Shadow of Perceptoin

by Kristine Mason

  Wow. All of this truth-telling crap exhausted and upset her. She didn’t want to think about Hudson as a lonely little boy. How he might have lain in his childhood bed wishing for an older brother to soften whatever blows he’d been delivered as a kid. Thinking about any pain he’d endured made her heart ache. Thinking about the pain she might have caused Celeste and Will created a well of guilt. Still, she couldn’t help the resentment toward Celeste, how she’d always been favored by their mother. How Celeste and their mom hadn’t been able to help save her from the nightmare that still haunted her.

  “I understand what you’re saying,” she began. “And I think you’re right. Celeste isn’t like me, and I think I need to keep reminding myself of that. I’ll call her tomorrow and schedule lunch for sometime next week.”

  “Why not call her today?”

  “Because I’m busy trying to find a killer. And after we meet with the ex-wife, I was hoping you’d take me to the station. I promise it’ll only be an hour,” she said before he could argue. “I really have to get this last segment for my show done.”

  He glanced at her, then shifted his focus back to the road. “One hour.”

  “Promise.”

  “Good,” he said, then pulled the car into a driveway. After turning off the ignition, he faced her. “How’d we do for our first major truth-telling conversation?”

  She thought about a couple of major points of interest she’d neglected to share. The Trans Am hadn’t been the ideal place to blurt out that she’d been gang raped as a teenager, and that her sister and mom had claimed to be psychic, but hadn’t been able to help her. At times, when she’d thought about the reasons behind her resentment for Celeste and her mom, she’d questioned her rationale. If she’d sometimes thought her actions and motives had been illogical, what would Hudson think? She needed time to consider how she’d word this portion of her past. Hudson might not be judgmental, but she didn’t want to lose his respect. Even when she’d been angry with him, even when he’d made a huge mistake that had cost them their relationship, she’d always respected him as a person. Hudson’s intentions had always been pure. Protect the innocent. Fight the bad guys.

  “For a start, I think we did pretty good,” she answered him.

  “Dr. Phil, good?” he asked with a grin, then opened his door.

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far,” she said, as he helped her from the Trans Am. “But it’s a start.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

  She nodded, then rubbed her arms to ward off the cold, brisk wind.

  “Then let’s introduce ourselves to our victim’s ex.”

  *

  Pudge woke from a deep, dreamless sleep to Mama banging on her bed tray.

  bitch ungrateful bitch

  “Yes, she is.” Pudge climbed out of the bed. “I’m coming, Mama,” Pudge shouted, then began to dress. Once clothed, Pudge left the bedroom, then headed for the living room.

  “It’s about time,” Mama yelled. “What’s wrong with you? It’s almost noon. Are you sick or something?”

  Pudge hadn’t realized the hour, and wanted to hurry up with Mama. They needed to see the news and find out how popular Dr. Dread had been today.

  “Don’t you have to work?” Mama asked.

  “I’m on the afternoon shift at the factory,” Pudge lied. Mama had no clue there wasn’t, and never had been, a factory job. While Pudge did earn an income, it came from WBDJ-TV. Mama didn’t need to know about their aspirations, or the job at the station. Disclosing them would mean disclosing the disguise Pudge had perfected during the past two years. The people who worked at WBDJ didn’t know Pudge as Pudge. And Mama wouldn’t recognize her own child, even on the evening news.

  “Whatever. Just make me something to eat. I’m starving. Damn near slept the day away yesterday,” Mama griped, then gave her food order.

  Pudge made the frozen pizza, eggs, waffles and bacon the bitch had demanded. After changing Mama’s colostomy bag and checking her bedsores, Pudge took the remote off the bed.

  “Gimme that,” Mama commanded. “It’s mine.”

  Pudge held the remote out of reach and walked toward the TV. “Just hang on a second. I want to catch the twelve o’clock news and see what the weather’s going to be like today.”

  “It’s frickin’ November,” Mama said over a mouthful. “Don’t take a genius meteorologist to know it’s going to be cold.”

  sleep sleep put mama back to sleep hate her hate her

  Pudge hid a smile, and ignored the voice. With the TV set on Channel 5, Pudge watched and waited with anticipation.

