by Jana DeLeon
“Good. Let me know if anyone else surfaces.”
Emma nodded and looked over at Corrine. “Does she need anything?”
“The nurse gave her pain meds and said she’d probably sleep for a while.”
“Okay, but if you need anything, have them page me. I’ll be on until eleven.”
Shaye nodded and Emma exited the room. So many thoughts ran through her mind that it made her head ache. That night when she was hiding in the secret room, she’d thought nothing could be worse than the fear and terror she felt looking through that hole in the wall and seeing something—someone—that couldn’t possibly be. But this slow, deliberate attack on her and now Shaye and her mother was like picking at a scab with alcohol-soaked fingers.
Who could possibly hate her so much that they would go to all this trouble? And why? Over her killing David? That didn’t make sense. David didn’t have anyone close enough to him to go to such an extreme. No family. No close friends. At least, that’s what he’d said, and she’d seen no indication that he was lying.
But then, she’d seen no indication about a bunch of things.
###
He flipped back the lever and removed the third mouse from the trap. There was never a shortage of vermin here. That’s what Mama had always said, but then, to Mama, everything was vermin, even if it walked on two legs. He dropped the mouse in the bucket with the other two and rubbed his ankle before rising. It always ached when it rained, along with his shoulder and hands. Damaged bones didn’t much like the rain and humidity in New Orleans.
Maybe when this was over, he’d leave. This time for good. He’d almost gotten away once, but then the pull of Mama brought him back home.
Home.
It was supposed to mean something good. But home had never been good for him. Because Mama was there.
There to remind him every day of his failure as a man. There to remind him every day that women weren’t to be trusted. There to remind him that if he didn’t listen to Mama, he’d turn out to be a loser like his dad.
A dead loser.
He picked up the bucket and headed out of the shack. There was work to be done. The private investigator would be suitably distracted with her mother. If he wanted to, he could take Emma tonight and leave New Orleans tomorrow. But then all the fun would be over.
He smiled and started whistling.
Maybe just a little while longer.
Chapter Thirteen
Emma wasn’t sure how she did it, but she managed to finish her shift without falling apart or falling asleep. More importantly, all her patients received the care they deserved despite her inability to think about one thing for more than a minute at a time. She covered her mouth with her left hand and yawned while clocking out with her right.
“You’re still not sleeping.” Clara’s voice sounded behind her and she jumped.
She turned around to see the older woman studying her. “What’s got you so jumpy?”
“Nothing. Everything. Corrine Archer was admitted to the ER today. Someone attacked her.”
Clara nodded. “I heard as soon as I came on shift. Dropped by for a peek, but didn’t want to disturb her or her daughter. They were both dozing.” She narrowed her eyes at Emma. “It’s upsetting, but with the kind of work Corrine does, I’m surprised something like this hasn’t happened before now. You want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”
“It’s my fault!” Emma blurted it out before she could change her mind.
“Unless you pushed Corrine down those stairs, I don’t see how.”
Emma glanced over as another nurse entered the break room. She motioned Clara away from the computer and waited until the other nurse had finished clocking in and left before speaking again. “It’s because I hired Shaye.”
She told Clara about Shaye’s visit to the house and her disguise, then about the decorator’s swatch in Corrine’s purse.
Clara’s eyes widened and Emma could tell she was unnerved. “You’re going to tell the police about this, right?”
“It’s not for me to tell.”
“The hell it isn’t! You’ve got to give them information so they can get this guy.”
“What information do I have? That the same guy the police don’t think is stalking me is the person who set up Corrine? Besides, if I tell the police something, they’ll go straight to Corrine with the information.”
“You’re darn right they will. You want to tell me why they shouldn’t?”
“They should, but that puts Shaye in a really bad position, and I can’t do that. I’ve already brought enough trouble to her.”
Clara’s expression cleared in understanding. “Shaye doesn’t want Corrine to know her attack was about her taking your case.”
“She didn’t come right out and say it, but if you were Shaye, would you want Corrine to know?”
“If I intended on sticking with the job, I suppose not. But Corrine needs to know that she’s still in danger.”
“Given her injuries, she’s not going anywhere for a week or better. Shaye assured me that Corrine’s house is like Fort Knox and she’d have a guard. But if she knew Shaye was in danger…”
“She’d try to help because when it comes to Shaye, Corrine has no boundaries,” Clara finished and sighed. “I know you’re right, but it feels wrong.”
“I’m going to try again to get Shaye to tell the police.”
“I think that’s a good idea. I don’t suppose you can convince her to drop your case. Not that I’m wanting you without support, mind you, but I think we both know this man after you is too big a problem for someone as inexperienced as Shaye to handle.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I already tried to talk her out of it, but she insists on sticking in. She claims that at this point, her pulling back probably wouldn’t change things.”
Clara frowned. “She may be right. You’re not dealing with a normal mind. Whoever is doing this is very disturbed. He may not stop until he feels his house is clean.”
Emma shook her head, frustration overwhelming her. “I just wish I knew why. Why is all of this happening?”
