Critical Instinct

by Crouch, Janie

  “She mentioned the same at the art show,” Tom grimaced, holding his phone away from him for a second. “She didn’t press it, of course, because she always felt embarrassed when she would get nervous.”

  Tom put his cheek back to his phone, was making calls to whatever private contacts he had that might be able to help.

  Brett would take whatever help he could get.

  He had no idea how long Anderson had been following Paige, but had a gut wrenching suspicion it had been since the beginning.

  “He never let her go,” Brett said to Alex. “It’s like Anderson’s ex-wife said about him being so obsessive compulsive. Paige was a part of his pattern and he needed to kill her to complete it.”

  “Maybe. But for two years?” Alex’s shoulder raised in a half shrug. “That’s a hell of a long time to not make a move.”

  Brett sat down in his office chair but then jumped right back up. He couldn’t sit now. It was all he could do to keep from hitting a wall. “She never went out unaccompanied, so he couldn’t get to her. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t watching.”

  Tom leaned away from the phone again. “That’s true. She never went anywhere without part of the security detail right at her side. Rarely left the house at all to be honest. I was happy when the two of you started seeing each other. I thought it might encourage her to get out more.”

  All three of the men grimaced. Evidently Anderson had just been biding his time.

  “At least now we know why he killed Denise Rubio even though it wasn’t a payday.” Brett ran a hand through his hair. “He saw Paige leave here the other night so he knew she’d been working with us. Maybe he thought she could identify him.”

  “He was trying to finish his strangled, stabbed, burned pattern,” Alex finished the thought for Brett.

  “Paige fits his needs twofold. First he gets back the prey that got away. And if Denise Rubio was stabbed, then Paige will be…”

  Burned. Brett couldn’t even bring himself to say it.

  “That’s not going to happen,” Alex said softly.

  Brett looked at Tom. “You know what caused her to go all comatose yesterday? She drew this.” He grabbed his phone to show Tom and Alex the picture of Paige.

  Both of them muttered low, rough words.

  “She drew her own death. Just like she drew all those other women dead.”

  Tom, to his credit, didn’t press for details about how or why Paige had been drawing dead women. Brett couldn’t stop staring at the picture.

  “Footage from the doorway just arrived via email.” Alex brought up the images on his computer. It didn’t take them long to rewind to twenty minutes ago.

  “There.” Brett pointed to Paige as she came into the frame. The camera didn’t cover all the way back to the road where Tom had been stopped. Paige turned and gave a short wave to Tom.

  “That’s when I left,” he muttered.

  Her face was a pasty white and it was obvious she was struggling to stay on her feet.

  “Anderson was nearby.” Brett leaned to observe more closely. “That’s why she’s so unsteady. All she can see is blackness around him.”

  Anderson had never been inside the building. He stepped out from a darkened corner and slid an arm around Paige just as she reached the door.

  “Shit. He injected her with something,” Alex said.

  They watched as Paige collapsed against him. He kept her upright by draping her arm around his neck and keeping his arm brutally wrapped around her body and clamped to her upper arm. A moment later they were both out of range of the camera. No way to tell which direction Anderson had taken her once he’d gotten her to the vehicle.

  Brett slammed his fist down on the desk.

  “Her shirt was red,” Tom said. “It’s black in the drawing she did of herself. Not red.”

  Brett felt a little bit of hope but then shook his head. “Rewind it to just before they stepped out from under the overhang.”

  In front of them Anderson drugged Paige again and then stepped out into the rain. They were only in frame for a couple of seconds but in that time Paige’s shirt was already getting wet, turning the red into a much darker color.

  “By the time he got her to her vehicle her shirt would be black with rain,” Brett said.

  And if her drawing held true, unless Anderson was keeping her out in the open somewhere, she’d be dead before it dried.

