The detectives left the hospital heading straight to the crime scene. They were hoping the killer left some kind of clue behind. When they arrived, the forensics team appeared to be wrapping things up.
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Chapter 11
Lillian felt each pounding blow to her stomach as she fell to the floor. She stood in her apartment in Pennsylvania, and despite her attempt to lock the door, Martin broke in. He had been drinking. It was apparent by his slurred speech, profanity, and uncontrollable anger. She tried to call the police, but he pulled the chord from the wall. Screaming for help, Martin punched her in the mouth, trying to shut her up. He pounded on her, banging her head on the rug, choking her. I'm going to die.
She couldn't breath as he lay on top of her. “No!” she screamed, “No!” She yelled, flapping her arms as someone tried to wake her up. Lillian, drenched with sweat, buried in a nightmare, struggled in the entwined sheets tight around her legs.
He spoke to her softly, urging her to come out of it, watching the tears stream down her cheeks.
She heard, “Lilly baby, you're all right, honey. You're not there with Martin. You're here with me. It's Michael, I'll protect you.” Her eyes fluttered open. She cried so hard she couldn't breath, couldn't talk. Michael held her against his chest, whispering comforting words as she came back to the present.
She looked into his eyes. Quickly, she turned away from him. She was embarrassed, scared, and didn't want him to see her like this. She tried to get up from the bed, but Michael pulled her back against him.
"You're not alone anymore, baby. I'm not going anywhere. I love you."
* * * *
Lillian continued to cry until she fell back asleep against Michael's chest. His heart ached as he held her, listened to her breathing spike then settle down. It broke his heart to see her like this.
Michael's cell phone started vibrating on the bedside table. He was relieved he had turned the ringer off. The sound hadn't disturbed Lillian.
"Detective Fields, this is Detective Miller. We're sorry to have woken you, but there's been an attempt on a witness. It appears that this Martin Crane may be our suspect."
"What? When? Where did this happen?” he whispered as he sat up a little bit in bed, being sure not to disturb Lillian.
"About two hours ago. One of the victim's relative saw the boyfriend, gave us a description a few days ago. I guess he feared she knew more, so he tried to eliminate her."
"He wasn't successful."
"Thank God, no. Mrs. Sampson is one tough old lady. She shot at her attacker twice before he had the opportunity to knock her in the head. He left without finishing the job. We believe that he may have thought she died from a heart attack. She didn't, though. It turns out she had a stroke. She can't talk, but we were able to verify the same man who was with her granddaughter had tried to kill her."
"Will she be safe there at the hospital?"
"We've posted officers by her door, also by the main entrances. We have the description, which matches Martin Crane. There were boot prints left on the kitchen floor. We'll try to confirm the size. There are also tire tracks left in the mud around the corner from the home. A neighbor awoke from the sound of gunfire, peaked out the window, and saw a car speeding away, but no details about the make of the vehicle. It was too dark. I didn't want to notify Miss Ross, Miss Baxter, I mean, because of the time, but I did speak with your uncle. He's sending a car to stay outside her place tonight."
"I'll call my uncle. Lillian's here with me. She's staying at my place. I think we should have her aunt's house watched, as well. I'll take care of it. Let me know how Mrs. Sampson is doing."
* * * *
Troy hung up the phone, glancing at his partner.
"Sorry Willy but Miss Baxter is sleeping over at Detective Fields’ house tonight. Which makes me feel a hell of a lot better."
"Damn, that's too bad. I would have driven the hour to go keep an eye on her myself. Let's wrap things up here, hope that someone spots Martin Crane before I do. I want this guy bad, Willy."
"I think there's a club starting, my man,” Willy replied. They continued to hunt for Martin Crane.
* * * *
Lillian opened her eyes, smiled as Michael watched her. He held her closely. Their gazes locked.
"What's wrong, Michael? What happened?” she asked.
Gently, he guided her head against his neck. She whispered his name, her lips brushing against his skin.
"How did you sleep, darling?” he asked knowing she awoke from a horrible nightmare, wondering if she had forgotten or if she were hiding her pain.
Lillian remained quiet a moment. Could she be remembering how she woke up afraid? Did she recall hearing his voice as he spoke to her, calming her down.
"I'm sorry, Michael ... I can't.... “She rolled away from him, getting up from the bed. He wasn't quick enough to grab her to stop her.
She darted naked across the room and into the bathroom.
Michael heard the shower start. He got out of bed, about to go check on her, when his cell phone rang again.
"Hey, Michael, did you tell her?” Uncle Phil asked. Michael explained about what happened to Lillian last night.
"She's pushing me away. I can't let her do this."
"Give her some time, Michael. Don't push it. I'm glad she's with you. I don't like the thought of her at the store alone. This is serious, Michael. I'm worried about the both of you."
Michael remained silent a moment.
"What is it, son? Talk to me."
Michael looked toward the bathroom door. He could still hear the water running.
"I'm in love with her."
"Hell, son, I knew that already, which is why it's so important you keep a close eye on her. It's the perfect excuse to spend more time with her, maybe make her stay at your place instead of the store. Even with the security system she has there, if someone really wanted to get in, they could. Maybe you shouldn't tell her about Mrs. Sampson."
