Chapter 3.1
Careering across the landscape, the silver beast purred as the nearby town of Lexington sat serenely on the horizon to the east, Tiffany closing her eyes and clutching her bag to her chest as the tarmac of Interstate 55 whizzed beneath the bus. The gentle swaying and calmness had begun to take effect long before now, but old habits proved hard to shake as Tiffany refused to drop her guard, the bus packed with assorted criminals, no chances to be taken as Tiffany cast her eyes towards the driver, the wire mesh and secure cage door the only thing separating him from the assembled motley crew just feet behind him. Muggers, rapists, murderers and thieves dozed and snored as arms and legs poked out from between every row of seats, the foul smell of unwashed flesh hanging in the air as Tiffany reached her hand aloft and flipped on the air conditioning.
Nothing...
"Fuck!" Tiffany whispered as she toggled the switch on and off frantically, the heat amplified as the sun blared through the windows of the bus, the air quickly disappearing within the rolling prison as it hurtled towards Chicago. Leaning backwards and partially into the aisle, Tiffany examined the window. No bars, no wire, but also no latch, all attempts to find a source of ventilation rapidly disappearing before her very eyes. Dropping her bag to the floor between herself and the seat in front of her, Tiffany twisted her body and threw her bare legs over the arm rest and into the aisle, allowing her heels to dangle as she stretched out, arms aloft as the short black dress slightly rode up her thighs. Checking out of Logan had proven to be a nostalgic process as her belongings from the night of her arrest had quickly been read from a list and presented before her in due order. Not that she was complaining. Her dress had been freshly washed and pressed and her heels remained in the worn, yet wearable, condition she remembered. Besides that her belongings had been very few, her smile lifting slightly as she reached for the bag and plucked it from the space between the seats, reaching inside and digging around. The paperwork she had placed inside had been marked with a red stamp. Probation documents, no doubt to be handed into the proper authorities as soon as she reached her destination, the next year and a half mapped out carefully by some desk dwelling stranger. Fumbling around, further, thrusting her hand into the bag, she felt something cold. Ice cold in fact as her fingers closed around the tiny item and pulled it free from the bag, her eyes lighting up as the small circular object came into view. Gleaming in the sunlight, the gold ring sparkled as the numerous rocks circled the substantial diamond at its heart. Her mind flashing back to the night of Chucky's death as she turned to the mantle and found the ring, her eyes streaming as his intentions to propose suddenly became clear. Deciding against slipping the ring over her finger, Tiffany dropped it back into the bag and pulled the drawstring, the opening to the bag shrinking to a close in seconds as she casually dropped it back into the foot well before her.
"Hey, Valentine..." The familiar voice causing Tiffany to snap her head to her right and take in the curvy, heavily tattooed figure of Selena Thomas as she came to a stop besides Tiffany's seat, sitting slowly as she came to a rest on the unoccupied row opposite. "You got a minute?"
"Depends..." Tiffany returned her attention to the bag, squeezing it beneath the seat in front of her.
"On what?" Selena leaned forward and smiled through plump, Hispanic lips, thick strands of jet black hair covering her olive shoulders as her t-shirt struggled to contain her voluptuous figure.
"On what you want Selena." Tiffany returned to a more comfortable position, resting her back against the bus window and folding her arms across her chest.
"Jesus," Selena stood and turned, beginning to make her way back down the aisle. "Don't worry about it."
"Sorry." Tiffany rolled her eyes and held out her hand, gesturing for Selena to retake her seat. Without saying another word, Selena did as Tiffany asked and took a quick look around, the majority of friends and inmates snoozing, their minds focussed on more important matters. When satisfied, Selena leaned forward once more, arms aloft and planted on the chairs now either side of Tiffany's frame.
"What you got planned?" She asked.
Tiffany's eyes narrowed as she angled her head, confusion in her expression.
"How do you mean?" Tiffany asked innocently.
"How do I mean?" Selena laughed and bowed her head. "What do you mean, 'how do I mean?' dumbass? Now you're out, you're free, new slate and all that shit."
"I still don't follow." Tiffany queried.
"For fucks sake Tiffany." Selena gasped, shaking her head. "What you got lined up? What's your immediate plan when you get off this bus?"
"I don't know." Tiffany answered. "By the looks of the paperwork, we're being met by a probation team. Probably see what they have to say and go from there."
"Yeah, yeah." Selena held her hands up, almost as if trying to remain calm. "I mean after that..."
"After that?" Tiff asked once more.
"Yeah." Selena's voice raised slightly as she turned and looked to make sure nobody had been alerted to the ongoing conversation. Satisfied that nobody had, she returned to a whisper. "You gonna give it a week? Maybe two? Then disappear?"
"Why?" Tiffany asked, surprised. "Is that what you're gonna do?"
