Justified

by C. M. Sutter

  “Okay”—I stood and opened the door—“I think we’ve asked all the questions we need to. We’d appreciate a copy of that witness statement, and I’ll need you to print out those photographs too. We’ll wait by the front counter.”

  Twenty minutes later, we expressed our thanks to the sergeant and Officer Collins then left to go back to the hospital. It was nearly two o’clock.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” J.T. said.

  “No it wasn’t, and I’m pleasantly surprised how cooperative they were. Now, let’s see how cooperative the doctor will be with letting us talk to Jane if she’s awake and alert.”

  Chapter 30

  We stood at the nurses’ station and waited for Alice to return. We were told she was checking on the young lady in cubicle six.

  I jabbed J.T. in the side. “That’s Jane. I wonder if she’s awake.”

  He winced. “Maybe, or Alice is just doing what she normally does, patient rounds.”

  “Let’s find out. Want to come with me to ICU?”

  “Jade, you know we aren’t allowed through those doors without permission. Alice will be back soon.”

  “Yeah, I know. Sorry, patience isn’t my strong suit.”

  J.T. chuckled. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, and I found a quiet corner in which to answer it. Spelling was calling.

  “Hey, boss, what’s up?”

  “I got a call from the police department in Thomasboro, and they said they pulled the hard drive out of the squad car. They were able to get a better look at what the killer took out of the truck.”

  “Yeah? What did they say?”

  “They said it looked like he had a pad of paper in one hand and something metallic and sharp looking in the other hand.”

  “Humph. That could have been any of his weapons, maybe a knife or the Neko Te. I wonder what was so important about a pad of paper, though.”

  “No idea. How was the meeting at the police department?”

  “It went better than I had expected. They started with the good ol’ boy attitude, but that quickly faded. They seemed forthright with us. Officer Collins showed us a few pictures he snapped as soon as he arrived at the scene. Pretty gruesome stuff, sir. I just hope Jane comes out of this okay.”

  I heard Spelling smirk. “That’s why we need to catch this maniac quickly. His killing spree is escalating out of control.”

  “The officer made copies of the pictures he took and the witness statement from the family that called it in. I have them with me.”

  “Did anything seem off?”

  “Nah, routine stuff. We’re at the hospital now and waiting for the head nurse to get back. I guess she’s doing patient rounds. We want to find out Jane’s condition and if she’s awake.”

  “Okay, keep me posted.”

  “Will do.” I clicked off and headed back to the wall of guest chairs where J.T. was sitting. “That was Spelling. He said it looked like some type of weapon that the killer pulled out of the truck, but get this, he also grabbed a notepad of some type.”

  “That’s weird. Maybe he was writing his manifesto but isn’t done with it yet.”

  “You could be right.” I craned my neck in each direction down the corridor. “No sign of Alice yet?”

  “Nope. I asked one of the nurses how long her rounds take. She said she ought to be done any minute.”

  “Good. Want something to drink while we wait?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  I stepped away and followed the hall to the vending machine that stood at the end of the corridor. I heard the distinct clip clap of street shoes getting louder and turned to see who it was. J.T. was heading toward me, and he waved to get my attention. I assumed Alice was back, and the sodas could wait.

  “Alice says Jane’s awake.”

  “What did Dr. Adams say?” I walked toward J.T. at a quickened pace.

  “He said we could go in after he checks her vitals and determines if she’s coherent enough and able to talk. He needs ten minutes with her alone.”

  I turned around. “I guess I’ll get us something to drink after all.”

  Chapter 31

  The constant pounding on the door of that cheap motel room began to irritate him. He turned the TV volume higher.

  “Sir, checkout was two hours ago. I need to clean your room.”

  He rolled over on the bed and pressed the zero button on the phone. The front desk clerk answered.

  “Highway 57 Motel.”

  “Tell that annoying maid to get the hell away from my room right now. I just paid online for another night.” He slammed the receiver down on the cradle.

