Heal Me

by Grady, D. R.

“I intend to, as soon as you quit talking my ear off,” she explained patiently, a trait he didn’t associate with her.

  “Hey, you called me. You know,” he continued before she could get her sure-to-be-pithy statement in, “why don’t you go get something to eat, and I’ll call you later this afternoon if anything major happens, okay?” he offered, but figured he had already lost her. Once TJ McCully’s stomach began demanding sustenance, she was a lost cause.

  “Okay,” she agreed absently, and he figured she was already contemplating what she might find in the kitchen.

  “All right. Don’t give Fred too hard a time, okay?”

  “Yeah, right. Like he doesn’t live for this,” she twitted back at him before she said goodbye and hung up the phone.

  With a grin, Owen replaced his receiver and seeing it was noon, decided to enjoy his prepared-by-Jenna lunch.

  His grim-faced chief met him before he made it back to his desk afterwards. “What happened?” he asked, visions of McCully or Fred killing the other most prominent in his brain.

  “Carrie Snyder went into cardiac arrest about an hour ago. They weren’t able to revive her,” his chief answered, his mouth a thin line in his too pale face.

  Belatedly, Owen remembered Carrie was a niece on his wife’s side and felt the double kick. Not only had the first of the Gentleman Caller’s victims died, but she would also have to be related to the Chief of Police. Hoping in the middle of a hopeless situation, Owen squeezed his chief’s shoulder, wanting to say something.

  “We’re going to get this slimeball, chief. There’s no question now. He’s going to get sloppy, and we’re going to nail him,” Owen assured the man, hoping the press wouldn’t discover the link between the Chief of Police and the latest victim. Now a late victim. She’d never recover. They had nothing they could use to capture the dirtwad who had not only raped her and so many other women, but now had crossed the line into murder.

  When Natalie hovered around her desk late morning, early afternoon, Jenna had already lost all track of time. She was operating in just-get-this-done mode. Her brain had long ago ceased expending energy on anything that wasn’t pertinent to the task at hand, so she didn’t notice her nurse for a few moments.

  “I’m sorry, Natalie, did you need something?” she asked wearily, and waved the hand she had used to prop her head.

  “I apologize for interrupting, Dr. Fields, but I’ve got some more bad news,” Natalie said, biting her lip.

  “What?” Jenna asked, too numb at the moment to feel alarm.

  “Carrie Snyder didn’t make it. She went into cardiac arrest and the team couldn’t bring her around. She’s gone,” Natalie said on a trembling gasp and Jenna bolted from her chair, belatedly remembering that Natalie and Carrie had been close friends.

  “Oh, Nat, I’m so sorry. I forgot how close you and Carrie were,” Jenna murmured, holding her assistant close as she sobbed into her blouse.

  Not only would Tina Riley be devastated, but now Natalie Smithton would also need to attend the funeral. Jenna sighed. Numb and hurting at the same time, she watched Natalie leave the room, but had insisted the woman call her husband and take an extended lunch. They couldn’t afford to take time off today, and she thought maybe their utter busyness was better for Nat. Working kept her mind off the horrors of the day. Off a serial rapist who seemed to lack guts but unfortunately not brains. He taunted the police and the media, and was getting coverage nearly every day, which Jenna hated. That coverage seemed to be fueling his fever.

  Thinking of the police made her lunge for the phone. Owen answered curtly, but on the second ring. “I...I just heard about Carrie Snyder. Her sister works here and my nurse is one of her best friends,” Jenna stammered out, wanting to cry, but couldn’t.

  She heard him mutter something under his breath before taking a deep breath. “I just heard myself. My chief told me, who happens to be her uncle,” he said with disgust and the same weariness undulating through her.

  “He’s probably not taking this very well, then.”

  “No, and he’s praying the media doesn’t discover her relationship to him.”

  “That will add fuel to the fire, won’t it?” she asked as understanding dawned.

  “Right, and I got a call from her mother, screaming and begging me to find the man who attacked her.”

