by Joanna Wayne
No, she might as well be honest. She hadn’t let him kiss her; she’d kissed him. Over and over again. And she’d wanted more.
One minute the man was driving her up the wall, the next he was driving her crazy with desire. He made her forget everything she knew. They simply didn’t mesh.
She turned her key in the lock and pushed the door open. No sign of Bobby, though he was usually at work before eight. Maybe he had an idea what awaited him when he came in. She just hoped he made it before the first patient arrived at ten.
Susan deposited her handbag on the top shelf of the wooden storage cabinet and clicked on her message machine, making careful notes of each call. Then she started the coffee and checked her appointment book, the same routine that she followed every morning.
Unlike Jack Carter, she was a creature of habit. The fewer the surprises, the more comfortable she was. Control and order were her mainstays. She took a deep breath, determined to push thoughts of Jack Carter aside.
Situational attraction. That’s all it was, and it was over. She’d miss him. So would the kids, but they would all get over it. Life was full of disappointments, and learning to live with them was an important part of emotional growth.
God, it was amazing how much she sounded like her father. And how she’d hated those lectures when he’d delivered them. Now, Susan. Life is serious. You have to learn to keep your emotions under control and don’t expect too much. That way you won’t be disappointed.
And she’d believed him. She still did. She couldn’t help but imagine how Jack’s parents had indoctrinated him. Now, son, life is cold, so always wear your furtrimmed red felt hat and any time you’re not working, go out and have a jolly good time.
She smiled in spite of herself. It died on her lips when Bobby Chambers walked in the front door. She waited until he’d hung his jacket before asking him to come into her office and have a seat.
He dropped the newspaper on her desk as he did. “You and Gabriel Hornsby made the headlines this morning.”
Susan picked up the paper and scanned the first few lines of text and the caption under the late Sherry Hornsby’s picture. New Orleans surgeon kills wife and one other woman in jealous rage.
“I was shocked,” Bobby said. “I knew Gabriel was having all kinds of problems but I didn’t expect him to pull a stunt like that.”
“Neither did I.” She folded the paper and laid it back on her desk. “Exactly how did you know Gabriel was having all kinds of problems, Bobby?”
He straightened in his chair. “I just assumed he was since he comes to see you.” He crossed his leg and stared at the carpet. “And the other day he called and changed his appointment because he didn’t want to miss even one.”
“Detective Carter tells me he found you in the office Friday night. He said you were reading patient files.”
He shifted in his chair and focused on a spot just left of her head. “I stopped by and did a little work on those records you wanted databased. I’d had an argument with Linda and didn’t feel like going home to an empty house. I told the detective that. I even suggested he call you that night.”
“Detective Carter didn’t see it exactly that way.”
“Oh, he saw it that way, all right, Doctor McKnight. He just wanted an excuse to get his hands on your confidential files. I told him you wouldn’t like it. He ignored me.”
Susan was sure the last statement was true. Not only because Bobby was finally looking her in the eye, but because she knew Jack. “My records are confidential, Bobby. I explained that to you fully when I hired you.”
“You made it clear, and I haven’t breathed a word of anything about your patients to anyone.”
“I hope you haven’t. When I asked you to database the charts, I requested you put in the name, beginning and ending dates of therapy and diagnosed condition. All of that information is on page one of each individual file. There is no reason for you to read any other part of the records.”
“I understand. I really do, and I need this job. You won’t catch me doing anything unethical. I was upset that night, and I may have read a little of Gabriel’s before I put it away, but it won’t happen again.”
“Good. You’re an excellent assistant, and I’d like to keep you, but if I ever find out you are reading my files, I will fire you on the spot. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am, and you don’t have a thing to worry about.”
Susan dismissed him. She’d always liked Bobby, but this morning she had the feeling he was not telling her the truth. Maybe he was just nervous over the prospect of losing his job. Or maybe she was only reacting to Jack’s suspicions. Either way, she’d keep her eyes and ears open. One more slip-up, and he would be immediately dismissed.
8:00 p.m.
SUSAN PULLED a dripping Timmy from the bath and wrapped him in an oversized fluffy towel. “All nice and clean and ready for story time,” she said, giving his wet hair a vigorous rub with the end of the towel.
“Isn’t Detective Santa coming over tonight?”
“Detective Jack,” she said. “Not Santa, and he isn’t coming over tonight. You’ll have to settle for a story from me.”
“Rebecca says he’s Santa.”
“Rebecca is teasing you. Now, let’s get your pajamas on so we can read a story.”
“I wish Detective Santa was coming over. He’s funny.”
Susan felt exasperation all the way to her toes. Mostly because she wished Jack was coming over, too. But Gabriel was in custody, and Jack was probably already moving on to a new case and new problems.
She held Timmy’s pajama bottoms while he wiggled into them. “Now over the head.” Timmy closed his eyes and butted his head through the hole. “What story would you like to hear tonight?”
The doorbell rang. “It’s Detective Santa,” Timmy yelled.
Susan went to the door with Timmy and Rebecca trailing behind. She looked out the peephole, but no one was there. Fear consumed her, stealing her breath away. She tamped it into submission. The nightmare was over.