  The banging abruptly stopped, and he heard the maid talking on her phone. Within seconds, the squeak of the housekeeping cart moved down the hallway to the next room.

  He turned to the woman that sat on the chair ten feet away. He grinned and rose from the bed. He got comfortable in the chair next to her and patted her matted hair. Black tears from her mascara stained her cheeks, rolled over her taped mouth, and dropped off her chin.

  “I sure miss the convenience of having my own home. Doing all of this on the road is exhausting, if you know what I mean. My question is, what should I do with you now that we have another full night together? It could get wicked.” He flicked his tongue inches from her face then slapped her.

  She wrenched at the ropes, wrapped tightly around her body, which imprisoned her to the chair. The chair bobbled on two legs and tipped precariously.

  “You’re going to fall over if you aren’t careful. You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself, now would you?”

  John unzipped his pack and pulled out a bag of chips. He returned to the bed, propped several pillows behind his head, and flipped the TV channels with the remote. He glanced at the wide-eyed woman.

  “You do realize this is all your fault, don’t you? Girls aren’t supposed to hitchhike. It’s far too dangerous. Any nut job can pick you up. Somebody like me, for example. Didn’t your mom teach you any better?”

  He twisted the plastic cap off the water bottle and sucked down half of it then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Yeah, I have great plans for you later tonight, but right now, you should relax. You’ll be fighting for your life in a few hours.”

  Chapter 32

  “Here you go.” I handed a can of soda to J.T. and sat down next to him. “Any sign of Dr. Adams?”

  “Since two minutes ago when you went back to the vending machine?”

  “Yeah, smart-ass, since then. You know I don’t have any patience.”

  J.T. shrugged and looked toward the ICU doors. “It shouldn’t be long. Think about it, Jade. If Jane can process our questions logically and talk well enough to be understood, we could have an actual eyewitness sketch drawn up of him by tonight.”

  “I’m afraid to hope. I might jinx it.”

  J.T. patted my shoulder. “I’ll admit, I did say a little prayer.”

  I smiled at him. “Who would have thought a big, tough guy like you prays. I’m impressed.”

  “You should try it sometime. It’s good for the soul.”

  I gave his shoulder a slight shove. J.T. reminded me of Jack more and more every day.

  We heard the sliding door to the ICU open and looked to our left. Dr. Adams was heading toward us. I crossed my fingers and my legs.

  “Agents.” The doctor extended his hand and gave each of us a hearty handshake.

  “I hope you have good news.” I was on pins and needles.

  “The young lady in cubicle six is still very groggy. She is physically able to speak, but the facial swelling inhibits her from forming words properly.” He rubbed his chin. “Or it could be because the sleep medication hasn’t fully worn off, but either way, her words are thick and slurred. She is on heavy pain meds too. I’ve checked her vitals, and her pulse and heart rate are normal. I’m going to take her downstairs for an MRI as a precaution. I want to make sure ther
e isn’t any swelling on her brain. I’ll let you see her later when she’s more fully awake and back in her room.” He pushed up the sleeve of his lab coat and checked the time. “I’ll meet you right here at five thirty. Go have an early dinner or relax in the visitors’ lounge. There are plenty of magazines in there as well as a TV. This young lady has a long road ahead of her, but I think she’ll pull through okay.”

  I heaved a deep sigh. “That’s really good news, Dr. Adams. We appreciate everything you’ve done for her.”

  “It’s a shame there aren’t any friends or family here, but without an ID, we have no idea who she is.”

  The doctor caught the sideways glance I gave J.T.

  “Agents, is there something you’d like to share?”

  J.T. asked in a lowered voice, “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” We were only feet from the nurses’ station, where wide eyes and perked ears watched and listened.

  “Certainly.” The doctor glanced over his shoulder, and the nurses quickly found something to busy themselves with. He nodded as if he understood. “Follow me. We’ll talk in my office.”

