Wrath (The Lieutenant Harrington Series Book 1)

by E. H. Reinhard

  “I did. She recorded a couple minutes of him standing in her driveway. He was making like he was apologizing for something in the past, which I can only assume was the assault that we have the case file for. After that, he kind of questions her about if she remembers why he did what he did. She doesn’t seem to want to go down that road and tries to end the conversation. She says she accepts his apology and they should leave it at that. She turns her back to him, and it looks like she was walking away. A second later, we see what has to be him come up from behind her. There’s a little camera shaking, and the phone drops. There’s a shot of Mercer walking past, and that’s it. The phone seemed to record until it timed out from there.”

  I shook my head. It wasn’t lost on me how close my girlfriend came to the same fate. We needed to get this psycho off the streets. “Make sure everyone knows to call me the second something breaks.”

  “Will do,” Colt said.

  “All right. I’ll give you a ring in the morning.”

  “Sounds good,” he said.

  I clicked off from the call and put my phone away. Mary, Amy’s mother, thought it would be good to bring Amy a few of her things from the house to make her feel more comfortable—her own pillow, some clothes, her overnight bag, and toiletries. I loaded everything in a backpack and called Lucky inside. She ran into the living room. Lucky put her nose to the blood again.

  “No,” I said.

  She took her nose away and walked toward me. I was going to have to make sure she couldn’t get at it. I couldn’t take her with me, and I didn’t have time to attempt to clean it up. I didn’t plan to do anything about the blood on the couch—it would need to be replaced.

  I grabbed Lucky’s water bowl from the kitchen and walked toward my bedroom. “Come on, pup,” I said. I didn’t like the idea of locking her up but figured she’d be fine until morning, having just been outside. She could curl up on my bed and sleep. Hell, I’d even flick on the animal channel on my bedroom’s television. I started up the hall.

  Lucky shot into the office.

  “Hey!” I said. “What the hell.”

  Why the door wasn’t closed, I didn’t know. I could only figure that Steve and whoever else was in my house had given the place a once-over and failed to close the door. I turned in to the doorway. “Come on, Lucky. Get out of there.”

  She’d gone behind my desk and into my closet. I looked at the door, wondering why it was open. Amy wouldn’t have any reason to go in it. The door being open had to have been because of the police. I imagined they had opened it to clear the place. Though the only things in the closet were random junk, old shoes, and my bowling ball.

  I walked to the closet, calling the dog, who for some reason wouldn’t come. Even as I stood outside the door, she wouldn’t come out.

  “What’s so special in here?”

  I flicked on the light and looked around. Miscellaneous office supplies were still on the shelves. A couple of pairs of shoes were scattered about. My bowling ball was there, albeit pushed into the back corner. Lucky had her tan-colored nose wedged between the bowling ball bag and the wall. She sniffed away at something.

  “Watch out, girl,” I said. Lucky left the closet.

  I grabbed the bowling bag by the handle and slid it back. The second it moved, a bunch of garbage fell away from behind it—two empty water bottles, some wrappers from the string cheese that I’d bought two days earlier, and a couple of granola bar wrappers. All the garbage had been hidden behind the bag. It hit me like a punch—Lucky acting weird and running around the house sniffing. The noise I heard right before Amy had come home. How he had gotten to Amy without alerting her.

  Mercer had been hiding in my closet. He’d been in my home, waiting. Sitting in my office closet, stocked up on snacks and water, and waiting for Amy to be alone to strike.

  I slammed the door of the closet and dialed Steve.

  CHAPTER 33

  His right arm burned. His left arm stung. The pain from the wounds on his head gave him a splitting headache. The pain from his leg was indescribable.