  Captain Ameling joined them, already aware of the situation. For once he wasn’t combative. “We’ve got APBs out on both of them. I’ve made sure everyone knows to get the details of Boyd Anderson’s car out to every official and unofficial contact we have. I even called Chief Pickett personally to see if he could get the governor to get us more resources, since Paige Jeffries is friends with his wife.”

  That call couldn’t have been easy to make, given Ameling’s feelings about Brett and the chief. “Thank you,” Brett said.

  Ameling shrugged. “You tried to tell me there was a link, but I didn’t want to believe it. It looks like this guy is a serial killer. I don’t want to lose another woman.”

  “Captain, Brett, I think you need to look at this.” Alex had taken the electronic copy of the picture Paige had drawn and enlarged it on his computer screen.

  “What am I looking at?” Ameling asked. “Besides Paige Jeffries.”

  “Sir, you probably don’t want to know,” Brett told him. He didn’t want to get into all the drawings right now.

  Ameling rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He studied the picture longer. “She looks pretty dead.”

  “Look at the detail around the stairs, Captain,” Alex said. “I think this might be the same place Anderson held her before.”

  For the first time the slightest smidgen of hope lit Brett’s chest. “I thought that place burned down. A warehouse, right?”

  “She got away because of a fire, but the building didn’t completely burn down.”

  “And it could make sense that he would take her there, given his obsessiveness with patterns. He’d want to finish what he’d started.”

  “You two go,” Ameling said. “It’s worth a shot. If anything comes in here, I’ll let you know immediately.”

  Brett and Alex were already running out the door.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “You ruined everything.” Anderson accentuated his words with an open blow to Paige’s face. He once again held her up by her collar. “My pattern would’ve been perfect if not for you. You betray. You abandon. You steal. I’m doing future men a favor by killing you. By killing you all.”

  Paige could feel his hot breath on her cheek as he held her pulled up to her knees. She still didn’t look at him. Kept her gaze down, away from the darkness.

  “I never knew why you didn’t identify me.” His touch was almost gentle when he stroked some hair away from her face. “I thought your brain had just blocked it out or something. But that wasn’t it, was it? Your eyes don’t work right or something.”

  His gentle fingers trailing down her cheek were almost worse than his fists. “I can’t see you because of all the black. All your evil.”

  He snickered and released her arm, dropping her back to the ground. “I read about you. Before and after our first… meeting. I read how some critic said your paintings are the colors of people’s souls. I thought it was a load of crap, if you don’t mind me saying so.” He grabbed her chin with his hand, forcing her to look up at him. Paige kept her view to the side. “But maybe it was true.”

  He squeezed her jaw so tightly she could feel her teeth grind against the inside of her cheek and tasted blood.

  “But you know what? It doesn’t matter if you can identify me or not because you’re not going to be alive to tell anyone about me.”

  Paige couldn’t help herself, she whimpered.

  “You ruined my pattern. I tried to start over but it wasn’t the same. I’ve waited to get to you for two years. Two years.” He threw her back down again. She could make out his sho
es from where he stood in front of her. “So I’m going to finish you off today. Burn you until there’s nothing left. Today I save another man —probably that handsome detective— from making the mistake of taking someone like you as a wife. Someone who will just use him. Betray, abandon, steal.”

  His foot flew out again, but this time she couldn’t turn away fast enough. He caught her in the ribs. Agony blasted through her as she fell to the side, gasping for air. A second later another kick caught her in the hip. Paige huddled into a ball trying to protect herself. She waited for another brutal blow, but it didn’t come.

  Instead a few moments later liquid poured down on her.

  Gasoline.

  It soaked her hair and shirt. Breathing became nearly impossible through the fumes.

  “I won’t make the same mistake as last time. This time when the building burns, you burn with it.”

  She heard the sickening sound of a lighter being flicked on and off, as he opened and closed it with a snapping motion of one hand. She sat up, struggling to get air through both the gasoline and the agony in her ribs.