  We entered his office, which was decorated in serene muted tones. A large walnut desk took up a good portion of the room.

  “Have a seat, agents.” Dr. Adams rounded the desk and pulled out the high-back leather office chair. He took a seat, folded his hands on the desk, and waited.

  I looked at J.T. His nod told me I was the designated storyteller and I’d explain to the doctor what we knew so far.

  “Dr. Adams, her name is Jane, not as in Jane Doe but as in Jane Weeks. She lives and works in the Champaign area. Obviously, without a positive ID from her family or a DNA test, we can’t say with one hundred percent certainty it’s her, but we’re relatively confident it is. That’s why we’re so eager to speak with her. If she confirms her name, it could save a lot of time. The photograph we showed you earlier is from her work ID. Unfortunately, according to her boss, her parents are out of town and don’t know anything about the attack. That’s why nobody is here to identify her. We’re in the middle of an ongoing investigation, and apparently Jane’s assailant has killed a number of people in the last few weeks going as far south as Arkansas. We’ve been on his tail since Missouri, but it seems he’s always one step ahead of us. We don’t want fodder for the watercooler spreading throughout the hospital, if you know what I mean.”

  “It’s imperative to keep everything about Jane and the person that attacked her quiet since her family hasn’t been located and told yet,” J.T. added.

  Dr. Adams leaned back in his chair. “Now your persistence in wanting to speak with her makes sense.”

  “We have to locate her parents as soon as possible, and we need Jane to give us a description of her attacker,” I said.

  The doctor stood. “I guess I should expedite that MRI and see how her speech is coming along. I’ll get you two in her room as soon as I possibly can.”

  “Thank you, doctor. We’ll grab a quick dinner downstairs and then be at the nurses’ station from five o’clock on,” J.T. said.

  We exited the doctor’s office and took the elevator to the lower level.

  “We have an hour to relax and eat. Once we’re back upstairs, let’s jot down everything we need to discuss with Jane, and hopefully she can answer our questions,” I said.

  I grabbed a dinner tray and slid it across the rails. Now I was actually hungry.

  An hour later, we were back at the guest chairs that lined the wall opposite the nurses’ station.

  I whispered with my hand cupped in front of my mouth. “I don’t feel comfortable brainstorming out here. There are too many ears in the area.”

  “You’re right. Hang on.” J.T. approached the nurses’ station and addressed the nurse that had been answering calls. “Is there a small private area where Agent Monroe and I can work?”

  “Sure”—she stood and came around the counter—“I know just the place.”

  I rose and walked alongside J.T. as the nurse led us to a quiet area at the end of a hallway. Two upholstered chairs sat in the corner with an end table and a lamp between them.

  “How’s this?”

  “It’s perfect,” I said. “Can somebody come and get us as soon as Dr. Adams shows up?”

  “Not a problem.”

  I watched as she turned and went back to the beginning of that hallway where the nurses’ station was located. “That’s better. Okay, I’ll do the writing, you do the thinking.”

  “First, we need to assess her ability to remember his face. If she seems focused enough to give us details, we’ll call in a sketch artist right away. Spelling can track someone down and give us their contact information.”

  I wrote that in my notepad.

  J.T. continued. “We need to know everything she can remember from her very first encounter with him.”

  “Right, and that was likely in the gift shop.”

  “Uh-huh, and then later when she had lunch in the truck with him. I’m interested in hearing what he told her about himself, even though it was probably all lies. There could be a little truth mixed in every now and then. We need to know if she heard an accent or a regional dialect.”

  “What if her mind went blank from the trauma and she doesn’t remember anything?”

  “That would be good for her but bad for us.”

  Chapter 33

  “Agents?”

  I looked up from the notes I had jotted down. “Yes?”

  “Jane Doe is back from her MRI, and Dr. Adams is with her. He should be out in just a few minutes with an update for you.”