  Thirty minutes later, confused and concerned, Pudge dropped the remote on Mama’s fat belly. “Need anything else before I leave?”

  “Where you going? I thought your shift don’t start until later.”

  “It doesn’t, but I have a few errands to run beforehand.”

  “Leave me enough food and soda to get me by ‘til you come home.”

  Pudge took care of Mama, then went to the bedroom. “I don’t understand. Why wasn’t it on the news? They should have found the body by now.”

  dont worry dont

  “You’re right. It’s stupid to worry. Maybe Nurse Gretchen wasn’t supposed to work today, and that’s why no one has searched for her.”

  yes yes smart so smart

  Pudge dressed, then stood in front of the mirror and applied the necessary hair and makeup. “Poor Eden won’t get the scoop on Nurse Gretchen when she’s finally discovered. That dumb ass, Ryan Anders, won’t either.”

  black ball blackity black ball

  Pudge smiled. That fool, Kyle Edwards, had fallen for the bait, and had proceeded to force the Chicago police to black ball WBDJ from the CPD inner circle. Once Eden and Ryan were out of the picture, Pudge would rectify that situation and receive the promotion that had long been denied. “Richard Jeffries will be kissing my ass when it’s all said and done. After he’s finished paying his respects to Eden.”

  departed dearly departed

  Pudge laughed. “Yes, my love. They should have never messed with us.”

  *

  Michael Morrison stood against the brick wall, waiting for his next patient to emerge from his newly renovated, eight thousand square foot mansion. The plastic surgeon had paid nearly three million for the home, then had dropped another million for the renovations. Business had been very good for Dr. Leonard Tully. The money the doctor had made off of Eliza’s surgeries could have paid for the upgrade to one of the mansion’s seven bathrooms.

  Twenty minutes passed and he began to worry that today might have been a waste of time. Tully should have left by now. Michael had researched his schedule and knew Tully came home for lunch twice a week, stayed for an hour, then left for the plastic surgery clinic he’d joined after Cosmetic Solutions and Med Spa had disbanded. Today was one of those days. He should have left by now.

  The door to the mansion opened. Michael pushed off the wall as a short, rotund man kissed a beautiful woman on the lips. The man slipped on a pair of sunglasses, and began to walk down the steps.

  Michael recognized Tully immediately, and also noticed the man’s girth had grown since he’d last seen him. Ironic, considering the doctor performed liposuction for a living. In his opinion, if you’re pushing your wares, you should look the part.

  He also recognized the woman waving from the door as Mrs. Tully. Although in her early forties, she had the body and face of a twenty-year-old woman. Being married to a plastic surgeon did have its merits, he supposed. Too bad it wasn’t a happy marriage. Lonely Mrs. Tully, Michael had discovered, had a penchant for young Latin men. Of course her husband didn’t have a clue, and if he had, Michael assumed the man didn’t care. Dr. Tully had his share of extra marital affairs as well. Wouldn’t Mrs. Tully be interested to know that her husband also enjoyed the company of young Latin men?

  Michael casually walked to the minivan he’d parked on an adjac
ent street. Once inside the van, he checked the review mirror, and waited for Tully to drive his Mercedes from the garage. Seconds later, Tully passed him. Michael switched the van’s gear into DRIVE and began to follow.

  Taking Tully during the day had its risks, but the timing worked. Mrs. Tully had planned a ladies weekend in Arizona, and would leave this evening. No one would be home to miss the doctor when he didn’t arrive. Plus, Michael had a schedule to meet. There were also the coyotes that needed to be kept fat and happy. He didn’t want to hear about them threatening his neighbors to the point that the animal warden had to become involved. Once he closed his OR, he could care less. The animal warden, the local sheriff, hell, even the FBI could roam his land and pick up the bits and pieces of the doctors that even a coyote wouldn’t eat. He would have accomplished his mission, his promises to his daughter. Besides, he planned to be long gone before anyone set foot on his land. He had a one-way ticket to a place where no one could extradite him.

