By the time the ambulance had arrived for Nick, he’d been unconscious and hadn’t regained consciousness when he’d been whisked out of her sight and through emergency-room doors.
“Hell of a night.”
She turned to see Chief Cleberg entering the room. “Yes, it has been,” she agreed and moved away from the window and to a nearby chair.
“Heard about the scene in the café.” He sank down in the chair next to her. “Hell of a thing Nick did, drawing Virginia out like he did. Wonder how he knew what would set her off?”
“Is she going to be all right?” Alyssa asked, although at this point she really didn’t care about Virginia’s welfare. The woman was a murderer.
“She’s going to be just fine, healthy enough to spend the rest of her life behind bars.” Glen expelled a deep breath. “We’ve got a lot of sorting out to do here.” A frown creased his broad forehead. “We’ve got to figure out where we dropped the ball, how she managed to stay beneath the radar for so long. You doing okay?”
Alyssa nodded. “Fine. I just can’t believe what’s happened. I can’t believe she was under my roof all this time and I didn’t suspect her being anything other than a grieving widow.”
The chief stood, a weary cast to his shoulders. “You should go home, Alyssa. Nick’s been pumped full of blood, stitched up with care, and the doctor says he’ll most likely sleep for the rest of the night. He’ll be glad to see you fresh and gorgeous in the morning. I’ll have one of my men drive you home.”
She was reluctant to leave without seeing Nick, without making sure with her own eyes that he was resting peacefully and out of danger. But she knew Glen was right. She should go home and get some sleep herself and be here in the morning when Nick woke up.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
Minutes later she was in the back of a patrol car. The rain had let up to a light drizzle and there was no hint of the lightning and thunder that had earlier energized the skies.
“I can’t believe all this was going on and I was out on the highway writing speeding tickets,” Jason Sheller said with disappointment. “I wish I could have been in that park, maybe I could have saved Nick from being stabbed.”
“I wish you would have been there, too,” Alyssa replied. “It was awful,” she said.
“From what I hear, if you hadn’t been there, Nick would be dead. You’re a brave woman,” Jason said.
“Thanks, but I just did what I could.” She stared out the window.
The storm had passed, just as her vision had come to fruition. She should have been feeling relief. Her vision had played out in its entirety and Nick wasn’t dead. But, rather than relief, she felt a restlessness drumming through her veins.
I’ll feel better tomorrow when I can see him, she thought. I’ll feel better once I hear his voice and see the light shining from his eyes.
As Jason pulled up in front of her house, she had the impulse to tell him to take her back to the hospital, that she’d sleep in a chair so she could be there if Nick awoke before morning.
But she talked herself out of it, realizing that if he came to, the first people who would want to talk to him would be Glen and the other men on the task force.
“Thanks, Jason. I appreciate the ride.” She got out of the car and ran toward the front door, pulling her keys out of her pocket at the same time.
She unlocked the front door and stepped inside. Her eyes felt gritty from all the tears she’d shed and from sheer exhaustion. But the restless energy she’d noticed in the car still clung to her.
Maybe a nice hot cup of tea would relax her enough to sleep, she thought. She went into her private quarters and put a mug of water into the microwave, then sat at the small table while she waited for the water to heat.
It was no wonder she felt edgy. She’d been through a trauma. It still all seemed too huge to wrap her mind around. The scene at Ruby’s, the horror in the park, her fear for Nick and the sudden realization that Virginia was the serial killer that had terrorized the town all whirled in her head.
No wonder it had been so easy for her to tap into the killer…the killer had been living beneath her roof. She tried to remember everything Virginia had ever told her about her life before coming to Cherokee Corners as Greg’s wife, but there was precious little that Virginia had shared.
The microwave dinged and a moment later she sat at the table with a cup of tea, her mind still whirling with thoughts of the events that had taken place.
“It wasn’t about her.”
She frowned and sipped her tea. Wasn’t that what Nick had said to her as he lay bleeding in her arms? But that didn’t make sense. Maybe he’d already been half-delirious from loss of blood.
