by Lisa Jackson
Outside the storm howled and keened, lightning striking wildly. Bentz watched as Jay climbed into the ambulance with Kristi, then walked to the front of Wagner House, where he’d parked the Crown Vic. Rain poured from the heavens, the wind screamed down the streets.
“I’ll drive,” Montoya said as Bentz paused to take one final look at Wagner House.
In that instant, lightning forked in the sky. As if thrown by angry gods, a bolt struck a huge live oak in the front yard.
“Watch out!” Montoya yelled.
Bentz dived as the wood cracked and smouldered. The tree split in two and as Bentz and Montoya scrambled out of the way, a huge branch crashed to the ground.
Bentz dived as the limb struck, heavy wood cracking against his back, a broken limb piercing his clothes and flesh. Pain sizzled up his spine and for a second he couldn’t breathe.
Then there was nothing but blackness.
Kristi opened a bleary eye.
Jay was staring at her.
“Welcome back,” he said, managing a smile.
Her lips were dry and cracked, her tongue thick. “You look like hell,” she croaked out, and realized she was in a hospital bed, IVs strapped to her wrists.
“You look beautiful.”
She started to laugh, coughed, and managed to ask, “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
“Not everything, not what happened earlier, but last night…” She looked at him and he shook his head.
“Three nights ago. You’ve been out awhile.”
“Tell me. Everything,” she insisted, and felt his hands touch her fingers.
He did. He explained that Althea Monroe, who had died of her wounds at the scene, had been in league with Dr. Preston, killing girls for their blood in an effort to keep Althea young and beautiful.
“Elizabeth of Bathory,” Kristi said.
“Exactly.” Jay told her that Dr. Preston was a fraud. He’d been DOA at the hospital, but his fingerprints had identified him as Scott Turnblad, a man with outstanding warrants in California, where the real Dr. Preston had resided before his death.
Dr. Grotto had been a part of their plan. He’d been involved up to his pointed eyeteeth, though he, still alive, insisted that what he’d done was for the greater good, that Preston had convinced him that he would help the troubled girls disappear and start new lives. In exchange, Grotto got to stage his weird production and play out his own sick vampire fantasies. His audience—the girls he played to—were just as bad as he was and under his spell, finding “new blood” and not caring that the unwilling participants disappeared.
“You mean Trudie and Grace and Marnie?” she asked.
“And a couple of others, including the waitress who added a little something extra to your drink. They all were half in love with Dr. Grotto and got off on his fantasy.”
“More Elizabeths in the making,” she said, and he squeezed her fingers.
“More jail time in the making. They’ll be up on charges, too.”
“What about Father Mathias? And Georgia Clovis?”
“The Wagner heirs are apparently innocent, but Mathias is dead, probably killed by Vlad because he knew too much. We’re not certain but it looks like Mathias might have turned troubled girls toward their deaths. Probably inadvertently. The conjecture is that he heard their troubles during confession or maybe counseling. He tried to help, gave them parts in the plays and allowed Dominic Grotto to ‘guide’ them, and I use the term ‘guide’ loosely. Even though Grotto might not have known about what ultimately happened to the girls, he was no saint. He probably had affairs with them.”
She shuddered, thinking of the innocent victims.
“But the real maniac in all of this was Vlad, aka Dr. Preston aka Scott Turnblad. We’re guessing that too many people knew too much. Lucretia took care of Grotto, but that left Father Mathias. Vlad couldn’t let him escape.”
“He was beyond sick. And Elizabeth.”
“Althea. Yeah. She duped us all. Turns out her mother never even lived in New Orleans. She just wanted to spend more time being Elizabeth.”
“Where does that come from?”
“She was a distant relative of the countess, I guess.”
“And crazy.”
“Certifiable. She got all caught up in trying not to age. We found her diaries. Besides being related to the Blood Countess, Althea was convinced she could turn back time, regain any lost youth by bathing in the blood of younger women.”
“Nutso.”
“Yeah, on top of that, she’d been married and the husband left her for a younger woman, just as her father left her mother twice for trophy wives.”
“So what? It happens to a lot of women. They don’t turn into homicidal maniacs.”
“You said it yourself. ‘Nutso.’ Althea aka Elizabeth found her soul mate in Vlad. Their relationship started young. We’ve been digging into Turnblad’s sordid past. His killing may have started young, with his own parents. And he got away with it.”
“So he learned from a young age that he could.”
Jay’s lips twisted at the thought, the way they always did when he encountered a problem he couldn’t understand. “Turns out he and Althea—”
“That would be the nouveau Elizabeth of Bathory?”
“You are paying attention,” he said with a wink. “We found out that they’ve known each other since they were kids.”
“I can’t imagine what kind of games they played.”
He grimaced. “Don’t even go there. Anyway, Detective Portia Laurent put two and two together and found Vlad, er, Preston’s lair under an old hotel. Ariel’s body was there, on ice, as was another woman, a stripper from New Orleans by the name of Karen Lee Williams, whose stage name was Bodiluscious.”
“Does everyone have an aka?”
“At least one,” Jay said with a smile, then explained to her about Mai Kwan and the FBI, and the camera in her apartment. It was Mai they’d chased that night because she hadn’t wanted to reveal her true identity.