Clara leaned over and gave her a quick hug. “I think when we know the answer to that question, we’ll know who he is. You be safe. And do your best to get some sleep. Are you still at the hotel?”
“Yes.” Emma didn’t go into changing hotels and the incident with her car. Clara was already worried enough.
Clara nodded. “I’m praying for you. Hard. And I believe you’re going to be fine. You’ve just got to stay strong.”
“I will. And thank you. If you’re praying, then I know God’s listening.”
“Really? How is that?”
Emma gave her a small smile. “He’d be afraid not to.”
Clara smiled. “You get out of here and get some rest.”
Emma headed down the hall for the security office to get Jeremy. He must have been watching the hallway monitor because he was waiting for her at the door. “You ready to go home, Ms. Frederick?”
It wasn’t home. At this point, Emma wasn’t certain anything ever would be again.
“Yep,” she said. “You ready to escort me to my car?”
“I am always ready for the company of a lovely lady. Just don’t tell my wife.”
Emma smiled. “You’re wonderful for a girl’s ego. Let’s do this.”
They headed out the emergency room doors and across the parking lot. Emma had parked as close as possible, but the handicapped spots and those designated for emergency personnel took up a good portion of the front of the lot. Her car was midway down under a light post. The lot was well lit, but the surrounding area wasn’t. Danger might be lurking in the shadows of the hedges lining the right side, in the spot on the sidewalk where illumination from the streetlights didn’t quite meet, across the street in the half-empty building.
She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered. It was at least ninety degrees out and humid, but she couldn’t ward off the chi
ll that ran through her. And she knew without a doubt that his eyes were on her. Somewhere in the dark. Close enough to see her.
Her pulse ticked up a notch and she increased her pace. Jeremy fell in step with her, not saying a word. Emma saw him scanning the parking lot, the sidewalk, the street. Looking for the threat that she knew was there but that remained hidden.
She practically ran the last ten feet to her car, but drew up short when she realized something was on the ground in the shadows right in front of the driver’s side door. Jeremy grabbed her arm to keep her from moving forward and pulled out his flashlight.
When the light hit the three mice with no eyes, Emma screamed.
###
He lowered the night-vision binoculars and smiled. Emma thought she was being smart, parking in the open lot instead of the employee garage, but nothing was going to stop him from his mission. And the old man with her just made him laugh. The way he practically shoved her in the car and sent her away from the hospital, then took a picture of the mice with his phone, like that was going to matter to anyone except the woman he’d just scared half to death.
The old man was no match for him. Both of them combined were no match for him.
All of Emma’s efforts—changing hotels, hiring a detective, parking in different places—were a waste of time. Emma couldn’t make a move that he hadn’t already anticipated. She wasn’t clever enough. Wasn’t cunning enough. Not like him.
The things he’d gotten away with were a testament to his prowess. He was the superior being. Mama may not have thought so when they were kids, but she had no choice but to think so now. He’d show her. He would never be a loser like his daddy.
At first, he’d thought Emma was different. That maybe Mama had been wrong about some women, but Emma had turned out to be just like all the others. Only caring about herself. Never satisfied until she’d ruined a man’s life. She’d ruined David’s, and she’d gotten off scot-free. But the legal system wasn’t the only way to get justice.
Hell, it wasn’t even the best way.
###
Emma pulled into the valet drive at the hotel and practically threw her keys at the young man before running inside. She could hear him calling after her as she ran down the hallway to the elevators. She knew she was supposed to give him her room number, but she was afraid that if she attempted to talk, she’d have a nervous breakdown right on the spot. She needed to get to her room, behind a lock and a dead bolt.
The elevator seemed to take forever, but at least it was empty. If anyone even looked at her for longer than a second, she wouldn’t be able to handle it. She knew he was there. Had known it the instant she stepped foot outside of the hospital. Why hadn’t she gone back inside? She could have slept in the break room. It had a little cubby with cots in case staff had to stay over and needed to catch some shut-eye. Why did she let Jeremy put her into her car?
Her entire body felt as if it were covered in something vile. Like his eyes were still on every inch of her. She knew it wasn’t possible—not here in the hotel—but she couldn’t shake the feeling from the parking lot.
The elevator chimed and opened and she bolted out of it, running down the hall for her room. She fumbled with the card and dropped it twice, cursed, then finally managed to get the door open. She shoved her shoulder against it so hard that she yelped and stumbled inside, pushing the door shut behind her and drawing the dead bolt.
She dumped her purse on the bed and pulled out her aunt’s pistol, checking the magazine. It was loaded and one round was chambered. The guy at the gun range had told her it was dangerous to carry with a chambered round, but Emma figured it was even more dangerous to need the time to chamber a round if a stalker was after you. The gun was holstered and her purse was locked inside her locker at work. The risk of an accidental discharge was minor. The risk of coming face-to-face with her stalker grew every minute.
