Burdened By Guilt

by Michiko Katsu

  “No.”

  “What did I mean? Uh…what did I mean.” Greg coughed up accumulated cigarette phlegm. “Uh…I think it was more commentary then anything. I just thought it was interesting that it didn’t seem as if he was tied down. For someone to be in that situation and to have something like that done to him I would have expected to see some type of ligature marks and I didn’t. He had to have been kept somewhere in order to collect his blood during and after he was killed. I would think you’d need to tie someone down for that.”

  Mike thought for a moment. “Did you send his blood out?”

  “Of course.”

  “And?”

  “And? And nothing. The usual scans didn’t bring up anything. The tox report is in with my final review. Look at it yourself.”

  Mike flipped through the pages. The results showed the standard battery of tests came up negative and he hadn’t seen any reason to request additional tests at the time. “Okay, when you get in I want you to run additional tests on the blood to see about any type of tranquilizers, anesthetics, muscle relaxers. Anything like that. If he wasn’t restrained physically then maybe it was chemically. Hey thanks Greg and call me as soon as you get the results back. Oh and Greg, just to be safe run the same tests on the second guy as well.”

  “Why the second guy?”

  “I don’t know. Just trying to cover all the bases. Thanks.” Mike hung up before Greg could respond.

  He got up and walked to the white board behind his desk, wiped it off and wrote down what he had so far.

  Victim #1 – Unknown, Occupation – Unknown, Home – Unknown, C.O.D. – exsanguination, T.O.D. – between 12-6 a.m. October 14, Found – appx 8 a.m. October 14, Notes – teeth and fingers removed, along with arms and legs. Also no ligature marks. Drugged? TBD, Book – The Telltale Heart/Poe.

  Victim #2 – Unknown, Occupation – Unknown, Home – Unknown, C.O.D – massive blood loss due to multiple stab wounds, T.O.D. – between 4-6 a.m. October 15th, Found – appx 9 a.m. October 15th, Notes – teeth and fingers removed. Eight different tool marks. Also no ligature marks but may not be relevant. Drugged? TBD, Book – Julius Caesar/Shakespeare

  He sat and rubbed his eyes. The blue/black swirls appearing from the pressure provided no solace as the weight of the situation continued to hang around his neck like The Precious. Staring at the details now outlined in black and white, he forced another connection only to fall short. There was only one link connecting them at this point and no amount of creativity could bridge the enormous gap flashing defiantly in front of him.

  Chapter 17

  Mike called the hospital and the station the night before ensuring Suzanne had a private room as well as a guard at her door. As he walked toward her room he saw the cop reading a magazine.

  “Simmons,” Mike said as the other guy looked up.

  “Anderson,” Ed responded.

  “All’s well?”

  “Yep. No one in or out who wasn’t part of the hospital staff, as directed.”

  “Good. I don’t think you should have to be here much longer. I’ll find out when she’s expected to be released.”

  “No problem,” Ed responded and went back to his magazine.

  Mike walked in and stood taking in the surroundings. He never liked hospitals and this one in particular held bad memories. All the machines and wires and the constant beeping noises from the multitude of monitors brought to life long suppressed images he tried to forget.

  “Your shoes don’t match your purse.” Suzanne smiled at him from her bed.

  He let out a single laugh. “Yeah, well I guess I won’t be on anyone’s best dressed lists anytime soon.” He placed her purse on the foot of her bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “I think I’ll live,” she responded. “It could have been worse so I guess I shouldn’t complain.” She lifted her plaster encased left arm to underline her sentiment.

  “What’s the damage?”

  “A few stitches, a fractured wrist and a badly twisted ankle.” She pulled the sheet away from her right foot showing Mike the elevated ankle.

  “You’re right. It definitely could have been worse.” He cleared his throat as her smile faded away with the implication. He walked around the other side of her bed and took a seat in the chair next to her.