  “As if it’s that easy,” Jenna sympathized. Many patients thought she should also be a miracle worker. She should know how to cure cancer or stop the onslaught of AIDS. Both to which were inevitable, even in this day and age.

  Jenna heard him sigh again and enjoyed the connection between them, even though they couldn’t see each other. She had needed to talk to him so much. She really wanted him to hold her. Maybe stroke her back. Definitely she wanted him to kiss her again.

  “I’m going to be here for a long time, Jenna,” he warned and her heart warmed, until she realized he meant he’d be at the station, working.

  She sighed and nodded. “Yes, I’ll probably be here long into the evening, too. Ms. Snyder’s sister’s patients have been split up on all of our rosters, but the staff is still a bit stretched because of me being out last week,” Jenna said feeling tired and even a bit cranky.

  “Our being off last week has caused quite a bit of work for me, too. With McCully still not feeling well, our desks are stacked with folders we need to read. We have to catch this creep.” She could definitely hear the weariness now.

  “Owen you’re still recovering from the flu. You’re not going to do yourself or your cases any good if you relapse. With just getting over this, you’re going to need to take it easy for a few days,” she scolded in her best doctor voice.

  “The work has reached catastrophic levels,” he reminded her. Still she could hear that tiredness.

  “I understand. Is there any reason why you can’t bring some of it home? That way you can divvy a bit out to your partner, who has to be driving Fred crazy by now.”

  “Now that’s an idea. It’d keep her busy, because she becomes the Tasmanian devil when she’s not occupied. If she gets too bad, Fred’ll just tie and gag her and stuff her in a closet, so no worries there,” he assured her.

  Jenna stared at the wall in front of her, aghast. “I hope you were joking about that last part.” She couldn’t tell whether he teased or not.

  This time, humor edged out the fatigue in his voice. “Of course I’m kidding. Like Fred would do that to a woman. Then again I’m not certain he classifies McCully as a woman, but he does have compassion for sick people. I’m thinking he won’t tie her unless she’s willing,” Owen was quick to appease her.

  “I should hope so, although I can’t imagine her being willing to be tied by anyone, much less Fred.”

  “It’s highly unlikely, although Fred can be persuasive.”

  “While I’m sure this is true, we’re also talking about TJ McCully here,” she reminded him, hearing humor in her own voice.

  “Right,” he agreed, before moving on, “I think I will bring some of this home. At least it will be a change of scenery.”

  “And give you a little down time,” she offered her opinion.

  “Yeah. I won’t leave here until most everyone else is home so that should help,” he said, and she could hear papers rustling. She could only imagine the workload he faced, so thought it best to conclude the conversation.

  “I have to see a patient in a few minutes, so I’ll let you go,” she said, and opened her laptop. The patient chart blinked at her, which meant the patient was inside the examining room, which meant she didn’t have minutes like she thought.

  “I’ll see you tonight.” He sounded distracted and she understood. She needed to get back to work too.

  “Until tonight, then,” she agreed and they hung up. Standing, Jenna gathered up her laptop and her resolve before she knocked on the door and entered the room.

  Donning professionalism took more energy, but she couldn’t allow visions of Carrie Snyder to interfere. Un
fortunately, Ms. Snyder had passed beyond her help now. The patient before her hadn’t.

  Chapter 12

  Owen pressed the phone to his ear, waiting impatiently for someone to pick up on the other end. Thrusting a hand through his hair, he counted rings. One, two, three, four... “Hello, Fields’ residence?” Fred finally answered.

  “Fred, it’s me, why are you answering the phone?”

  “Jenna’s up to her elbows in some sort of goop,” Fred replied. He heard a feminine voice in the background and then Fred corrected, “Oh, she’s up to her elbows in dough.”

  “I see,” Owen said, wishing he was there watching Jenna work dough. Actually, he didn’t even care what she did, he just wanted to see her. He twisted the phone cord, and leaned back, barely hearing the subsequent creak as his weight resettled in the chair.

  “What’s up?” Fred asked.

  “How’s McCully?”

