by Rita Herron
When the taxi arrived, she locked Raul’s door, then asked the cab driver to take her home. For a moment she hesitated in the cab, reluctant to go inside. Last night she’d nearly died here.
But she refused to let some psycho drive her from her own house, or to be trapped by fear. If she did, she’d be no better off than the patients she treated.
Still, entering her dark house made a shiver ripple up her spine, the reason she’d left with Raul the night before screaming through her mind. The smell of fear and danger permeated the air, and fingerprint dust dotted the surfaces of the doors, windows, phone, everywhere she looked.
At least Raul had had someone turn the power back on, and she flipped on the lights as she slowly inched her way through the house. She should have let Raul come with her, check it out before she returned.
But she couldn’t allow herself to grow too dependent.
Her cell phone rang, and she grabbed it, frantic that another girl had been killed. Or maybe they’d located Dr. Zovall.
She checked the number on the caller box. Her service. “Dr. Madden speaking.”
“Dr. Madden, Dr. Solaris asked me to call you,” a male voice said. “Your mother has been upset all night and is asking for you.”
“I’ll be right there.” Jenny’s heart pounded as she hung up, threw the locks on the doors and jumped into the shower. Dr. Solaris was weaning her mother from some of the drugs. Had she become more coherent? Able to finally relay the details of her abuse?
She hurriedly dressed, made a pot of coffee and slugged one down. It was still dark outside as she rushed to her car. If she hurried, she could make it for her mother’s morning bath. Maybe she could brush her hair…
In the garage she fumbled with her keys, jumped in her car, then pressed the door lock button, but just as she did, the hushed whisper of a breath bathed her neck. Panic seized her throat as a man grabbed her from behind. The sharp jab of a needle pricking her skin sent ice-cold fear through her.
The fear lasted only a second before darkness descended and she disappeared into it.
RAUL WATCHED as the techies showed him how they had traced the MySpace accounts, noting the various servers and the difficulties in tracking down the real identities and addresses.
“We discovered a common thread,” Edgar, one of the team said. “Although the addies say different, and the guy used various names when contacting the victims, the e-mails originated from one computer source.”
Raul stared in shock as the information spieled onto the screen. The address: Jenny Madden’s house.
“What the hell?”
Captain Black frowned. “That’s Dr. Madden’s.” He turned to Raul. “Who had access to her computer?”
Raul’s mind raced. “At work, maybe her secretary but I’m sure Jenny’s files are password protected.”
“What about her house?”
He twisted his mouth in thought, then grimaced. “Her brother.”
“You know where he is?”
“We’re looking for him now.”
“Anyone else?”
Raul thought back. “She’s had a worker there doing renovations, but he’s an old man. He doesn’t fit the profile.”
“What if he’s in disguise?” Black asked. “I mean, what do you really know about this man?”
Raul scowled. He’d go with the brother for the crime but better to check every avenue. “Nothing.”
Black stared at him for a long moment. “Give me his name and I’ll run it.”
“His name is Ralph Martin.”
“Thanks.”
Raul had been chewing over the profile, Jenny’s family history, the abusive doctor. He was missing something; he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“I want to look at Jenny’s patient files.” Then another thought struck him. “What if one of Jenny’s Atlanta patients stole Machete’s ID and followed her here?”
“A disgruntled patient she left behind?” Black said, jumping onto Raul’s train of thought. “Then Jenny might be the center of it.”
“God.” He swiped a clammy hand over his neck. “I need Jenny’s records from Atlanta. And I need to talk to her. Maybe she can give us a name.” His heart pounded.
“He’s already tried to kill her once. He won’t stop until he succeeds.”
BAILEY WANTED TO KILL Dr. Zovall so bad he could taste his blood.
If the doctor knew the cops were on to him, he’d protect himself. He might come after Bailey’s mother to keep her quiet.
