THE CRUEL SEVEN

by Terence Mitford

  The first officer glanced at his partner, who shrugged and said, “I guess it won’t be sexual assault if she’s giving you permission.”

  The first officer looked back at Lisa, still hesitant.

  In most other encounters with police, their reticence would be desirable and commendable. But on this occasion, it was downright annoying. Lisa sighed. “Just open my top button and pull out the papers, for God’s sake.”

  The officer stepped forward and timidly obeyed. Then he took the papers over to the table, sat down, and studied them. A few minutes later, he looked up, inhaled a deep breath, and blew it out through pursed lips. Then he walked over, and after studying the bruising on Lisa’s face, he removed the handcuffs. “Let’s get you to the hospital and get you checked out.”

  Lisa read his name on the tag pinned to his shirt and pointed to the chain around her ankle. “We need to do something about this first, Officer Bryant.”

  He glanced at his partner. “Get the set of skeleton keys from the car.”

  His partner left and returned with a bunch of strange looking keys on a fob. Bryant took them and went to work. “We use these to gain access when executing warrants.”

  After a couple of minutes and a few attempts with different size keys, the padlock sprang open, and she was free from the chain.

  During the drive back to town, the conversation centered on Harvey, the sheriff, and until his death, their boss. It seemed to be the part that shocked them the most.

  Lisa found herself trying to reassure them that she didn’t consider Harvey to be a typical police officer. They seemed happy to hear it.

  When she finished, Bryant nodded thoughtfully. “We had our suspicions about Harvey, but no evidence. We knew he took young backpackers and some delinquent girls out there, but he played the part of a socially aware, community spirited cop pretty well.”

  “Why did you drive out to the house?”

  “Like most jobs,” Bryant said. “We got a tipoff.”

  “Who from?”

  “Meg Winters. She owns the fashion shop. She was concerned about girls who went out to the McCrawley’s place disappearing. And she told us about a pretty girl in a ripped summer dress who came into her shop with Luke. She thought it might be happening again.”

  “I know her. I met her once. She’s nice.” Lisa nodded to herself. “It was me in the ripped Summer dress.”

  As they drove into town, Lisa said, “You’ll find all the evidence you need in a hole in the ground behind the house. The community spirited sheriff drove those unsuspecting girls out there to their deaths.”

  The car pulled up outside the main entrance to the hospital, and the officers escorted Lisa inside. They spoke with staff who took her into a medical room to be checked over. They were thorough, carrying out a full medical examination, including the collection of various swabs and blood samples and even a pregnancy test after Lisa had expressed her concern.

  The nurse informed her of the negative result and explained that, typically, women had a twenty percent chance of conceiving in the middle of their cycle, and although it was too early for an accurate test, the trauma of the last few days will have reduced her likelihood of conceiving. So she shouldn’t worry about it unduly because the chances are she wouldn’t be pregnant.

  After Lisa got dressed, a nurse asked her to take a seat nearby and await the arrival of the detectives to obtain her official statement. A man in uniform stood just inside the door to the emergency room, and Lisa guessed he was a hospital security officer and probably there to prevent her from leaving. No doubt in such a small town, the police would often have to count on their help when necessary.

  While waiting, she observed the workings of the emergency department and found it surprisingly busy for a hospital in such a small town. But as time ticked by, it quietened down and the urgency of the medical staff slowed to a calmer pace.

  And that’s when she heard it: a conversation between two nurses as they sat at a nearby desk in the emergency room, enjoying a cup of coffee and a well-earned rest. They were different generations and probably at opposite ends of their careers.

  The older nurse, who looked to be in her late fifties with an air of confidence about her, glanced at her younger colleague. “Has Doctor Wilbur told you yet?”

  The younger nurse, probably in her early twenties and still in training, shrugged. “What about?”

  “Your mystery patient. The good-looking man from ICU.”

  The young nurse lowered her head and tightened her lips for a moment, then looked up and said, “I’ve been off duty for a couple of days, but I had heard they were planning to turn off the life support.” She sighed. “His bed is empty now, so I guess they turned it off and he died.”

  “They did turn it off. Because he regained consciousness.”

  The younger nurse gasped. “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “Is he talking? Do they know who he is yet?”

  “He’s talking, but he’s not making much sense. Keeps mentioning a plane crash and a woman’s name.”

  Lisa’s heart pounded so hard and her breathing increased so fast she thought she was going to hyperventilate.

  The two women rushed over, and the more experienced nurse held Lisa’s arm. “Are you all right?”

  Lisa took a moment and gradually calmed herself enough to answer. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Lisa nodded. “I think I know who your mystery patient is.”

  The nurse holding Lisa’s arm looked puzzled. “Excuse me?”

  “I heard you talking. Your patient. The man in the coma, or was. I think he may be my husband.”

  The nurses just stared at her.

  Lisa spat out the words as fast as she could. “I thought he was dead—he was in a plane crash—I mean a car crash—I mean both.”

  The young nurse hurried away while the other stayed with Lisa. “It’s okay. Try to relax. You’re in shock.”

