by Rachel Lucas
“Caitlyn don’t!” Logan was at my side in a heartbeat.
“Don’t worry,” I assured him, “I won’t answer it if I don’t recognize the number. I have to check though. It could still be someone in my family.”
Finally finding the phone at the very bottom of my purse, I yanked it out and looked at the caller ID.
“Hello, Dr. Ross.” He was really one of the last people I wanted to talk to at the moment but I almost welcomed the distraction from the crime scene pictures I was looking at. “This is unexpected.”
“Hello, Caitlyn.” Just his voice still seemed to grate on my nerves. I thought back and realized that I hadn’t spoken to him since that day he had told me that Elizabeth had walked away from a group outing at her treatment facility. I had been so angry with him that day, so frustrated that he hadn’t listened to me when I had tried to tell him that she wasn’t cured, that she might still be a danger. I hated being right. Especially in this case.
“How can I help you?” I offered, wanting to get to the heart of the conservation and get it over with.
“I just wanted to offer you my condolences for your recent loss,” his voice sounded a bit more contrite than usual. I was a frankly surprised, usually he sounded so arrogant. Maybe this whole nightmare had humbled him a bit. Maybe he was feeling a slight sense of guilt for his part in her escape.
“Thank you,” I made an effort to sound gracious. “I appreciate your words.”
I was silent for a moment, not certain where to go next in the conservation.
“I was wondering,” he sounded a bit hesitant. That, too, was new. “Have they made any progress in the investigation?”
“Not a lot,” I answered truthfully, “we’re at a bit of a standstill at the moment.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He seemed to want to say more. I wasn’t certain where he was going with this. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry that I didn’t do more. I should have done more.”
What was this? I thought to myself. Since when was Dr. Martin Ross, the same man with a wall full of his accomplishments in his office, when had he developed a conscience? And since when had I become his confessor?
“I should have treated her better,” he continued. He almost seemed to be rambling.
The conversation was starting to make me feel uncomfortable. I began walking around the room as I listened to him, Madeline never far from my side. I stepped back over to the dry erase boards, looking over the information from the earlier crime scenes.
“I thought I was helping her,” his voice was almost taking on a pleading quality, “I thought the medication would enable her to live a more productive life. I thought integration would be the best option for her.”
“In some cases it is the right option,” I found myself reassuring the doctor, feeling strange in my role as the counselor now. “But not in her case.”
I was now standing directly before the information from Lewis’ crime scene. I was looking at a picture of his apartment, at the blood on the front door, as I listened to the doctor continue.
“I know, I should have been more open to your opinion on the matter,” his voice sounded strangely tense. If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn he was about to cry.
I glanced more closely at the picture of the blood on the door of Lewis’ apartment, something nagging at me. I had been so stressed over the last few weeks, my reflexes were slow. It took a moment for it to sink in.
How did Dr. Ross know about my ex-husband? It wasn’t covered widely in the news here. The crime had happened in another state. Had Madeline or one of the other federal agents told him? It didn’t seem likely.
“Dr. Ross. Martin,” I dragged my gaze away from the crime scene photos to more closely concentrate on the conversation, “Are you ok?”
He didn’t answer right away. I didn’t like the silence. Some force I didn’t understand made me ask the next question.
“Dr. Ross, are you alone?” I held my breath, waiting for the answer.
“No,” the word was almost a sob. Dread filled me.
“She’s there with you, isn’t she?” I whispered in the small phone, fear and panic rising within me. Think clearly, think!
No answer.
“Are you at home?” I demanded.
“Yes,” came the small reply.
The next thing I heard was blood-curdling scream as the phone went dead.
Chapter Forty-Six
The Lone Peak Police Department was the local jurisdiction in the upscale community of Highland City, Utah. They were able to reach the large, opulent home of Dr. Ross before we could make the near hour drive to the south.
They had found the doctor severely injured and barely alive. The perfect little exclusive community was in an uproar. A Life Flight helicopter had had to land on the beautifully manicured lawn of the local golf course so that the patient could be flown to the University of Utah Hospital. The well-to-do residents were appalled. Their exclusive gated community was now on lock down while they searched for the attacker.
As we flew down I-15 at a high rate of speed and a Utah Highway Patrol escort, Logan and Director Phillips debated whether to go to the crime scene first and help search for Elizabeth or to head for the hospital to see if Dr. Ross was conscious enough to interview. Madeline jumped into the discussion and won out. There were multiple jurisdictions heading for the crime scene as well as forensics. If Martin Ross was still alive and able to speak, he could give us some vital information.
We wound our way through Salt Lake City, up through the avenues to the large medical complex built halfway up the mountains. The University of Utah Hospital was one of the best hospitals in the intermountain west. Along with the Primary Children’s Hospital and the Huntsman Cancer Institute the medical centers had a national reputation for excellent care as well as cutting edge research.
Once we entered the hospital and took the elevator to the fourth floor and the MICU, I was surprised to already see an armed federal agent posted at the entrance.
