Midnight Angel

by Lisa Marie Rice

  Rich crazy murderers got good treatment here.

  A man was lying on his back on the bed with an IV running. The shoulder-length blond hair had been cut, he wasn’t dressed elegantly and lying down it was hard to judge height, but it was him, the man Allegra had described. Corey Sanderson.

  Kowalski stared hard at the man who’d beaten Allegra up, feeling the blood pound through his body. Killing the fucker wouldn’t solve anything, but still he yearned. He schooled his face and voice to impassivity before turning around.

  “I assume you’re willing to swear that he hasn’t been out of this institute and that it wasn’t him yesterday and today.”

  The doctor’s voice was cool and calm. “I would be willing to swear that not only has Mr. Sanderson not been out of the institute, but that he hasn’t been out of this room. He had,” she looked pained for a moment, “an…an episode Saturday evening. A psychotic episode. He broke all the furniture in his room. I had to have almost everything replaced. And he’d been doing so well, his parameters—well, never mind. The point is, we were forced to administer a sedative Saturday, yesterday and again this morning. Believe me, even if every single door in the institute had been open, Mr. Sanderson would have been quite incapable of walking out of here. Quite incapable of walking, actually. We had to use a heavy dosage to sedate him.”

  “Uh huh.” Kowalski watched the man lying still on the bed, hating every cell, every molecule of him. “What dosage and what drug?”

  He turned his head at her silence. Finally Dr. Childers spoke. “Is this information necessary?”

  Kowalski stuck his hand briefly in his pocket, deliberately exposing Bud’s badge. “Yes, Doctor, it is.”

  “Oh, all right.” With bad grace, the doctor checked the clipboard a nurse had handed her. Her eyes scanned the sheet of paper. “Let’s see now…the patient was administered 120 mg of Thorazine Saturday evening at 9:30 p.m. subsequent to a violent psychotic attack. The usual dosage is 100 mg but Mr. Sanderson was very…agitated. And continued to be agitated as soon as the dosage wore off. He has since received two injections of 120 mg. In technical terms, Lieutenant Morrison, it’s enough to fell a horse.”

  Kowalski thought it through. Be thorough. Don’t leave any loopholes. “How do I know he was actually administered the sedative?”

  Faint pink flags rose in her cheeks. She stabbed the clipboard with a manicured nail. “It says so right here!”

  “Uh huh.” His gaze was unwavering. He repeated stolidly, “How do I know he was actually administered the sedative? How do I know that someone didn’t just mark it down on that sheet of paper? How do I know Corey Sanderson didn’t just waltz out of here, secure in the knowledge that he had an alibi because someone scribbled something on a sheet of paper?”

  Dr. Childers’ cheeks were red now. “I’ve never heard of anything so impertinent in my life! Are you suggesting that our records are falsified?”

  “I’m not suggesting anything. All I’m saying is that we have reason to believe that Corey Sanderson was outside this institute both yesterday and today and I have only your word that he wasn’t.”

  “My word and the medical register.”

  “Uh huh.” Kowalski made himself into a wall. He stared at the doctor for a couple of minutes. She stared back. No doubt she thought her stare intimidating. Well, she didn’t know who she was trying to intimidate. He sure as hell wasn’t going to back down because a snooty doctor who was snowed by a murderer narrowed her eyes at him. “Would you swear to that in court?”

  She stared back, obviously secure. “Yes, I would, Lieutenant.”

  Kowalski made a split-second decision. He could force her to take a blood sample and have it analyzed, but it was illegal and he knew it. Above all, she knew it. And he’d get Bud into no end of trouble, because Dr. Childers would be calling in a complaint to Portland PD the instant the door of the clinic closed behind him. Kowalski was impersonating an officer and had no ground to stand on.

  If Allegra’s safety depended on it, he’d walk in and take a blood sample himself—and he wouldn’t be too careful about sticking in the syringe, either. But all in all, weighing the pros and cons, Kowalski would lose more than gain from it.

  “I want a copy of Mr. Sanderson’s clinical chart.” He was on safer ground here. Dr. Childers would fight it on principle, but he had a right to ask.

