Expecting to Die
Page 27
The pain in her lungs was excruciating. So much pressure and a blackness pulled at the edges of her consciousness, a darkness that was as alluring as it was deadly.
Don’t give up! Keep fighting. Someone will come. You’ll be saved! You can’t die! Not like this, not when . . . the baby. Oh, God, the baby! She struggled harder, but her mind was dulled with pain, her movements sluggish and she knew she was on the verge of losing consciousness. If that happened, it would be over. She would surely die at his hands.
How had she gotten here?
Why had she trusted him?
She’d been so, so foolish.
The world spun crazily. Tops of trees seemed to skim the sky. The moon, pearlescent and shining in the darkness, the sounds of the night, the rush of wind and buzz of insects and whir of bat wings now silent beneath the thunder of her pulse beating in her ears, the fear that was consuming her, the infinite blackness crawling into her vision.
He was going to kill her!
She’d trusted him.
Stupidly.
And now he intended to cut off her air and hold her down. Strangle her until she passed out and . . .
She fought harder, her fingernails ripping at the backs of those steely hands, slicing into his . . . not skin, but something covering his hands. Gloves! The son of a bitch was wearing gloves. So that he could murder her and get away with it! Leave no trace of his damned DNA! No way! No friggin’ way! Her thoughts were wild, the darkness in her peripheral vision closing in.
She twisted her neck, intent on biting his arm when she heard him take a deep breath. Then, as her burning lungs gave out and lightning bolts flashed behind her eyes, she felt an increased pressure on her throat. Harder, stronger, and . . . and . . . then the blackness around the edge of her vision swallowed her.
* * *
The call came in at two minutes after 5 AM. It was still nearly dark, just the hint of dim light filtering through the open French doors as Pescoli fumbled for her phone. Groaning, she looked at the lit screen of her cell: ALVAREZ.
This was not going to be good news, she thought as the first cries of morning birds slipped inside on a soft breeze.
“Yeah?” she answered groggily, surfacing to realize that she was alone in the bed. She pushed herself into a sitting position and figured Santana had already gotten up, was maybe downstairs going over book work or getting ready for another day working not only this place but the Long ranch as well.
“We’ve got another one.”
“Another what?” Pescoli asked, staring over the mound that had once been her trim abdomen to the view, through the open doors, of the lake. A hint of sunlight burst over the mountains to the east. “Dead body?”
“No.”
For a second, Pescoli felt relief. “Then what?” she asked around a yawn.
“A girl scared out of her wits by Big Foot.”
“What? No. Come on.”
“Lara Haas claims she was chased by a huge, hairy monster up near Reservoir Point. The thing tried to strangle her, but she got away.”
Pescoli rubbed her eyes with her free hand. “Wait a sec. This was when? After the filming of the reality series? Because Sphinx’s production crew was up there most of the night, until the early morning.” This wasn’t adding up. Bianca had come in sometime around 3 AM. Pescoli had heard the sounds of Michelle’s car’s idling engine as she’d dropped Bianca off, then the distinctive rumble of the garage door lifting and closing, a few soft woofs from the dogs, and finally the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Once she’d heard her daughter’s bedroom door open and close, Pescoli had drifted off again. She considered Lara Haas. “Sounds like a hoax.”
“Anything involving Big Foot sounds like a hoax, but I thought since this happened to Bianca last week, or at least something similar, you might want to check it out.”
“Is she up there at Reservoir Point now?”
“No, she called nine-one-one. She’s pretty beat up, I guess, and ended up at Northern General. I’m heading to the hospital now.”
“But she was at the reservoir? Is that where the . . . beast . . . chased her?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought the place was barricaded off because of the filming.”
“It is,” Alvarez said. “They slipped through the temporary fencing.”
“They?”
“Alex O’Hara was with her.”
Another member of the group who couldn’t be trusted, at least in Pescoli’s opinion. “Barclay Sphinx is gonna be pissed if anything is missing or broken.”