  “I take it you didn’t have any luck finding the guy.” She played with the seams of the sheet as she talked.

  “No. Sorry. That’s not to say I won’t find him but so far nothing was left behind with his address on it.”

  She smiled, laid her head back on the pillow and looked over at him. “I’m sure you’ll find him,” she said reassuringly.

  “I—I’m going to need for you to come to the station so I can get your fingerprints,” he said.

  She tensed. “Why?” She asked looking back at the sheet.

  “Well, I need to eliminate your fingerprints from the collection gathered at the scene. It just makes it easier for you.” He knew it wasn’t for her sake but thought it might help ease the strange tension emanating from her body.

  “That won’t be necessary,” she said.

  “Actually it’s very necessary. It really does help the forensics team if they can exclude your fingerprints from the others that shouldn’t be there.”

  “No. It really isn’t necessary,” she said again.

  “Suzanne…”

  “He was wearing gloves.”

  He thought about it and realized he never took a formal statement from her. In fact the only details he did get from her were the scattered direction she gave him after falling into his arms. She never described her attacker, what he was wearing, his physical build. Nothing. It was yet another accommodation he made for her for reasons he found difficult to control.

  “Oh, Okay, that’s right. I guess no one took your statement did they?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I guess maybe we should do that first.”

  The door open and her doctor walked in interrupting their conversation. “So, how are we feeling today?” The doctor asked acknowledging Mike with a quick nod of his head. He reminded Mike of Grandpa from Hee-Haw, all the way down to his little glasses. The only thing missing was the hat.

  “I’m fine,” she responded.

  “I guess you’re more than fine,” he said congenially. “Under the circumstances your injuries could have been much, much worse.”

  She looked over at Mike then back to the doctor.

  “Yes, that is true,” she smiled at him. “This is Detective Anderson. He’s the one who…he’s the one who saved my life.”

  “Well, that’s fantastic. Well done young man. Well done. You’ve earned your stripes on this one.” He was genuinely warm and Mike liked him immediately wishing all doctors had his same bedside manner.

  “Well, even though you made it out with only a few bumps and bruises you were still pretty well beaten up. Let’s not think you can go right back to your life without some downtime young lady. You need a lot of rest and I would also recommend you talk to one of our crisis counselors if you don’t have your own psychiatrist.”

  She breathed deeply. “Yes. I understand.”

  “I’m gonna’ give you a prescription for Valium too. It’ll help calm your nerves and help you sleep.”

  “That’s not necessary,” she resumed playing with the seams.

  “You’ve had a very traumatic incident young lady. I’m sure you’re gonna’ have some problems sleeping and relaxing over the next few days.”

  “It’s not that. I already have a prescription so I’m fine.”

  “Ah. Okay then. You can go after all your paperwork is done. There’s no point in you staying in this dreary place any longer. It’s probably better for you to be home and in your own bed. So who’s gonna’ take you home, husband, boyfriend, girlfriend?”

  “I’ll just take a cab,” she said.

  The doctor looked over at Mike and gave him an encouraging look.

  “Right,
” Mike said. “Yeah, don’t worry about it Doc. I can take care of her. I mean I can take her home.” He felt her eyes on him.

  “Won-der-ful,” the doctor enunciated each syllable. “Well then young lady, now that your knight in shining armor is here to take care of you I’ll get the rest of your paperwork started. There’ll be a nurse in shortly to get you squared away.” He turned and walked toward the door. “And remember, no stress. It’s important you get plenty of rest. Now, I have a feeling you aren’t used to those concepts so let me say it again. No stress. Lots of rest. Lots and lots of it. I’ll call you tomorrow and make sure you’re doing okay.” He smiled at both of them, tilted his head and winked at Mike as he left the room.

  Mike fidgeted in his chair after the door closed behind Doctor Grandpa. He was fine with the idea of taking her home but didn’t think about how she would react to it. Maybe she didn’t want him to take her home? He thought it was a bit sad she didn’t have anyone to call in an emergency.

