Mystery Woman

His schedule was confusing. She didn't even try to figure it out. Cory could feel herself blushing from the unintended flashing. "Where's Brea?" she asked, on her way to the coffee pot.

"Getting dressed, she'll be right out."

Cory took her cup and sat down. "I... I'm starting to remember a little more."

Morgan's eyes widened. "That's great."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure. I think something might have happened to my mother when I was small. I also remember somebody pulling me out of a car, but that seems like it's much more recent."

At that point, Brea walked in. "Honey, Cory is starting to remember things," he told her.

She glanced at her friend as she poured herself a cup of java. "Really?"

"Yeah, but so far everything I remember is pretty upsetting. They're just quick flashbacks. I can't even put them in any kind of context. At first, I thought I was dreaming last night. I was kind of in that state of limbo, you know, like just before you fall asleep. I could hear a woman scream. That's when I realized I was still awake. I'm pretty sure it was my mother. I think somebody was beating her up."

"Oh my God, Cory, that's horrible," Brea responded.

"Yeah, I sure hope my whole life isn't like that, one tragedy after another. I was warned about that, but I didn't really think about it, but now..."

Cory let her thoughts just kind of die in mid-sentence just as the doorbell rang. Morg and Brea looked at each other. It was barely eight-thirty on a Saturday morning, who the hell could be at their door. "I'll get it," Brea volunteered.

"Make sure you look through the peephole first. Don't open it if it's nobody we know." Morg was still being cautious, just in case. He and Cory heard Brea open the door and the murmur of voices. A few moments later she returned with a tall, lean gentleman behind her. Cory was sitting with her back to them.

"Lieutenant," Morg greeted him with a surprised voice.

He first looked at Morgan, then watched as Cory instinctively pulled her robe tighter. "Please, off duty I'm Jerrod. Lieutenant is saved for the squad room."

"Jerrod," Morgan corrected his salutation, "can we get you a cup of coffee?"

"If it's no trouble," he replied.

Morgan scooted his chair over to make room while Brea poured him a cup and set it down in front of him before taking a seat herself.

"So, Jerrod, what brings you out on a Saturday morning. Anything new in the case?" Morg asked.

"Not really, that's why I came over, to see if you've remembered anything more." He was facing Cory with a big smile.

Cory told him she was starting to remember bits and pieces but nothing that would help in the investigation. As they talked, Cory got the feeling that he was clumsily trying to flirt with her a little. She felt self-conscious, dressed only in her robe. With everything happening, she hadn't had an erotic or sexual thought since waking up in the hospital.

She was starting to notice the chiseled features of his face, the high cheekbones, squared chin. He wasn't male model material, but he wasn't bad looking in a rugged kind of way. Cory found herself subtly flirting back. She remembered what Janet had told her about him going through a bad divorce.

He only stayed half an hour, but in that time the real reason for the good lieutenant's visit became apparent to everyone, he wanted to see Cory again. Brea showed him out then returned to the kitchen.

"Well, it would appear that Cory has a big strong policeman sweet on her," Brea joked.

Cory blushed. "It wasn't just my imagination then? I thought he was coming on to me a little bit, but I wasn't really sure," she replied with a very slight smile. "He seems like a nice guy, but I can't even think of being in any kind of relationship until I find out who I am. Hell, I might even have a husband... kids, maybe," she said as an afterthought. "Besides, he just went through a bad divorce."

Both Brea and Morg were shocked at her last statement. "How do you know that?" Brea questioned.

"Janet, that female cop I stayed with; she was a fountain of information. I think I know more about what goes on in that station and who's sleeping with who than the lieutenant does," she joked.

"Damn," cursed Morg.

"What?" his wife asked.

"Well, I was thinking we should all go out and do something today. You ladies have been cooped up in the apartment for too long. I thought we could go down to the lake or maybe the zoo, or one of the museums, or something. I should have asked Jerrod if he'd like to go with us, but I didn't think of it. Now he's gone and I don't have his personal number."

"I do," volunteered Cory. She saw the looks she was getting. "Well, he gave it to me the other night when I went to the hotel. He said in case of an emergency I should call him."

"This sounds like an emergency to me," laughed Brea.