  “She’s fine. A little bummed about that latest rape victim, but I think she’s fine. I doubt you’ll keep her home tomorrow,” Fred warned.

  “Yeah, and that’s good because I’m wondering if I’m going to get home tonight.” Owen finally got to the true reason behind his call. He needed McCully to come in to work tomorrow. He needed to see Jenna, but more than those things, he needed to find this serial rapist-turned-murderer.

  “You’re not coming home?” Fred asked sharply, and Owen could almost see him glance furtively at Jenna.

  “No, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes, and it’s likely to go on for at least an hour, but probably two, I suspect,” Owen concluded.

  “This latest victim dying threw the department into a frenzy,” Fred surmised correctly.

  “Yeah,” he sighed wearily into the phone, wishing to be in his truck on his way to Jenna’s house, not preparing for a meeting he really didn’t want to attend.

  “Should I bring McCully over? Matthews and Coulihan are here, so Jenna would be safe,” Fred offered. Owen felt much gratitude for his friend. He hadn’t thought of her attending the meeting, but realized she probably should be present as well. That would save him from having to repeat the whole thing to her in the morning.

  “Hadn’t thought of that, but yeah, not a bad idea,” he agreed. “Is McCully okay to attend?” He wanted verification of McCully’s ability after two bouts of illness on top of each other.

  “Yeah. She’s slept most of the day, so I think she’s fine. I’ll go tell her she’s going and probably be her favorite person,” Fred said, a wry twist to his voice.

  “I’d like to see that day,” Owen replied with a grin for his friend.

  “You never know. I might not get bitten, at least,” Fred supplied, with matching humor in his voice.

  “Thanks a lot, Fred.”

  “No problem. Without her here, there’ll be that much more for me when supper time comes around.”

  Owen chuckled and they rang off. He retrieved a folder from the teetering stack on his desk and perused the contents quickly. Scooping up his notepad, he wondered what was for dinner.

  “He’s what?” Jenna asked, staring at Fred in shock. At least that’s what she thought currently coursed through her.

  “He’s got a meeting in a few minutes, so he’s not coming home for supper, from the sound of it. I’m actually taking McCully in for the meeting,” Fred explained, with patience, having had to repeat this to her twice. Why she couldn’t seem to grasp the concept was disconcerting. The clock above the sink showed fifteen minutes until seven and Jenna had been certain Owen would be home by seven twenty at the latest. Disappointment took the place of the shock and confusion twisting through her body.

  “I thought he’d be home for supper.”

  “So did he,” Fred returned and she heard the regret in his voice. Or maybe it was sympathy.

  “I suppose he couldn’t get out of this meeting,” she offered tentatively, still not wanting to believe he wouldn’t be home in time to eat with the rest of them. And McCully, who had perked up considerably, would also not be present.

  “No, not with this latest victim dying. I believe that upped the already high stakes. They’re not messing around anyway, but I think this has them spooked.”

  “Yes, I’m certain that’s the case. I just wish...” Jenna broke off, not wanting to voice her selfish desires.

  Fred reached out and squeezed her shoulder, “I know,” he said softly and Jenna looked up into his very compassionate blue eyes. She wasn’t certain what message he sought to send her, but still picked up that he really did understand.

  The moment broke when McCully barreled through the door. “I’m ready,” she informed Fred. Her energy had revived considerably, although Jenna believed she’d probably only feel well for a few hours.

  “Remember how sick you were, TJ,” she warned as the other woman grabbed Fred’s arm to tug him across the kitchen.

  “I will, Jenna, I’m fine. We’ll probably only be gone for two hours, max.”

  “Is Fred going to stay with you?”

  She shook her head. “No, just dropping me off.”

  “I’ll escort her into the station, and then be back for supper. I’m not about to miss whatever you’re planning for supper.” His tone indicated he thought Owen and TJ were a little off to miss a home cooked meal and Jenna smiled at him in gratitude.

  “Just make certain there are some leftovers, okay?” TJ begged her and Jenna smiled in agreement.