Kristi absorbed this with disbelief. “I knew that Hiram was a first-class creep, but Mai…FBI…” She shook her head and started to smile, but then saw Jay’s taut expression. “What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, her smile disappearing. When he didn’t immediately respond, she urged, “Jay?”
“It’s your dad.”
Her heart froze.
“He’s in a hospital in New Orleans. Back injury.”
“Back injury?” she repeated slowly, remembering how many times she’s seen his face turn from color to black and white.
“He’s going to be okay.”
“You’re sure?” Dear God, no…she couldn’t imagine life without her father. She held Jay’s hand in a death grip.
“I think so.” But he was hedging; she saw it in his amber eyes.
“Damn it, Jay, tell me!”
He sighed. “Okay, here’s the deal,” he said. “Your father’s spine is bruised—”
“What?” Oh, God, no! Her father could never stand not being able to get around on his own.
“Hey, slow down. I said ‘bruised,’ not severed, so he’ll be okay eventually.”
“Eventually?” she asked.
“The paralysis will be temporary.”
“Oh, God.”
He held her hand a little more tightly. “The doctors feel confident that he will walk again, but it’ll take some time.”
Kristi couldn’t believe her ears. Had her father survived death only to be paralyzed? “But…he will walk on his own again,” she said anxiously.
“That’s the prognosis.”
“Then I want to see him. Now.” She looked up, trying to find a nurse. “I need to be released.”
“Kris, you’ll have to wait until you’re better.”
“Like hell! This is my dad we’re talking about. He was there, right? He came to save me! And…and what, he gets shot and…” Her voice failed her. “Oh, God…there was a storm t
hat night.” She saw the image as clearly as if she’d witnessed it herself. “A tree was struck by lightning, that’s what happened, right?”
Jay just stared at her.
“Right?”
“Yes, but—”
“And a limb hit him?”
“I said he’s going to be all right.”
“I know what you said,” she admitted. “Now do what you can to get me out of the damned hospital. I need to see my father.”
“Okay, okay…hold your horses. I’ll come with you.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I know,” he snapped. “I don’t have to do anything, but I want to, okay? And I’m not letting you go through whatever it is you have to go through with your dad alone. I’ll be there.”
She was already out of the bed, reaching for her clothes when she stopped short. “Jay—”
“I love you, Kris.”
She turned and saw that he was smiling. “You do?”
“Uh-huh. Just like you love me,” he said confidently.
“I love you?”
“That’s what you kept saying over and over while you were out of it.”
“Liar!” she charged, but couldn’t help but nod. “So, yeah, okay, I love you,” she tossed back at him. “So what’re you going to do about it, McKnight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well…like maybe ask me to marry you?”
“Mmmm. Maybe.”
She laughed. “You’re bad, McKnight,” she said, and reached for her jeans.
“Perfect for you, then, right?”
“Humph.”
“Come on, let’s go see your dad and on the way, you can try to convince me to marry you.”
“Yeah, right!”
EPILOGUE
“…he’s holding his own….”
Rick Bentz heard the words but couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t move a muscle to indicate to those around him that he was waking up. He’d heard them, of course, the doctors and nurses with their hushed voices, and his daughter, Kristi, who must have recovered, thank God, because she’d been around often…talking to him, insisting that he was going to get better, that he had to walk her down the aisle because she was going to marry Jay McKnight and write some damned book and…
Dear God, how long had he been here? A day? Two? A week?
He tried to open an eye. Montoya and Abby had been by and Olivia, of course, who’d been ever vigilant. He’d heard her soft voice, known she’d been reading to him, noticed every once in a while her words had faltered or her voice, that sweet dulcet voice, had quavered a bit.
Jay McKnight had been by as well, and he, like Kristi, had talked about marriage, asking for Bentz’s blessing or something like that. Or had he dreamed it?
It was about time his daughter settled down, stayed out of trouble….
The doctor left on squeaky shoes and he was alone again. He heard a steady noise, a soft beep, beep, beep, as if he were hooked to a heart monitor, and he wanted to move, God, he wanted to stretch his muscles.
His mouth tasted like crap and he was vaguely aware of footsteps in an outer hallway, a cart rattling, people talking…he drifted for a minute…an hour? A day? Who knew? Time, for him, was suspended.
Kristi was there again, talking softly to him about the wedding…the damned wedding. He wanted to smile and tell her he was happy for her, but the words wouldn’t come.
Her words slowed, her voice softened, and then was gone entirely. Had she left? If he could only open his eyes.
He tried and failed.
There was a slight stirring. Just a breath of cool air.
In that second he knew he wasn’t alone.
There was someone else in the room, someone other than Kristi.
His skin prickled. The temperature plummeted, as if a soft gust of wind had slipped through an open window. Within the cold was a fragrance…something familiar and vague that teased his nostrils, a woman’s perfume with an underlying scent of gardenias.
What was this?
He felt someone take his hand, then link smooth, slim fingers through his. “Rick,” a woman whispered in a soft voice that teased his psyche. A familiar voice. A faraway voice. “Honey, can you hear me?”