  “You know you didn’t have to do that?” She said.

  “What? Yeah I know but it’s okay. Besides that guy is still out there and I don’t want to take any chances of putting you in a cab and I still haven’t gotten a statement from you. I would prefer to do it sooner rather than later. It’s already been too long and I don’t want you forgetting any more details than you may have already.” His response was colder than he intended.

  “Mike?” She asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I think there’s something I should tell you.”

  He stiffened unsure he wanted to hear what she was about to say. Anytime a woman started off with a sentence like that, nothing good came after it. He watched as she continued to play with the hem of the sheet.

  “Yes?” He asked cautiously.

  “This isn’t the first time someone has tried to break into my office.”

  He let out an audible sigh of relief and she looked at him in response. Recovering he said, “Really? Strange? That campus security guard said nothing like this had ever happened before.” He made a mental note to talk to Kevin first and the security guard second.

  “Oh, well I’m sure he was talking about the attack. I don’t believe anyone was ever attacked on campus before but offices get broken into all the time. You’d be surprised at what some students will do to pass a class or get out of taking a test.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” he tone belied his words as he tilted his head and looked away.

  The nurse waddled in with her clipboard and informed Suzanne of her aftercare needs, prescriptions and other assorted bits of information no one ever remembers when leaving the hospital. Suzanne didn’t respond to the nurse but reacted to what she said as if she was still in a haze.

  She talked to both of them as if they were a couple, trying to ensure whatever Suzanne missed Mike would pick up on. He tried his best to keep up with the instructions and the charade of the concerned husband but kept getting lost on different pieces of information.

  After about thirty minutes of forms and direction the nurse informed them both Suzanne was free to go.

  “Your clothes are hanging in the closet honey, next to the bafroom and all your personal belongings are in this here envelope.” She handed the envelope to Mike. “She just needs a good meal and then go ta bed. You betta’ take her home and either stop on the way or order something when you get there. Don’t let her not eat and don’t let her wait too long before she do eat. She gonna’ need food fo’ keepin’ up her strength and begin the healin’ process.”

  Mike and Suzanne both tried set her straight about their relationship but she wasn’t interested.

  “Listen. I don’t care ‘bout ya’lls personal business and invadin’ your privacy, blah, blah, blah. Don’t think I haven’t heard this story before. You,” she said pointing her sausage-like fingers at Mike. “Your needs do not matter for at least the next month. You need to be focused on yo’ wife.”

  He tried to protest but she wouldn’t stand for it. She was as wide as she was tall and it was obvious she carried her weight around like a badge of honor. She maneuvered around Suzanne’s bed and pointed at his stomach making sure he got her message.

  “Remember you almost lost her last night boy. This is your crown jewel and you need to let her know that ever’ second of ever’ minute of ever’ day. Any questions?”

  Mike looked at Suzanne and then back at the nurse. “No ma’am,” he said knowing any other answer might put him in his own hospital bed.

  “Good. Now, ya’ll take care of each other and eve’thing’ll be juuus’ fine.” Her smile radiated across her chubby cheeks as her genuine warmth and consideration emanated belying her bullish mannerisms. She patted Suzanne on the leg, winked at Mike and left the room.

  “Okay then.” Mike stood. “I’ll go outside and let Simmons know he can go. You just come out whenever you’re ready and I’ll take ya’, I mean you, home.”

  There was too much assumed comfort in that room in the past hour and he couldn’t understand it. He needed to reestablished his role in this case before the lines became so blurred even he couldn’t see them.

  Chapter 18

  They drove in silence, the awkwardness of their hospital experience and forced connection creating potential land mines of every topic. Mike’s banal commentary on the landscape, traffic problems and other innocuous topics did nothing to lighten the air between them. He saved her life and she was grateful but he was no hero and she was no damsel in distress.