“Unless there’s real evidence of Big Foot. Then he’ll be ecstatic. All that free publicity at another sighting.”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” she muttered. What if everything that was happening was a big publicity stunt? But no, there was homicide involved. As despicable as she found the producer, Pescoli didn’t believe him capable of murder. Then again, she’d been wrong before.
“Yes,” Alvarez agreed.
“It will be tough to believe it’s a Sasquatch. Those creatures are not only camera and people shy, they’re hairy and don’t seem to shed, it seems. And though they presumably hunt and eat, they’re so damned tidy, they don’t leave any evidence of their kills, not a trace. Also, I guess they don’t defecate, as no spoor can be found. And when they die, their carcasses must go through super rapid disintegration because their bones and teeth turn to dust in seconds flat. Unless maybe aliens come down and whisk the corpses back to an unknown planet in another solar system. Remind me to ask Ivor Hicks about that. He claims the reptilians under the leadership of a General Krytor or something took him away for a few hours to do experiments on him, if I remember correctly.”
“I’m with ya. But even so, since Bianca claims she saw something like a Big Foot last week, and a girl’s body was discovered . . .”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.” All this talk of the mythical, overhyped beast was giving Pescoli a headache. “I’m on my way. I’ll meet you at the hospital.” After hanging up, she leaned back against the headboard for a second. What the hell was going on? Another Big Foot sighting landing a girl in the hospital? She couldn’t help but wonder if it was all staged, just like the reality show, all part of some elaborate prank, or, as she’d thought before, a publicity stunt.
She pushed herself upright and rolled out of bed, then found her dreaded maternity pants and top, dressed hastily, unlocked the safe for her sidearm, and slipped it into her shoulder holster.
Down the hall, she passed the door to the small nursery. The door was ajar and she cast a glance inside. The crib was already pushed into one corner, a chest of drawers on the opposite wall. The room was painted a soft gray and nearly ready for its tiny, as yet unborn, occupant. A huge package of diapers was still wrapped in plastic, and on the changing table a fluffy, lop-eared bunny, a gift from one of Pescoli’s sisters, peered at her.
It was hard to believe that within the next four weeks a new little person would call this room home.
Oh, man. She could hardly wait.
But she wasn’t ready. Not yet.
She took a few more steps in the hallway only to stop at Bianca’s door, where she peeked inside to find her daughter, her injured ankle elevated and resting on a pillow, one arm flung across her face, her curly hair a tangled mess, sleeping as if she were dead.
But she was safe.
Good. She felt a moment’s relief and closed the door.
On the stairs she was met with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Following the scent, she maneuvered around the obstacles of three energetic dogs and found her husband at the single-cup espresso machine, where a travel cup, the latte still frothing, was waiting. “For you,” he said, indicating the mug. He’d showered and was dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and socks, his boots standing at attention near the back door. “Coffee. Well, kinda.”
“You mean ‘decaf’?”
“Yep. I heard your phone. Figured you’d be down.” He handed her the cup.
“Never in doubt.”
“And so humble.”
“That’s right. So what’s up?”
“If you can believe it, there’s been another Big Foot attack.”
“I don’t. Believe it.”
“Me, neither. Call me a skeptic, but . . .” She took another swallow. “Mmm.” Despite the lack of energy rush, the coffee was hot and helped get her early morning going.
He slid her a glance. “What happened?” he asked.
“Supposedly one of the girls who was up at Reservoir Point for the filming of that damned show was attacked. I guess all of Sphinx’s cameras, and production people and lights and noise, didn’t scare off these incredibly shy creatures. Turns out, maybe they were just waiting for the camera crew to show up.”
He snorted.
“But the upshot is that another girl is in the hospital, so whatever chased her or attacked her is real. We just don’t know what it is. I’m betting it’s the same being that chased Bianca.” She rotated the travel cup in a hand as she thought. “Whatever’s happening is pissing me off.”