"Might do." Selena nodded half heartedly. "Way I see it, their gonna stick me in some dead end job, away from the crowds, keep me there as long as they can. I figure I behave, maybe a month or two, the visits die down, I make a run for it, I get a couple days head start. A week at most."
Tiffany had to laugh, lifting her hands to her mouth as she did so, Selena's turn to look on in confusion.
"Why would you do that?" She asked Selena. "How long is your fucking probation?"
"I don't know for sure." Selena replied with a wry smile, casting her eyes cheekily towards the fabricated floor of the bus. "Parole board mentioned three years, something like that. Too long for me though. I need to get back to my girls, the quicker the better."
"You have kids?" Tiffany seemed taken aback, Selena's head snapping up as she giggled to herself.
"Not kids." She said. "Girls... Long story. Let's just say they've been 'earning their keep' while I've been in Logan."
"You're a pimp?" Tiffany asked bewildered.
"Among other things." Selena whispered, leaning in even more. "But enough about me. What about you? You need money? A job?"
"I think..." Tiffany stammered, Selena's proximity making her skin crawl. "I think I have all that sorted. Straight and narrow from now on. Can't live in the past all my life now, can I?"
Selena cast her eyes over Tiff's face, closer still as she began to shake her head and smile mischievously.
"Such a shame Valentine." She sighed, returning to a standing position as she twisted and stretched the muscles in the small of her back. "Could have helped each other out no end."
"Well if I ever find myself desperate enough..." Tiffany closed her eyes and let her head fall against the window, the vibrations reaching down her neck and into her shoulders as she took a deep breath.
"Your call." Selena turned and headed towards the back of the bus, her seat beckoning her as she walked. "Don't know what you're missing."
"I think I do." Tiffany sighed as she exhaled, crossing her legs and allowing her feet to dangle once more over the arm rest of the double seats, her heels hanging loosely as the bus rolled along. Folding her arms across her chest, the fresh fabric of the old dress felt like heaven as she allowed it to caress her body, the coarse prison attire now a thing of the past as Tiffany drifted into a well earned sleep, the town of Lexington now behind the bus as they careered along Interstate 55 and towards Chicago.
She must have only been asleep ten minutes, or at least that was how it seemed. The kind of sleep where she'd closed her eyes in the day, only to open them minutes later in the darkness of night, somebody disturbing her as she felt a hand brush against her stomach and reach into the foot well. Like a coiled spring, Tiffany reacted instantly, her hand snapping around the offending wrist and lifting it clear of her bag, Tiffany's eyes opening wide as she lifted her gaze from the hand and into the face of the potential thief. Selena Thomas, caught red handed, the look of surprise as she felt the vice-like grip around her wrist. Without saying a word, Tiffany pulled her knee up to her chin, her foot clear of the arm rest, before violently planting the sole of her foot, heel and all, into Selena's face. The scream of agony rattled around the bus as people woke up and nudged each other, craning to see the commotion. Springing to her feet, Tiffany was on her, Selena's hand trembling as she raised it to the fresh puncture wound now gracing her cheek, blood beginning to flow as her vision clouded over. Now there was a crowd, the mob of parolees baying for blood as Tiffany landed another blow, her fist crunching into the back of Selena's head, the cries of pain alerting the bus driver, turning for a split second to see the commotion igniting behind him. As he turned, and craned his head through the crowd of women, the bus veered left, smashing into the centre barrier and sending the rolling battering ram crunching across the slow lane of the interstate, smashing through cars like a knife through warm butter as it approached the grass embankment at breakneck speed, the driver thrown from his seat by the force of the sudden collisions. Heading over the edge of the road and across the grass, the bus became airborne as it flew through the air, the bodies inside feeling a moments weightlessness as the world outside turned to a sickening blur as heads cracked into seats, backs smashed against the ceiling and legs became wedged in whichever gaps they could find, snapping in two as gravity pulled the weight of the bus towards the ground with an almighty crash, the fender of the monolith the first to connect. Tiffany opened her eyes and took a second or two to remember what had happened, the smoking interior of the prison bus sending an acrid smell up her nose. Wires hung free, sparking with electric as bodies lay in every conceivable position, one or two decapitated, some twisted and bent double like a rag doll. The sound of running water was evident as Tiffany struggled to squeeze herself free, her body managing to become stuck between two rows of seats as the bus flew through the air. Letting out a shriek of pain, Tiffany managed to grab the arm rest and pull herself to her feet, the darkness enveloping her as she noticed the still bodies in every direction. She quickly cast a glance towards the front of the bus, the wire mesh separating the driver from the passengers still locked, holding strong despite the huge blow recently delivered. The windscreen of the bus was obliterated, the driver nowhere to be seen.
