Morgan sighed.
“Honestly, I don't know. I know that she loves her teaching job, but with the way she's been talking, I don't know if she'll ever be able to go back.”
“She'd be a sitting duck there too,” Howard pondered out loud. “Walker's bound to know that she teaches at West. I know they have some great security people and administrators over there but still...”
Howard trailed off when three hospital staff entered the room.
“We have a new room ready for her,” one of them announced.
“Great,” Howard told them. “Let's get her settled, and I'd like to talk to you about security for her.”
He turned toward Morgan.
“When I get done with them, I'll do some more investigating. I'm going to have the hospital pull the video footage from earlier and see if Walker didn't deliver it himself. If I can get a picture, I can do a lot more. I'm also going to check out that restaurant and club they went to on New Year's Eve. See if I can't dig up anything else.”
Before Howard could do anything else, Morgan grabbed his shoulder and looked him dead in the eye.
“I wanted to tell you how thankful I am to have you working this case. I know you've been working hard to find my daughter's attacker.”
The man looked as sincere as hell. Howard was touched.
“We'll find him,” Howard promised. “We'll make this right.”
8:02 PM
Freya woke up in a cold sweat, jerking straight up from the hospital bed, her back tightening in pain. She blinked and the jarring sensation in her back subsided. She was in a hospital room, a different one than before. She was not back at her apartment. James was not there. He wasn't cutting into her with that awful knife.
A dream. It had only been a dream.
Only it hadn't been a dream. It was more of a flashback than anything else, and she had a feeling they were going to keep coming, especially after she had received that black rose. It had forced her to realize that the ordeal was not over like she thought it was. It would keep going for God only knew how long. The only thing that was keeping her from freaking out too much was the Charlotte police officer who was posted at her door at all times. That was a start.
Looking up, she saw her father rise from a chair in the corner and rush over to her, concern showing in his face.
“Hey, sweetheart. Is everything all right?” He asked.
She could hear the stress in his voice. At least he had changed from his suit into a pair of slacks and a button-down shirt. Her father never truly went “casual” in public.
“Yeah,” Freya breathed. “Just bad dreams.”
The look of concern grew in his face.
“What can I do for you?”
Freya hesitated for a moment. She felt achy and disgusting. Her heart was still pounding from her nightmare. She'd do anything if she could just take a shower. When she had first come to the hospital and had been awake, a nurse had cleaned her by a sponge bath. It was...not the most pleasant experience, and she still felt gross. All she wanted to do was wash away all the grime, wash away the attack.
“Could you see if they'd let me take a shower?” She asked hesitantly.
For a moment, her father had an odd expression on his face. Then, a slight smile crept through.
“Sweetheart, I would slay dragons if you wanted me to,” he told her and chuckled.
It was the first time she'd seen him smile since everything had happened. Unfortunately, she couldn't quite return it.
“Let me see what I can do,” he told her.
Forty-five minutes later, after taking care not to pull the stitches, Freya was clean and felt like a new woman. It had been the first time since she had gotten to the hospital that she had stood, even if it was with help from a nurse. Yeah, she was still weak and hurt all over, but she had been proud of her effort. She hoped that they'd allow her to get up more often; using a catheter or a bedpan was annoying.
She had caught a glance at her back in the bathroom mirror of her ensuite bathroom. She had forced herself not to stare but couldn't help it. The scars were something that she would have to live with.
Forever.
Somehow, she knew, regardless of how great her father was being, no matter if James got caught, her life would never be the same.
Chapter 3
Friday, January 11
10:30 AM
Howard bounded into Freya Morgan's hospital room. He was pumped because he had finally found something more to go on the Walker case. The restaurant and the club hadn't panned out as he had hoped. No one could remember Freya and Walker. And the video footage he had gotten from each were awful quality—nothing really to go on.
The video from the hospital was just as inconclusive. Whoever delivered the flowers at the hospital had always had his back to the cameras. The figure looked like a male though. Maybe about the height of Walker, but no one down at the front desk of Charlotte's Medical Center could give him anything.
However, something had panned out that he was at least somewhat excited about. When he had first heard that Walker had been driving around in a black, high-end luxury car, he had searched all over the DMV for a possible match. Yeah, there were a lot of cars like that in the county and in the state, but none of their owners seemed to match Walker.
One of the cars on the search had been listed as stolen in Charlotte with a report filed. He had notified CMPD to look out for it, and lo and behold, an officer driving down 485 had found it parked off the side of the highway. A forensic team had towed it in and went over it with the proverbial fine-toothed comb. What they had found had been astonishing.
“Good morning,” Howard said as he stepped into the room. “How are we...”
He trailed off when he saw Freya Morgan, sitting up in bed. She looked like a different person. Her hair was cleaned and combed, the glossy brown waves cascading down her shoulders.
Princess hair, he thought.
Her face and body seemed brighter somehow, despite the changing colors of her bruises. She looked alert and content. Howard couldn't believe what a fighter she was.
“Hi,” she said shyly, suddenly looking down at the sheets on the bed.
Ah, he had caught her at a good moment. Now she would pull herself back into that shell of hers. He had seen it several times since visiting.
“You're looking better,” he told her.
It was a sincere statement; she really did look better.
“I trust you're feeling better as well?”
“A little,” she mumbled.
Stepping a little further toward her bed, he asked, “Is your dad here too? I'd like to talk to you both. I have some new information.”
She pointed to the bathroom door. A moment later, Joe Morgan came out, looking about as well as a father who was dealing with his daughter's rape could. He was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a polo shirt. The man seemed to be getting more and more casual the longer his daughter stayed in the hospital.