  “Wonderful.” I gave her a thank-you nod and stood. “Come on, partner. Let’s go.” I tucked my notepad back in my purse, then J.T. and I walked the fifty feet to the grouping of chairs opposite the nurses’ station. We took our seats for the umpteenth time. The ICU doors slid open a few minutes later, and Dr. Adams approached us. He sat in the chair to the left of J.T. and leaned in to talk.

  “Thankfully she seems alert enough to know what’s going on. I asked her the usual questions, like what year we’re in and who the president is. She answered correctly.”

  I let out a deep breath. “Thank God.”

  “The MRI results showed there’s no brain swelling. All of her facial swelling is from the contusions and the ice pick injury. There’s no way of knowing if Jane has blocked out that incident or not, but I guess you’ll know once you start questioning her. If things become too taxing and stressful, I’ll have to ask you to stop for the night. I’m going to be in the room with you at all times, but I’ll be out of the way and quiet. I need to monitor her vitals. If we’re in agreement, I’ll show you in.”

  I looked at J.T., my eyebrows raised with hope.

  “Yes, we’re fine with everything you said. Let’s do this.”

  “Okay, follow me.”

  Beyond the glass doors of the ICU wing, we entered an area where a somber hush took over. Rooms were filled with patients, some barely clinging to life. The machines that monitored each breath and heartbeat, along with the whispers between the staff and families who kept vigil over their loved ones, were the only sounds in that unit. We entered cubicle six with Dr. Adams.

  The back of the hospital bed was raised slightly. Jane looked the same as she had earlier except the IVs had been removed from her arms. Her eyes, although puffy, swollen, and bruised, were open. A curious expression took over her face. Even though the lights were dimmed and the blinds were drawn, there was enough clarity and focus in her eyes that I was confident she’d do fine. We closed the door and the privacy curtains behind us. Dr. Adams made the introductions then took a seat at the back of the room. J.T. and I pulled two chairs close to her bed and sat down.

  J.T. spoke first. “Jane, we’re FBI agents, and we need your help. If you’re able to talk without too much pain or effort, we’d appreciate it. Otherwise, a nod is okay.”

  She nodded.

  “Is your name Jane Weeks?” I as
ked.

  Her voice, although raspy, was clear. “Yes.”

  “Would you like a drink of water?”

  “Yes.”

  I lifted the plastic cup off the rolling bed table and held it to her mouth. She gingerly sucked on the straw then nodded. I returned the cup to the table.

  “Do you remember the events from yesterday?”

  Tears sprang from her eyes, and the monitor beeped. Dr. Adams stood, but she shook her head.

  “Yes, I remember.”

  I carefully dabbed her cheeks with a tissue and continued. “Do you remember everything, including your attacker’s appearance?”

  “I remember what I saw.”

  I nodded to J.T. He stood and excused himself to call Spelling. We needed a sketch artist here right away.

  “Jane, did he tell you his name or where he was from?”

  “I assumed he was Ray, like what was written on the truck door. He didn’t say where he was from.”

  “Well, he isn’t Ray. That much was a lie. The name John Pratt never came up?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Where are your parents, and when are they coming home? We need to contact them and let them know what happened.”

  “They’re in Maine, visiting my aunt and uncle.” She stared at the amount of gauze covering her arms.

  “And you’re close to them?”

  She nodded as more tears streamed down her cheeks.

  I felt a maternal responsibility toward Jane, probably because she was only a few years younger than Amber. “Wouldn’t your parents be worried that they haven’t been able to reach you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then I need a number for either your dad or your mom.” I wrote down the number Jane recited. She said it belonged to her father. “Would you give the description of your assailant to a sketch artist? It’s imperative that we catch this maniac, and you’re the only witness we have other than a few people that saw him at night from a distance.”

  “You mean I’m the only person that lived through his torture?”

  I helped her with the water and steadied the straw in front of her mouth. “Yes, you’re the only person that had physical contact with him that lived, at least that we know of.”