by Dee Davis
It was the question of the hour actually, but Eric didn't see the point in sharing it with Ryan. “It wasn't really an interview. I just talked to him at the party because he'd met Lydia Wallace. He wasn't a suspect at the time, so there wasn't any reason to investigate further.”
“Look,” Tony inserted impatiently, “we can sit around here all day discussing what ifs, but until we talk to Nate we aren't going to know anything. Is he here somewhere?”
Ryan shook his head. “I haven't seen him all day. I just assumed he was working on a story. Or with Sara and Bess at the hospital. Oh, God.” He stood up, clearly agitated, his horrified gaze meeting Eric's. “He could be with Sara right now.”
“Sara's fine,” Eric said. “She's got an officer assigned to watch over her. And Molly has guards as well.”
“You think he'd try to finish what he started?” Ryan flinched at the thought.
“I think it's best to be on the safe side.”
“Does Sara know?”
Tony shook his head. “We thought we should wait. No need to upset her unnecessarily. At least not until we know something for sure.”
“Jesus.” Ryan sat down again, his expression bordering on shell-shocked. “I hired him. Assigned him to Sara's stories. Hell, I might as well have set her up. I should have investigated more. Followed up on Nate's story.” Ryan sighed in frustration. “There's a yes/no box on our application. You know, the standard one about being arrested. Nate checked it. I asked and he explained. I thought it was just a juvenile mistake. Hell, we've all let our hormones carry us away, especially as teenagers. He said the charges were dropped. I believed him.”
“They were dropped.” Eric wasn't certain why he wanted to reassure the man, maybe because he was Sara's friend, or maybe because he looked so devastated.
“But that doesn't change the fact that I hired him.”
“This isn't about blame.” Tony straightened, his face grim. “It's about eliminating possibilities. And right now the important thing is to find Nate, figure out if he's our man.”
“It just seems inconceivable. Nate is so … so timid. I can't imagine him having the courage to ask a woman on a date, let alone rape her.”
“It was more than rape, Ryan. It was a calculated play at power, a way to control the situation, to come out on top. The person who did this probably feels out of control most of the time, and the killings are a way to remedy the situation. Truth be told, Nate fits the profile to a tee.”
Ryan released a slow breath. “So what can I do?”
“Nothing for the moment. Just call us if he shows up.” Eric handed Ryan a card with his cell phone number. “Don't say anything. Try to behave as normally as possible. And if you can, keep him here.”
“All right.” Ryan stood, for the moment looking a little lost. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry. You have to know I'd never do anything to put Sara in danger. Never.”
“You couldn't have known,” Eric said. Hell, he'd missed it, too. Talked to the guy on more than one occasion and never suspected a thing. He thought about the profiler saying the killer liked to manipulate things.
Well, it looked like Nate Stone had managed to manipulate them all.
Sara sat by Molly's bedside waiting for a miracle. According to the nurse, Molly had turned her head and tried to say something. Unfortunately, the effort had not been repeated. And now they were saying it had only been a reflex.
Evidently even people in vegetative comas were capable of what appeared to be human response when, in fact, it was simply a muscular reaction to outside stimulus. Logical conclusion, but this wasn't a logical situation and Molly wasn't a vegetable. Which meant that she could wake up.
Sara squeezed her friend's hand, praying with all her might that God would find a way to send Molly back. It would be a long fight, but Molly would be more than up to the battle. Sara was certain of it. They just needed a little help.
If Molly died, then he won. If she lived, then they won. At least a little. It wouldn't bring back Tom or Charlie. But it was something to hold on to. A way to believe that good could triumph.
She leaned her head against the cool sheets, letting the steady beep of the machines wash over her, soothe her.
“It's time to go.” The nurse's voice was full of regret. “I hate to ask to you to leave, but Molly needs to rest. And we need to check her vitals.”
Sara nodded, rising slowly, feeling suddenly old and tired. “I'll be outside.”