We were told that they had only just stabilized Dr. Ross and transported him to the MICU. It was standard procedure to only allow immediate family inside the unit. It took a good deal of badge flashing and persuasion for Dr. Ross’ emergency care physician to allow us in to see him.
I never liked hospitals, and the Medical Intensive Care Unit was one of the most difficult areas of the hospital to be in. These were the most sick and injured patients, clinging to life by inches, some dying. The smell was always there, industrial disinfectants, sanitizers, cleaning supplies. Illness, injury, death. Perhaps is just reminded me too much of the State Mental Hospital.
Walking past the front desk, I noticed that all the patient rooms circled the main desk and instead of a regular wall, they had walls of glass with sliding glass doors in and out of each room. I guess a patient’s privacy took a distant second to having a medical staff being able to see inside the room at all times and observing the patient’s condition.
I probably wouldn’t have recognized Martin Ross if I hadn’t known it was his room. He looked frail and weak, far from the arrogant, confident man I was used to dealing with. I first noticed a large bandage across his neck where Elizabeth had tried to cut his throat. There were dark red abrasions on each wrist where she had bound him, probably on his feet too.
The local police had found him unconscious and tied to a desk chair inside his office at his home. Elizabeth had probably held the phone for him while he had talked to me. When they found him, he was nearly dead from the loss of blood. Along with the slash across his neck there were also wounds to his face and head. He looked as though he could have been a survivor of a horrible car accident. Few areas of his face, neck and arms that I could see had been left unscathed. She hadn’t gone easy on him.
There were tubes and wires and machines all around him. He had two IVs, one giving him fluids and medication and another giving him a blood transfusion. It wasn’t likely we would be getting any
information out of him soon. Still, we had to try.
Madeline had decided that I should be the one to try to speak with him first since I had a history with him. I tried to find somewhere I could give him a reassuring touch without interfering with any of the tubing or wires. His shoulder was the only place I thought would be safe.
“Dr. Ross. Martin?” I gave his shoulder a soft nudge. “Can you hear me?”
I looked closely for any response. His left eye was blackened and almost swollen shut, his nose swollen and red, maybe broken. All those months of pent up aggression she must have carried towards him. I guess he was fortunate to even be alive.
Had the fact that I had realized she was there saved him at all? Had it scared her into fleeing before she finished killing him? I hoped so but I might never know.
I didn’t see a flicker of movement from him so I decided to try again.
“Dr. Ross, this is Caitlyn Stewart,” I spoke softly but with determination, “do you remember talking to me? Can you speak?”
Still no response. The doctors had already told us it was unlikely we would be able to speak with him. They were still uncertain about the extent of the damage to his throat and already knew he was very weak due to the loss of blood. I looked up at Logan and Director Phillips in question. Maybe we should just head to the crime scene.
“Martin,” the raspy voice made me jump, “call me Martin.”
I looked for any other sign or movement from him but could see none. All I could go by was his frail voice.
“Martin,” I immediately replied. “Do you know where you are?”
He finally blinked a bit with his one good eye, looked around for a moment then closed the eye with a wince.
“Hospital.” Was his one word response.
“That’s right. Do you remember what happened?” I asked quietly.
He nodded just barely and was silent for a moment. He became still and I wondered if he had lost consciousness. I questioned just how far we should push him in his condition. I already had a frowning staff that was not happy that we were there interrupting his care.
“I had just come home from work,” his scratchy voice finally answered although his eye didn’t open. “She must have been waiting for me and slipped in through the garage right after I pulled in.” His words were slow and deliberate. His breathing was labored as though he had been running a marathon. “That’s the only way she could have gotten through my home security system. As soon as I got out of my car she was there, behind me. She had a knife to my throat before I even knew she was there.”
I had to swallow hard at the thought. It hadn’t been that long ago that I was that close to her. She had held my hand, pretended concern and tried to stop the bleeding. I could never forget that cold skin and equally cold eyes.
“What happened after that?” I carefully prodded.
“She forced me into my house, into the office,” he paused for a moment, as if needing to gather his strength. “She hit me in the head, hard. I wasn’t expecting her to become so violent so fast. While I was still stunned she bound my hands and feet with duct tape. She came prepared. She had this planned.”
“We should have considered you a target,” Logan spoke for the first time, regret in his voice, “we should have had patrols watching you.”
“I thought about asking for protection,” Martin said with a sigh. “When I first found out she had left the treatment facility. But I thought I was safe. Goes to show you how much protection you really have in a gated community.” He gave a dry laugh.
“What did she want?” I felt compelled to ask. “She must have been there for a reason.”
He closed his one eye for a moment and let out a long breath. His silence caused the beeping of the machines to sound louder. It was then that I noticed his hands shaking as they lay on the white hospital blankets. I looked over at the monitor and watched as his heart rate started to increase along with his blood pressure. Any higher and he was going to start setting off the alarms.