"Fucker's either been thrown out, or made a run for it!" Tiffany hissed as she wrapped her arm around her ribs, the pain pounding throughout her chest as she tried to move down the bus, stopping dead in her tracks as the wires dangling before her crackled and sparked with a ferocious intent. The smell, not the smoke, but the smell behind the smoke. It had been a while but she recognised it, the sound of running water going hand in hand as Tiffany's brain worked overtime, coming to a conclusion and making her spine tighten.
'That's not water.' She thought as she took in the sight of the mangled interior, the clear fluid trickling down the aisle of the bus, between her legs and through the twisted metal.
'That's gasoline!'
Turning on the spot and looking for the nearest possible exit, Tiffany headed for the window, glancing around her fellow passengers, desperate for help as she lifted her foot and brought it crashing down on the glass pane, the heel of her shoe hardly making a dent. Dropping to her knees, she tried again, punching this time as the window remained intact, tears beginning to fall as the situation dawned on her. Gritting her teeth and screaming, Tiffany punched the glass once more, the window moving slightly, but not enough. Suddenly she noticed the rubber seal, the corner of the window standing proud of the frame as she wrapped her fingers around the broken glass and began to pull, the window beginning to flex slightly as she levered it free from the side of the bus, pulling with all her might as she tried in vein to escape the metal death trap. Stopping for a breather, she now found herself able to wrap both hands around the glass and jam her foot against the back of a seat, pulling with her arms and pushing with her legs until the window eventually folded and smashed, part of the fitting breaking free in her hands. It was a squeeze, but Tiffany was sure she could do it, dropping to her knees and beginning to crawl through, head first, body second, suddenly feeling a hand grab her by the ankle. Twisting her neck and looking back through the glass, she was staggered to see the broken, bloodied body of Selena Thomas reaching out for her, her back disappearing beneath a pile of mangled steel and upholstery as the bus folded itself around her. Bones were standing proud of her arms as she cried, fear and excruciating pain combining and sending her into shock as she begged for Tiffany to come back, save her, turning her head and seeing the gasoline gently trickling down the twisted aisle of the once mighty machine and towards the sparking wires, the electricity working overtime as it desperately sought a release.
"Please..." She begged, her voice a whisper. "Help... Me..."
Pulling her leg free of Selena's grasp, Tiffany stared back through the glass and struggled to find the words, the actions, her thoughts cut short as the inevitable finally happened, a spark of electricity catching the small pool of gasoline and igniting it, a flaming trail immediately working its way up the bus, igniting Selena as she begged for help, her screams growing in volume and intensity as Tiffany quickly pulled her lower body through the bus window and into the cold, dark night beyond. The bus now suddenly ablaze as the voices of everybody on board screeched into the night air, burning alive as the flames took a hold and worked their way throughout the interior. Turning to the Interstate, ready to head up the embankment for help, Tiffany was caught by surprise as she spun into the face of the red headed doll, their noses touching as the face came alive and smiled at her, the unmistakable voice of Charles Lee Ray hissing as her breath escaped her body.
'Tiffany...'
"TIFFANY!" The voice startled her as her eyes snapped open, Selena standing overhead, bag draped over her shoulder. "Damn girl. You were 'out'."
"What the fuck!" Tiffany sat bolt upright and spun around, the sunlight blaring in, disappearing suddenly as the bus entered the darkness of the two storey, red brick structure, the CTA bus terminal housing a throng of commuters and vehicles, other passengers now beginning to stand with their belongings, waiting for the driver to kill the engine and unlock the door nestled in the mesh cage.
"Home, sweet home." Selena twisted her neck as the bus approached its intended bay, the driver guiding his vehicle between a couple of Greyhounds as he applied the brake and gently brought his rolling juggernaut to a standstill. Swinging her legs into the foot well, Tiffany grabbed her bag and stood, the driver throwing the switch for the double doors as he stood and fumbled in his pocket, the key to the mesh door appearing from within as he slid it into the lock and twisted, the assembled crowd gathered behind steadily beginning to stream through, down the steps and onto the concrete walkway that awaited them. Following Selena, Tiffany made her way down the aisle, bag over her shoulder as she flicked her blonde hair back over her shoulder and rapidly scurried through the centre of the bus, reaching the diesel choked atmosphere of the bus terminal in no time at all. As the crowd gathered, a small, elderly man appeared with a clipboard, waving arms as he sought to gain the attention of each and every girl, his white shirt and well pressed, pin stripe trousers giving him a modicum of authority as the hoard of women stood silently and allowed him to speak.
"Girls!" He bellowed, struggling to make himself heard over the constant hum of engines, the revving and honking of horns threatening to drown out his croaky voice. "Can I just do a head count girls?"
As he was speaking he motioned from left to right, index finger extended as he counted along the line of women, coming to a stop as he reached Tiffany, his eyes dropping to the clipboard as he surveyed the information at hand.