“You need to get some rest, too.” The woman meant well, probably was right even, but Sara didn't want to leave.
“What if she wakes up and needs me?”
“Then you'll come running. But there's no sense in putting yourself in the bed next to her.”
Sara shivered, the woman's words having more meaning than she knew. “I'll be fine. You just take care of Molly.”
The nurse shrugged, already turning her attention to Molly, working to replace one of her IV bags. Sara walked out of the room, nodding at the policewoman on guard, and returned to the waiting room.
Bess was standing by the window, the line of her shoulders reflecting her stress. Jenkins sat in a corner, his shy smile a comfort even if he was a stranger.
“She's resting.”
Bess spun around, her eyes hopeful. “Did she come to again?”
Sara shook her head. “It was a false alarm. The nurse thinks maybe now that it was just a reflex of some kind.”
“I don't believe it.” Bess crossed her arms in defiance. “They said she tried to talk. That's hardly a reflex.”
“I don't know what to think.” Sara shrugged, fighting against her fatigue. “I want to believe that she's in there fighting. But then I think of all she's been through and—oh, Bess, I just don't know.”
Bess crossed to her side, sliding her arm around Sara, sharing her strength. “You're almost asleep on your feet. You need to get some rest. You won't be doing Molly any good if you collapse.”
“That's what the nurse said.” Sara's smile was wry. “I just feel like I need to be here.”
“I understand that. I feel the same way. But this has been harder on you than anyone.”
“Except Molly.” The words were bitter, the taste vile against her tongue.
“Sara, you can't hold the world up all by yourself. You need to let us help too. So why don't you go home and at the very least take a shower. And I'll hold the fort down until you get back.”
Sara started to say no, to explain why she needed to stay, but then thought better of it. Bess was right. She wasn't any good to anyone this way. And the thought of a shower was wonderful. “All right. I'll go. But I'm coming right back.”
Bess nodded. “I'll watch over Molly until then. And Jenkins there can watch over you. It'll be okay, Sara. I promise.”
Sara sighed, and gave her friend a hug, then turned to go, Jenkins following right behind her, his presence a constant reminder that everything was not going to be okay—at least not as long as there was a killer on the loose.
Eric felt as if the world were missing something crucial, or at least the hospital waiting room was. Bess was sitting in the corner, reading a book, but there was no sign of Sara. Disappointment flooded his gut. “Where's Sara?”
Bess's head shot up, her smile welcoming. “She went home to take a shower. Jenkins is with her. Well, not literally of course.”
They both laughed, but like laughing in church, the sound seemed out of place. Abnormal. Hell, who was he kidding? Everything was topsy-turvy. “I got a call that Molly was awake.”
Bess shook her head. “False alarm. At least that's what they're saying. Evidently it was just reflex.”
“They're sure.”
“About as sure as they can be of anything, I guess.” Bess put her book down. “The doctor is in with her now. Maybe it would help if you to talk to him.”
Eric nodded, already turning to head for ICU. With a nod at the officer on duty, he flashed his badge and headed for Molly's cubic
le. The sterile conformity of the ward always left him feeling oddly disturbed, as if in coming here a patient had to surrender their humanity, the need for medical intervention superseding anything personal.
Yet, somehow Molly had managed to evade that, her hair bright against bandages and linens, startlingly unique even in the face of ICU's starched uniformity. There was hope in the thought, and despite himself and the situation, he smiled.
The doctor nodded to a nurse, wrote something on Molly's chart, and then walked over to meet him, offering Eric his hand. “I wish I had better news.”
“I take it you're concurring that Molly didn't actually wake up.”
“I can't say for certain either way. It's possible that she did wake up. There was a change in her EEG about the same time. But it's also possible that she was reacting instinctively to stimulus within the room. She's responsive to pain. Maybe the nurse jostled her or her pain meds were waning.” He shrugged. “I know it's not what you wanted to hear.”