  “What?” For a second, Dr. Childers’ mask of professional hauteur slipped. Her mouth dropped in astonishment. She sucked in her breath. “You want what?”

  “You heard me.” Kowalski’s gaze was hard and unblinking. “I want a copy of his records for the past three days.”

  “There’s no question of that, Lieutenant.” Dr. Childers glared at him. “It would be an unconscionable violation of Mr. Sanderson’s privacy. The only way I would acquiesce would be with a warrant, so you go to your judge, get one and then we’ll talk.” For emphasis, she crossed her arms over her scrawny bosom.

  Kowalski moved in close, invading her private space, going toe-to-toe. In alarm, Dr. Childers took a step back, then stopped herself from taking another one. She was a psychiatrist, she knew body language. Physical retreat echoed psychological retreat.

  Kowalski kept his voice low and deadly. “I will get my warrant, make no mistake about it, doctor. The only thing is, it will take me a while to do it and whatever it is you say has been pumped into that fu—that guy’s veins might just have had a chance to be absorbed into the system, so I’ll never know, will I? And if that happens, if I have to wait for the results until the whatever finally comes back is inconclusive,” he stepped even closer, his face hard and set, “then I will be royally pissed. To my way of thinking, doctor, that would be obstruction of justice and I don’t take kindly to that. My colleagues don’t take kindly to obstruction of justice, either. So we might just suppose that you’re hiding something here, hmmm? And we would be forced to dig pretty deep to find out just what that something is. And I can guarantee you, doctor,” he took another step forward, satisfied that she stepped back involuntarily, “that we will turn this institute inside out. We will camp out here for days on end, going through every single scrap of paper on file here. And if we find anything, anything at all, and I’m talking about a misplaced aspirin, doctor, you’re going to pay.”

  It was a bluff. The drugs would be gone by the time a warrant could be issued. But Kowalski knew how to put menace into his voice and face. He took a surreptitious step forward, straightening his shoulders, presenting a large outline. Basic psychology. He was an imminent menace and all she wanted now was to get rid of him.

  Dr. Childers had gone white. Kowalski wondered what she was afraid of, though he really didn’t give a shit. He was intensely mission-oriented. His mission right now was to find out whether or not that fucker Sanderson had been out and about yesterday and today, terrifying Allegra.

  Kowalski and Dr. Childers stood there in a staring match, and he won. White-faced, she went to the nurses’ station and came back with a folder. She held it out between two fingers, careful not to touch him, as if he were a leper.

  “I hope you’re satisfied now, Lieutenant,” she said icily.

  “Depends,” he replied, and walked away.

  It was late when Kowalski pulled up outside Allegra’s house. He’d dropped by a lab his company had used a few times, and got a lab tech to assess the medical information. The lab rat had used more or less the same language Dr. Childers had used. “Guy’s been essentially meat since Saturday,” he’d said cheerfully.

  Sanderson hadn’t been anywhere but flat on his back in bed.

  Which meant that Allegra was having flashbacks to the night Sanderson had killed her father and beaten her up. Though Kowalski doubted she was in any real danger, he’d still taken precautions, including the necklace he fingered in his pocket.

  Allegra was playing and singing up a storm, the notes lingering in the nighttime air as he walked up to her porch.

  He’d called ahead to
Jacko to let him know his ETA. You don’t walk in unannounced on an armed, alert man bodyguarding, especially when he’s a sharpshooter with fast reflexes.

  He knocked, shouted “Hoo-ah!” and let himself in with the key. Allegra was at her harp, Jacko in an armchair turned so he could watch her and the door, his gun on his knee, finger inside the trigger guard.

  The music stopped.

  “Douglas?” Allegra stood and stepped back from the harp. Kowalski crossed the room quickly, pulling her into his arms. “I’m glad you’re back,” she mumbled into his coat.

  “Yeah.” Kowalski rested his cheek on the top of her head briefly, kissed her and led her to the kitchen. “I’ll make you some tea in just a minute.”

  She understood he had business with Jacko. “Okay,” she said quietly as she sat down, folding her hands in her lap.

  Jacko was still sitting in his armchair. When Kowalski approached, he looked up, eyes glazed. Oh, God. Had he been that bored?