"If I start withholding information from her and she finds out, she won't trust me. She'll refuse to let me protect her. I'll tell her in a little while,” Michael said.
They discussed the evidence found at the scene last night before Michael hung up the phone.
He went over to the bathroom door, knocked before he entered. When he heard no response, he walked in anyway.
Lillian stood naked, washing her hair, the soap left a trail across her toned back, along the curve of her hips.
Michael leaned against the counter watching her.
"Are you enjoying yourself? I could use some privacy?” she stated with a smile, turning away, rubbing her hands through her hair. The motion lifted her breast just right. Michael's body reacted.
"After what we just shared, don't tell me you're shy."
* * * *
Lillian gazed at Michael who leaned against the counter completely naked.
He looked comfortable standing there and completely turned on.
"Are you going to invite me in or what?"
"It's your shower."
He smiled as he took the three steps forward, taking position behind her in the beige and brown, marble-covered shower stall.
Lillian laid her head back, letting the spray of hot water from the brass shower fixture run over her shoulders.
"I want you to know that I'm here for you, Lilly. You're not alone,” he whispered.
She could feel the heat of his breath against her wet hair. She closed her eyes not wanting to talk about it. She wished she hadn't had the nightmare last night, the fear, anxiety of explaining things to Michael made her want to run. The weakness appeared to be coming back. Damn it! She needed to be stronger than this.
"I love you, so please don't be afraid of me.” Michael massaged her shoulders while kissing the back of her head.
"I'm not afraid of you, Michael. I'm worried this may just be the wrong time for us."
The words were out before she thought t
hem through.
Michael pulled Lillian's body back against his. She welcomed the strength of his hold, the feeling of love that instantly surrounded her.
"I know what you're doing. It's not going to work,” he whispered against her shoulder before nibbling her collarbone. His hands held her firmly against him, every inch of her backside covered by his solidity.
"I care too much about you, Lilly. You're not getting rid of me that easily."
She felt the heat of his body, the water pulsating against her belly. Michael's hands covered her most delicate feminine parts as Lillian closed her eyes and offered her body to his touch as she reached up, placing her palm against Michael's neck. Their bodies locked together by desire and love. Together, they were complete. She couldn't denying it, couldn't fight it.
The tears escaped her eyes, the power of their love overwhelming.
"I love you too, Michael. I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it ... you're right about that.” She was grateful she faced the wall. That she didn't have to look into his eyes, reveal all her fear and pain.
"I've always had to deal with things on my own. I've come this far from pure determination and will power.... I thought I could handle this on my own ... keep everything inside, but your arms feel so.... “She cried harder, unable to finish speaking. She could feel his embrace tighten. He laid his head on her neck. The warmth of his lips carried whispers of love, encouragement, the desire she stirred within him. She knew he wanted more.
She responded willingly, turning toward him, finding his mouth with her own. She needed him.
The warm water descended over their lips, between their bodies, finding no access, diverting to the sides of their hips. She felt Michael lifting her up, positioning her hips just so.
They made love in the shower, slowly, passionately as the water beat against them, temporarily washing away her fears.
* * * *
Lillian and Michael headed back to Lillian's Love. She wanted to change her clothes, open up the store before her aunt and employees arrived.
She unlocked the door, heading toward her bedroom. She noticed the top dresser drawer sat ajar but dismissed it just as quickly as she acknowledged it.
She began to change her clothes, discarding the ones she wore yesterday, replacing them with a freshly washed pair of beige dress slacks and a fitted, red embroidered tank top. Tossing a pair of matching sandals onto the bed, she ran to the bathroom and applied her deodorant, and some makeup before she ran the hairbrush through her hair. She was glad she had showered at Michael's house. She needed to get back downstairs.
She stopped a moment as she entered her bedroom again, grabbing the tan-colored heeled sandals, inhaling deeply.
She smelt something different, like saw dust combined with aftershave. She ignored it, glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
"I have five minutes to unlock the front door and start the coffee."
Michael stopped her by the entrance to her apartment.
He kissed her softly. She tried to protest by pulling away, expressing how she really needed to get downstairs and that his kisses were a distraction.
"I'll unlock the front door. You make the coffee,” Michael told her, gently tapping her on her backside as they headed out of her apartment.
Michael locked the door as they left.
"Why did you do that?” Lillian asked as Michael eyed her backside again.
"It looks great in those pants.” He attempted to grab her again. She was too quick. This time, he missed the opportunity.
Michael unlocked the front door while Lillian made the coffee. Aunt Mabel arrived along with Kelly and Justin. He waited there a half hour, then walked Lillian to her office.
"What's going on, Michael? Why haven't you left for work?"
"I wanted to make sure you got off okay.” He was silent and Lillian stared at him.
"What?"
"There's something we need to talk about in regards to the case.” Michael closed the office door to give them more privacy.
Lillian instantly became nervous. She didn't want to talk about this, not now. Michael appeared to know what she was thinking, so before Lillian could look, he continued.