"Okay, girls. Twenty four is what it says, twenty four is what I have. Now can I just ask that you hang tight? You each have a probation officer assigned to your file, and each one of them is due down here any second now to speak with you and take you to your final destination."
His eyes flew up, examining the crowd in the distance of the terminal.
"Speaking of which, here they come now. Feel free to go get yourselves a drink, but please..." He held his hands up, palms facing the crowd. "Don't wander off. Just stay in this area, we have the entire platform allotted to us and you'll be dealt with as soon as your probation officer is on site. Can I just draw your attention to the police presence at either end of the terminal. Nothing to be alarmed about, but obviously the state of Illinois has a duty to protect its citizens from any 'potential' harm."
With that, the nameless little man marched off towards the scattered party heading his way, arms outstretched as he greeted each of the officers. As the minutes flew by, women disappeared, Selena one of the first to go, but not before scribbling an address on a notepad bought from a stationery store. Pretty soon the numbers dwindled more and more, Tiffany the last remaining reprobate as she sat with a cold cup of coffee and cement textured Danish pastry, half an hour passing as she waited and waited finally giving into curiosity as she ventured down the platform and checked out some of the more independent businesses located within the CTA terminal. Record stores, clothes outlets, fast food joints, eventually coming to a stop outside the huge store window of a second hand goods store. The sign above the window simply read 'Sullivan's Collectibles – Family Run Since 1985'. Mouth hanging open, the noise quickly dissolving behind her, Tiffany found herself lost in the window display, nostalgia sweeping through her as she feasted her eyes on what waited within. The usual stuff you'd come to expect from a store such as this. Rare records, books, autographed pictures of various celebrities, actors, singers, sports stars, everything you could think of really. But one thing had captured Tiffany's attention the second she wandered past the store, stopping her dead in her tracks as she casually walked on by. Right there, front and centre, sat proudly in the day-glow yellow box, smiling from within as the bright blue eyes stared vacantly from behind the cellophane and into the busy terminal beyond the store window. Not entirely visible due to the immaculate, original packaging, Tiffany could clearly see the unkempt mop of red hair, the pursing lips presenting the friendliest of smiles as the dolls neck disappeared into a striped sweater. Reds, blues and greens on display, vibrant colours obscured only by the cleanest of overalls, the torso of the doll hidden behind as the cellophane ended and the box began once more, red lettering spelling out the word 'Good Guys' above the dolls window, the astronomical price tag hanging from the box almost making Tiffany's eyes pop from her skull. Her mind flashing back over the years, Tiffany found herself enthralled in the presence of the doll, completely failing to notice the reflection in the store window as she was approached from behind.
"He wants 'you' for a best friend, right?" The woman spoke, smiling as Tiffany turned in surprise, spinning on her heels and almost falling into the stranger.
"I'm sorry?" She answered, head flitting from her new friend to the store window before quickly taking a look around the terminal once more, police presence still maintained at either end of the platform.
"The doll..." The woman spoke once more, motioning with a flick of her head over Tiffany's shoulder and back towards the store window. Mid-forties, Hispanic and standing at about 5' 6" Tiffany found the woman to be gesturing towards the Good Guy, sitting in the store window, no doubt lip reading from within as the conversation picked up the pace, the woman continuing. "Bit freaky nowadays, something of an acquired taste I guess you could say. More of a collector's item."
"Collector's item?" Tiffany found herself following the woman's gaze, turning and feasting her eyes on the doll once more.
"Yeah," The woman carried on, her eyes never once leaving the doll as she took a step alongside Tiffany, the two women now standing side by side. "After the stories and all."
"What stories?" Tiffany found herself asking, despite her extensive knowledge on the subject, it was always nice to find out as much as possible, a small conversation maybe leading to some startling revelation, especially considering Tiffany's limited interaction with the outside world this last few years.
"You know..." The woman turned her head, eyes narrowing as her earrings dangled from her lobes, her shoulder length mane of jet black curls flicking over her shoulder as she spun her head towards Tiffany. "The killer doll case of '88?"
Tiffany's expression remained one of blank ignorance as she simply pulled a confused face and gave a gentle shake of her head.
"Come on." The woman laughed. "The 'Curse of the Good Guy' back in 1990?"
Again Tiffany faked lack of knowledge regarding the subject at hand.
"No idea." She answered the stranger as she turned back to the window. "News to me."
"You're kidding right? Those two episodes damn near crippled the manufacturer." The woman also returned her attention to the friendly looking doll as she carried on, disbelief rippling through her tone. "Multiple murders ranging from one of Play Pals own executives all the way to a Chicago P.D officer?"
"Really?" Tiffany asked.
"Hell yes." The woman replied in astonishment. "Add to that the tabloid stories and rumours and I guess it was only a matter of time before the negative publicity sent sales plummeting. Those things literally went from biggest kids toy of a generation to being practically given away overnight!"