  Tully slowed, then turned the Mercedes into a parking garage located next to the plastic surgery clinic. Michael followed, and keeping his baseball cap low, paid the parking attendant, then drove the van to the level where the doctor usually parked his Mercedes.

  Michael had been in this garage several times, and knew where the security cameras were located. Unfortunately for Dr. Tully, the owners of the garage had installed cheap units, and only placed them at the entrance of the garage and at the elevator and stairwell.

  Michael parked the van shy of the elevator and its camera, while Dr. Tully parked in his reserved spot near the middle of the garage. Knowing Tully would soon pass him in order to reach the elevator, Michael readied the syringe, crawled into the back of the minivan, then slid open the passenger side back door.

  His heart pounded as he edged toward the back of the van and waited. The distinct click of the doctor’s expensive Italian shoes echoed off the cement. Closer. Closer.

  Michael watched the ground. When one leather shoe tip passed the van’s bumper, he chop blocked the man in the esophagus. Tully dropped, clutching his throat and gasping. Michael jabbed the syringe into his neck, directly into the man’s carotid artery.

  Tully looked at him, his eyes already drooping and glassy. “Why?” he mouthed, still unable to speak due to the blow to the esophagus.

  Michael ignored the doctor and shoved him into the van. Tully resisted. Shoved back and planted one Italian shoe on the van’s floorboard, and the other on the ground.

  Considering Tully’s weight, Michael wondered if maybe he should have used a stronger dosage. Worried someone might exit the elevator, or drive through the garage and see them, he opted for plan B.

  Using all of his weight, Michael pushed Tully harder, then swept the other man’s foot with his boot. One Italian shoe dropped to the ground as Tully fell forward into the van. Before the man could push himself up and offer more resistance, Michael grabbed the bat he’d used to subdue his first victim, and hit Tully on the back of the head. The man dropped and remained still.

  Catching his breath, Michael picked up the shoe, tossed it next to Tully, climbed into the van, then closed the door. He checked the man’s pulse.

  Alive.

  Good.

  After going through all of this trouble, he’d hate to have killed Tully before he gave the man a taste of his own medicine.

  Chapter 12

  Eden stepped under the spray of hot water and released a sigh as she washed the lingering hospital scent from her body. When she realized the hair on her legs rivaled Fabio’s, she reached for the razor and shaving cream.

  Just in case.

  Not that she planned on seducing Hudson.

  Okay, so she did. Maybe.

  Like her, he acted as if he wanted to explore their relationship. Based on some of the things he’d said and done the past few days, she suspected that exploration went beyond the emotional. She thought back to the other day, when she’d lied about having a date. Thought back to the way he’d shoved his big hands through her hair, and drew their mouths together until their lips were only inches apart. Remembered his words, how he’d boldly reminded her of the way she’d cried out his name when she’d come for him.

  Flashbacks to when they’d been together, in his bed or hers, having hot sex on the kitchen counter or the living room floor, collided together into a pornographic kaleidoscope of naked skin, frenzied kisses, and rapturous caresses. Sucking in a deep breath, she dropped the razor and pressed her palm between her thighs. She needed to come, to release the pent up sexual frustration that had been driving her insane since Hudson walked back into her life.

  Although tempted to take care of herself in the shower, she retrieved the razor and finished shaving. Since she’d broken up with Hudson, there had been a couple of bad lovers, and masturbation had become a necessity. Only now, the man she’d fantasized about during those lonely nights was in her home.

  Down the hall.

  Only a shout away.

  She rinsed, then toweled off her hair and body while contemplating how and if she should attempt to seduce Hudson. The how really wasn’t the difficult part to plan. The if was the problem. If she had sex with Hudson, there would be no turning back, and no easy way to remain as aloof about their relationship as she’d pretended two years ago, or even now. She did have an easy out should things go to hell again. The trip scheduled to New York and the Network job would be an excellent way to soften another break-up with him.

  What was wrong with her? She was contemplating sex and a fast, easy break-up at the same time? She couldn’t help herself, though. Yes, she loved to take risks, but not with her heart. And having an easy out was comforting, safe.