  Chris did his best to sew up the tears, rips, and punctures in his skin. His body looked like patchwork. He’d learned that an animal’s teeth ripping through human flesh left wounds that weren’t easy to suture. The excruciating pain of the needle and thread through his body was aided by the oxycodone that he found in the woman’s medicine cabinet—and the old bottle of brandy that was in a cupboard above the refrigerator. In one of the woman’s closets, he’d found a slew of old man’s clothing—perhaps that of a dead husband. Chris changed into a pair of taupe slacks and a button-up shirt. The clothing smelled musty.

  He had seen the coverage of himself on television, watching it in full. They spoke of Nick Ludwig. They mentioned Grace, the neighbor, and Laurie Jillette. The cops even mentioned the hooker. They knew everything. It appeared that he was quite the wanted man. The coverage also mentioned that the police believed he was in the Doral area earlier in the day and that he might in fact be injured. There were only a few ways they could have known that. Either someone saw him, which they didn’t, or the dog had learned to talk, which it hadn’t. Or perhaps the police obtained and ran his prints from inside the house and noticed there was blood from two people. That one was a strong possibility. Or Amy was alive and talking. The idea that she might still be alive started to grow in his mind. Chris had taken a trip over to Amy and the cop’s house. He saw police rummaging about. He didn’t see a coroner’s van.

  He’d also called the county morgue. He posed as a family member who’d received a call that a loved one, Amy, had been killed in an attack. He feigned fear and agony of the unknown. Whoever he spoke to had claimed no woman had been brought in. Chris tried all the neighboring counties, every place he could think of where her body might have been taken. He had no luck.

  Next, Chris started dialing hospitals, one after the other. He spoke fast, as if he were frantic. He claimed that he’d gotten a message from their father that his sister had been attacked and was being rushed to the hospital. He said he couldn’t get ahold of any family to tell him which one. Chris gave the same story and the same fake anguish to each person who answered the phone. He followed the same routine three times at one hospital as they bounced him to different departments. His call to the fifth major hospital bore fruit. The receptionist there was exceptionally helpful. The woman told him Amy was at their facility. She said she would transfer him to the nurses’ station on the second floor. She said one of the nurses or staff members could walk over to the waiting area and have a family member come to the phone. Chris had hung up before anyone ever picked up the line. He knew she was alive. He knew where she was.

  Now, Chris opened the driver’s door of the old woman’s car and stepped into the hospital parking structure. He limped to the entrance.

  CHAPTER 34

  I headed down the hall of the second floor of the hospital, the backpack filled with Amy’s personal things draped over my shoulder. We’d been given badges, and since it was after hours, we’d have to use the phone outside the secured wing to be allowed back to the patient’s rooms. They buzzed me through the locked double doors, and I walked toward Amy’s room. I spotted Kelly, Amy’s sister, seated in the waiting area to my left. Amy’s room was near the end of the hall on the right. Amy’s mother and father were seated in the waiting room as well. I walked up.

  “Hey,” Kelly said. “The nurses are checking in on her and changing some bandages. They asked us to leave the room while they did it.”

  I gave her a nod. “How’s she doing? Any changes?”

  Keith scratched behind his ear—his fingers disappeared into his long gray-and-white hair. “She’s been asleep since you left. But before the nurses gave us the boot, they said she should be waking up at any time.”

  “All right,” I said. “When can we go back in?”

  “They kicked us out a few minutes ago but said it would be about a half hour until we can go back inside. They
were going to come and let us know, though,” Keith said.

  “Okay.” I sat by Keith, setting the backpack down on the next chair.

  “Did you get any news?” Keith asked. “Any call-ins from the television coverage?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t heard anything.” A thought bubbled up in my head, something that I was sure would have been mentioned if it had happened, but I’d never heard anything confirming that it hadn’t. “You guys have never met this guy, have you? When he dated Amy?”

  I got a headshake from Amy’s dad and a no from Amy’s mother.

  “His name didn’t ring a bell, but when I saw his face on TV, he looked familiar,” Kelly said. “How or why, I don’t know. Maybe I saw him at a party with Amy once or twice. Maybe it was coincidence that he looked familiar. I don’t remember ever talking to him or anything.”