The call was made and Jerrod jumped at the chance. Navy Pier was their first stop. She wasn't quite sure just how he did it, but Jerrod talked Cory into going on the Ferris Wheel, with one stipulation, Morg and Brea had to go, too. Since it was his idea, Jerrod insisted on paying for all of them.

Once they were back on terra firma, they grabbed lunch while listening to the waves of Lake Michigan lapping against the pier. From there they walked the two miles along the lakefront to the Field Museum. The sun was going down by the time they returned to the apartment. All four were beat and knew they'd have no trouble getting to sleep that night. They all poured out of Morgan's car as soon as he turned the engine off.

"What a fun day," Cory said, with a big smile. "I can't remember when I've had a better time."

The others looked at her, not quite knowing what to say. It was Brea who got the joke first and laughed. Morg and Jerrod followed suit.

On the way home, everyone convinced Jerrod to stay for pizza. It was almost ten when he left. Cory walked him out to the parking lot. Once they were alone, Jerrod took the opportunity to say what he'd wanted to say all day.

"Cory, I... ah, I know this is a bad time for you, but, ah, well, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'd like to see more of you. I wonder if you'd go out to dinner with me sometime?"

He hadn't been very subtle with the signals he'd been sending all day, so it didn't come as any shock. She liked him, too, but there was one thing bothering her. "Jerrod, do you think you're ready to start dating so soon after your divorce?"

Now he was shocked. Hell, she knew more about his life than her own. His brain went into hyper-drive trying to figure out... then he realized, "Janet, the worst blabbermouth in the eighteenth squad," he said with a smile.

"Oh, I hope I didn't get her in trouble."

"No, not really. Everyone knows about Janet's flappy gums. To tell the truth, I wasnt sure myself until today. I really enjoyed your company, Cory. I'm ready."

She smiled. "In that case, I'd love to go to dinner with you sometime."

They, both had broad smiles across their face as they parted.

Later in the week, Cory told her therapist about the flashbacks.

"Do you know what may have triggered it?" the doctor asked. Cory was trying to remember, but the doctor already had a good idea. "Last time you were here, Cory, you told me about your friend cheating on her husband. Could that have been a factor?"

"You're right, I was talking with Brea earlier that day about it. I told her what you said about confessing."

Dr. Wahlburg was nodding her head. The catalyst for Cory's recall was becoming clear. "It's evident that you've had a lot of stress in your life, Cory. It's most likely the reason for your memory loss, and I'm afraid it's going be the stimulus for you regaining it."

Not really the words of encouragement Cory was looking for. Between knowing she'd been raped by 3 men, not knowing if someone was out there looking to kill her, and her friend's infidelity, more stress was the last thing she wanted. Still, if it helped her get her memory back, she would do whatever it took.

Toward the end of her session, Cory couldn't resist telling the doc about her tall policeman.

"Are you talking about Lieutenant Ashwood?"

"Yes, you know him?"

"Of course. He works with my brother in law, Jerry Wilson, remember? Jerry's the one who hounded me day and night until I agreed to take your case."

"That's right, I'm sorry, I never thanked him. I really should send him a nice thank you card."

"He's asked how you're doing a couple of times. It seems you're somewhat of a celebrity at the station house."

"Me?"

"Yeah, according to Jerry, anyway. It's nice to see Jerrod is getting out there already. I know the people he works with are all rooting for him to get out and start enjoying life again. He's a nice man with a head on his shoulders. Everyone knows it won't be long before he's made commander and given his own district."

"I, ah... there's no problem then, I mean... no reason why I shouldn't date him?"

"None that I can see," the doctor responded.

It had been a good session and Cory was grinning from ear to ear as she walked out into the waiting room. Brea joined her as they scheduled another appointment with the secretary for the following week. On the way home, they stopped off so Cory could buy a thank you card for. A little later, Brea was making dinner while Cory sat at the kitchen table, writing a nice thank you note to Jerry Wilson.

That was about the same time that mob boss, Vito Generssi was summoning his enforcer. "The feds found Johnny's body."

Tony's jaw about hit the floor. "No way, Jesus, we dug all night to make sure he was deep enough in the ground that nobody would ever find him."

"Yeah, well somebody did, and I've got more bad news for you. Remember the broad in the hospital? Well, word is she was found stumbling around not more than a mile from where you whacked him. I knew the timing was more than a coincidence, but you were so damn sure you nailed her; you never miss, isn't that what you told me? Still think you never miss," he angrily challenged.