  “I’ll try,” she said, tilting a look in Fred’s direction.

  He just smiled smugly and rocked back on his heels.

  TJ threw him a disgusted look, let go of his arm, and stalked out of the kitchen.

  Watching Fred’s triumphant look, Jenna offered him some advice. “You know, honey attracts more flies than vinegar.”

  “Who says I’m trying to attract flies?” Fred asked as he swung out the door after the impatient detective.

  “Thanks for the ride,” TJ said quickly, opening the door to bolt the minute Fred pulled up in front of the police station. A gentle, but unrelentingly firm hand clamped around her wrist before she shoved the door open.

  “Not so fast, shorty,” he replied as he swept the car into the first available space.

  Once he pulled to a stop, he finally let her go and turned off the car. He met her around the hood and fortunately for him, didn’t take her arm and try to steer her into the building. She’d have been forced to rub his nose into the pavement. Something he seemed to instinctively understand.

  TJ darted a quick look at her escort. His eyes swept over every corner and cranny of the parking lot, and she sensed Fred’s attention wasn’t centered on her. This was good. She didn’t particularly want any more attention from this man than she already received.

  Grudgingly, she did admit, quietly and only to herself, that she appreciated the men’s concern and protectiveness. Carrie Snyder’s death had left an empty hole where her bravado had been. She realized she needed to reassess the scant information they had. Upon doing so, she also realized she might not have a chance against this monster. At least two of the women had been well versed in self-defense, and they still had fallen victim to him. Because he used drugs. Drugs no one had encountered before.

  That horrific, huge monster, the unknown reared its ugly head once again, and TJ understood they really weren’t safe alone. The very best defense seemed to be in numbers. This freak attacked only women who had been alone at the time, so far. One of them was married, but her husband worked second shift while she worked first. Therefore she was alone all evening after arriving home. Somehow the slimeball had discovered this. And used the information to his advantage.

  They knew he attacked solitary women. That’s about all they knew. He also used unknown drugs. And unfortunately, the department had very little else to go on. Now they knew he had murdered one of his victims. His most recent. That meant his next victim probably would not survive, either. And TJ had no further qualms of accepting a watch dog. Even Fredren Savage wa
s better than this freak attacker.

  Stifling a sigh, she shuffled beside him, excited to be back to work again, but at a loss where to go from here. Eight victims, one dead, and no pattern to the timing of the attacks, only that an experimental drug appeared in each victim. Something niggled at her, but she couldn’t coax the idea to materialize. The women didn’t remember much of the experience, only recalling the fact they knew they were being raped. None would be able to pick the man out of a line-up. Provided they even had suspects. Which they didn’t.

  William Braden was on the list, but even so, he was an unlikely candidate. He was gay for one. Also because the women couldn’t remember whether the man was tall, short, stocky, thin, or even of small, average, or large proportions. The only commonality was that the experience was completely hazy, and the women didn’t feel as though they’d had any control over their bodies. And their rapist left nothing of himself behind to indicate who he was.

  He had taunted the first couple of women with courtly manners and fancy words, but seemed to have lost interest after the press had dubbed him the gentleman caller. He appeared satisfied with this nomenclature. And his new exalted status as a serial rapist. He goaded the press and the police with little tidbits, making his sickness a game. His prey became abused, broken, and discarded vessels for his illness. Now they had one less victim because she had succumbed when the Grim Reaper came calling.

  Shuddering as she passed through the portal into the police station, McCully avoided looking at Fred. She didn’t want to see if he noticed her reaction to those unsettling thoughts. She’d just as soon he not notice anything about her, but figured that was a pipe dream. The man noticed everything. She nodded to him, thanked him again and set off briskly for the conference room. Wondering what she’d find on the other side.

  Forty minutes later, McCully began to wish she had stayed home to be tormented by Fred. That seemed easier than sitting through this meeting. Not that it proved boring. Indeed she could classify this as one of the more lively and interesting assemblies she had attended in this conference room. What bothered her about this particular gathering was the subject matter.