Lights Out

by Jill Cooper

  An alcoholic doctor. A blackmailed nurse with a guilty conscience. A distraught mother turned murderer.

  After a botched emergency C-section, Terri lost her son. With her marriage a wreck, Terri holds the hospital staff responsible for destroying every aspect of her life and will exact revenge as the snow pours down.

  Karen was in the surgical room when it all went down. She had the evidence to prove Terri’s story, but instead falsified records all for a briefcase full of cash. The guilt of it all has eroded her life and brought her to the brink. As the storm rolls in, Karen succumbs to her guilt and is ready to set the record straight—but will she get her chance?

  As residents are stranded and seek shelter, power goes out and provides the perfect cover. Those that know Terri the best—fear the worst. Terri, a survival wilderness expert, will take to the snow to exact her revenge.

  Sandpoint, Idaho is about to be put on notice by a grief stricken mother without a child, and they may never be the same. Get lost in the storm and purchase Light’s Out today!

  Join the Cooper & Paulson mailing list for access to the secret copycat letters. As they write back and forth, try to guess what famous serial killer they’re pretending to be. They don’t even know who the other has chosen.

  http://cooperandpaulson.com/copy-cat-serial-killer-letters/

  Prologue

  I couldn’t breathe.

  Ever since he died, my lungs had stopped working right. Like the air around me became more viscous - thicker, gelatinous. Did I even want to breathe again? Did my body really need air to function?

  Maybe before I lost him. Maybe before I lost myself.

  No matter what anyone said, the grief hadn’t lessened. The time hadn’t helped it to fade. Instead my sadness festered and grew.

  Survival wasn’t as important anymore.

  I stood at the counter and stared. What was I doing? I blinked at the string in my hand, white tendrils from my mug swirling around the top of my hand.

  Tea. That’s right. I preferred pale blends without fruit. I dunked the tea bag under the steaming water. I breathed as deeply as the constricting bands of pain around my chest would allow.

  My husband, Clyde, hated tea. Didn’t matter. He’d left ages ago for work. I wouldn’t have offered him any anyway.

  That day’s newspaper glared balefully up from the counter. Coffee stains circled part of the headline and byline in an opaque dirty brown.

  I dunked the bag again. Vanilla wafted on the steam. When had Clyde left that morning? Did we even see each other anymore? I couldn’t remember the last time we’d just been together. I’d started my own projects, taken up my own interests.

  Entertained my own vengeance.

  I worked through the fog in my mind, bringing the newspaper into better focus. “School Shooting Declared an Act of Vengeance.”

  I dropped my spoon with a clank and picked up the paper. Shaking it out, I laid it open on the counter and leaned over the dingy pages. There wasn’t much left of my chewed fingernails, but I gnawed on what I could while I read.

  The article didn’t elaborate much on the vengeance part.

  But I didn’t need much.

  Vengeance.

  Revenge.

  I could survive for revenge.

  Finally, my baby’s death wouldn’t be in vain.

  Chapter

  Terri

  I couldn’t wash “therapy” off my hands. So I stopped trying. That didn’t mean I could ignore the icky feeling spreading over my skin or the oily coating in my mouth as I pretended for the billionth time that I was fine.

  No, I wasn’t fine. Not yet. But I would be. I was so close and if I could just get the vengeance I needed, I would be better than fine. I was counting on it.

  When had my husband’s voice lost its calming timber and become an annoying whine? Was that me, or had he changed? “Terri…she doesn’t try. I don’t know what else to do. I feel like I’ve done everything possible, everything you’ve told us to do and then some. I’m carrying all the weight.” Clyde tossed his hands in the air, more dramatic than a thirteen-year-old on her period.

  His dark brown hair hadn’t been combed with anything but his fingers. How many times had I run mine through the thick strands? I used to love trailing my fingernails across his broad shoulders, but today they just looked overbearing. His eyes were red-rimmed, but I didn’t care if it was from crying or fatigue.