"Something happened early this morning.” He informed her about Mrs. Sampson and the attempt on her life.
"Oh, my God, Michael. Why didn't you tell me right away?"
"I wanted more information, first. Detective Miller wants us to up the surveillance on you. They're worried. So am I."
"I can't believe Martin would do something like this?” Lillian rubbed her temples. The headache arrived instantly.
"Look what he did to you. How could you wonder if he's capable of murder?” Michael stated, the anger apparent in his tone. He obviously didn't think first, how the words would sound. “You saw pictures. They showed you the file?” she asked, feeling the color instantly drain from her face.
"Of course I saw your file. I'm working the case with Jimmy."
Lillian turned away from him. The pictures were horrible, a reality, a nightmare, everything she feared including weakness. Somehow it didn't seem so horrible pretending in her mind that Michael didn't see the pictures. Now that he stated he had seen them, she felt mortified. She crossed her arms in front of her chest in an attempt to minimize the shaking.
Michael walked over to her. This conversation appeared to be going the wrong way.
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
He tried to hold her, but she pushed away.
"I'm sorry you had to see them. Let me know what happens with Mrs. Sampson? I think you should go to work."
Lillian quickly headed to her desk, picking up some mail, refusing to look at him.
"We'll talk about this later. I love you.” He told her before leaving her office.
* * * *
Michael figured she needed some space. He didn't want to fight with her.
He shouldn't have showed his anger. As he walked out the front door, he saw the patrol car, glad she now had around-the-clock protection. He needed to get back to work, meet Jimmy and try to locate Martin Crane.
It was mid afternoon when Michael sat at his desk just staring at the picture of Martin Crane. This man caused my Lillian so much pain and fear.
Before he had seen the picture of Martin, he assumed the guy would look like some sort of monster, ugly, mean ... obvious. But to his dismay, Martin Crane appeared to be the complete opposite. A handsome, well-groomed man with blond hair, blue eyes, nearly perfect physique, stared back at him.
He had an innocent-looking face that obviously hid the abusive murderer.
It was easier for Michael to think Martin Crane would look like some kind of monster. The fact that he was personally involved with Lillian, made him curious about what type of men interested her. He should have known that a classy woman like Lillian wouldn't go for some kind of dirt bag. By viewing Martin Crane's photograph, he could see no reason anyone would think otherwise.
"How ya doing, partner?” Jimmy asked, entering the office, interrupting Michael's thoughts.
Michael closed up the file, leaned forward in his seat.
"I spoke with Miller. They're still searching the area for any signs of Martin Crane or anyone who may know his whereabouts."
"I meant you, Mike. How's it going with Lillian?” Jimmy leaned against the desk.
"I'm not going to let this guy get his hands on her again. She's scared, she's holding back ... you know, trying to act tough. I don't know, maybe she's denying what's really happening. I wish I could help her more, but she seems closed up. I don't know."
"Listen, this thing between you two came out of nowhere, just like Martin Crane. Be patient with her. She'll realize she needs you, just as much as you need her. If it's any consolation, Carla called me a few minutes ago. She said that Lillian told her she was glad to have you involved. She feels safer when you're around."
This put a smile on Michael's face until his phone rang.
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"Hey, Mike, it's Detective Jacks. I'm out in Emerson, New Jersey right now. I came across a friend of Martin Crane. He said Martin showed up in town a few days ago. He was acting somewhat funny. This guy remembers him saying something about staying with some friends for a while after getting out of prison. We can place him in the area of the first crime scene."
"What do you mean in the area?"
"I mean not only had he been seen by witnesses, but it appears he was dating Thea Rose, our first victim."
"Holy shit! So this does tie him to the murders. He has to still be in the area?"
"That's what we're finding out, Mike. He made a mistake when he attempted to kill Eleanor Sampson. She can identify him. That's why he tried to kill her.
We believe he's still here in Jersey, but he's evaded capture so far. He could easily get over the border and into New York."
"What about Lillian? Have you told her any of this?"
"I spoke with your uncle. He's going to call her. I'll assume that you'll be seeing her after you get off work tonight. Keep a close eye on her. She's a special woman. I don't want to see anything happen to her,” Willy told him, sounding concerned and interested.
Michael ignored his tone, said thank you, and hung up the phone.
Michael told Jimmy about the call. They started working on some of their own leads. They wanted a better understanding of Martin's personality. They searched for Martin's doctor from prison in the hopes of gaining some insight for a profile.
* * * *
The next few days went by smoothly. Most nights, Lillian spent sleeping over at Michael's house. She would shower, change clothes in her apartment, then lock up the store with Michael and he would take her to his place. He made it clear he didn't want to take any chances. Tonight, she had time for a long bath. Michael was running late at work, but he had a key to the store, the back door, and her apartment. She figured he could just let himself in when he arrived.
Lillian closed up the store around 9:00 p.m., feeling emotionally and physically exhausted. She waited by the front door for the patrol officer, Ted, to go through his nightly routine of checking the store, making sure no one lingered around the property, re-checking that all the doors and windows were locked up. Ted knew both Michael and Uncle Phillip.
Lillian's Love Page 13