She finished her tea, rinsed the cup in the sink, then stretched with arms overhead. Maybe now she could sleep and be at the hospital first thing in the morning to see Nick.
For a moment she thought about going upstairs, about sliding beneath the sheets that smelled of Nick and sleeping in the bed where they’d made love a dozen times. He would be leaving Cherokee Corners once he was well enough. His job here was finished.
She would change the sheets on the bed, wash away the scent of him and prepare for new guests while he returned to his life in Tulsa.
Her head was too full at the moment to think about the painful absence that would be left behind. She’d allow herself to feel that pain later, when lonely nights brought back the beautiful time they’d shared together.
She opened her bedroom door and flipped on the light switch that turned on the small lamp by the side of the bed. She froze for a moment as the picture hanging over the bed captured her attention. She took a couple of steps toward the foot of the bed.
The tree. The gnarled tree from her vision was depicted in the painting. Funny that she hadn’t placed it before this moment. Odd that it had had such a prominent place in the vision that had now played out and been resolved. Each time she’d had her vision, death had occurred beneath the tree.
A sound behind her startled her, but before she could whirl around, one hand clamped down on her mouth and the other grabbed around her waist and she was pulled tight against a hard-muscled body.
Fear ripped through her as she struggled against the iron hold. “Stop it…stand still,” a deep male voice commanded.
Realizing her struggles to free herself were futile, she did as he asked and stilled. His mouth moved to within an inch of her ear. Hot breath on her neck…his arm like a band of steel around her…fingers biting into the flesh around her mouth…the taste of terror sharp and acrid in her mouth.
“We haven’t been officially introduced yet, but I’m a friend of Nick’s,” he said. “Maybe he’s mentioned me to you. My name is Murphy.”
The name shot horror through her. Her vision, it hadn’t just been about the park and Nick and Virginia. It had been a melange of what had happened earlier and what was happening right now.
It was all perfectly clear now. She was the one who was going to die beneath the gnarled tree.
Chapter 15
Nick swam up from the depths of darkness and into a world of pain. His right shoulder blade throbbed, pain shooting from the back clear through to his chest. But he welcomed the pain. It meant he was alive.
He opened his eyes and found himself in a darkened hospital room, an IV stuck into the back of his hand. Movement sent sharp pain through him, but he tried to shove beyond the pain and center his thoughts.
The park…and Virginia. Memories of what had happened shot through his head. Virginia stopping him as he ran after Alyssa, asking him why he’d been so mean, then him breaking loose from her and turning his back.
Initially, he’d thought Virginia had pounded him in the back with her fist, but within the space of a breath, he’d realized it was far more serious than a fist-pounding.
It had been as if she’d opened a valve and instantly all his energy, all his life force, had begun to drain. And the pain…the excruciating pain had re
ndered him mindless for long moments.
If it hadn’t been for Alyssa… Alyssa! Her name screamed through his mind followed by another name—Murphy. Dear God. He hadn’t gotten a chance to warn her. He’d passed out before he’d had an opportunity to warn anyone.
He sat up and groaned as pain ripped through his shoulder and a wave of dizziness momentarily assaulted him. He drew a deep breath, attempting to force away the pain and the fuzziness.
He had to get out of here. He had to get to Alyssa.
He yanked the IV out of his hand and swung his legs over the side of the bed, then waited for a new wave of dizziness to leave him.
He hit the nurse call button as he stood unsteadily on his feet. He’d just managed to yank off the hospital gown and pull on his jeans when a young nurse bustled in.
Her bright blue eyes widened in horror as she spied him struggling to get on his shoes. “Mr. Mead, what are you doing? Get back into bed. Oh, my, you’ve pulled out your IV.” She wrung her hands, obviously not knowing what to do with him.
“Is Chief Cleberg here?” he asked, trying to shove away the gnawing pain in his shoulder, the throb of the IV site and his terror for Alyssa.