  “It’s your fault I must leave and start my pattern again. And I will, you know.” His shoes began to pace back and forth in front of the stairs. “I’ll just begin the pattern somewhere else. But this time I won’t let anyone ruin it.”

  Paige shifted to try to get some relief for her ribs and felt the drawing of herself under her hand. The gasoline had dripped down onto it and blurred the image.

  Paige crumpled the picture, ignoring Anderson as he continued to monologue about… whatever the hell reason he had for torturing and killing women. She didn’t care anymore. She wasn’t going to cower in front of him any longer. If she was going to die here, so be it.

  But that didn’t mean she couldn’t take this bastard with her.

  Using the last of her strength she burst up from the ground and propelled herself at the darkness that was Anderson. She heard his curse as she slammed into him, flinging them both down the stairs. She grabbed at the banister to catch herself, but it broke off in her hand. Anderson’s scream echoed in her ears and she knew this was the end —that these were the steps where she’d meet her death— as she hit the bottom and everything went dark.

  All the pain disappeared.

  But a few moments later it was back. Darkness still surrounded her. Somehow she wasn’t dead.

  “It’s amazing.” Anderson’s voice was right over her. “Look at you. You’re lying exactly as you were in that drawing. You drew yourself dead before it even happened.” He gave a sickening chuckle.

  But she wasn’t dead. How was it possible she wasn’t dead? She could feel the jagged piece of wood in her hand, just like the picture. Could feel the bend of her leg at the angle she’d drawn it, draped over the stairs.

  But she wasn’t dead.

  Maybe this time, this one time, instead of drawing the moment of the victim’s death, she’d drawn the moment the victim determined to live.

  “I don’t care if you’re dead, you’re still going to burn,” Anderson said. She heard the lighter flick again.

  “Not today.” She forced the words past her battered lips. Heard his gasp.

  Calling on her last bit of strength, Paige brought the wood from the banister still resting in her grip and slammed it with every bit of force she could muster into Anderson’s head. He fell over, moaning and she twisted herself up, bringing the club of wood down against his head again.

  This time he fell over for good, his neck landing at a sickening angle. The darkness surrounding Anderson disappeared and Paige could finally see him. His aura was gone.

  Boyd Anderson was dead.

  Paige crumpled back onto the steps, completely spent.

  She watched as the lighter fell out of his hand and onto the floor, still flaming. The gasoline that had been dripping off her body was now almost to the open flame. She forced herself to move, sobbing in agony as she tried to pull herself back up the stairs, but realized that with the gasoline still dripping off her clothes the flame would chase her no matter where she went.

  It seemed like she couldn’t outrun death after all.

  Paige closed her eyes wishing she could do more. Her breathing was becoming more and more labored, air harder to pull into her lungs. Anderson’s kicks followed by the fall down the stairs had done some pretty serious damage. Even if the fire didn’t get her, she wasn’t going to make it out of here alive.

  She just wished she could see Brett one more time.

  And then as if her thoughts had conjured him, he was there, weapon drawn, stomping the line of flames snaking its way towards her. Alex was right behind him. She could see relief on Brett’s face as their eyes met, before it was swallowed by concern.

  Brett turned and muttered something to Alex who pulled out his phone. Paige couldn’t hear them. Nothing seemed to be working right. She couldn’t even get up from the stairs.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Brett crouched right in front of her, his purples and blues such a refreshing change from the black. He brushed her hair back from her forehead, gently. Sweetly. “We’ve got an ambulance coming.”

  “My drawing was wrong,” she murmured. “I didn’t die.”

  “Damn right you didn’t.”

  “I don’t want to draw any more. Never again. I’ll stick to painting.” Breathing was becoming more difficult.

  “Don’t talk sweetie, okay?” She could see gray starting to overtake Brett’s other colors. His fear. Worry for her.

  “I’m just going to rest.”