"Well if that's the case then why is this one $3,000?" Tiffany asked, her head flitting between the Hispanic woman and the store window.
Sighing and throwing the strap of her handbag over the shoulder of her cream coloured cardigan, the woman folded her arms across her chest.
"Seriously honey... You try finding a Good Guy these days. Rumour has it most of them ended up in landfills. Seems that after the stories got out, parents suddenly became a lot more cautious of what their kids played with. If I remember right, there was a protest outside the factory which ended with hundreds of the fucking things burnt to a crisp."
"Seriously?" Tiffany gasped, the story garnering her full attention as the woman continued to speak.
"Like I said... They're more of a collector's item now. Incredibly rare."
"Jesus." Tiffany spun her head back towards the store window.
"Anyway," The woman coughed to clear her throat. "Look at me boring you to tears. You must be Tiffany."
Unfolding her arms from her chest, the woman allowed a hand to shoot free, palm open wide and fingers extended as she offered a greeting.
"And you are?" Tiffany questioned, her own hand slowly gripping the Hispanic woman's and slowly shaking.
"Rita Hernandez." She answered with a friendly smile. "Don't be alarmed, I'm your probation officer."
"Ah, I see." Tiffany smiled, flashing her perfect row of pearly white teeth, kicking the kindness up a gear.
"Yeah, I need to work on my introductions I guess." Rita laughed. "Sorry I'm late, but they've had me shooting all over Chicago today, and that traffic. Man it's getting worse than ever."
"Don't worry about it." Tiffany grinned, releasing Rita's hand. "I'm used to killing time. Believe me."
"I bet you are." Rita laughed, stepping forward and holding out her hand, her own handbag balancing precariously on her shoulder. "Let me take that for you honey, you look beat."
"Oh thank you." Tiffany gushed, allowing Rita to take the bag from her. "It's not really heavy, hardly anything in it. Are you sure?"
"Yeah it's fine." Rita answered. "I need to look over your file anyway. But first things first, you hungry?"
"Starving." Tiffany nodded.
"I thought you might be. Come on, car's this way." Rita smiled and set off towards the parking lot, Tiffany starting to follow behind.
They'd only been in the car half an hour, Rita suddenly pulling off the street and into the parking lot of a fifties themed diner, Tiffany feeling a headache coming on. Question after question as Rita asked about everything from her childhood to life behind bars, Tiffany beginning to tire of the constant sound of her voice, asking instead if they could listen to the radio, a phone in sports show the first thing the scanner found as Tiffany leaned back in the soft leather upholstery of Rita's sedan and closed her eyes. The heat burning through the glass offset perfectly by the functional air conditioning of the car, Tiffany slipped off her heels and curled her feet into the corner of the passenger side foot well, turning her back politely to Rita and closing her eyes in an attempt to grab a short nap. She figured she'd had about twenty minutes, maybe half an hour at a push, before she could both feel and hear the crunching of gravel beneath the tyres, the car gently coming to a rest in the car park as Rita killed the engine and gave Tiff a little shake. Climbing from the car and allowing herself a generous stretch Tiffany instantly recognised the area of the city they now found themselves in. Lakeshore... Without saying a word, Tiffany and Rita grabbed their bags and headed inside, the waiter instantly showing them to a booth in the far corner of the diner. The menu wasn't up to much, offering the basic meals and drinks, Tiffany not upset one bit, ordering French toast with a couple sides of bacon and a black coffee, tearing into a pack of cigarettes bought at a kiosk in the bus terminal and quickly sucking the acrid, foul smoke back into her lungs, the rush of nicotine almost sending her dizzy. The food quickly arrived, Tiffany ordering yet another strong black coffee as Rita sipped her tea and made her way through the paperwork from Tiffany's bag.
"Okay," Rita began, breaking the silence with a sigh as she lifted her head from the piles of forms and instructions before her. "Looking at the rehab program you enrolled on through the last few years inside Logan, I think the placement we've sorted will work fine for you. Now it says here that you studied business, that right?"
"What I could." Tiffany answered, sucking the cigarette to the filter in record time.
"Meaning?" Rita asked, spreading paperwork over the table.
"Well, they don't give much in the way of guidance in that place. It's more a 'pick up what you can from books' approach they have." She answered.
"That's fine, the placement we have lined up doesn't really require much. More of a physical position than anything." Rita's eyes glanced from one form to another.
"How do you mean?" Tiffany asked, removing yet another cigarette from the packet.
"The lady you'll be working for isn't as young as she used to be, but don't worry I've a feeling you'll love it." Rita replied. "Now there's a few things I have to run by you. More of a check list if you will, of what you'll be doing, where you'll be staying and what we need you to do for us."
"I'm all ears." Tiffany leaned back in the comfort of the booth.
"Okay, first things first. We secured you work, not much, but still work. Living arrangements are in place too. So you'll be living on site by the looks of this."