“No, the doctor sent everyone home. Please, get back into bed, Mr. Mead. You shouldn’t be up.”
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Marianne…but—”
“Marianne, I need your car keys.” He held out a hand to her.
“What?” Her eyes were impossibly large.
“Do you have a car?” he asked impatiently. She nodded. “I need your keys now,” he continued. “It’s a matter of life and death.”
“But…I—” She jumped as Nick grabbed her by the shoulders. “Marianne, honey. I don’t have time for explanations. Please, let me use your car and I promise it will be returned to you as soon as possible.”
Almost as if she were in a trance, she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “I’m going to get fired,” she said miserably. “It’s the blue pickup in the employees’ parking lot.”
“Thanks.” Nick released her and raced toward the door, his only thought to get to Alyssa.
By the time he got to the pickup, he was panting with pain and cursing the fact that he no longer had his gun. A wave of nausea rolled in his stomach, but he ignored it as he started the engine of the truck.
It was possible Murphy knew nothing about Alyssa, had no idea the depth of Nick’s feelings for her. Please, let that be the case, he prayed.
But all he could think about was the fact that without Virginia in the bed-and-breakfast, without his presence there, Alyssa was alone…and vulnerable and had no idea that Nick’s past had converged into his present and might intersect with her life.
He drove like a bat out of hell, his mind whirling. He hadn’t had a chance to warn her about Murphy, and he hadn’t had a chance to tell her that he hadn’t meant the hurtful words he’d said to her in Ruby’s.
It would take a very long time for him to forget the haunting pain that had darkened her eyes as he’d spoken to her in the café. Even though he knew his words had cut her to the quick, she’d responded with dignity, walking out of the café with her back straight and her head held high.
Let her be peacefully sleeping, he prayed. Let Murphy be resting beneath some rock far, far away from Alyssa. Nick couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t lose her.
The closer he got to the bed-and-breakfast, the more strength he gained. It was strength borne in rage. Although he didn’t want to remember that night three years ago in a motel room, memories of Dorrie and her death flashed through his head, whipping his rage to a fever pitch.
He’d loved Dorrie…and he loved Alyssa. And he was not going to allow Murphy to take her from him. He would do whatever it took to keep her safe.
If that meant staying with her every minute of every day, he’d do it. If that meant returning to Tulsa and never contacting her again, he’d do that, as well. Whatever it took to keep Murphy away from her.
He parked in the back parking lot, sucking air through his clenched teeth as he got out of the truck. Dammit. He didn’t have keys.
He didn’t want to bang on the door or call attention to himself. If Alyssa was asleep, then he would take guard outside her door for the remainder of the night. If Murphy was inside, he didn’t want to push the man to do something deadly.
Knowing he couldn’t get into the back door and the front door would be locked, as well, Nick sought an entrance through a window.
He found a window that opened easily into the dining room and he climbed through despite the pain that stabbed his back. Adrenaline pumped, and even though the rain had cooled the night, a trickle of sweat trailed down the side of his face.
Once inside he stood still and listened.
Nothing. No screams…no cries…no noise or movement to indicate anyone was in the house. The absence of sound should have made him relax, but it didn’t. Murphy had killed Dorrie in a motel room with people staying in the rooms on either side. None of those people had heard a sound.
The only sound he could hear was the faint hum of the air conditioner and the rhythmic banging of his own heartbeat.
He felt naked without his gun, knew that if Murphy was here he needed a weapon. He crept into the kitchen aided by a small night-light that burned in a socket in that room. A block of wood on the island contained knives in all sizes…paring knives, steak knives and several butcher-size ones.
Nick pulled one of them out of the block. He’d watched Alyssa slice ham effortlessly with the knife and knew it would make a viable weapon if necessary.
Hopefully, it wouldn’t be necessary. Hopefully, Alyssa was sleeping peacefully in her bed. He crept to the door that led into her private quarters. It was closed, as he’d expected it to be.