"Okay, okay, like I said, she came out of nowhere. She caught me by surprise, but I'm telling you, boss, she was too far away to recognize anybody."

"So you keep telling me."

"Besides, isn't she the one who can't remember anything?"

"Yeah, well I'm not taking any chances. I want that broad eliminated. You think you can handle that?"

Tony hung his head. "Yes, of course."

"Good, she's staying with some newspaper reporter or photographer or something. Find her, and, Tony, don't screw up again."

The reprimanded hitman knew exactly what his boss was implying... if he screwed up this time, he'd be the next one pushing up daisies. "I'll take care of it, Vito."

If the tip about the newspaper was legit, Tony would find her in no time. The mob had eyes and ears all over the city, including the police department and the newspapers.

A couple of nights later, Brea was sitting on the couch watching a late-night talk show when Morgan came home from working the night shift. She knew immediately something was wrong. He didn't greet her with his usual kiss; in fact, he didn't greet her at all. Instead, without a word, he went directly into the kitchen and got himself a beer from the fridge.

Cory and Jerrod were just coming back from a date. They were in the parking lot, talking when Morgan pulled in. Jerrod was busy looking into Cory's eyes, but she was watching Morg.

"Something's wrong," Cory said.

"Why? What do you mean?"

She could tell Morgan was angry by the way he flung the car door open and got out. "I'm not sure," she replied, "but I hope it's not what I think I it is. I'd better get in there."

"You want me to go in with you?"

"No, no," she planted a quick kiss on Jerrod's lips, "I'll be fine," she said, and before he could get out and open her door, Cory was already striding quickly across the lot, towards the apartment. Not knowing what was going on, Jerrod wasn't about to leave until he was sure everything was all right. He turned the radio on and sat back to wait.

When Morg hadn't returned to the living room, Brea went looking for him. She found him sitting at the kitchen table with his beer. He looked like he was having trouble breathing. His eyes were glassy as if he'd been crying and she could feel the tension from across the room. Brea tentatively took the chair on the opposite side. "What's the matter, honey?"

Morg was slumped over to one side, staring at the beer he was twirling in fingers. "Remember Stan McCarthy? We went to his Fourth of July party a couple of years ago. He was a sergeant on the force."

"Vaguely," she replied. "I remember going to the party, but almost everyone there was a cop. I... I don't really remember one from another."

"Well, he remembers you. Several times during that party he told me what a lucky guy I was."

Morg was talking in a monotone voice that was starting to scare Brea. He obviously wasn't himself. She was getting anxious. "Honey, what's wrong? Did something happen to him?"

Not answering her directly, Morg continued with his flat toned oratory. "He's been going to night school, trying to work his way up to detective. When he got his certificates, Chicago had no room for him in their detective bureau so he got a job with the Des Plaines force."

Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of Brea's neck. Des Plaines was where she rendezvoused with Bob.

Morg resumed. "A while ago, he was at the Cherry Lane Motel on Oakton, investigating a robbery they'd had there and who do you suppose he saw walk in with some guy?"

No, no, this can't be happening, she told herself. There was no longer any doubt, the Cherry Lane Motel was where Bob had taken her. Through moisture ladened eyes, she could now see the anger in her husband's face.

"Stan was at the counter when a Robert Castens registered and got room number one twenty-two. He said the guy put his arm around your waist and helped you to the room. He talked the clerk into giving him a key-card by explaining that adultery is a crime in Illinois and threatened to charge the guy as an accomplice.

"Stan told me you were already down to your panties by the time he walked in. He found you lying on the bed with you're your arms around Castens neck while he was sucking on your tits. He said you appeared to either be high or drunk, he couldn't tell which. Not knowing the situation, Stan said he helped you get dressed and put you in a cab. By the time he got back to the room, that Castens guy had taken off."

His voice was getting louder. "Jesus Christ, Brea, I know half the cops in Chicago and a bunch more in the suburbs. Did you REALLY think you could get away with cheating on me, or was it that you just didn't care if you caught?"

Brea wanted to answer him but by then she had her head in her hands and was crying too hard to say anything.

"Morg, she's pretty sure that guy drugged her. She was going to tell you herself."