Tiffany raised her hand, the cigarette swinging left to right as she spoke.
"What do you mean ' on site'?" She asked, sucking on the filter, smoke drifting through her nose.
"You'll be living where you work. Something wrong with that?" Rita asked.
"Fuck yeah." Tiffany laughed. "I'm not living wherever I'm working, you can forget that."
"You know what?" Rita snapped the file closed. "You're absolutely right. This won't do. Let me go phone the office and see if we can't get you a penthouse above a heroin factory huh?"
"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. You know that right?" Tiffany responded flatly.
"Well it's either this or back to Logan and you can finish the remainder of your sentence behind bars." Rita opened the file back up, her eyes burning into Tiffany's skull. "Your call Tiffany."
"Fine." Tiffany sighed as she took another drag, her head lolling back on the back rest of the booth, smoke spiralling into the air and pirouetting towards the ceiling.
"Okay, now as I was saying, we've arranged work, which will be unpaid naturally, but we've also sorted you accommodation too, so that takes care of that."
"Unpaid?" Tiffany coughed as she lowered her head and removed the cigarette from her lips. "So I don't even get paid? What am I supposed to do for money?"
"You'll do the same as everybody else. You'll receive an allowance from the penal system." Rita answered.
"Jesus Christ." Tiffany muttered under her breath.
"As I was saying." Rita continued, her eyes dancing across the paperwork. "You'll observe a curfew of 9pm, and what I mean by curfew is that you will not return home, from wherever you may venture, any later than 9pm. Any later than that and we'll have the sheriff's office on standby, they'll be dispatched to find you."
"Fair enough." Tiffany shrugged her shoulders. "What else?"
"Checking in with the local sheriff's office." Rita looked up. "You'll do this once a day for the first month of your placement. Depending on behaviour, that'll be reduced to once over three days, and so on and so forth. Now it's important you understand one thing Tiffany."
"What's that?" Tiff asked as she reached for her coffee and downed what remained.
"Just because you're out doesn't mean you're free. A lot of people get this idea in their heads that once they're out, they're free to just wander off and do what they like. Well that's not the case. Not with this, probation I mean. Try and think of it for what it is, the last eighteen months of your sentence, but easier. That's the only way I can describe it, and considering an attempted murder charge, you're damn lucky to be getting that."
"It was self defence." Tiffany spat as she leaned forward and pulled the cigarette from her lips.
"It was?" Rita scanned her eyes across the paperwork, smiling as her eyes came to rest. "Oh yeah. Sorry about that. But still, this is a damn sight easier than another year and a half behind bars."
"Okay, okay." Tiffany nodded, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray, raising her arm and extending her finger to attract the waiter as he passed with the coffee, indicating a refill and slipping the young boy a smile as he filled her cup before going about the rest of his day.
"So do you have any questions?" Rita asked, sitting back and eyeballing Tiffany, sat opposite the table, the coffee cup nesting between her hands.
"About?" Tiffany countered.
"Anything I've just discussed with you. Work, Living arrangements, curfews, anything at all?" Rita replied.
"Nope." Tiff smiled.
"Any questions about anything else?" Rita asked again.
"Well..." Tiffany started, thinking better of it and stopping instantly.
"Go ahead, if you have questions. That's what I'm here for." Rita smiled as she leaned forward.
"Can we talk about something a little more interesting?" Tiffany asked. "Just have a chat? You'd be surprised how hard it is to find an interesting conversation inside."
Sighing and picking up her tea, Rita smiled and gave a small laugh.
"I guess so." She said. "What you wanna talk about?"
"I dunno..." Tiffany let her eyes wander as she thought. "You seemed to know some interesting stuff about that doll in the store window."
"The Good Guy?" Rita seemed puzzled.
"That's the one." Tiffany leaned back and snapped her fingers. "I love stuff like that, find it fascinating."
"You do huh?" Rita smirked.
"Definitely. So that company went bankrupt right? After all the rumours?" Tiffany asked.
"Play Pals?" Rita stroked her cup. "They went into some kind of receivership yeah. I don't think they ever disappeared entirely though. They managed to tick over, but only just. Hell of a lot of redundancies though, apparently the factory's been off limits since all the shit hit the fan. I don't know what they found in there, but it was something Play Pals didn't want getting out."
"So what exactly happened?" Tiff queried. "How did all that shit start?"
"Well..." Rita leaned over the table, whispering as she looked to her right, out of the booth and into the busy diner, quickly returning her eyes to Tiff. "You never heard of the killer doll case?"
Tiffany shook her head.
"Well, rumour has it, that a serial killer, from around these parts actually, was shot by the cops as they chased him through some toy store. Before they could finish him off, he supposedly passed his soul into a Good Guy doll. Few days later, some mother buys the doll from a peddler and gives it her kid for his birthday or something. Next thing you know, bodies start showing up left, right and centre. The mother went to the cops and told them it was the doll, can you believe that?"