  When was the last time I’d looked at my husband with anything other than disdain? Could it be when he’d tossed my desire for vengeance in my face with a laugh? Just thinking about it drove my anger above a simmer. I clenched my hands, my nails biting into my palms.

  The therapist nodded, shifting her spectacled gaze to me. “Terri, we talked about this last time. If you want to succeed, you need to put forth the effort.” She crossed her legs and tilted her head, this time the other way. “You know, I read an article recently that I think applies here.” She folded her hands.

  I turned toward the window, tuning the over-educated woman out. She’d never lost a child. Hell, was she even old enough to have children? She wasn’t married, so how could she be a marriage counselor? No matter how many books or magazines she read, she wasn’t an expert on what had happened to Clyde and me.

  No one was.

  “…enjoyed the part that said you’re either two working as one together or you’re working as two apart.” She nodded, her reflection clear in the glass by my head.

  I spun around. Finally, we were getting somewhere. “You’re right. We haven’t been working together.” I stared dispassionately between the two. “I guess that means we’re apart.” I calmly gathered my coat, scarf, and fanny pack.

  “We still have twenty-seven minutes.” Clyde half-stood until I stopped him with an upheld hand.

  “Finish your time. You two are obviously working together.” I didn’t wait for a retort or even acknowledgment that I’d spoke. Turning and traipsing across the shaggy carpet, I breathed without the constriction of anxiety across my chest.

  “Now Terri, wait a second—.” Clyde’s voice angrily crept up, but I shut it out by slamming the door.

  Therapy was Clyde’s idea. The therapist was a friend of a friend who honestly didn’t have many clients since she was such a new graduate.

  Why hadn’t I laughed in his face when he’d suggested counseling? I should’ve. Instinctively, I’d wanted to.

  Leaving in the middle of a session was almost the same thing.

  I pressed my lips into a semblance of a smile and stopped beside the double glass doors in the lobby. Clicking my fanny pack in place around my waist, I drew on my coat and scarf. Gloves from the inner pocket slipped on easily and I pushed open the door against the heavy winds.

  Winter in northern Idaho almost had as many moods as my husband.

  Almost.

  Shit, I wasn’t normally so bitter…not before. Not before the pain thumped harder in my chest than my own heart. I used to love seeing Clyde. I looked forward to just being near him, hearing him breathe at night, or laying with my head on his chest listening to his pulse.

  But not anymore. I couldn’t even sit at the same table when he was eating. Nothing he did was cohesive with me.

  I leaned against the wall beside the doors, pressing my gloved fingers to the bridge of my nose. His words from dinner the day I decided on revenge still rang through my mind. “You can’t get revenge on God, Terri. He’s the only one with the power to take our child. No one else did this. It wasn’t one of your stupid conspiracies. No one was out to get you. Least of all your best friend.”

  But he hadn’t known what I know.

  I hadn’t driven to the therapist’s office. We lived about three and a half miles out o
f town and the walk –even with snow clawing at my outer layers–helped me keep my sanity at a manageable level.

  The cold didn’t bother me. Nothing seemed to bother me. I looked both ways across the seemingly empty street. One lone woman hurried from the apartments above the grocery story.

  I knew her.

  I hated her.

  The nurse who’d been in on Bobby’s death. My baby. She’d been there. Her name, Karen, burned into my memory forever. Never friends, but once we were friendly.

  Once.

  Now that was all gone.

  My breath caught in my throat and I hunkered down beside a parked car on the side of the road. Staring at the chipped paint of the old beat up sedan, I focused on controlling my breathing. Was it possible for a person’s pulse to blow up a vein or artery?

  Rising up to see through the windows, I calmed down as she hurried up the street away from me. Probably toward the hospital.

  I closed my eyes and gripped the side of the car with a flat hand and bent fingers. Shake it off, Terri. She didn’t see you. Shake it off. Seeing her wasn’t a problem when I was prepared. But I hadn’t been thinking about where I was or what time of day it was. More like an escape that hadn’t been planned. I needed to collect myself, gain back my control.