Not wanting to look at his wife, Morgan had been staring so intently at his beer that he hadn't noticed Cory standing in the doorway. Not only did the chorus of a third voice shock him, but so did her words. "You knew?" he asked with an angry voice.

"Only for a little while," she explained. "She's been trying to find a way to confess, but she's been terrified. It's not what you think though, Morg. You have to hear her side of it."

This was just too much for Morgan. He had known about Brea's infidelity for few hours, but now to find out Cory knew about it and hadn't said anything after everything he'd done for her, was just too fucking much!

Without another word, he stood and headed for the front door. "Morg, WAIT!" Cory yelled and tried to grab him as he passed her. "Where are you going?"

Jerrod was still watching from his car when he saw Morgan almost rip the apartment door off its hinges on the way out. The lieutenant was already getting out of the car as his angry young friend sped out of the parking lot as if the devil was on his tail. He saw Cory come running out in distress.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

Cory ran into his arms. "Oh, Jerrod, you have to stop him. Brea got caught in a motel room with another guy and I think Morg knows where the guy lives. I'm afraid he might go after him."

Jerrod had seen way too many situations like that in his career. Most of them did not end well. He pulled his phone out and speed-dialed the station.

"Chicago Police Department, eighteenth district."

"Sal, this is Lieutenant Ashwood. I need an APB on Morgan Johnson. He's driving a white Ford Escape with a press I.D. in the rear window, last seen at Waveland and Bosworth about five minutes ago. Just stop him and call me. Again, just stop him and call me. Do not, I repeat, do not use force. He may be heading into trouble and I just want to talk to him. Copy?"

"Got it, Lieutenant. I'll send it out right now."

He disconnected the call and asked Cory if she knew where the other guy lived. She said no, but Brea probably knew. They both went inside and found Brea still sitting in the kitchen, looking petrified.

Her eyes were all puffy and they could see the streaks of tears staining her cheeks. "Did you stop him?"

"No, he took off. Do you know where Bob lives?"

You could see her expression change as Brea just realized the implication of Cory's question. "You don't think he's gone after Bob, do you. Oh, my God, we've got to stop him."

"Brea, that's what we're trying to do," Jerrod interjected. "Where does he live?"

"I... I don't know. He works in Des Plaines, but I don't know where he lives, somewhere in the city, I think."

"What's his name?"

"Bob Castens."

"Great, there's probably fifty of them in Chicago," commented an exasperated Jerrod. "Let's hope Morg's spotted by a patrol car before he does anything stupid."

Cory looked at him with pleading eyes. "Jerrod, can you stay for a while?"

"Yeah, I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," she said as she reached up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "It looks like it might be a long night. How about if I make a pot of coffee?"

"Sounds good," affirmed the lieutenant.

Fifteen minutes later, Jerrod had just taken a sip of coffee when his phone rang. He grabbed it immediately. "Yes?"

"They've got him pulled over on Irving Park, Lieutenant. He's sitting in the front seat of the squad. You want me to patch you through?"

"Yeah, Sal, that'd be great."

"What the hell's going on, Jerrod? You put an APB out on me? What the fuck did I do?"

"Calm down, Morg. You haven't done anything, I hope. Where're you going?"

"What business is that of yours?"

"Well, if you're on your way over to Bob's house, it'll be my business soon enough."

Jesus, Morg thought to himself, does the whole fucking world know about Brea and this guy? "So, what am I supposed to do, Jerrod, just roll over and play dead? What the hell would you do?"

"Come on home. We'll talk things over. Maybe it's not as bad as you think."

"I'm not going back there, not right now."

Jerrod sighed in frustration. "Well, if you go beat the crap out of that guy, I'll put you in cuffs myself. I went through the same thing myself last year. I know exactly what you're thinking, but that's not the way. I mean it, Morg, stay away from him."

This time it was Morgan who let out a sigh. "Yeah, okay, fine, but I'm not going back there. I'll get a motel room someplace."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise."

"Okay, give the radio back to the officer."

Jerrod thanked the cop for spotting Morg, before signing off, then called the station and canceled the APB. There wasn't anything more he could do.

"Is he okay?" both women asked as he disconnected.

"I think so. He said he's going to spend the night in a motel." The lieutenant looked at his watch and saw it was well after midnight. "I'd better get going," he said. "I have to be at the station at six. Will you girls be all right?"