“I just want her to get better.”
“The surgery seems to have successfully stopped the internal bleeding. Her blood pressure has leveled out, and the sutures in her eye sockets are holding. All of which are excellent indicators that she's starting to heal.”
“And the coma?”
“There's no way to tell. She could wake up tomorrow or not at all. Besides the eyes, there's some swelling and a couple of contusions. I suspect she took at least one blow to the head. That, combined with the shock of losing her eyes …” The doctor shrugged again, his face impassive.
“But there's brain activity, right?”
“The EEG shows some low-level activity, yes.”
“And the spike?” Eric asked, trying to keep his emotions at bay.
“It's a good sign. Especially if she did regain consciousness. I'm afraid the truth of the matter is that other than monitoring her, there's nothing to do but wait.”
“Can I see her?” He wasn't sure what it was he hoped to accomplish, but he figured it couldn't hurt. And with Sara gone, maybe Molly would like the company.
“Sure.” The doctor smiled, his attention already moving on to the next case, the next patient. Like cops, doctors had to keep their emotions compartmentalized, keep everything at arm's length.
It was the only way to survive, but sometimes he wondered about the cost. Sighing, he pushed the thought aside and walked into Molly's room. There were machines everywhere, all of them making noise, the resulting cacophony comforting and irritating all at once.
He sat down beside Molly's bed, feeling a little awkward. It wasn't as if they really knew each other, but they shared a bond because of their feelings for Sara.
Eric reached for her hand. Molly's skin almost translucent. He could feel the flutter of a pulse. Independent confirmation of life. Frustrated, he leaned back in his chair, wondering if Tony was having any luck tracking down Nate. They'd split up when the call about Molly came in, Eric opting to go to the hospital leaving Tony to the hunt.
Inertia wasn't his strong suit, but he'd hoped that Molly would have something to tell him. And if he were honest, he'd have to admit that he'd wanted to see Sara.
Make certain that she was okay. That the magic of the night hadn't been one-sided. He'd told her he loved her. Put it right out there front and center. And she'd hadn't responded. At least not with words. The specter of her husband still stood between them, an obstacle he wasn't convinced he could overcome.
Molly's fingers moved beneath his, pulling his attention sharply back into focus. He waited, staring down at her hand, willing it to move again, wondering if perhaps he'd simply imagined it.
Her index finger twitched, was still, and then, with obvious purpose, curled around his. “Molly? Can you hear me?” He leaned forward, his heat pounding. “Molly? It's Eric.”
She turned her head, squeezing his hand in recognition, then swallowed struggling to speak.
Eric shook his head, not wanting her to push herself. “Hang on, Molly. I'll get a nurse.”
Her hand tightened on his, pulling him closer with surprising force. “Nate.” She said, the word faint but clear. “Nate…”
“And then the time will come
when all the waiting's done.
The time when you return
and find me here and run …”
It was his favorite song. The one she'd loved the best. And the words were more than appropriate, bringing everything to a fitting finale.
Not that this was the way he'd wanted it. No, he'd had a different ending in mind, but nothing had changed. She'd cuckolded him again, tossing him aside with no thought to the consequences. Spreading her legs at the first opportunity. She was no better than a whore.
And for that, she'd have to pay.
He'd given her all the chances in the world, but she'd chosen someone else—again. And that simply wouldn't do. He'd prove to her once and for all that he was the man for her, the one to make her scream in ecstasy. There'd be no substitute this time. He'd find his release skin to skin.
He sharpened the knife, the whet stone making a lovely whizzing noise as the blade scraped back and forth, back and forth. He closed his eyes, imagining that it was her he was stroking, his body ripping into hers, their blood mixing together, binding them for all time.
The prick of the knife brought him back to reality and he sucked the cut on his thumb, letting the music fill him, the words tantalizing in their promise. Tonight it would be different. She'd finally belong to him. Forever.