  He had saved only one other person in his twenty-two years as a cop and the memories of that day and every day after that still twisted inside him. The similarities tormented him as their bloodstained fingernails scratched at still open wounds gouged into grieving flesh. He would accept the parallel paths if he had no choice but to follow it. What he wouldn’t accept was the inevitability of their shared ending.

  He cleared his throat. “So, what do you want to eat?” The nurse gave him direct orders and although he couldn’t say why, Mike felt she would know if he didn’t do as promised.

  “You don’t need to do this,” her tone was dismissive. “I’m sure I can find something in the house.”

  “It isn’t any trouble.”

  “I’m sure but I’d prefer—”

  “Either you can pick or I’ll pick for you.” The words came out of his mouth before he even completed his thought. “Sorry.”

  She didn’t respond but instead looked out the side window.

  He went into damage control mode. “Well, I am under orders from the nurse and I don’t want her coming after me. Beside I need to get your statement so if you’re up for it maybe we can sit down for lunch and talk about what happened last night.”

  She looked over at him then straight ahead as she played with the safety pins keeping her shirt closed.

  “There’s a little mom-and-pop place up ahead about five miles,” he pressed. “They’ve got great food and it usually isn’t very crowded. We can eat and talk there.”

  “That’s fine,” she surrendered. Her tone was contrite and irritated but the rigidity of her back slackened to a less surfboard-like posture.

  They walked into the small diner and sat at a booth in the back away from the few people quietly enjoying their meals. The waitress came over, handed them their menus and left them in their awkward silence.

  "So," he started as he removed his notebook and pen from his jacket pocket. "Why don't you just start from the beginning? Just tell me what happened after I left in as much detail as possible."

  She took a deep breath and exhaled. "I was sitting at my desk to…to finish grading some papers." She cast him a fleeting glance then focused on the passing cars outside. "Then I realized someone was standing in my doorway. I looked up and a man was standing there. I couldn't see his face. He wore a hooded sweatshirt and jeans and the hood was pulled way down over his face. I couldn't tell if he had on a mask or anything like that. All I know is I couldn’t see his face. I only sa
w a black hole where his face should be. There was enough shadow generated from the oversized hood and the florescent lights it wouldn’t have mattered if he had a mask on or not. I just couldn’t see his face.” She tore a paper napkin into confetti.

  As she continued her tone was inconsistent to the details; it was quiet, matter-of-fact as if reading it from a newspaper or magazine. “He lunged at me and I fell out of the chair…I think it was to the right…well, maybe it was to the left…I…I can’t remember. I…I guess it doesn’t matter which way I fell. The point is I fell out of my chair. Then he grabbed my skirt. I hit him with the phone and then the chair. I ran to the elevators but they wouldn't respond. The other offices were empty or at least no one responded to my screaming.”

  She lifted her water glass and winced at the unfiltered contents as she held the glass out in front of her, scowled, then pushed it away from her. “I realized the stairs were my only option so I headed back that way. He grabbed me as I ran past my office. I was only able to get away by stomping on his foot with my heel then hitting him in the throat with my fist."

  Mike reached up subconsciously scratching his neck at the detail.

  “I started to run away again when my heel broke and I fell breaking my wrist.” She held up her offended limb.

  He watched her intently as she recounted the details. She showed no emotion nor indicated reliving her attack was painful in any way. Most women he interviewed would cry or at least show some anxiety when rehashing the details but she seemed stoic. It could be indicative of her personality or maybe there was something more. He wasn’t sure.

  "Are you okay?" She asked about his curious expression.

  "What? Yeah, yes. I'm okay.” He waved his hand around in circles near his head. “Headache." He didn’t want her to assume his impending headache related to her or her story so he quickly added, "I haven't eaten all day so my blood sugar’s just low. It happens."

  She didn’t confirm nor dismiss his response. Rather she continued with the rest of her story. "That's when I ran into you. After that it was just a blur of people and then the hospital."