  Lisa looked up and gave her a thin smile. “I’ve been in shock for nearly a week now. Where is he? Where’s my husband?”

  The young nurse returned with a man in a long white coat. He introduced himself as Doctor Wilbur.

  After Lisa’s brief explanation, leaving out most of the horrors of the last few days, Doctor Wilbur asked her to accompany him to the recovery ward. On the way, he explained that the patient had just woken after several days in a coma. And he told her that, although he was now conscious, there could be brain damage.

  Lisa nodded. “Just as long as he’s alive.”

  When they arrived on the ward, Doctor Wilbur spoke with a nurse, who glanced at the first bed on the right and explained that the patient was drowsy but awake.

  Lisa rushed over.

  Then gasped with excitement.

  It was Mike.

  And he was alive.

  51

  MIKE

  A few days earlier…

  Silence had gradually been replaced by a buzzing in Mike’s head, followed by an escalating, burning pain in his back and elbows. There were other sounds that he recognized and a clinical smell that could only mean one thing. He was in a hospital.

  Voices around him were anxious, barking out orders and instructions to each other, and there was a sensation of movement. Maybe a hospital gurney. Then it stopped and several sets of hands lifted him from it and placed down again, probably onto a bed.

  He fought to open his eyes, but they failed to comply. He tried to speak, and although he could hear the words in his head, he wasn’t sure if he had succeeded in saying them out loud. Because there was no response from those around him. So he tried again to tell them about Lisa and how much danger she was in. But they weren’t listening, or they weren’t paying attention, or they didn’t care. Or maybe they just couldn’t hear him.

  He had taken many first responder courses over recent years. A necessity of his gym ownership to ensure he was ready for any emergency that occurred on
his premises. For that reason, he’d taken a keen interest in all things medical, and had read about coma patients trapped in their own world, unable to communicate, unable to let those around them know their brains were still active and alert, even if they couldn’t speak.

  He was aware of everything that was happening to him, and every conversation within earshot, and he confirmed his self diagnosis when he overheard the medical staff discussing the options open to them, and then their decision to turn off the life support.

  He had to let them know he wasn’t brain dead, or beyond hope. But how? He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, and couldn’t open his eyes. So what could he do to change their diagnosis?

  They had talked about his weak pulse and his slow heart beat. Maybe that was it. Maybe he could alter his vital statistics to get their attention. After all, a few months back, he had used visualization to lower his blood pressure between tests. So it was worth a try.

  He remembered how he’d achieved it. He had closed his eyes, relaxed, and pictured the blood flowing through his veins like water cascading through a wide pipe. And it had worked. After a few minutes, his heart rate had slowed, and his blood pressure reading had dropped from elevated to within the normal range. But this time, he needed the opposite response. So he visualized himself sprinting through the forest, jumping over fallen trees, and running up hills. He felt the wind on his face, the warmth of the sun, and the sweat on his forehead. To supercharge his visualization, he pictured Lisa being mistreated by the McCrawley family since he was no longer around.

  It worked again. He felt his heart pound, his blood course through his veins, and his breathing increase. He waited and listened. Staff were moving around the room, sometimes coming close, but he heard nothing to suggest they had noticed any change in his condition.

  Then footsteps approached. A man spoke. He recognized the voice. It was the doctor who had made the decision to turn off the machine. “Okay, I have just cleared it with above. We can turn it off and I’ll wait to pronounce life extinct.”

  Footsteps walked around the bed and stopped. A sharp intake of breath was followed by the doctor’s voice again, only higher in pitch than usual. “Over here, quick.”

  More footsteps. A female spoke. “What is it?”

  “Look.”

  The female drew a quick breath.

  “Cancel my last,” the doctor said. “His vitals have improved. Heart rate and oxygen levels are nearly normal. Reduce the support and monitor him closely. We’ll give him time to wake up and then check for brain damage.”

  “I’ll monitor him, Doctor.”

  Mike mentally relaxed. Job done. For now. He had just bought himself more time. Now he had to work on dragging himself out of his waking coma. Because they would not keep him on this machine for ever, occupying a valuable bed in the intensive care unit.

  The days came and went with no improvements to Mike’s condition. But since his near miss with the off switch on the life-support machine, he had heard no conversations that had caused him alarm. Just the usual checks and mutterings about him being stable, although still in a coma.

  Then came a conversation that changed everything.

  A nurse who was about to go off duty received a call on her mobile phone, and from the informal tone of her voice, Mike guessed it was her husband calling. After the call, the nurse confirmed it when she told her colleague that she would be staying on for another couple of hours, at least. When her colleague asked her why, she replied, “Tom, just called. He’s been dispatched out to the McCrawley’s place. Something about a young woman might be in danger out there.”

  From the many conversations Mike had overheard between the staff, he had learned that Tom was nurse Bryant’s husband and he was a cop. Mike knew instantly that the young woman in danger must be Lisa. His whole system seemed to be charged with a newfound determination. He ordered his body to respond, and it did. Within seconds, his eyes were open and taking in his surroundings. He was in what looked like an intensive care unit with four beds. Two on each side of the room. But his was the only one occupied. He managed to raise his head off the pillow and shout out through the oxygen mask, “Nurse.”