Smiling at his genius thoughts, he retrieved his cell phone and looked up Doc Zovall’s number. He punched it in but received the bastard’s voice mail.
Zovall had always told him to call him if he needed anything. The old man had not only pretended to be his friend, but had tried to play daddy.
Because he was his father?
“Hey, Doc,” he said. “It’s Bailey.” He hesitated, let his voice crack, aiming for drama. “Listen, Jenny told me some weird stuff this new doctor said. I’m on my way to see Mom now because I don’t believe it.”
He cut the call, leaving on that note, and hoping the doc would take the bait. Patting the knife he kept in his boot, he staggered toward a cab and waved it down. He’d see his mother himself. Ask her what happened.
Then he’d wait on the doc to show. And he’d make him pay for stealing his mother.
JENNY WAS COLD. Bone-deep shivering cold. Her head hurt. Her stomach roiled. And her limbs felt weighted down as she struggled to move them.
Where was she? And what had happened?
A frisson of fear danced through her head as memory slowly interceded. She’d gone home to change, but someone had assaulted her.
The fear expanded to full-blown panic. The stalker…he’d been waiting for her in the garage, had known she’d return to claim her car and he’d have her alone. Then he’d grabbed her.
And taken her where?
She tried to move again, but her hands were tied, her feet bound together at the ankles. The floor below her was cold and hard—a basement maybe? Was she in a house? Near the beach? In Savannah? Or had he driven her out of town, so far no one would find her?
No, the other girls had been found near Savannah. The photos of their dead bodies rose to haunt her. Would she be next?
No…she couldn’t die. Had too much to look forward to. Her mother might finally recover. And Raul…he’d said he’d return. He’d make love to her again. That was something to live for.
She sucked in a deep breath, trying desperately to calm her nerves. The air smelled stale, musty, the stench of dust and mold clogging her nostrils. She opened her eyes and searched the darkness, but wherever she was, was so black that she could see only shadows. A sob built in her throat, but she willed herself to control it. She had to stay calm. Figure out where she was. Stall so Raul could find her.
Raul…did he even know she was missing? How long had she been unconscious?
And who had her? Was he here now, watching her? Laughing at the fear in her labored breathing?
Was it one of her patients?
Chapter Fifteen
Raul’s gut suddenly started churning with that same sick feeling he’d had the day Mulstein had been let out on bail.
The day he’d lost his wife and child.
Jenny.
God.
He prayed his instincts were wrong. But there were too many variables. Too many suspects unaccounted for.
The doctor who’d hurt Jenny’s mother hadn’t been found. Neither had her volatile brother. And then there was the list of patients at CIRP and Atlanta.
He had to talk to Jenny.
Sweat beading on his upper lip, he phoned his home, pacing the captain’s office. One ring. Two. Three. Four. No answer.
She might not answer your phone, idiot.
Right. He tried her cell phone, and let it ring and ring until her voice mail picked up. “Jenny, it’s Raul. Call me now. I need to know you’re okay.”
Capta
in Black strode in seconds later. “Fox is tracking down Dr. Madden’s practice in Atlanta.”
Raul nodded, his pulse racing with nervous energy. “Jenny didn’t answer the phone. I’m going to check my house, see if she’s there.”
Black nodded. “I’ll let you know what we find out from Atlanta.”
“And I want to know as soon as you track down Jenny’s brother.”
“Of course. Take the warrant and get those files on Dr. Madden’s patients.”
Raul stuffed the warrant inside his jacket pocket, then hurried out of the precinct to his car. The sun was trying to bleed through the ominous gray clouds but failing miserably. He maneuvered the streets easily, the morning traffic not in full swing yet, and made it to his place in just under ten minutes. Throwing the car into Park, he hit the ground running.
Surely he’d find Jenny still in bed, sleeping peacefully. He was just being paranoid. Fate wouldn’t be so cruel as to let this killer find her, not in his own damn house.
But what if he’d been watching them?