  Pulling out a small blood sugar tester on the side of the road in a building blizzard wasn’t feasible or necessary. I could tell my blood sugar was low. I needed to get home, but first…

  First, I needed to eat and the café across the street had my favorite bagels. Watching for cars along the main road, I jogged across the snowy pavement. I burst inside, a whoosh of freezing air announcing my arrival to an almost empty restaurant.

  Behind the counter, Tim welcomed me with a nod. “Hey, Terri. Aren’t you supposed to be at your therapy session?” Ah, the joys of small town living.

  I rolled my eyes. “That’s debatable. Can I get my usual, please?” Before Bobby… well, I’d grown attached to onion bagels smeared with thick cream cheese and cranberry jelly. Hot milk flavored with vanilla rounded out my order and I walked jealously to the corner booth with my loot.

  The only thing I removed was my gloves. I kept the coat and scarf on. I wouldn’t be there long enough to need them off. Plus, I needed to build up my body temperature for the walk ahead of me. I didn’t want to sweat and increase my chances of hypothermia.

  Tim rounded the counter and wiped down the napkin littered tables around me.

  “What happened in here?” I glanced around, for the first time taking stock of my surroundings. “Looks like you were just abandoned.”

  He shrugged, tossing a pile of napkins and sugar packets into the wastebasket. “Yeah, I pretty much was. We had the news on a little bit ago and a weather alert blasted through. Sounds like we’re going to have one heckuva windstorm. Or maybe it was an ice storm?” He laughed, the sound jovial and uncaring. “Everyone in here ran. They must be Californians. I’m glad I live upstairs.” His upstairs apartment had been his mother’s and he’d never been able to bring himself to leave it.

  “A storm, huh? How bad we talkin’?” My fingers wrapped around the paper cup and my stomach clenched. Could it be the storm I was waiting for? Over a year. Come on. I hid my reaction to his words, waiting, hoping he’d say what I needed to hear.

  Please, give me what I need…

  He stopped and pushed his hands against his hips, staring outside the window. “Well, from what the news said, we’ll have wind and snow flurries for the next few days and then we have about ten days of high winds–like forty to sixty miles an hour.” He arched his eyebrow; he bent back to the tables, turning his head toward me for a moment. “We’re supposed to get between 3 and 4 feet of snow the first two days and then more after that, but they haven’t pinpointed exactly how much yet.”

  I stared at my bagel. The taste was suddenly more enhanced… more real. I ate as much as possible, craved it because it reminded me of my pregnancy. Reminded me of the last time I felt alive.

  The last time my baby, Bobby, was alive had been in my stomach. I’d stopped there at Tim’s Café and had a bagel and while I ate the bagel and drank my steamer, my son had kicked and played and bruised my ribs and I’d been so happy.

  Every bite since then had been nothing more than a chase for that moment of happiness. The onion bits on the bagel like confetti I’d never get to throw.

  “So it’s pretty serious, huh?” I drained my steamer, shoving the rest of my bagel in my mouth as soon as I swallowed. Maybe seeing the nurse outside had been a good thing. Maybe a sign that my revenge was closer than I’d hoped.

  My anger needed a release. The fury stemmed from the pain which I couldn’t get a grasp on.

  Every day I avoided my car and the front seat with the pictures of the judge and that damn…Sylvia… I closed my eyes for a brief moment then pierced Tim with my gaze.

  He nodded, returning behind the counter with his dirty rag. “Yea, they’re saying it’s the worst one in twenty years.” He waved his hand my direction. “But you don’t have anything to worry about, Terri. You’re the local survival expert. You’ll be fine.”

  I jerked my chin his way and offered a tight smile. I would be fine, but not because I knew how to survive in the wild. I stood, tossing my garbage and drawing my gloves back on. “Thanks, Tim. Stay warm, okay?”

  Out of everyone in town, he was my favorite.

  Hopefully, I didn’t have to kill him, too.