Gulping in a large helping of air, she opened the door.
Rebecca slipped past her. “Look, Auntie Mom, a present. Who do you think it’s for?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to look and see.” Susan read the tag. Dr. Susan McKnight, Holiday Greetings.
The blood rushed from her brain. Not again. It couldn’t be happening again. She’d seen Gabriel standing over Sherry’s body with the murderous scarf in his hand, and he was in jail. She stumbled inside and locked the door.
“Open it, Auntie Mom,” Timmy insisted.
“No.” Dread grabbed at her voice, making it squeaky and weak. She forced it to steady. She couldn’t upset the children. “It’s not for me.”
“But it has your name on it,” Rebecca said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” She was being ridiculous. Holiday Greetings was as common a seasonal greeting as Merry Christmas. She tore off the paper with Rebecca’s and Timmy’s help. Her pulse raced as she opened the box lid and peered inside.
“It’s just an old envelope,” Rebecca complained. “That’s not a real present.”
Susan walked to the phone. Fingers shaking, she dialed Jack’s pager number. The terror of Christmas present had returned.
Chapter Nine
Monday, December 20
8:45 p.m.
This time when the doorbell rang, Susan had a good idea it would be Jack. She let him in and he followed her to the kitchen. The package sat on the middle of the table, the envelope still inside and unopened.
“So this is the latest surprise?”
Susan threw up her hands in exasperation. “Gabriel is in custody. The nightmare is supposed to be over. So how do you explain this?”
“I should have warned you.”
“Warned me?” Her voice rose.
Jack went back to the door and scanned the area. “Where are Rebecca and Timmy?”
“I put them to bed.” She cornered him ne
ar the door. “Warned me about what?”
“Party crashers. When a story gets the kind of coverage this one did, there’s always a kook or two who want to get in on the fun.”
Susan paced the room. “Are you telling me this newest note is unrelated to the previous ones, that it was not sent by the same person?”
“You got it. Party crashers hope to have their note make the headlines tomorrow. You know, local psychologist receives another threat. The killer is still on the loose. Then the city panics, and our kook breaks an arm slapping himself on the back for creating a stir.”
“I picked the right profession,” she said. “This is a sick world.” She picked up the envelope and handed it to Jack. “It has the same scent as the others. Open this and read the note, Jack, and then tell me it’s a party.”
Jack took her hands and led her to a kitchen chair, hooking another with his foot and dragging it over so that he could sit beside her.
She shook her head vigorously, trying to clear the clouds of confusion and the dread that had churned in her stomach ever since the letter had arrived. “So, you think this note is a hoax.”
“It looks that way.”
Susan took the envelope from Jack and held it under her nose, touching only the tip of the paper, so as not to destroy fingerprints. She was getting to be an old pro at this.
The same nauseating odor as before assaulted her senses, and the same fear bared its fangs and gnawed at her control. “You’re wrong, Jack. It’s from the same man who sent all the others. The odor is the same.”
“Anyone can dab aftershave or men’s cologne onto an envelope. The evening news shows gave all the gory details, including the fact that the envelope was scented with a man’s cologne. With a little luck, our party crasher could have used the same one Gabriel did. With even less luck, he could have used one with a similar odor. There’s probably a lot of women who don’t find this particular fragrance offensive.”
“Okay, so I have a supersensitive nose. Read the note, Jack. I’ve put off the inevitable long enough.”
Jack opened the envelope and studied the note. “‘Holiday Greetings.’ Our first indications that this is a copy,” Jack said. “He didn’t start with ‘Dear Dr. McKnight,’ and he said Holiday Greetings instead of Happy Holidays.”
“Maybe he was in a hurry. Read the rest of it.”
“The newspaper reports of the murder were most entertaining, but surely you didn’t believe them. I’m still here, Dr. McKnight, working on your next holiday surprise. Christmas is only a few days away.”
Jack walked to the cabinet and took a plastic bag from the shelf. “I need to take this with me. There’s a good chance the man who sent this has played this game before. His prints may be on file.”
“So you think I should just go to sleep and not worry about this note?”
“Exactly. But to put your mind at ease, I’ll have an officer reassigned to watch your house. He’ll be right outside the door. Now, how about a cup of coffee?”
“No, my nerves are shot as it is.”
“Maybe you should prescribe yourself a tranquilizer.”
“Psychologists don’t prescribe pills. We call in a psychiatrist or a family doctor if drugs are necessary. But I prefer mind over matter whenever possible. That’s why I like the whole truth. You’re not positive this note isn’t from the killer. If you were, you wouldn’t reassign a guard to my house.”
Jack stared at Susan, wishing he could deny her claims. But he couldn’t. The shadow of a doubt had nagged him all day. J. J. Darby had apparently dropped of the face of the earth. And J.J. liked to strangle young women with silk scarves.
He knotted his hands into fists, a useless gesture. There was nothing to bang them into. So he might as well level with Susan. She’d never buy less than the full truth. “What were your duties when you were interning at the Potter-McKnight Center?”