The door was locked. A good sign. And he didn’t see any indication it had been tampered with. Taking a deep breath, he shoved open the door, shouting Jenny’s name as he dashed to the bedroom.
The breath lodged in his throat. The bed was empty.
Dammit.
Praying she was in the shower, he shoved open the bathroom door but saw nothing, except the towels where they’d bathed the night before. Memories of loving her crashed back. He wanted to hold her again. Feel her beneath him crying his name in pleasure.
Panic threatened, but he assured himself she’d probably gone to the hospital. She’d been worried about her mother. He called the hospital, but her secretary said she hadn’t shown yet.
He leaned against the door, forcing himself to think like a cop not a man who might have just lost someone very important to him. What would Jenny do first?
Go home to shower and dress.
But she’d need a ride. Why hadn’t she called him?
Because she was independent. Had taken care of herself for so long she didn’t lean on anyone. And even though he’d made love to her, had promised her protection, he’d never spoken about a long-term relationship.
Because he’d been scared senseless.
He was even more terrified now. Terrified he’d lose her. Terrified that he’d made a huge mistake by protecting himself instead of allowing himself to love her.
Guilt mingled with cold fear, and he raced back to the bedroom, glanced at the nightstand, then the kitchen and spotted a note. Exhaling in relief, he picked it up and read it:
Raul, I have to see Mom. Took a cab home. Will call you later. Thank you for last night.
Jenny.
Crushing the note in one hand, he raced back to his car and sped toward her house. The first rays of sun splintered through the clouds, yet thunder rumbled in the distance, and a few lone cars had ventured out. He bypassed them, sailed over the bridge and maneuvered the streets in Savannah until he reached her house. Again he threw the car into Park and hurried up the steps. The door was locked, and he knocked, punching the doorbell repeatedly.
No answer.
His heart began to race again, the reprieve from her note evaporating as he noticed that the detached garage door was open. Pulling his gun from his holster, he inched toward the door, trained and ready to shoot should there be trouble. His heart stopped when he spotted Jenny’s purse on the garage floor beside her car door. Her keys lay near the back tire, the contents of her purse scattered across the concrete, droplets of blood splattered against the pale paint of her car.
His legs nearly buckled as the truth hit him.
Jenny had been abducted.
BAILEY SLIPPED into the hospital, easing his way along the corridors until he found the stairs. This early, the staff seemed lean, the place quiet. He’d seen a security guard on the way inside, but he’d waited until the guard turned the other way, then ducked past him.
He crept along the hall, slipping into the bathroom when another nurse came around the bend, then waited until she’d crossed to the nurses’ station down the hall to dash into his mother’s room.
He hesitated when he saw his mother lying in the bed, her graying hair stark against the pristine white sheets. She was sleeping, looking peaceful, and his heart throbbed with broken memories.
Had he misjudged her all those years ago? Was she being raped, crying for help, and he’d misinterpreted the situation?
Tears leaked down his eyes and dripped off his chin. He’d hated her most of his life. Hadn’t visited her the last year at all.
Hurt and anger and grief for losing his family bombarded him, and he dropped down into the chair, lay his head on the bed beside her hand and began to sob.
That hatred toward her had spilled over into his entire life, had ruined everything he’d touched. And he’d been wrong…
Now that same hatred burned like acid in his gut, except it was aimed at that bastard doctor.
How could his mother forgive him for what he’d done?
And how could she love him if he was that monster’s son?
Suddenly he felt her fingers slide over his head, felt her ruffling his hair as she had done when he was a small boy. He lifted his head slightly and looked up into her eyes. They looked clearer now than they had the last time he’d seen her. And held a softness that broke his heart.
“Bailey…it’s going to be okay, son,” she whispered.
He nodded, then squeezed her hand. It would now, because he would make it right.
She smiled and he huddled closer, taking solace as she stroked his hair. They sat there for a long time, her soothing him, him whispering that he was sorry, that he would make up for the past.