  She rushed over to his bed with a look of surprise that quickly turned to joy. “You’re awake.”

  He pulled the mask away. “Yes, and I heard what you just said. That young woman out at the McCrawley’s place is my wife, Lisa.”

  The nurse just stared at him for a moment, confusion all over her face. Then she picked up a phone on a nearby desk and asked for Doctor Wilbur to attend ICU immediately.

  When Doctor Wilbur arrived, she told him what had happened.

  He stared at Mike. “Has he spoken yet?”

  “Yes, but I couldn’t make any sense of what he was saying. His words were all jumbled. But I did pick out the name Lisa. She must be his wife, or daughter, or something.”

  Mike repeated what he had said earlier, but from the confusion on their faces, it was clear his words were not coming out as intended.

  Doctor Wilbur stepped up close. “Don’t talk. You have just woken from a coma, so it might take a while for you to get your speech back. Just relax for now.” He turned to the nurse. “Run a full set of checks and let me know of any change.”

  A couple of hours later, Mike was alone and waiting for the doctor to return when the sound of running footsteps caused him to open his eyes.

  And there, next to his bed, looking down at him, was Lisa.

  52

  LISA

  Lisa flung her arms around Mike and burst into tears. “I can’t believe it. I thought you were dead.”

  Mike hugged her and kissed her lips. “Same here, and I nearly was. But that story is for another time. Let me look at you.”

  Lisa pulled back, and Mike drew a breath. “What happened to your face?”

  Lisa raised her hand to the bruising on her cheek. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Lisa shook her head. “I will, but like you just said, that’s for another time. Right now I just want you to hold me.”

  Mike smiled. “Come here.” Then he gasped.

  Lisa sprang back. “What is it?”

  “I just noticed. I can move again, and you can understand what I’m saying.” He moved his legs under the covers and waved his arms. “I’m not paralyzed anymore.”

  For a moment they just stared at each other in silence, Like they used to when words weren’t necessary to show each other how much they cared. They just had to look into each other’s eyes to know. But a lot had happened over recent weeks, and Lisa wanted to make sure that Mike knew her feelings for him were back.

  “I know now that nothing happened between you and Summer.”

  Mike just nodded.

  “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  “It’s okay, Lisa. I had given you good cause not to trust me.”

  She sighed. “Things were shaky for a while, and I need to confess some things to you—”

  “Not now.” Mike interrupted. Then he clasped her hand in his and smiled knowingly. “But does this mean you might forgive me?”

  Lisa laughed. “I have forgiven you, Silly.”

  Mike grinned. Then he became more serious as he told her how he owed his life to Larry.

  Lisa nodded, and a tear trickled down her cheek. “I know. He told me what happened. And he saved my life, too. I’ll never forget him. He was a brave man.”

  Mike frowned. “What do you mean was?”

  Lisa gave Mike a brief rundown on Larry’s last moments. Then said, “I want to make sure he gets the funeral he deserves.”

  Mike agreed.

  “And another thing. We need to check on Carlos’s wife and mother.”

  Mike widened his eyes “Really?”

  “There’s a lot I need to tell you about the McCrawley family. But to summarize, you were right about them. They were psychopathic serial killers. The sherif took girls ou
t there to be abused and murdered in horrifying ways.”

  Lisa went on to explain how Carlos had stumbled upon the family’s house before her, and that he had encountered the family last year. “They raped and murdered his sixteen-year-old sister. So, knowing what they were capable of, he refused to tell them the location of the crashed plane. I was wrong about him, Mike. He died protecting us. And he was trafficking drugs to raise money for his mother’s life-saving medical treatment.”

  Mike nodded slowly. “When we get out of here, we’ll do right by them both. That’s a promise.”

  They kissed again and parted only when a nurse walked back in with officer Bryant. He looked from Lisa to Mike and back to Lisa, clearly confused.

  Lisa explained that her husband wasn’t dead, after all.

  Bryant grinned. “That’s great news. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

  Not quite. But Lisa kept that thought to herself. “Is it time for me to make my statement?”

  “Soon, but I need you to help us with something first.”

  Lisa nodded. “Anything for the officers who saved my life.”

  “Could you come with me? It will only take a minute.”

  Lisa kissed Mike and gave him another hug. Then she left with Bryant. “Where are we going?”

  “I need you to accompany me to the mortuary for the purpose of identification.”

  “Oh,” Lisa said. Her tone quiet and sad. “You found Larry?”

  “Not yet, but we will. We’ve got the search dog out there scouring the area.”

  Lisa glanced sideways at him. “Who then?”

  “After we left you here, we went out to Larry’s place. I knew the old guy well. He had a big collection of rifles, and as we pulled up outside, we came under fire from his cabin. We returned fire, and to cut a long story short, we shot our two attackers. We loaded them into our jeep, but they were dead on arrival here.”