His heart nearly stopped in his chest. The room seemed suddenly silent, all noises of the hospital muted.
The fingers slipped from his and the stirring gust of wind kicked up again, brushing his cheek, as if someone had left an icy kiss upon his skin.
The perfume floated past him…the same intriguing scent Jennifer had worn whenever they’d made love….
Jennifer!
His eyes flew open.
His breath fogged in the coldness. He blinked his eyes several times, wondering at the phenomenon. He couldn’t move his head, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the doorway to the room and beside it a chair. In the chair, Kristi slept, her head lolling forward.
In the doorway, backlit by the outside hall, was a woman in a black dress.
Tall.
Slim.
Mahogany-colored hair falling down her back.
Oh, God! It couldn’t be….
She looked over her shoulder and smiled.
That sexy, come-hither smile he knew so well crossed her red lips.
He felt as if he’d been thrown back in time. His heart nearly stopped.
“Jennifer,” he whispered, saying his dead ex-wife’s name for the first time in years. “Jennifer.”
He blinked.
She was gone.
“Dad?”
He slid his eyes toward the only chair in the room. Kristi was staring at him, her own eyes anxious, a line of worry creasing her smooth brow. Jesus, she looked like her mother!
“You’re awake!” Kristi was out of the chair in an instant, tears catching on her lashes. “Oh, God, you’re okay!” she said, standing over the edge of his bed, taking his hand and squeezing it. “You old fart, you nearly scared me to death!”
“Your mother,” he said anxiously, wondering if he was losing his mind. “She was here.”
“Mom?” She shook her head. “Wow, what kind of drugs are you on?”
“But she was here.”
“I’m telling you that’s the morphine talking.” Kristi was laughing through her tears.
“You didn’t see her?”
Kristi shook her head. “No one was in here, I was here all the time. Yeah, I dropped off, but…Jesus, it’s cold in here.” She shivered. “But I’m just glad you’re back,” she said. “I was so afraid…I mean, I thought you might not make it…But then you’re tougher than most.”
Bentz wasn’t deterred. “But she was here…your mother…I saw her…just walking out the door….”
“No way, Dad, it’s me. You’re confused.” She eyed him a little more critically, then glanced to the doorway. The empty doorway. “You know,” she said, turning back to him, “you’ve been in a coma for nearly two weeks and I know what it’s like. Weird as hell. Sometimes when you finally wake up, you’re all messed up in your head.”
“You didn’t see her?” He tried and failed to pull himself into a sitting position. His arms were weak and his legs…Hell, they still weren’t working. He couldn’t even feel them, not like he could his arms and shoulders.
“She wasn’t here,” Kristi said anxiously, and quickly. As if she, too, knew something odd had happened. “Look, I need to call the nurse and the doctor. And Olivia. She’s on her way back here already, but she’d kill me if I didn’t call her. And the staff. I need to let everyone know you’re awake.” She was already walking to the door, the very doorway in which Jennifer had stood only seconds before.
“She was here, Kristi,” Bentz said, certain he was right. This was no hallucination. No bad trip. No confusion from medication. Whether anyone believed him or not, he knew the truth.
Jennifer Bentz was back.
Dear Reader,
I loved writing Kristi Bentz’s story and it was a lot of fun t
o walk through the halls of All Saints College again. From the epilogue you know that there’s another book coming in the Bentz/Montoya/New Orleans series. That book is MALICE and I think it’s one of my best yet. I’ve never written anything like this before, but I think it’s an interesting concept.
You all know Detective Rick Bentz of the New Orleans Police Department. He’s Kristi’s dad and Detective Reuben Montoya’s partner. He’s also one of my most popular characters and right now he’s in a heap of trouble. If you’ve followed the series, you know that Bentz was first introduced in HOT BLOODED. In the next book, COLD BLOODED, he was the hero of the story. He met his future wife Olivia in the pages of COLD BLOODED, but we, as the readers, never really saw how he dealt with the death of his first wife, Jennifer.
That’s changed. In MALICE, Rick faces his most deadly enemy yet in a psychological game of cat and mouse. Jennifer Bentz seems to be back, even though Rick was the man who identified her body when she was killed in a single car accident.
So who is the woman he swears is her? Is Jennifer dead? A ghost? A figment of Rick’s imagination? Just who is the alluring female who takes him back to a time he’d rather forget? And how does his new-found obsession with this woman who’s haunting him affect his marriage to Olivia just when she wants to have a baby of her own?
Rick Bentz is torn and tortured. He’s determined to get to the truth behind “Jennifer” but he has no idea that he’s in for an emotional roller coaster that leads from the bayous surrounding New Orleans to secrets hidden beneath the glitter of Los Angeles. What he doesn’t expect is an enemy so seductive and deadly, everyone he loves is suddenly in mortal danger.
You can read on for an excerpt as well as visit www.lisajackson.com for more information on MALICE, which will be available in hardcover from Kensington Publishing in April 2009. While you’re visiting my website, you can learn more about MALICE as well as my other books. I think you’ll like this new book. It’s a bit of a twist for me, but I can tell you straight up, MALICE is truly one of my favorite books. I hope you agree.
