by Debra Webb
That was seriously screwed up. "Is he dead?"
"No, Deborah saw where Pope was arrested and she called nine-one-one. Just in time."
Sarah was sure she would absorb and assimilate all this later. Right now it was just too overwhelming.
The memory of Lynda forcing her to take those pills bobbed to the murky surface of Sarah's mind. "Lynda gave me an overdose of the propranolol." As if she'd only just remembered and the symptoms had been delayed by her lost memory, she suddenly couldn't breathe.
"We know." Kale squeezed her hand. "You don't know how close we came to losing you. We were almost too late."
Sarah blinked, didn't understand.
"I went to the inn looking for you and found Mr. Harvey. We started searching for you then. I knew you'd been right all along. I couldn't find the chief and I had a hell of a time convincing August, but he finally came around."
Sarah searched her memory banks. "I beat the crap out of Lynda. Then I tried to help the chief."
Kale nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright. "I know. We found you facedown in the snow… I…" He cleared his throat, looked away. "You were barely alive. It took a hell of a lot of prayer and some skilled work here at the ER to reverse the effects of the propranolol. The doc said if you hadn't thrown up… you might not have made it."
"I'm lucky you found me in time." She didn't want to think about the fact that she'd prayed for the first time in about twenty years.
She'd keep that part to herself. For now.
"Luck had nothing to do with it."
Wait. That was right. Matilda had found her. "Did Matilda tell you where I was?"
Kale frowned. "Matilda? No." He hitched a thumb toward the other side of the room. "She's here. She wants to see you."
Sarah didn't understand. "But she was there. She must have told you where I was. She told me to stay awake… but I couldn't."
The confusion in Kale's eyes told her he had no idea what she was talking about. "I talked to Pope." He fell silent a moment; judging by the quiver of his lips, he was conquering his emotions.
"You talked to Pope?"
He nodded. "I told him what you suspected and that if he didn't help me, you would become one more victim of the women in his life. I wasn't sure which one it was."
"And?" Damn, this man had to learn how to get to the point.
"He told us where you'd likely be. Said he felt compelled to do the right thing."
So, she owed her life to God and to Jerald Pope.
This was all too strange.
"I guess the investigation is closed then?"
Kale nodded. "August left as soon as he knew you were out of the woods."
It was nice to know he'd cared enough to hang around and see whether or not she died.
"Have they said when they're letting me out of here?" She felt like hell, felt weak as a kitten actually, but she despised hospitals.
"A few more days. Until you're strong enough and the effect of the drug is gone completely."
"I guess I can deal with that."
"There are others waiting to see you." Kale looked at her hand, where he held it in his own, before meeting her gaze again. "I guess I should give someone else a turn."
That's when she noticed all the flowers. Twenty, no, at least thirty, arrangements. Including red roses.
"Wait." Deepest regrets. "Who sent the roses?"
"You want me to check the card?"
"No. I mean to the parents of the victims?"
"Oh, yeah. It was Lynda. She does it every time someone passes away. The whole covert order in Bangor was about making it look as if Jerri Lynn was setting her up. Apparently, Jerri Lynn had gone with her that day."
"I can't believe so many people sent flowers," Sarah muttered.
"And you thought nobody liked you."
Duh.
Instinct nudged Sarah. "Why don't you look at the card with the roses?" She needed to know.
"Sure." Kale crossed the room and pulled the card from the greenery. "Deepest regrets."
Sarah's pulse stumbled.
"Jerri Lynn Pope."
Sarah cleared her throat. "That's weird."
Kale shrugged. "You have to remember, both her parents are accused of murder. She's pretty much alone now."
"Yeah." Sarah knew how it felt to be suddenly alone. She also knew that Jerri Lynn was one weird girl… from one bizarre family. Although Sarah felt bad for Jerri Lynn on one level, there was still something she didn't trust about the girl.
"I've been holding on to something for you." Kale reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace Matilda had given Sarah. "It seemed important to you and I didn't want it to get lost. They took it off you in the ER." He placed it in her hand.
"Thanks." The rune felt cool against her palm. "Matilda gave it to me."
"Matilda and about a dozen other people are in the corridor waiting to see you," Kale told her, "but I thought I should fill you in first."
Sarah blinked, overwhelmed with all the information and emotions. "I appreciate that."
"By the way," he added, "my parents have offered to take Matilda in, if she'll agree. Polly loves her like a sister and has convinced them to help."
Now there was some good news. Something to celebrate. Sarah's heart felt glad.
Kale stared at their joined hands a long moment. Then he lifted his gaze to hers. "I was coming after you, you know. I didn't want you to go." He looked down again. "I won't beg you to stay, because that wouldn't be right. But…" That dark, dark gaze met hers once more. "Fuck it. I'll beg. I really want you to stay. Think about it, Sarah, okay? Seriously think about it."
That was something she could definitely promise him "Deal."
This was going to be a new beginning for her. She was never going to worry about DNA or genetics again. She was who she was. No matter who or what her mother and father were.