  “Thanks, man.” Kowalski let his hand drop onto Jacko’s shoulder. “I really appreciate this. It probably wasn’t necessary, but it made me feel better.”

  Jacko blinked and seemed to come back into himself. “That music.” He sounded stunned.

  “Yeah, it’s an acquired taste. And it’s not at a hundred decibels, like your favorite garage bands. Some of us like our music with notes in it.” Jacko’s taste in music was legendary. Kowalski had once accompanied Jacko to a concert of his favorite band and it had taken him three days to get his hearing back.

  “Beautiful,” Jacko murmured. “So beautiful.”

  Kowalski looked at him sharply and sniffed. No, Jacko hadn’t been drinking Allegra’s excellent whiskey. Kowalski felt ashamed of himself. Jacko would never drink on the job. “Uh-huh.” He held Jacko’s parka up, anxious to be rid of him and get back to Allegra. “Thanks again. You were a real big help. I owe you one. Count on me for a big favor, okay?”

  Jacko turned his head slowly to look at Kowalski and blinked. Goddamn! Had he been drinking?

  “That music,” Jacko whispered. “So sad. So beautiful. She’s so beautiful.”

  Oh. Jacko’d fallen under Allegra’s spell.

  “Yep. That she is. Pretty girl, pretty music. You might try them both sometime.” Jacko’s sex partners usually had more tattoos and piercings than he did.

  Kowalski slipped Jacko’s gun back into his shoulder holster for him, held the parka up so he could slip his arms in. When Jacko just stood there, Kowalski herded him to the front door, gave him a helpful slap on the back to get him over the threshold, said, “Thanks again,” and closed the door behind him.

  Next time, he’d get someone gay to bodyguard Allegra. Not, unfortunately, a SEAL. There weren’t any gay SEALs.

  Allegra was where he left her, sitting sad and subdued on a kitchen chair. He touched her shoulder, bending to kiss the top of her head. Three minutes later, vanilla tea—her favorite, he’d discovered—was steaming in front of her. She cupped her hands around the mug as if she needed the warmth, but didn’t sip. “So. What did you find out?” she asked finally.

  Kowalski sat down next to her, his hand on her knee so she could feel his presence. He picked up Allegra’s hand and held it firmly sandwiched between his.

  “Okay, I went to the psychiatric institute where Corey Sanderson is being held. Spring Harbor Psychiatric.” She jerked slightly when she heard Sanderson’s name. “I checked very carefully, honey. The guy’s in lockdown, which means you can’t get in and you can’t get out of the place. It’s as secure as a prison. It is a prison. Not only that, apparently Sanderson had some kind of psychotic episode Saturday night and they’ve been pumping him full of psychotropic drugs. Sanderson’s been in a chemical straitjacket since Saturday. He’s not going anywhere drugged to the eyeballs, so it couldn’t have been him today. And it couldn’t have been him yesterday, either.”

  Allegra listened, her head slightly averted, making no attempt to hone in on his voice. She sat breathing quietly. Had she absorbed what he’d said?

  “Honey?” She was pale, her skin felt cold. He frowned, lifting her hand to his lips. “Do you understand? You’re not in any danger. Corey Sanderson isn’t on the loose. He’s locked up. He can’t hurt you in any way. You’re in no danger.”

  She wasn’t reacting and he was starting to get scared. “Allegra?”

  “I guess that means I’m going crazy,” she whispered finally, her voice raw. She turned her head now toward his voice, eyes wide and scared. “Douglas, I swear to you I heard Corey’s voice. I swear. Nobody believes me. Why won’t anyone believe me?”

  His heart clenched in his chest at the misery on her face. “Yes, you heard his voice, only it wasn’t his voice from today or yesterday. You heard him from five months ago. It’s a perfectly normal phenomenon.” He closed his eyes. What a dumbass thing to say. Being blind and an amnesiac was anything but normal. “What I mean to say is, you have temporary amnesia due to severe concussion. Your memory is coming back. Your brain is sending you messages from five months ago, that’s all, like—like an undelivered email finally being delivered. What you heard happened, only just not now. You are definitely not going crazy.”

  Was she even listening? Her pale face was still, remote.