  “Paige, no baby. No resting. Not yet. Open those gorgeous blue eyes, okay? If you do, I’ll tell you about how I thought your eyes were so gorgeous even in high school…”

  She tried to open her eyes, she really did. Wanted to know if he was telling the truth. And she’d had enough of darkness, even the normal kind that came from closing one’s eyes. But she couldn’t keep them open.

  The darkness pulled her under once again.

  * * *

  It was the longest two days of Brett’s life.

  By the time the paramedics arrived Paige’s breathing was shallow. Panic had Brett's heart hammering against his ribs. The danger had not died with Boyd Anderson.

  Paige’s internal injuries had been severe. One lung punctured, the other completely collapsed. Concussion, dislocated shoulder.

  They’d kept her in a medically induced coma to give her body a chance to heal. Brett had refused to leave her side, informing the hospital that he was Paige’s fiancé.

  Hell, it had worked in a movie once, so it had been worth a try. Anything to be able to stay with her.

  Then Paige’s sisters, Adrienne and Chloe, showed up a few hours later. They spent a long time talking to the doctors to find out Paige’s exact status and seemed reassured when they were told she would be waking up soon.

  More importantly he’d been glad they hadn’t had him thrown out.

  “Fiancé?” Chloe asked.

  Brett shrugged. “Worked in While You Were Sleeping.”

  Chloe grinned. “That’s true.”

  Adrienne, obviously in her third trimester of pregnancy, had brought her husband Conner. After talking to the doctors, she’d asked her husband to leave before Brett could even talk to him.

  Brett found it interesting that Conner Perigo rolled his eyes, but did it.

  “You’ve got five minutes,” he said to Adrienne on his way out the door. “I’m not leaving you here unshielded any longer than that.”

  She blew him a kiss. “I only need three.”

  Brett gave the two women a confused look. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

  “Adrienne wants to make sure you’re a good guy. Not going to hurt Paige. She can’t do that if Conner’s around.” Chloe shrugged. She turned to her sister. “I could still read Brett, Adrienne. You didn’t have to make Conner leave.”

  “What do you mean, read me?” Brett asked.

  Chloe ignored him. “He’s got no
thoughts but whether Paige is going to be alright and if he’s going to pull his badge if we try to kick him out of the room.”

  Brett nearly choked on his shock. Those were the exact things he’d been thinking.

  “I need to know for myself. He’s who Paige has chosen.” Adrienne’s voice was softer, more like Paige’s and less like Chloe’s more animated one. Her face was already pinched.

  “I’m not really her fiancé,” Brett said. “I just want to make sure you know that.”

  Adrienne nodded. “But you’re still who she’s chosen.”

  He reached out to Adrienne who was looking paler than she had a minute ago. “Are you okay?”

  She smiled, although it still looked a little pained. “I was going to ask if I could touch your arm, but I don’t have to. It’s nice to meet such a clear good guy.”

  Brett looked back and forth between the two women. “Okay, I seriously don’t understand what’s happening.”

  Chloe and Adrienne both just smiled at him. There was no doubt these women were Paige’s sisters. They weren’t identical —Adrienne’s hair was short and blond, Chloe’s was longer with red highlights— but they had the same elegant bone structure, crystalline blue eyes and lush mouths.

  And these women obviously loved and wanted to protect Paige.

  Even if it was by using some sort of woo-woo power.

  A moment later Conner Perigo walked back into the room. Adrienne immediately began looking stronger, less pale. Conner slipped his arm around her. “I knew five minutes would be too long. It’s too crowded here.”

  Adrienne kissed him. “You’re around me so much now. I forget how loud it is without you.”

  Chloe jumped up from the chair she’d taken and patted Brett on the shoulder. “Conner blocks all the mental noise for Adrienne. Keeps the bad guys out of her head. Handy.”

  “And you?” Brett asked. “Does someone help you block… whatever it is you do?”

  She grinned and winked at him. “Nah. I can turn down the volume myself. I don’t take things quite as seriously as my two big sisters.”