“I love you, Bailey. I always have.”
“I love you, too, Mom.” Emotions hung in his throat, along with the question he didn’t want to ask. Was he her rapist’s son? How could she love him then?
In the hall the rattle of shoes and carts broke the silence. Wiping the tears from his face, he pushed to his feet and went into the bathroom to wash his face.
“Don’t go, Bailey,” she said softly. “Stay and talk.”
“I’m not leaving, Mama,” he said. “I just want to clean up.”
She nodded, and he stepped inside and turned on the water, disgusted with himself. He looked terrible, bleary-eyed from too much booze and lack of sleep. And he smelled like scotch and sweat.
His mother deserved better. He’d go back to the hotel, shower. Find a way to get his life back. Atone to his mother and Jenny for all the trouble he’d caused.
Behind him in the hospital room, the door to the hallway screeched open. One of the nurses most likely. But he peeked through the edge of the door and gripped the sink edge as Dr. Zovall walked into the room.
Dressed in surgical garb, he might not have identified him, but Bailey knew the man well and recognized his gait. The cocky son of a bitch.
His mother made a whimpering sound, and Bailey saw the doctor raise a needle in one hand. Zovall had drugged his mother and taken advantage of her in her incapacitated state.
Today it would stop.
Reaching inside his boot, he retrieved his knife. Holding his breath, he waited until the doctor had neared his mother’s bed, then he sprang from the bathroom and grabbed him around the neck. With a growl of pure rage, he thrust the blade to the man’s throat.
He started to slice into Zovall’s skin and drain the life from him, then his mother screamed.
RAUL’S PULSE RACED. As soon as he obtained that list of Jenny’s patients, he’d call in officers to track them down. If one of them had Jenny, he’d use every available source to find him and save her.
Images of what the man might be doing to her tormented him as he arrived at the hospital, but his cell phone rang, and he stamped them down. “Detective Cortez.”
“Cortez, this is Black. The head of security just called from CIRP and said Dr. Zovall s
howed up in Mrs. Madden’s room, and Jenny’s brother was there. He tried to kill the doctor but the mother screamed and the guard intervened.”
“I’m at the hospital now. I’ll talk to the brother.”
He hung up and raced up the steps, his pulse clamoring. He didn’t want to think that Bailey would hurt his own sister but who knew how disturbed the young man really was?
Raul would extract the truth from him if he had to beat it out of him.
A security guard met him in the hallway. “Dr. Zovall was stabbed but he’ll live. The doctors are stitching him up, then you can have him. Bailey Madden is in the main security office. We were holding him until you showed up.”
Raul hurried down the corridor, turned left, then found the office.
He heard Bailey shouting from behind the door. “He was going to kill my mother. He had it coming.”
“Just chill out and calm down, kid,” one of the guards ordered.
Raul couldn’t blame Bailey for his actions. He’d do the same thing if someone abused his mother. He pushed open the doors and saw Bailey handcuffed to a metal desk, a guard on each side.
Rage and fear flashed in the young man’s eyes when he spotted Raul. “I should have known they’d call you.”
“You listen to me, you punk, you’d better straighten up right now.” Raul gave him a cold look. “Your sister is missing and I need to know if you’ve seen her.”
Bailey’s face went stark white. “What do you mean, she’s missing?”
“I went to her house, and found her purse contents scattered on the floor beside her car. She wasn’t inside, hasn’t shown up at work, hasn’t contacted her service.” He shoved his face in Bailey’s. “Last night someone broke into her house and tried to strangle her.”
“No…God…no…” Bailey tried to jump up but the handcuff jerked him back down, and he cursed.
“Bailey, you were upset with your sister yesterday,” Raul said. “She told you about Zovall and you went ballistic, didn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you?” Pure hatred glittered in the boy’s eyes, but there was pain, as well.
Raul’s heart clenched, but he had to have answers. “Did you try to hurt her last night?”