Sarah considered that Jerri Lynn faced the same dilemma. So far she hadn't killed anyone. Even though Sarah had considered the girl a prime suspect… but now she knew the truth.
Instinct nudged her.
Or did she? Something still didn't feel right. Maybe it was the drugs.
Kale kissed her forehead, dragging her back to happier thoughts. "I'm glad to hear that."
Sarah smiled. Maybe it was the knock on the head or the medicine or a combination of both, but she suddenly wondered where this guy had been all her life.
The door opened. "Kale, let somebody else in!" Polly flashed a grin at her. "Hey, Sarah!" Then the door closed as if someone had pulled the girl back.
Kale managed to smile. "You heard that. I've got to let the others have a turn."
Damn, Sarah was finally Ms. Popular.
Sarah held on to his hand. "I don't want you to go." But she needed to see Matilda and Polly and whoever else was out there. "Can you send Matilda in next?"
"I can try."
He let go of her hand long enough to cross to the door. He stuck his head out and murmured to those waiting outside. When he drew back into the room, he pulled Matilda in with him. She wore her usual goth getup. Sarah was seriously glad to see her. A smile dragged at her chapped lips.
"You made it," the kid said quietly as she moved up to Sarah's bedside. "I knew you would."
Sarah searched her face, wondered if she should even ask. "How did you find me?"
Matilda's gaze locked with hers, a frown lined her brow. "I don't know what you mean."
Okay, so she'd imagined the whole thing. "I dreamed you were there with me. You kept telling me to stay awake."
Matilda searched her eyes. "I was really worried about you." She placed her hand atop Sarah's. "I could feel how bad it was for you. I… I was afraid for you." She squeezed Sarah's hand. "So I closed my eyes and thought of you. I saw myself protecting you and bringing you back safely." A faint smile tilted the girl's lips. "I guess it worked. Kind of like prayer."
"You were right about Pope," Sarah told her. "He's pretty much the devi
l. He and your mother had a run-in. I guess that's why you got those bad vibes about him."
Matilda shrugged. "I get feelings about people all the time. No big deal. It's just the way it is. My instincts about him were just stronger than most."
Yeah, Sarah mused, no big deal. Though she still didn't believe in all that ESP junk or woo-woo stuff, she knew Matilda was a very special young lady.
"I should go back out there." Matilda glanced at the man waiting a few feet away. "Polly and a bunch of other people want to see you, too."
Sarah tried to smile but her lips quivered. "I'll see you later."
Matilda leaned down, kissed her on the forehead, then whispered in her ear, "The police couldn't get him, but you did. You're special, Sarah Newton."
Before Sarah could speak, Matilda had hurried from the room.
Warm, salty tears slid from Sarah's eyes. She wasn't special. Matilda was the one who was special.
Kale hovered over Sarah once more. He took her hand. "You okay?" He swiped the dampness from her cheeks with warm fingers.
"Yeah. I'm good." She searched his eyes, wanted him to see the truth in her words. "I'm better than I've ever been."
He kissed her nose. "Good." He glanced at the door. "Look, there's going to be a riot out there if I don't let Polly in here."
"On one condition," Sarah told him.
"What's that?"
"Kiss me." What was he waiting for? "I almost died. I deserve a real kiss, at least."
He kissed her.
He'd found her.
Or maybe she'd found him.
Either way, she was never looking back. She had a new philosophy. The truth is always going to be what it is, but she now knew it could be altered by many things, life, hope… and even prayer.
And by certain… special people.
The truth is what it is, but sometimes it was not what it seemed.
The truth was, it was time to get over the past and make herself a future.
Sarah had come to find a killer, and she had. But the truth was, she'd found far more.
She'd found Kale.
She'd found herself.
CHAPTER 49
Strange.
Jerri Lynn Pope walked along the massive entry hall.
There was no one left of her family but her.
She was like an orphan.
She drifted into the kitchen and rummaged in the fridge. She should eat. It was well past lunch. There was a lot of change going on in her life. She needed her strength.
There was no one to take care of her now. She had to learn to take care of all her needs.
Cheese, fruit… nothing appealed to her.
When she noticed the thick slab of filet mignon her father had intended to grill today, she smiled. That would work.
Jerri Lynn grabbed the dish, set it on the counter and went in search of a knife.
She selected a butcher knife and studied the glint of light from the windows on the blade. She loved those mesmerizing glints. Loved the way they flashed so brightly.
On second thought she grabbed the bowl of salad and her favorite dressing from the fridge.
Perfect. Steak and salad.
She sliced into the thick meat; red ran from its tender flesh. She shivered. She lifted a small piece, considered its color and texture, then popped it into her mouth.
She chewed. Closed her eyes and moaned.
There was nothing quite as good as raw meat.
She thought of how her own blood tasted whenever she cut herself. Would human flesh taste as good as the steak?
Jerri Lynn's pulse reacted to the concept. She studied the red trickling down the knife blade.
One day soon… very soon… perhaps she would know for sure.
"I found the pajamas."
Jerri Lynn looked up as Tamara padded into the kitchen. Tamara struck a pose to show off her new loungewear.
