirty years old, with a goatee and spiked black hair. She stared at his designer wristwatch and pursed her lips.

“Could you at least tell me what’s going on?” She eased into a straight-backed chair.

Haskins sat across the table from her and folded his arms. “Well, why don’t you tell us what happened first?”

“Do you mind if we record this?” Detective Rawlings pressed a button on a video camera that was set up on a tripod and pointed it at Aubree.

“I guess not, but are you sure I don’t need a lawyer?”

Detective Rawlings looked at the camera and then at Aubree. “These are just some routine questions, but we like to have a record.” He sat in a chair upholstered with fake leather that squeaked as he pulled it closer to the table.

“Okay.” Aubree set her purse on the floor and crossed her ankles. She looked toward the door and then back at the two officers. “This morning, I was on my way to work, and my cell phone rang. I dropped it when I tried to answer. I picked it up and was about to say hello, but someone was already talking, and they said something about a body being hidden in a manhole on 32nd Street.” Aubree looked at Detective Rawlings to see his reaction.

He raised his eyebrows and said, “A body in a manhole. Did it sound like the person was joking around?”

“Well, no. That’s why it made me feel so uneasy. I think he had the wrong number.” Aubree folded her hands across her stomach to hide her nervousness.

“Did you tell him he had the wrong number?” Officer Haskins asked.

“I tried to, but he hung up before I could tell him.”

Detective Rawlings leaned forward. “Do you have your cell phone with you?”

“Yes. It’s actually my husband’s phone.” Aubree reached into her purse and grasped Devin’s smooth, black cell phone. Her picture was set as the screen saver. “My battery was dead this morning, so he let me take his.”

The detective reached for the phone, but Aubree didn’t offer it to him. Rawlings pointed at it. “Can you look up the number of this caller in your calls received section?”

“Sure.” Aubree punched some buttons until she found the call she was looking for. She pointed at the screen and handed it to Detective Rawlings. “Here it is. I don’t recognize the number.”

The detective looked at the number and showed Officer Haskins, who jotted it down in a file labeled with her name in bold caps. “Could this be someone your husband knows? One of his co-workers maybe?”

“I don’t think so, and I’m sorry, but I haven’t been able to reach Devin to see if he knows anything about it. He must be stuck in a meeting at work.” Aubree stared at her name on the file and put her hands on her trembling knees.

“Hmm.” Officer Haskins continued writing notes. “Why don’t you start at the beginning again and tell me everything this guy said.”

Aubree gripped the scuffed armrests on her chair. “He said a name. I think it was Tidmore.” With eyes closed, she tried to remember the rough voice. “Yes, he said, ‘Tidmore did the job, and the body is hidden in the manhole on 32nd Street.’ He said it would be months before they found it.” Aubree opened her eyes and tried not to stare at the officer’s notes. “I didn’t say anything because I was so shocked, and then he said something about, didn’t he deserve congratulations because he even kept the uniform.”

Haskins sat up in his chair so fast he bumped the table with his elbow. “Uniform? He said something about a uniform?”

Aubree gulped and tried to think if she remembered correctly. “Yes, he definitely said, ‘I even kept his uniform for you.’ And then he hung up.”

“Hang on a second.” Haskins gave a slight nod to Detective Rawlings and left the room.

Clasping her hands so tightly that her fingers began to tingle, Aubree asked, “May I please call my husband now?”

Detective Rawlings scrutinized her and then looked at the cell phone. “Is this the number of his office?”

Aubree noticed he had brought up the list of numbers she’d called that morning, including the most recent one from the restroom that said ‘My Office’ by it. Her cheeks grew warm with a blush, and she nodded.

“I’ll have Marnie call this number and let your husband know what’s going on.”

“Do I have to stay here?” Aubree asked.

“Technically you don’t, but it would help us if we could at least ask you a few more questions.” He tugged on his goatee and stood up. “I’ll see if we can reach your husband.” He handed her a notebook and a pen. “I think it might be a good idea for you to write down the conversation you heard today. Try to write it word for word, if you can.”

“Okay.” She watched him walk out the door and heard the handle click as it locked into place. She looked at the notebook then laid her head on the table and swallowed to clear the lump in her throat. A tear spilled down one cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled slowly. She didn’t want to cry.

The phone call she had received must have had some kind of valuable information in it. Aubree shuddered when she thought about a dead body being found in a manhole. It couldn’t be true, but then why was she sitting in this interrogation room? The police must have uncovered some evidence, and now she was a sort of freak witness to a crime that the crusty-voiced man had committed.

Aubree kept her eyes closed and tried to steer her thoughts away from everything around her. She put her hand on her belly and felt a tiny movement. Pushing on her stomach, she felt a soft kick in response and couldn’t help but smile. The tiny life inside her was safe and warm from the worries of the outside world.

She glanced at her watch. It was after eleven—where was Devin? He had been acting strange lately. Last night she’d snuggled closer to him in bed and noticed that his body felt tense.

“What’s bothering you?” she had asked.

“Nothing,” Devin replied.

“Nothing as in what?” She rubbed his back.

Devin flipped over and pulled her closer to him—as close as he could with her growing belly between them. “I’m just wondering how we’re going to make it when the rent goes up next month. I’m not sure we can afford to live on my income alone.”

Aubree sighed. “We can do it if we have faith. This little child is important, and I don’t want someone else raising him.”

“Oh, so it’s a ‘him’ now?”

“Maybe. He’s so active. I think it might be a boy.” She kissed Devin and put her hand on his cheek. “But don’t change the subject. We’ve been saving for a long time. Our savings will get us through if things get tight.”

Devin tensed again and then squeezed her even closer.

“You’re right. We’ll make do, and maybe I’ll get a raise soon.”