Susan raised an eyebrow, but she answered. “You name it. I counseled with patients, did small grouptherapy sessions, handled paperwork no one else wanted to bother with, wrote grant proposals.”
“Did you have enemies while you were there?”
“You always have enemies in that type of setting. But nothing I took seriously. Some patients hated me, others thought they were in love with me. Often it was the same patient at different times in the therapeutic process.”
“Tell me about some of the patients that you thought hated you.”
Susan rubbed her temples and tucked a few loose hairs behind her ears. “What are you getting at, Jack?”
“Before we arrested Gabriel today, I had a check run on all the men who were at the Center when you were there who aren’t there now. One of the names that came up was J. J. Darby. Do you remember him?”
“No, but it’s been six years since I was there. I remember a few of the men, but not many.”
“Darby was arrested for strangling his girlfriend with a silk scarf. There had been similar unsolved murders in the eight-month period prior to that. They were never able to connect them to Darby. After he killed his girlfriend, he went home and shot and killed his parents.”
“John Jasper Darby.”
“So you do remember him.”
“He was the very first person I did a competency evaluation on. My father had to sign off on the evaluation as the psychiatrist, but I did most of the questioning. Together we determined that Darby was not competent to go to trial.” She traced the subtle pattern in the tablecloth. “Where is he now?”
“No one knows.”
Susan trembled. Jack took her hands in his. “Every shred of evidence in Sherry’s murder points to Gabriel, Susan. As far as the Chief is concerned, the case is ready to turn over to the district attorney.”
“But you think it may be Darby.”
“No, I think it’s Gabriel. But you know me, I run these cases into the ground. I checked with the state hospital. He was a model patient. I checked with the Potter-McKnight Center, and they were less than fully cooperative. They only provided minimum information, and he was there almost six years.”
“Do you want me to call them?”
“No, not call. I’d like to talk to the staff personally and see Darby’s records and charts for myself, just on the way outside chance that somehow Darby and Gabriel could be working together.”
“It’s a long drive. Six hours when the weather’s good. Tomorrow is supposed to be nasty.”
“I want you to go with me, Susan.”
She shook her head. “I’ve done my time at the Center. I’ll help in any way I can, but don’t ask me to do that.” Susan stood and backed away “If you think it’s Darby, go after him. Talk to anyone you need to. You don’t need me to interview hospital staff.”
“I need you to interpret the records. It’s your area of expertise. All of your graduate study dealt with that population.”
“As always, you did your homework well. But don’t ask me to do this. I need to be here with the children, with my patients. I only thought I’d finished my Christmas shopping. I still have a doll and a puppy to buy. I absolutely can’t drive with you to the Center.”
Jack walked over and took her in his arms. “I need your help, Susan. We’ll have police protection for Lucy and the children every second of the day. Not only outside, but sitting in the apartment if that would make you feel better.”
“No, Jack, I absolutely cannot do this.”
“We’ll leave first thing in the morning,” he said. “You’ll need to pack a bag just in case we get stuck in the bad weather and can’t get back. They’re predicting an ice storm for the northern border of the state.” Jack cradled her to him.
“I really don’t want to do this,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.
“I know.” He touched his lips to the top of her head. “But we’ll both feel better if we’re absolutely positive that everyone involved in Maggie’s and Sherry’s murders are in jail.”
Tuesday, December 21
; THE EARLY MORNING departure Jack had promised was delayed by emergencies relating to Gabriel’s arrest, and it was eleven o’clock before they finally made it out of the city. Jack made small talk about pleasant, impersonal topics on the long drive up Interstate 49. Susan knew he was trying to ease her mind about leaving the children and trying to keep her from thinking about unnerving possibilities.
It worked occasionally, times when his easy laughter filled the car, times when she was reminded how it felt when he had taken her in his arms. How she had come alive at his touch.
Away from him, she could think with some semblance of reason, know that falling for Jack Carter was the worst mistake she could make. But with only a few inches separating them, she knew that it was too late to stop what had already happened. Situational attraction or not, she’d never felt this way about any man.
But if Jack was feeling the same thing, he hid it well. He was friendly but professional, a cop with a job to do. All the more reason why she had to protect her heart. When this was over he could walk right out of her life and never return. And if she let herself fall in love with him, she’d be left to pick up the pieces.
Love. She knew so little about it And what she knew scared her to death. She closed her eyes, a futile attempt to forget the man who sat beside her, his dark hair, thick and unruly, his facial features, rugged and strong. But it was more than how he looked. It was who he was.
A man who lived life to the fullest, who wasn’t afraid to play as hard as he worked. Who wasn’t afraid to feel. A man who made her feel more alive than she ever had before.
But finally, stress and fatigue took its toll and she fell into a state of half sleep where she was barely aware of Jack’s voice singing along to music from a country radio station. It was miles down the road before she woke up enough to realize that the sky had turned into layers of gray on gray and a light sleet was falling.
At five minutes after five, they pulled into the parking lot of the Potter-McKnight Mental Health and Research Center. Susan shuddered as old memories rose like smoke to fill every crevice of her mind. The memories weren’t all bad, but none of them were especially good. No laughter and very little warmth. It was just life as she’d known it.