Jerri Lynn smiled. Her one true friend. "You look delicious."
Tamara grinned. "Thank you."
Perhaps one day soon Jerri Lynn would know many new things.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Debra Webb's next novel
EVERYWHERE SHE TURNS
Available soon from St. Martin's Paperbacks
CHAPTER 1
Huntsville, Alabama
Saturday, July 31, 6:30 A.M.
Women.
Bitches. Every fucking one of them.
The world was about to be rid of one more stupid bitch.
All he had to do was catch her.
Laughter burst from his chest as she darted from the alley, plunging into the dark cover of the woods in a last-ditch effort to save herself.
Did she really think she could escape him that easily?
Stupid, stupid bitch.
Not in this life.
In this life, he was the killer. And she… well, she was the victim.
The only decision that remained was the manner of death.
Slice open her silky white throat?
No. Too cliché.
The memorable mark of a truly magnificent killer was at its core quite simple… originality.
He allowed her a few precious seconds. Just enough to provide a fleeting glimmer of hope. Then he charged into the damp, dense woods, using the trampled underbrush she'd left in her wake as his path.
She should just face the one undeniable fact close enough to feel its hot brush on the nape of her fragile neck.
She was dead.
Within the hour her heart would slow to a complete stop… heat would begin to seep from her flesh and the final image captured on her retinas would fade to black.
His face would be that last image.
At that trauma-filled moment, when her brain released the massive dump of endorphins that gifted the dying with an eerie calm as their entire pathetic lives flashed like a bad movie trailer through their impotent minds, she would recognize her one fatal mistake.
She shouldn't have gotten in the way.
Bravado… curiosity… whatever it was that made her dare to step out of her place, it was just another bad choice in a long line of bad choices littering an insignificant existence mere minutes from being over.
Even now as he grew nearer and nearer, so shockingly near he could hear the humid air raging in and out of her desperate lungs… could feel the sheer terror throttling through her veins… she still couldn't help herself.
She had to glance back. To see the truth that had been right in front of her for the duration of her short life.
He smiled.
This was going to be fun.
CHAPTER 2
Johns Hopkins Hospital
Baltimore, Maryland
10:30 P.M.
Dr. CJ Patterson fished in her purse for her keys as she neared her ancient Civic. In twenty-three minutes she would be home, five minutes after that she would be out of these scrubs and soaking in a tub full of hot, steamy water with an open bottle of chilled Sorraco uncorked and parked within reach.
Forty-two patients in fourteen hours.
A twelve-car pile-up on Interstate 695 had kept the ER buzzing for the final three hours of her too-long shift. Half a dozen cops were still attempting to interview the victims capable of answering questions.
"Just another Saturday night in Charm City." She reached for the door, but something in the corner of her eye snagged her attention. "Oh, damn."
Flat tire.
The second one this week. CJ heaved a disgusted breath. She had to get new tires.
Another reality hit on the heels of that one. She slapped her forehead with the heel of her hand. "Double damn."
Who had time to get the other flat tire repaired? Certainly not a third-year resident who worked ten or more hours most days and who spent the rest of her time studying for boards.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Plowing her fingers through her hair, she pulled her ponytail free, glanced around the gloomy parking garage and considered her options. Getting someone here to repair one o
r both tires would take hours on a Saturday night.
"Forget it." She did an about-face and headed for the nearest exit. There was always a cab or two waiting within hailing distance of the ER entrance on East Monument Street. She'd get a ride home and deal with this in the morning when she'd had some sleep. Tomorrow was her first day off in two weeks. Too bad it was Sunday because she had a million things to take care of and the business world of nine-to-fivers had no appreciation for her frenzied schedule.
She pushed through the north exit of the staff parking garage into the muggy night air. Someday, when she had money, she might actually have a decent ride. One with good tires. And reliable air-conditioning.
Such was the life of a medical resident—every aspect of one's personal life was about the future.
Sweat had dampened her skin by the time she reached East Monument. At the ER's street entrance she stopped, stepped back from the curb before an arriving ambulance mowed her down. Lights and sirens, not good. Hard as she tried not to linger… to look, her efforts were futile. Two of her colleagues rushed out to connect with the emerging paramedics and the patient strapped to the gurney.
CJ forced her attention back to the taxi a block or so beyond the ER's drop-off point. The arriving patient was in good hands. CJ's shift was over.
She had to learn that even the most committed physician needed boundaries. She couldn't save the world alone. Especially without sleep.
At the passenger side of the taxi, CJ opened the rear door and gave her home address to the driver. She collapsed into the seat, tossed her purse aside, and snapped her safety belt into place. Blessed relief hissed past her lips.
Finally.
"Tough night?" The driver lowered the volume of the jazz radiating from the taxi's speakers as he rolled out onto the deserted street.
"Long, long night," CJ explained. But that was the reality of choosing a career in emergency medicine. The ER was not the place for those who preferred banking hours and neatly scheduled appointments. Strange. Maybe the reason she loved the adrenaline-charged life of an ER physician was related to her drama-filled childhood. Wasn't all that one did connected to the environment of the formative years?