  “Okay,” I said. I glanced at my watch. The time inched up on midnight. A yawn overtook me. I needed a coffee and maybe a splash of water across my face to wake me up. If we weren’t going to be allowed back in right away, my window to do both was then. “I’m going to go grab a coffee. Anyone need anything?”

  “I’m okay,” Kelly said.

  Amy’s mother shook her head.

  “I think we’re good,” Keith said.

  I rose from my chair, leaving the backpack with Amy’s things in it. “Back in a sec.”

  I walked down the hall and veered left to the men’s room. I used my shoulder to cover a yawn while I pushed open the door and found the first empty mirror and sink. I waved my hand under the touchless faucet and grabbed a couple of handfuls of water, which I splashed over my face. I got a good look at my reflection. The lighting wasn’t doing me any favors. My overall appearance was disheveled. The graying stubble on my cheeks and chin looked more like I needed a shave than the just-right amount. My suit was wrinkled. My tie was loosened. The top button of my gray dress shirt was unbuttoned. I looked older than normal. It was either the light or the anger, worry, and stress of Amy’s condition and the fact that the person responsible was not in custody. I dug my fingers into my eyes and gave them a hard rub. I again looked at my face staring back at me. My eyes were pink and tired. My hair, normally parted down the left side, looked as if I’d just crawled out of bed—it also appeared more gray than usual. I put a couple of fingers through it, trying to comb it. The bathroom door opened, breaking me from my thoughts and mirror gazing. I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser, dried my hands and face, and left the restroom.

  I walked from the secured wing with the patient rooms and navigated the halls to the complex’s cafeteria. Stark white floors and empty tables spread out before me and filled the room. At the rear of the cafeteria, behind a metal railing for funneling customers through, was the buffet line. There was no food in the bins, and no staff were manning the cash register.

  A bank of vending machines took up the right side of the room. I walked over and plugged a dollar into the one that would give me a coffee, hitting the buttons for dark roast and one sugar. A cup dropped, and the machine started going through its process. I stared into a lit-up vending machine filled with sandwiches, yogurts, fruit, and other foods. I heard the coffee machine’s clear plastic door open, telling me that my coffee was done. I reached for the paper cup, noticing it was that of the poker variety. Two black pairs—eights and aces—decorated the side of the cup. After I took a sip, I raised it for a look at the card printed on the bottom. My hole card was a red nine.

  My phone vibrated against my leg. I set my coffee on top of the vending machine, pulled my phone out, and clicked Talk.

  “Hey, Steve,” I said.

  “At the hospital?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I made a run home and came back.”

  “Not too pretty of a scene there, eh?”

  “No, it’s not. I talked to Colt. He gave me the rundown of what he thought happened. Anyway, what’s up?” I didn’t need to look at my watch or clock to know we were past midnight. “Aren’t you normally in bed by now?”

  “I am in bed. I just got a call from Ramirez, though. We have a homicide about five or six blocks from your house. It was just reported.”

  “Give me the details.”

  “All I have is third- or fourth-hand information, but Ramirez wanted me to pass it on to you and tell you to call him if you were available.”

  “All right. What did he tell you?” I asked.

  “A woman called the PD to see if someone could check on her mother. Patrol went to the house. The garage door was open, but there was no answer at the door. A check around back revealed a shattered window. The officer made entry and found an older woman deceased. Stabbed to death was the word.”

  “And we’re assuming it was Mercer?” I asked.

  “In the bathroom there was blood and what looked like the signs of someone who was injured and trying to attend to their wounds. Bloody towels, alcohol bottles, peroxide, a bloody needle and thread.”

  “Damn,” I said.

  “That’s about all I got. I’m forwarding this to you, so take it for what it’s worth. I just got off the phone with Ramirez, and he and the guys weren’t even on scene yet. This is all pretty fresh is what I’m saying.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m going to try giving him a call.”

  “Sure. Call me back if you need to.”