He'd taste her sweetness, lose himself deep inside her. And then he'd hold her there, tight and hot around him, as he slowly cut her throat and watched her die.
Chapter 27
Sara lay back against the upholstery of the squad car, eyes closed, hovering on the brink of sleep. Officer Jenkins was a wonderful chauffeur, and if it weren't for the situation, she'd probably have enjoyed the ride.
But at the moment there was too much at stake to enjoy anything so frivolous. She opened her eyes, staring out the window. It was a gray slate kind of day, cold and wet, the clouds so low they almost grazed the rooftops. They quilted the trees, draping over bare branches, ice-glazed and ugly, the perfect backdrop for the insanity surrounding them.
The phone rang, and for a moment she didn't even comprehend that it was hers. And then, when she did, the last thing she wanted to do was answer it. But there was no bravery in that, and so, with a sigh, she clicked the “on” button, secure that Jenkins was just in front of her, watching her proverbial back.
“Hello?”
“Hey, gorgeous, how you holding up?” At the sound of Eric's voice, her whole body relaxed, and it wasn't until that moment that she realized just how keyed up she'd actually been.
“I'm doing okay. Any news?”
“Yeah.” There was regret in his voice, regret and concern.
“Oh, God.” Her heart started to pound. “Is Molly …”
“No.” He was quick to reassure her, and she leaned back against the seat, shaking her head at Jenkins' concerned gaze in the rearview mirror. “Just the opposite in fact. She actually woke up.”
“But the nurse said it was a reflex.”
“It wasn't. I was there. She squeezed my hand. She recognized my voice.”
“So she's going to be okay?”
“They're still not committing. She slipped back almost as quickly as she came out. But I did get the doctor to admit that it's a positive sign. We know she's in there, cognitively in there.”
“But all she did was turn her head.”
“She did more than that, Sara. She said something. A name.”
“The killer?” Cold chills chased down her spine and she shivered, tightening her hand on the phone, a lifeline to Eric.
“We think so. It tracks with some other information we came across.”
“So who is it?” She hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but it was getting hard to breathe.
“We believe it's Nate, Sara.”
There was silence as she digested the information, her mind running the gamut from disbelief to amazement. “Nate? Surely there's a mistake.”
“There was no mistaking what Molly said. And to top it off, Nate's got a past history involving this sort of thing.”
“What does he say?” She simply couldn't accept it.
“We haven't found him yet. Tony's working on it. Hopefully he'll be in custody soon. Did he come to the hospital today?”
She shook her head, then remembered she was on the phone. “No. I haven't seen him since yesterday.” Visions of the interview with Amanda Moore presented themselves front and center, Nate so caring, so concerned. “I just can't believe it.”
“It's not confirmed yet, but the facts are beginning to stack up against him.”
“Should I come back to the hospital?” She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but heading for Eric seemed the wisest choice.
“No. You're fine as long as you're with Jenkins. And I won't be here anyway.”
Leave it to him to read her mind. “Where will you be?”
“I'm on my way to talk to Claire Dennison. She paged me, said it was important.”
“Okay,” she said, forcing herself to sound positive. “I'm going to head on home and grab a quick shower, then I'll head back to the hospital.” She started to say something about Nate, something to encourage Eric on his quest, but she knew that wasn't what she really wanted to say. “Eric?”
“I'm here.”
“I… ah…” Why the heck couldn't she just spit it out? The emotion was there, solid and sure; all she needed now were the words. “I just wanted …” She twisted her wedding ring, perversely willing it to give her courage, “I just wanted to tell you how much I love you.” The words came out in a rush, but once said, she felt as if a huge burden had been lifted, as if someone had opened a window deep in her soul, her heart feeling suddenly light. “And when I see you,” she smiled into the phone, “I promise I'll show you just how much.”
“I'll hold you to it.” There was a raw note of passion in his voice, her insides tightening in response. “In the meantime, sweetheart, don't go anywhere without Jenkins.”