Tiffany's eyes widened as she shook her head once more, the familiar story always sounding fresh from a different perspective.
"Anyhow, the cops don't believe her and the kids taken away to be assessed. He's there one night then he disappears. His doctor, meanwhile, is found dead, electrocuted in the basement. That night the mother says she caught the doll trying to take over her son's body. Burned it, shot it, damn near ripped it to pieces but it kept coming."
"No shit." Tiffany muttered vacantly.
"Want to know the weirdest thing?" Rita smiled.
Tiffany nodded.
"Rumour was that two cops were there that night. Saw the whole thing. Even gave statements."
"You're kidding." Tiffany gasped.
"Nope." Rita shook her head. "They, along with the mother, start spreading these stories, Play Pals gets wind of it and denies all involvement. The case went to court where, naturally, the mother was eventually submitted for a psychiatric evaluation. During this time, for some reason, the two cops retract their statements. She's found crazy, her son gets taken into care. Case closed."
"Wow." Tiffany blinked as she sat back. "Is that it?"
"Well, if I remember right it took almost two years to get to court. As soon as the case was thrown out, Play Pals wanted the doll back, claimed they wanted to test it, analyse it. They figured it could well be some joker at the factory, recorded his own little voice cassette that scared the living hell out of the kid."
"So what did they find when they checked the doll?" Tiffany asked, reaching for another cigarette.
"Nothing, the doll was clean." Rita answered quick as a flash. "But here's where things get freaky. Around this time, people started showing up dead. The Play Pals executive that ended up taking the restored Good Guy home, the kid that originally claimed his doll was possessed found his foster parents murdered, the kid's teacher too now I come to think of it. There was even a Chicago P.D officer found dead, with parts of the original burned out doll on the back seat of his squad car. Whoever killed him slit his throat repeatedly then just left him to bleed out."
"Fuck." Tiffany gasped once more, faking surprise as her mind flashed back to that night, Officer Harry Marsh desperately clawing at his steering wheel as Tiffany leaned through the open window and retrieved her bag of dollar bills, slipping him a sly wink before walking barefoot into the Chicago night.
"Indeed." Rita took a sip of her tea. "A good man too. Decorated officer, nearing retirement age. Then that happened, for no reason whatsoever."
"Did you know him?" Tiffany asked, snapping Rita from her trance.
"Did I know who?" Rita asked, taking a sip of her tea, now cold and bitter.
"Officer Marsh." Tiffany asked innocently.
"Kind of." Rita answered. "I was on the force at the time. We worked out of the same precinct. I left around the time he died. You see something like that happen to a colleague and it's unsettling. Pus this opportunity came up on the probation service and it was too good to turn down. Better pay, better hours."
"I see." Tiffany answered.
"How did you know?" Rita asked, a look of confusion suddenly spreading over her face as she lowered her tea to the surface of the aluminium table.
"I'm sorry?" Tiffany replied, downing her coffee and shuffling to the end of the booth.
"How did you know his name was Marsh?" Rita fixed her a stare.
"I don't know." Tiffany struggled to recover, her heart beginning to race. "I must have read it in the paper I guess. I'm going to use the rest room before we head off. Okay?"
"Sure." Rita answered, confusion surging through her mind as she tried to recall whether she had let Harry Marsh's name slip, eventually shaking it off and figuring Tiffany's reason was as valid as any other.
'She must have read it in the paper.' She thought.
'She must have!'
Two hours of Interstates and highways had proven enough for Tiffany, asking Rita to pull over and let her climb into the back, instantly lying across the huge rear seat of the sedan and falling asleep within minutes. The afternoon had started to turn overcast as the sun disappeared behind some of the blackest clouds Rita had seen in years, rain beginning to fall within a matter of minutes. The downpour kicked up as Rita flicked both the windscreen wipers and her sidelights on, the sedan ploughing towards its destination as the rainwater kicked up behind. Turning her attention to the rear view mirror, Rita observed Tiffany sleeping, facing the trunk and curled into a ball. After five minutes, Tiffany's breath became louder as the car trundled along, Rita reaching into the back, placing her hand on the file besides Tiffany before pulling it into the front of the car and flipping it open. Eyes flitting from the road to the file, Rita ran her eyes over the details of Tiffany's arrest. According to the paperwork, she'd been arrested by two Chicago P.D officers in a department store as she stood idly watching televisions in the electrical goods department. Weird place for an arrest, but whatever, the guys must have had a reason... Suddenly the blare of the horn caused Rita to look up, the flashing headlights of the juggernaut bearing down on her as she immediately dropped Tiffany's file and placed both hands on the wheel, jerking the car to the left and out of the path of certain death, the honking horn whizzing past and disappearing behind the car as Rita struggled to gain control, steering into the skid as the back end of the sedan drifted onto the dirt bordering the Interstate. Tiffany sat up, oblivious to the near death situation she had just faced, taking a look around and finding nothing of interest before laying back down and proceeding to go back to sleep, all the while Rita feeling perspiration across her forehead at how stupid she had just been, blinking her eyes and focussing on the road ahead as the sign flashed up on the side of the road. Their destination only another two kilometres. Rita couldn't quite figure out what it was, maybe paranoia, in fact it probably was paranoia, but there was something about Tiffany Valentine that didn't add up. Ever since the diner, recalling the name of Officer Harry Marsh in an instant, Rita had been troubled. Putting it down to lack of sleep and too many hours, Rita tried to concentrate on something else, the road ahead being the first.