“It won’t be your problem in a few days,” he reminded her.
“Yeah, what? Just because I’m gonna have a baby, I’m gonna bail on the investigation?”
“It’ll slow you down.”
“It’s not like I’m having major surgery, or will be laid up forever.” To his credit, he didn’t push it. She knew she’d be off work for a while, that the first few weeks and months would be a blur of breast feeding, and nights without sleep, and diapers, and being so in love with the new little addition to the family that nothing else would seem to matter. She’d been through it before and was gladly doing it again. Just. Not. Yet.
“I’m heading to the hospital to visit the victim, Lara Haas,” she told him.
“One of Bianca’s friends. The blonde with . . .”
Was he really going to say, “The blonde with the tits?” but had thought better of it? Men! So damned predictable. And really—so annoying.
“With the incredible body?” she supplied as he let the sentence fade. “Yeah, that’s the one. After I chat with her, I might head back to the reservoir. See what I can see. I guess I’ll catch you later—with all that’s going on, probably not until tonight. Thanks for the latte.”
“I was going to say with the privileged attitude.”
She squinted at him. “Uh-huh.”
“That’s what you said,” he reminded, eyes full of mirth.
“Yeah.” She set the cup in the sink and started to turn away, but he caught her wrist, pulled her back to face him and then kissed her as he hadn’t kissed her in a long while. She’d expected a buss across the cheek, instead she got warm lips, big hands splayed across her back, and the slickness of his tongue running over the seam of her lips. Her resistance fled and she felt herself turning into molten butter. Her knees nearly gave out and erotic images of the two of them played through her mind. Santana, with a quick, intense glance, or the merest touch, could make her think of long hours of sexual foreplay and satisfaction. It was always erotic and sometimes, like now, frustrating.
“Not now,” she said as he lifted his head.
“Later, then.”
“A lot later. I’m pretty damned pregnant.”
“And sexy as hell.”
“Oh, man,” she said as he released her. “You are so full of it.”
“I know. But you two be careful out there.” He looked at her protruding belly.
She was smiling as she walked through the family room. The dogs, ever hopeful for a ride, trailed after her and she left them, tails wagging, for Santana to deal with.
Minutes later, she was driving down the lane to the main road, the lake shimmering gold with the rising sun, stars fading as night turned to day. She rolled down her window, smelled the scents of dry grass and dust—summer—in the air and watched as the sun crested the hills. All the while, she tried to wrap her head around Lara Haas’s claims. Obviously if the girl had been admitted to the hospital, she’d been injured.
Like Bianca.
What was Lara doing up at the reservoir?
Why had some “creature” chased after her?
Had it attacked?
It all sounded unbelievable. None of it made a whole lot of sense.
But neither had Bianca’s story and it was very real.
The streets in town were quiet. She met only a few cars and trucks, people on their way to work, but she was uncomfortable behind the steering wheel and felt, again, the Braxton Hicks contractions that had been showing up periodically over the past few weeks. She told herself this wasn’t her first rodeo, she knew all the signs, and that when real labor was imminent, she’d know it.
But it’s been more than a few years since you were last pregnant. Your body has changed a lot.
“Oh, shut up,” she growled and glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “It’s not happening, not yet.” She had far too much to do before she could even think about maternity leave.
Once again, she turned her thoughts to the task at hand and the attack on Lara Haas. Was it too convenient? Some kind of setup, or publicity stunt? “You’re a jaded, pregnant cop whose BS radar is always cranked too high,” she told herself with another look in the mirror. “Or, maybe just a damned good detective. Let’s go with that. Yeah, I like that better.”
At Northern General, the lot was fairly empty, only a few vehicles parked near the front doors. She found an empty spot and headed inside, taking the elevator to the second floor, where she found the room occupied by Lara Haas.
A nurse was attending to her patient, taking vital signs, and Alvarez stood near the windows, turning when she heard Pescoli arrive.