Still gripping the pistol, she headed into the bathroom. She placed the pistol on the counter and pulled off her clothes, letting them drop onto the cold tile floor. She turned on the hot water in the sink, dropped a towel onto the floor in front of her, then stepped on it. She grabbed her loofah from her travel bag and soaked it with the scalding water, then began to scrub her skin. A shower or bath was too risky. Not enough time to respond if he managed to gain entry into the room, but she couldn’t take that layer of filth that his gaze had put on her skin.
She rubbed and soaked and rubbed and soaked at a frantic rate until every square inch of her body had been scrubbed clean. The light burn was preferable to the itching she’d felt before. Finally, she dropped the loofah into the sink. As she looked up, she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was mottled red from head to toe. Some patches were darker than others, but not a single square inch of unmarked white remained. She let out a single cry and grabbed the pistol, then sank onto the floor and sobbed.
Chapter Fourteen
She heard footsteps on the stone steps and knew it was the man. Without thinking, she backed into the corner, as if hiding in the shadows would somehow protect her. The door swung open and the light blazed in, blinding her. She threw her hand over her face, peering through her fingers, trying to see what the man was doing.
And she saw the red dress.
No! The silent scream tore through her and she tried to shrink into the wall.
“It’s Samhain,” the man said as he moved closer.
She cowered down, praying the man would leave. That was the bad dress. Horrible things happened when she was forced to wear it. Things she didn’t understand. Things that made her scream in pain.
She looked up as he leaned over her, the needle poised in his right hand.
“Time to become beautiful,” he said before he plunged the needle into her arm.
Shaye jolted awake in the dimly lit room, momentarily panicking until she realized where she was. She glanced at her watch and couldn’t believe it. Almost 8:00 a.m. Between doctors, nurses, and the occasional police guard drop-in, it had been a hectic night. Eleonore had arrived about thirty minutes after Shaye, ready to raise hell and call up the National Guard. Shaye had talked her off the ledge—a turn of events she found rather ironic—and finally convinced the psychiatrist that both of them could not share the one uncomfortable chair in hospital room and that Corrine would need someone at home with her the next day. Someone who could listen to her for hours at a time because there would be no end to the complaining once Corrine was at home and got indignant over the whole thing. Eleonore would have her hands full.
At some point, the room traffic died down, and when Shaye dozed off, the nurse must have turned off the overhead light. Now the lights above Corrine’s bed and light emitting from the monitors were the only things illuminating the room.
Shaye rose from her chair to check on Corrine and was relieved to see her mother’s chest rising and falling naturally. The bruises had darkened overnight, leaving her perfect white skin marred, something that would plague Corrine until the bruises went away. Her mother always insisted on looking her best. She wouldn’t leave the house without makeup or with her hair in a ponytail. Shaye assumed it was a carryover from the way Corrine’s mother had raised her. She had to assume because Audrey Archer had passed away when Corrine was not yet a teenager, so Shaye had never met her. But through Corrine’s stories, she almost felt she knew her.
Corrine stirred and her eyes fluttered open. She looked confused at first, but then her gaze locked on Shaye. “I forgot where I was for a moment,” she said. “How long have I been out?”
“It’s almost eight a.m., so quite a while. How do you feel?”
“Like I fell down a flight of stairs. You know, I did this when I was twelve and I don’t recall it hurting that bad then.”
“I hear that’s what happens when you get old.” Shaye struggled not to smile.
“Old? Old! We’re practically the same generation.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.”
“Shaye Archer!” Corrine stared at her in dismay. Finally, Shaye couldn’t hold it any longer and the grin she’d been holding in broke through.
“Shame on you,” Corrine said, “picking on me when I’m hooked to machines. You just wait until I get out of here.”
Shaye laughed and pressed the call button for the nurse. “How about we find out when that will be?”
Corrine’s mouth quivered and she smiled, then she put her fingers on her cheeks. “Oh, that smarts. How bad is it?”
“The truth?”
“No, I want you to lie to me so I can be even more upset when I look in a mirror.”
“It’s not pretty, but I don’t think anything will scar.”
“Give me a mirror.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“Okay,” Shaye said as she dug a compact out of her purse, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She opened the compact and handed it to Corrine.
Corrine held up the mirror and her eyes widened. She turned her head from side to side, studying the damage, then clicked the compact shut and handed it back to Shaye. “It’s not as bad as I feared, but makeup is not going to cover this.”
“I could get you a ski mask. Quite fashionable among skiers and criminals.”
“They’re horrible for your hair. I think I’ll just deal with people asking me ‘how does the other guy look?’ for a couple of weeks.”
A nurse walked into the room and smiled. “Make sure you tell them he looks worse,” she said.
Shaye moved away from the bed as the nurse checked out Corrine. “You look good for a woman starting fights in abandoned buildings. I’m going to send the doctor in.”
“Thank you,” Corrine said as the nurse left. She looked up at Shaye. “I want out of here.”
“I know you do, but you have to listen to the doctor. That’s what you always told me.”
“How did you grow up to be such a nag?”