  “You should leave now.” Her lips trembled. It was as if the words were being dragged out of her. “Just go away.”

  What?

  She sat back, withdrawing her hand from his, breaking the physical connection between them. “Just go now, Douglas. Go right now, get out of here. What are you doing here with me? What could you possibly want with me? I’m just a drag on you. Get out while you can.”

  “You’re talking nonsense, Allegra.”

  “No, I’m not,” she whispered, eyes glassy. “I’m finally facing reality. Oh God, Douglas, I’m…blind. I tell myself I’ll get better, I’ll have this operation but…chances are I will stay blind for the rest of my life. And I hear,” her voice was shaking, “I hear voices. I have nightmares. My head hurts whenever I think too hard about things. I’m like this long slow train wreck. You should get away while you can, I’m nothing but a burden to you.”

  Oh honey, he thought, his heart turning over in his chest. He couldn’t bear to listen to her for another second.

  “No, no. Listen to me.” He kept his voice quiet, clasped her hands. She tried to tug her hands out of his, but he tightened his grasp. “Listen to me carefully. I can’t believe what you’re saying. You’re not a burden, you’re a joy. You’re beautiful and talented and smart. I never thought I’d ever be with a woman like you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, bar none. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Allegra. I—”

  He swallowed heavily, aware that he was about to say words he’d never said to anyone in his life. Aware that he was crossing a divide. Aware that his life would never be the same again.

  “I love you,” he said quietly. “So much it scares me. I’ve only known you for a couple of days and yet I feel like I’ve loved you all my life. I know I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

  This was crazy talk and it was profoundly true. Nothing he felt for her had any precedent in his life. He’d had on-again off-again sex with an on-base secretary for two full years a while back and he could barely remember her face. Everything about Allegra was burned into his neurons. He would swear that his last thought in this life would be of her.

  “Oh, Douglas.” A single, solitary tear gleamed on her cheek, rolled down that ivory skin. She leaned forward, catching his face between her hands and holding his head still, palm right over his ugly scar, so she wouldn’t miss his mouth with hers.

  They kissed tentatively at first. It felt odd, and scary and exhilarating, too. Kowalski’s first kiss of love. A slight touching of lips, soft and heated. Gliding, tentative, as if they were two teenagers making out for the first time. Exploring.

  He let his lips curve over her jaw, drift up over her high, delicate cheekbone. H
is long fingers spread out in her thick hair, curving over the skull, holding her in place for the exploration of her face with his mouth. He feathered light kisses over her closed eyelids, past her temple, along the jawline, burying his face in her neck. He licked the skin of her neck, running his tongue over the long tendons. She tilted her head to one side so he could have better access. He opened his heavy lids long enough to see that she had a slight smile on her face, then closed his eyes again. He didn’t need sight. It was enough to smell her and feel her and taste her. Heaven.

  He could stay in this place forever, this special world that smelled of springtime, made of gentle touches and soft sighs. His lips drifted slowly back up to hers. There was no sense of time here, in this enchanted place. He lost track of where they were, his entire world reduced to her mouth and long slender hands cupping his face.

  Kowalski had never really paid much attention to kissing. Women liked it, so he learned over the years how to kiss well. The way he looked, he needed all the ammo he could use to get women into his bed. So he could kiss with the best of them, all the while figuring how long it would be before he could get horizontal and naked with the woman he was locking lips with.

  This was something else entirely. This was learning the shape of Allegra’s mouth, her face, all over again, finding out what she liked by the minute changes in her breathing. When his tongue touched hers for the first time, the shock was so electric he saw lights behind his eyes. It was so intense he went back to the soft, tentative kisses of before, light and fleeting.

  This was completely new for him. When the kisses heated up, Kowalski wanted to move straight ahead to sex, it was all he could think about. He often kissed while fondling the woman, stroking her breasts and her sex. He’d learned to kiss by feeling with his hand what made a woman wet enough to fuck. When he could get his sex partner wet enough for his cock was when he stopped kissing.

  He was hard, primed for sex, but though burning desire was there, it was distant, remote. He could even do without sex right now—just stay here forever, in the glorious Land of Allegra, lips meeting and lifting and meeting again.