'Damn Rita.' She thought to herself as she relaxed and smiled into the rear view mirror. 'Get a hold of yourself girl!'
"We're almost here." Rita reached back and gave Tiffany a shake as the car pulled off Highway 52 and onto a deserted street, rain lashing at the windows as houses seemed to struggle to stay upright in the gale blowing around them. Sitting and giving a yawn and stretch, Tiffany looked out into the darkness of the bleak afternoon and gasped.
"Where the fuck are we?" She asked.
"Mount Carroll." Rita answered as she manoeuvred between two parked cars.
"Where?" Tiffany asked once more.
"Relax, it's not the end of the world." Rita said as the rain hammered on the hood of the car.
"I've never even heard of it." Tiffany rubbed her eyes and took a look around the narrow street, houses spaced unevenly either side of the small road, dirt track driveways leading up to each house as numerous barns and garages littered the expanse of green land.
"We're just slightly north-west of Chicago." Rita spoke as she concentrated, turning the corner and rolling along the street.
"How far?" Tiffany asked.
"Around about two hundred kilometres." Rita answered.
"Fuck!" Tiffany threw herself into the leather comfort of the rear seats, gripping her hair and closing her eyes.
"What's the problem?" Rita asked, glancing in the rear view mirror.
"Why?" Tiffany sighed.
"Why what?" Rita smiled. "Why so far?"
"Of course why so far." Tiffany groaned as she looked around once more, the rain sweeping over everything in sight, the rural countryside circling the small town for miles around.
"Part of the rehabilitation I guess." Rita said, giving the car a little gas as they made their way down the street. "Put you in the middle of nowhere, remove all temptation, familiar faces. Best way to kick any 'bad habits'."
"Meaning?" Tiffany scowled at her as she sat up, Rita noticing the look on her face as she looked in the mirror once more.
"Just standard I guess." Rita shrugged her shoulders as the car approached a small parking lot, the wooden store resting at the back of the small piece of land almost seeming to flex in the wind. "Listen Tiffany, I didn't make up any rules or grant you any conditions. I just do as the file says and try and keep you on the straight and narrow."
"Whatever." Tiffany sunk back once more, noticing as the car came to a standstill outside the small store.
"We're here." Rita turned and spoke, gently pulling the handbrake, the ratchet within clicking as she did so.
Looking out the window, Tiffany took a look at the sign sat atop the store, almost bent double as the wind rattled through, simply reading 'Appleby's Store... Est. 1934'. Craning her head and looking behind the store, Tiffany could make out a barn, also taking a battering from the weather as it sat beside a hill, the steps leading up from left to right, coming to a stop as they reached a veranda, the huge house towering above and looking over the small town below.
"It looks like the house from Psycho!" Tiffany pressed her palms against the car window, a bewildered look appearing as her mouth hung in astonishment.
"It's not that bad!" Rita replied as she turned the key in the ignition, the engine dying in an instant. Fumbling for her purse she reached for her door handle and turned to Tiffany. "Ready to make a run for it?"
"In these shoes?" Tiffany asked, grabbing her bag from the seat beside her.
"Sorry." Rita gave a sympathetic smile. "Now or never."
"Guess so." Tiffany sighed as she too reached for her door handle and pulled. The click of the mechanism and the opening of the door seemed to amplify the rain tenfold, the water instantly whipping inside the vehicle as Rita and Tiffany narrowed their eyes and stood, turning to slam the doors of the sedan closed behind them. Turning and running, Tiffany found herself left behind as she tried to run, struggling as her heels sunk into the wet dirt beneath her feet, Rita reaching the overhanging front of Appleby's store and turning to cast an eye over Tiffany's progress.
"Come on, we haven't got all day." She yelled over the racket of the downpour.
Sopping wet, Tiffany reached the steps up to the store and climbed, finding shelter beside Rita as she shook her head and felt water fly every which way.
"Easy for you to say." Tiffany scolded her. "You want to try running in these heels."
"We've all been there honey." Rita smiled as she turned and opened the door, the bell above jingling as she did so.
"Let's meet your new boss."