“Martin,” I spoke in a soothing voice. I tried to put a reassuring hand on top of his. He had to calm down, “Are you ok?”
His right hand grasped mine with a suddenness that took me by surprise. His one good eye stared into mine, the other fighting to open.
“She was there for a reason.” He gasped with an intensity that I didn’t think his frail body was capable of. “She was there to introduce me to the Dragon.”
His heart rate shot up and the alarms went off. Before he could say another word the doctors and nurses were rushing into the room and ordering us out. His body seemed to deflate as the strength went out of him.
Chapter Forty-Seven
It was later in the evening that Madeline and I sat in the waiting area of the MICU, waiting to hear about the condition of Dr. Ross. Logan and Director Phillips had gone ahead to the doctor’s residence to search the crime scene and look for evidence and clues. It seemed as though Elizabeth had slipped through their fingers once again. The authorities were canvassing the gated community where the doctor lived, but so far, there had been no sign of her.
Patrols had also been increased on my family since we now knew that Elizabeth was still in the state. I tried to not feel panicked that my family may be in danger.
At this end, we were still waiting to hear if Dr. Ross had stabilized and if we could get in to speak with him again.
Madeline sat across from me on a hard cushioned chair, sipping a coffee she had bought at the cafeteria downstairs. I had a bottle of water and a stale granola bar I had purchased from the vending machine down the hall.
“What do you think he meant when he said that Elizabeth wanted to introduce him to the ‘Dragon’?” Madeline asked as she glanced up from her paper cup.
I had wondered when she was going to ask me that question. There wasn’t much that got past this lady.
I swirled the water around inside the bottle for a moment while I thought of the best way to respond. This was something I had been thinking about for some time, I just wasn’t sure the best way to put it into words without sounding as though I was losing my mind.
“Well,” I answered hesitantly, “I have a theory.”
She arched her manicured eyebrows in question. I didn’t answer right away. She didn’t push further, just gave me her full, direct gaze.
“You’ll probably think I’m crazy,” I hedged, shrugging my shoulders.
“Since I’ve been involved in this case, I’m beginning to wonder who isn’t,” she gave me a half smile.
She was right. Everything in this nightmare would make you question your sanity. Her calm, matter-of-fact attitude allowed me to open up just a bit and trust her.
“Let’s hear your theory.” She encouraged.
“Well,” I hesitated again then decided to just get it out. “As we were working on proving Elizabeth innocent of her mother’s death, we were going back and reading through Barbara’s journals that she kept on her computer. I also talked to Elizabeth during my visits and I think I made a few connections. There was one traumatic incident that happened when she was a young girl. Both she and Barbara mentioned it. It had something to do with a Halloween party and a séance. Now, I know that as a psychologist you’re trained to deal with facts, with medicine and science. But I think that something happened that night that was beyond science.”
I stopped, not certain if Madeline would be open to what I had to say. She sensed my hesitation.
“Go on,” she prodded, “I’ll keep an open mind.”
“Well, from what Barbara wrote in her journals, I think she opened herself up to something that night that she shouldn’t have. As crazy and bizarre as it might sound, I think she became possessed that night. I think it was a demon of some sort. She called it the ‘Dragon’ or ‘Altrus Dracona’, Black Dragon.”
There, it was out. I waited for the distain, perhaps the ridicule. It was a wild idea, I knew. Few people believed in such things, and Madeline had always seemed to be a
very practical, reasonable person. I held my breath, waiting for her response.
She put the coffee cup down on the table next to her and brought her hands together, resting her chin upon them in thought. She took a moment to answer.
“I’ve been with the FBI for almost thirty years. I was recruited right out of college, back when it was a man’s world and they didn’t give women a lot of credibility. Back then, forensic psychology wasn’t yet a catch phrase and criminal profiling was in its infancy. I’ve worked on numerous cases over the years, from terrorists to serial killers and each time I think I’ve seen the worst, the next case comes along to prove me wrong.”
Her usual confident façade fell for just a moment and I saw a world-weary expression on her face. It was the first time I had considered the toll this line of work had taken on her. I couldn’t imagine what she might have experienced or seen over the years. Maybe I had underestimated her.
“Before I became involved in this case, before I had seen the things this one small woman was capable of doing, I would have thought it was impossible, or something out of a cheap horror movie. Now…”
Her eyes told me she was readjusting her way of thinking. Perhaps, for the first time in her career, she being forced to consider some things that she might have thought impossible before. She then blinked and thought through what I was saying.
“You said you thought Barbara was possessed,” she gave me a confused look, “but Barbara is dead. Dr. Ross said Elizabeth wanted to introduce him to the ‘Dragon’. If Barbara really was possessed, then what did Elizabeth mean?”
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” I again warned her. Was she ready for this? I took a deep breath and forced it out. “I think that sometime before Barbara died, maybe that very night, the demon left Barbara and entered Elizabeth. I think it could be there inside of her, with all the other personalities. I think it could be the motivating factor behind all the murders.”