  As she finished blowing her hair dry, she looked at her reflection in the large mirror. Her hair lacked the luster it used to have, and her body…

  She quickly wrapped the towel around her, then rushed to the bedroom in search of anything to cover herself. The sight of her bony ribs, small tits, concave belly and flat ass horrified her. Being slim and fit had always been important to her. She controlled how she looked, no one else. But looking as if she’d been recently released from a prison camp hadn’t been part of her strict diet and exercise regimen.

  To think she’d considered seducing Hudson. She couldn’t even hide her lack of curves in the dark. Hell, her bony ribs would stab him.

  Dropping the towel, she pulled a pair of jeans out of the closet. She slipped them on and looked in the mirror. She couldn’t wear these. They hung from her hips and bagged around her legs and ass.

  “Damn it,” she muttered, as she shoved off the jeans, and then stepped into a pair of yoga pants. An oversized t-shirt and sweatshirt completed the horrible ensemble. She fought tears of frustration as she viewed her reflection again. She’d allowed herself to not only become too skinny, but so nutritionally unbalanced that she’d become dehydrated. Even more frustrating, she wanted to have sex with Hudson, but feared his response to her pathetic, scrawny body.

  Sick of looking at herself, she left the bedroom and headed for the kitchen. The aroma of Italian sausage and pepperoni made her mouth water and her empty stomach grumble. She checked the oven. A pizza box sat on the warming rack, begging to be opened and devoured.

  Pizza would be a good start on the road to regaining a few of her curves. Now that she thought about it, cheesecake would work, too. Her sister made awesome cheesecake. After Celeste opened the bakery, she’d have to buy a slice or two. Oh, and some chocolate chip cookies. She hadn’t had her sister’s cookies in years.

  Although her mouth watered, rather than dive into the pizza, she decided, considering Hudson had obviously ordered it, she should wait for him as he had for her. She walked into the living room, then sat in the chair when she realized he was on his cell phone.

  “Okay, Rachel,” he said, looked at her and held up one finger.

  A few minutes later, he ended the call, then set his laptop on the coffee table. “Rachel’s in full pout mode
,” he said as he leaned back into the sofa.

  “Because Elliot’s ex had nothing to give us? She shouldn’t be surprised. Those two are exes for a reason.”

  “True, but I’d hoped they’d been on good terms.”

  “A cheating husband does have a way of scorning a woman. At least she got a big set of boobs out of the bad marriage.”

  He grinned. “Also true.”

  “So the ex-wife ended up being no help. I’m sure your little brainiac has come up with some other ways to find information about Elliot.”

  “She has. She’s found a way into his email account.” He held up a hand. “Don’t even ask. She’s compiling a list of his contacts as well as trying to find any threatening emails. So far we know he was working out of a couple of satellite medical centers. One in Oak Park, and the other in Western Springs.”

  “Will we be heading to the Burbs to meet with his associates?”

  “Not today. The procedures Elliot performs are outpatient. It’s almost five, his offices will close soon. We can head there tomorrow, but I’m not sure how much good it’ll do. Rachel called both of his offices, and was told that Elliot was on vacation until next week.”

  “Did she happen to ask when he’d left for this vacation?”

  “Last Saturday.”

  She sucked in a breath, then nodded. “Timing works. We had bad weather Sunday. When we watched the DVD we could see lightning through the windows. The killer could have kidnapped him Saturday or even Sunday, then tortured and killed him that night.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “What’s next?”

  “Pizza.”

  She smiled. “For sure. I’m starving.”

  “Music to my ears,” he said, and stood. He offered his hand, then helped her from the chair. In an instant, he wrapped his arms around her. “I think your sweatshirt has swallowed you.”

  “I’m cold,” she lied, and squirmed out of his arms before he could feel every one of her bones. “Now tell me our next move. I didn’t have a chance to go to the station today, and really need to make it in tomorrow.” After their interview with Elliot’s ex, she’d been too tired to work, and had longed for a hot shower.