If it was locked, then he would have no other choice but to find another way in. But maybe with the trauma of the night’s events, and knowing she was in the house alone, she hadn’t locked the door.
With the knife firmly clenched in his right hand, he gripped the doorknob in his left and sighed in relief as it turned easily in his hand.
It opened soundlessly.
From his vantage point in the doorway he could see the open door of her bedroom…could see the man crouched on the bed…and he lost conscious thought…gave himself to the rage that had simmered in him for three long years.
He was unaware of making a sound as he lunged for the bedroom, but he must have roared. The man on the bed turned his head, his face radiating stunned surprise just before Nick threw himself at him.
Nick was vaguely aware of Alyssa as he and Murphy tumbled to the floor next to the bed. A piece of duct tape covered her mouth, and her wrists and ankles were tied to the bedposts. Although her eyes were wide open, her pretty beige dress was splashed with bright red blood.
Nick saw red as he and Murphy fell to the floor, then scrambled to their feet and faced each other. “Agent Mead,” Murphy said. “I’m afraid you’ve come at a bad time. I was just getting to know your lady friend here.”
Nick backed the man up with a jab of his butcher knife, maneuvering so that he was between Murphy and Alyssa. “It’s over, you bastard,” he said.
Someplace in the back of Nick’s mind, the specter of Murphy had become bigger than life. The man had taken on the proportions of a monster. But it was no monster who faced Nick with his own knife in hand.
The man who called himself Murphy was a small man with petite, almost feminine features and a fox-like cunning in his blue eyes. Nick had never seen him before in his life.
“It’s not over,” he said. “Not until you join your first wife in death. You were a naughty boy, Nick, saying mean things about me to the press. Naughty boys pay.”
He slashed his knife at Nick, forcing Nick to jump back to avoid the deadly sharp steel of the blade. Nick was bigger, stronger, but Murphy was fast. Nick never saw the flash of the blade that flayed the forearm of his knifeless ha
nd.
“First blood,” Murphy nearly crowed in glee.
Nick kicked. It was a move Murphy obviously hadn’t expected. Nick’s foot connected with Murphy’s hand and his knife flew through the air.
Nick charged. With his head lowered, he hit Murphy’s midsection, heard the air whoosh out of the man as they both hit the floor.
Nick knew he’d ripped open whatever stitches had been sewn into his back. He felt the warm flow of blood down his back, but it didn’t stop him.
He crawled on top of Murphy, pinning him to the floor with his knife at his neck. “It’s not important who draws the first blood, the winner is whoever draws the last blood.”
He wanted to swipe the knife across Murphy’s neck, steal his life as Murphy had stolen Dorrie’s, as he’d intended to steal Alyssa’s. His hand trembled with the need to seek vengeance and Murphy must have seen his desire in his eyes.
“Do it,” Murphy hissed. “Go ahead, do it. Or are you a coward?”
How he wanted to. But someplace beneath the rage, he knew that in doing so he would be the same kind of monster as Murphy.
Instead, he used the tip of the knife to nick the skin, drawing a pinpoint of blood to the surface. “That would be too easy,” he said. At the same time he heard the sound of a siren in the distance and knew Nurse Marianne had probably called the police.
Nick threw his own knife out of reach and instead used his hands to pin Murphy’s arms over his head on the floor. Nick looked up at Alyssa. Tears flowed from her eyes and she nodded her head, as if to let him know she was okay.
But she wasn’t okay. There was blood on the front of her dress and Nick had no idea what had transpired in this room before he’d arrived.
“Open up!” Glen Cleberg’s voice sounded from the front door. “Alyssa…Nick! Are you in there?” He banged on the door.
“In here,” Nick yelled. He wasn’t about to get off Murphy to open the door for the authorities. They could break the door down if necessary, but Nick wasn’t about to release his hold on his nemesis.
He heard the crash of glass and knew they’d broken the glass pane next to the front door and would be inside within seconds. It was a good thing, because with each beat of his heart Nick was losing blood and strength.
Manhunt Page 17