  “Okay,” I said. I clicked Dave’s contact in my phone and pressed Talk. I reached for my coffee and had a drink while the phone rang in my ear.

  “Ramirez,” he answered.

  “Hey, Dave. It’s Harrington. Steve just called and said you guys had one a few blocks from my house.”

  “We’re here now,” he said. “We just pulled up a couple minutes ago. How is the girlfriend?”

  “In her own room here at the hospital now. The medical staff is thinking she should probably be waking up at any time.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah. Fingers crossed that there are no issues with the recovery.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  “So this scene you’re at, you think it was Mercer?” I asked.

  “I’d imagine so. The proximity to your house. The blood and bullshit in the bathroom where it looks like someone was sewing wounds. The homicide and cause of death. I called for Craig and the night shift crime lab guys to head over here. There’s bloody hand- and fingerprints all over everything. I wouldn’t imagine that getting a print is going to be very difficult.”

  “No signs of Mercer, though?” I asked.

  “No, and the woman’s registered vehicle is gone. Mercer may have taken it, or it could have never been here in the first place, but I have Chestnut calling patrol to get a BOLO put out for it as we speak.”

  “All right. Anything else there?”

  “We’re just getting going. And I should probably get after it. Are you going to be up for a while?”

  “I’d imagine so. No plans to sleep in my immediate future. I’m sitting at the hospital and drinking coffee.”

  “Okay. Let me give you a ring once I have a better handle on what the hell happened here.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “I appreciate you getting ahold of Steve and getting the message to me.”

  “No problem. I would have called you myself, but I figured you and Steve are close. So if someone was going to wake you up or disturb you after midnight, it might as well have been him.”

  “Nah, no worries. Call me whenever you need to.”

  “We’ll talk soon,” he said.

  I clicked off from the call, slid my phone back into my pocket, and coffee in hand, left the cafeteria.

  CHAPTER 35

  I’d taken Thursday and Friday off work. Saturday, like the two days before it, I spent at the hospital with Amy and her family. No one really left her room aside from running out to get food or when we were asked to leave while the doctors and nurses did their checkups. I’d watched them make her do breathing exercise after breathing exercise. Since Frid
ay morning, the medical staff had been getting her out of bed and making her walk the halls of the wing. Amy seemed to be in good spirits under the circumstances.

  I sat in the green leather chair in her hospital room, staring out the windows at the parking structure in the distance. The view left much to be desired. The beeps and noises and smells of the hospital had blended into normalcy—I’d spent probably ninety of my last hundred hours there. The only time I’d left was to run home and take care of Lucky, though I did spend a few hours there on Thursday afternoon. I didn’t know what to do about the mess of the blood and couch in the living room. I gave Colt a call to ask what I should use to clean the place up. His response was simple—don’t. He gave me a number for a guy who had a crew that did crime scene cleanup. Colt told me that they’d take away the couch as well. I stood in my living room for three hours watching masked men wearing head-to-toe hazmat suits as they cleaned the place. I imagined their service wasn’t going to be cheap, yet the way Colt described it, it was by far the best solution.

  Amy was still on a host of medications, but the doctor had come in an hour or two earlier and said she’d be sent home in a few hours after some final checkups and what I imagined was a long list of instructions for care.

  I saw her move in her bed. She’d dozed off maybe a half hour before. I stood from my chair and walked over to her.

  She looked at me and smiled. “Hey,” she said.

  “Good morning. Again,” I said.

  “Where are my parents?”

  “They went to get some breakfast downstairs. Kelly is with them.”

  “Oh,” Amy said. “You didn’t want to eat with them?”

  “I didn’t want you to wake up and be alone.”

  She smiled again.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  She winced as she moved and adjusted herself. “I’m okay. I’m ready to go home and get the hell out of this hospital. Any news?”

  I shook my head. “I would have woken you if there was. We’ll get a lead. He won’t get away with what he did.”