  Chapter 2

  Karen

  I peeled back the heavy drapes covering my living room window. The cold radiated from the pane of glass, and I shivered. Outside the wind shook the trees. Those in the parking lot were bundled up tight among the swirling flakes. The radio had said a doozy of a winter storm was coming. The perfect time to huddle in and keep out of sight from all those that might see me.

  Judge me.

  Hunker down over a steaming bowl of mac and cheese? Sure sounded good. There was nothing more that I wanted to do than be warm on the sofa, under a thick blanket. Unfortunately, when you worked at a hospital, you didn’t get that luxury. People got sick, needed surgery, and delivered babies no matter what was going on outside. The weather wasn’t the bad part. I’ve lived in Idaho all my life. I could take snow. What I couldn’t take was their glowering eyes, the judgements they cast against me.

  Everyone knew my sins, sure as I wore a scarlet letter upon my head.

  The sound of footsteps dragged me away from the window. Jay, my live in boyfriend of three years, had all of his belongings packed into boxes. He stood there in his baggy jeans and flannel shirt staring like he expected me to say something. Beg him to stay?

  What would I even begin to say? Of course I wanted him to stay, but everything had been said. I was as spent as a tube of toothpaste. Rolled up and empty, emotionally exhausted. There was nothing left of me.

  “You have everything?” I took a long puff on my cigarette and then snuffed the butt out in the white ashtray I held in my hand.

  Jay watched me do it with venom in his eyes. “You need to give that up, Karen. I heard you coughing last night. It’s not good for your asthma, you know that. You’re the nurse.”

  Nice of him to care while he was moving out. Didn’t care enough to stay though, did he? I edged past him toward the kitchen. Breakfast called because soon my shift started and then I wouldn’t have time to sit, let alone eat.

  From the fridge I grabbed the orange juice aware that he was watching everything I was doing. If he was going to go, wish he’d just do it already.

  “It didn’t have to end this way, you know,” Jay said.

  Here we go again. “I’m tired of talking about it, Jay.” I couldn’t anymore. It was a form of torture.

  “I know.” He shoved his hand into his pocket and moved passed me. “There’s nothing else to say. Just…let it go, Karen. Nurses lose patients. It happens.”

  Staring down at the counter, tears rose in my eyes. “It was my fault. Everyone kno
ws. Everyone.”

  “No one is looking at you. If they’re looking at anyone, it’s that doctor. Savage. But even she was cleared of any wrong doing.”

  Because I didn’t speak up. Because I forged records. I’ll never be able to let it go, and that’s the God honest truth. No one knew what I did. Sylvia was sleeping with that crooked vile Judge Condran. He took bribes all the time. You just had to see the liquor ordinances being broken downtown to know that.

  Sylvia knew and she used her ways to get to him. More than once, but this was the first time a baby had been lost. First time I was caught in the headlights.

  “I hope, for your sake, you let it go. Learn to live again. Some of us are pulling for you, whether you want to believe it or not.”

  Who, Jay, who? I wanted to shout. Like anyone cared but him or my parents. My parents, they didn’t know, I kept them out of it, and Jay—well, he stopped caring, didn’t he?

  Instead of saying any of that, I ignored him. I knew if I didn’t say anything, he’d be gone. I let him go. So be it.

  Jay picked up the last remaining box and left. The door closed quietly behind him, sealing the fate of our relationship.

  All that was left was the ticking of the clock. Total silence except for the recriminations in my mind, but time slowly edged forward. No matter how bad I felt inside, I had to get ready for work.

  I stripped off my baggy brown sweater and tossed it against the worn recliner in the corner of the room. Dressed in my blue scrubs, I grabbed a mouthful of orange juice and a handful of crunchy corn flakes. Together they all melded into my mouth into an unappetizing paste and the stale smell coming from the fridge didn’t help.

  Washing it down, I pulled a scratchy brown winter cap onto my head, squishing down my straight as nails hair. My keys were tucked inside my purse, but I grabbed my asthma inhaler off the counter. Smoking with asthma in the winter? Bad choices all around, but I was all about bad choices.