Propped on the bed, the head of which was raised, Lara, devoid of makeup, looked more like a kid than ever, as if she were closer to fifteen than twenty. In a flash, Pescoli remembered her as a toddler at the preschool. She’d been pretty even then, round blue eyes, blond hair, pink cheeks, and rosebud lips. Now, an IV dripped colorless fluid into her right arm while her left forearm was elevated, a padded splint holding her wrist and hand immobile. There were surface scratches on her face and arms, and a dark discoloration visible at her neckline.
Pescoli didn’t say a word as the nurse, a prim woman in her fifties in scrubs and rimless glasses, took Lara’s vitals, then, not particularly happy the cops were there, looked from Pescoli to Alvarez. “Does the doctor know you’re here?”
“Don’t know,” Alvarez said.
“I’ll check. Remember, the patient has been through a lot,” she said, glaring at the detectives over the tops of her glasses. “We’re still waiting on the results of some of her tests.”
Alvarez gave a quick nod.
“Hmmm.” The nurse started to exit, then took a closer look at Pescoli’s baby bump. “You’re near term.”
“Yes, I am.” Pescoli felt her feathers ruffled a bit.
The nurse’s thin eyebrows arched knowingly. She looked about to say something more, but caught a warning in Pescoli’s eyes and glanced back at the bed. “I’ll be at the desk if you need anything,” she said to Lara as she pointed to a remote call button attached to the rails of the hospital bed.
Lara smiled weakly. “Thanks.”
“So how’re you feeling?” Alvarez asked as the nurse exited.
“Pretty rough,” she admitted, her lower lip quivering slightly. “My mom is out of town, but she’s on her way back from Spokane right now.”
“What about your dad?”
Her eyes slid to the side. “They’re separated. He’s in San Francisco. For a while. But Mom. She’ll be here soon.” She managed a brave little smile that faltered slightly, and she blinked back tears.
Pescoli felt a pang of empathy for Lara—she was, after all, just a teenager. How duplicitous could she be? Silently berat
ing herself for her own jaded attitude, she said, “Why don’t you tell us what happened?”
“It was just like Bianca,” Lara said. Then she paused. “Wait a minute. Aren’t you homicide cops?” Her blue eyes rounded. “No one died, did they? No one was killed. Right?” She appeared about to panic.
“Nothing like that,” Alvarez said. “We just think what happened to you might be considered part of a wider investigation.”
“Okay.”
Pescoli asked, “Why were you up at Reservoir Point?”
“I lost my phone, earlier. When we were all up there, at the Point, filming, you know? Last night. I had it because I remember texting and then being told that all our phones had to be turned off. So I did. And we did our scenes, if you can call them that, I mean, I’m barely on screen at all and just in a group shot. But a bunch of us were there, around the fake campfire, sitting on logs. I think that’s when my phone must’ve fallen out of my pocket and I didn’t notice since I wasn’t supposed to use it.”
“Then what?” Alvarez asked, when she paused.
“After the filming, we all left and Alex and I went to the Midway Diner. That’s when I noticed it was gone. I was freaked, you know? I mean, I can. Not. Live. Not without my phone, so Alex and I, we went up there looking for it.”
“In the dark?” Pescoli asked.
“Yeah, everyone was gone. It was weird being up there with all that equipment in the dark, but I had to get it back, so we went through the barricade and started looking. The trouble was that, since it was turned off, we couldn’t call it. I’d hoped that I hadn’t turned it off, and we would be able to hear it or see it in the dark because it would light up when we called, but nah. That didn’t work.”
Pescoli took over questioning. “So then . . . after you couldn’t find the phone, what happened?”
“We looked all around the campfire area and it wasn’t there. I remembered going up the trail a bit, to watch Bianca’s big scene where the Big Foot is chasing her down the mountain, so Alex and I checked there, and that’s when . . . that’s when . . . we could maybe hear it. I thought it would be okay, because Alex was going to call it and it would light up and ring, so really, the dark works best. Well, kinda.”