“Detective Greene,” Morgan said, offering his hand.
“Mr. Morgan,” Howard said, greeting Morgan's hand in a firm shake.
“What brings you here today?” Morgan asked. “I know we have some good news. The hospital is thinking about discharging Freya sometime today.”
“That is good news,” Howard replied.
He was honestly very happy that Freya was well enough to leave the hospital. “I'm assuming that she will be going somewhere safe?”
“I have a buddy who owns a private jet. He's been gracious enough to send it to Charlotte so that I can take Freya to my New York place without issue. She'll be staying with me for the foreseeable future.”
“Well, please make sure you forward me your number, so we can keep in touch. I think I have found something that might make this case move a little bit more.”
Both Freya and her father's expressions seemed to brighten a little.
“Oh? And what is that?”
“We found the car Walker had been driving ar
ound in. It was stolen,” Howard said.
He pulled several photos from his bag. Walking over to Freya's bed, he asked, “Does this look like the car?”
Freya peered at the photos as he showed them to her one by one.
She nodded, saying quietly, “It looks like it.”
“Forensics checked the DNA and fingerprints inside the car. It looks like Walker wiped the car for fingerprints, but they did find some hair fragments that matched the same DNA from your apartment and the rape kit.”
Freya looked suddenly uncomfortable at the mention of the rape kit.
Great going, he told himself.
He knew that she was embarrassed when she had given him her statement. He honestly wanted to make her feel more comfortable, not ashamed or embarrassed.
“So, what does this all mean?” Joe Morgan asked.
“Well, first off, when we do get this creep, the trial is going to be smooth sailing,” Howard started. “But it also gives us some other information that we can use to our advantage.
“This guy is a tough cookie to find. None of the DNA or fingerprints that we've found have matched anything we have in our database. I even had an FBI buddy run it through nationally...nothing.”
“How in the world is this guy going to be found?” Morgan interrupted.
“Well, we now know some key things about him that will help us track him down,” Howard replied. “The first is that we know he has to rely on breaking the law to conceal his real identity. He probably uses fake IDs and fake Social Security numbers. He stole the car, so his real identity wouldn't be connected with the car purchase. CMPD and surrounding law enforcement can keep a close eye out for specific car thefts. One of them could be the guy's next ride.
“Second, he's very gifted technically. Luxury cars have all sorts of theft-protection devices, and he seemed to get around all of those, including permanently disabling the car's GPS. If that would have been running while he was using the car, we'd have an actual lead.
“Lastly, we know that he has the taste for the expensive: the nice car, nice restaurants, nice clothes. It gives us a much better profile on him. I can work with that information.”
When Howard had finished, he studied Morgan and his daughter carefully. It wasn't the most thrilling information, but at least it was a start. Morgan walked over to his daughter's bed and squeezed her arm.
“Whatever you can do to get that guy, we'll forever be in your debt,” Morgan told him.
Freya glanced away. She had barely made eye contact with Howard before, and it seemed like now would be no different.
“I'm just trying to get some justice,” he told the two solemnly.
11:01 AM
Freya stared out the window absently. Her father had left her room to talk to Detective Greene in private. She was glad. The detective had been super nice and understanding, but she got so embarrassed every time he looked at her with this look of pity. It was shameful to have to tell him everything that had happened in detail. She knew that it had been his job to know everything for the report, but she honestly would have preferred to leave some of it out. It was just too much.
She was also upset about her decision to resign her teaching position and go and stay with her father in New York. They had talked early that morning and had both decided it would be best if he kept an eye on her for a while, especially with James still on the loose. She hated the idea of leaving her students, but the thought of going back to school in the condition she was in, even if she waited a month or so, was too much.
Freya wasn't in any position physically, mentally, or emotionally to deal with the stresses and demands of teaching. Even though her body was slowly healing, she felt emotionally weak. If the nurses didn't wake her up every hour on the hour to bug her about her blood pressure, her stitches, and her bandages, Freya knew that she would sleep away the day if she could.
If only the sleep hadn't started turning into nightmares, she thought.
Sleep was supposed to be her escape from the reality that was now her life. Now even that had been violated. Her train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of a telephone.
Freya frowned and looked over at an ugly beige phone sitting on her nightstand. It had never rung before, so she had never noticed it. She watched as it continued to ring, wondering if she should pick it up.
She tried to ignore it for a while, but it continued to ring. Perhaps it was her father? Or someone from the hospital trying to get a hold of her? Finally, she reached over and picked it up, if nothing more than to make the thing stop ringing.
At first, there was nothing on the line except silence.
“Hello?” Freya answered meekly.
When there was nothing, she started putting the receiver back in the cradle. Then, there was a voice that made her go limp with fear.
“You left me, you little slut. Don't think that I won't find you.”
It was the voice that had haunted her nightmares.
James.
Freya screamed and slammed the phone down in the cradle. She felt like all the blood was draining from her body. She couldn't move, couldn't think. How could he have known where she was? How could he have known?
When the police officer that was posted outside her door came running in, she was too frightened to speak. All she could do was rock back in forth in her bed, trying to cope, trying to process what had just happened. When her father and the detective came rushing in, she could barely see them through her tears.
“What happened?” Seemed to the question that was coming from everyone at once.
She was having problems speaking. She tried, but all that came out was a high-pitched keening sound. More people were coming into the room now. Hospital staff. Doctors. Nurses.
“Freya, tell us what is wrong!” Her father demanded.
“Phone,” she finally cried, pointing to the receiver. “He. Called.”
The room erupted into chaos. There was yelling and shouting and people running around. Freya couldn't process much through the gripping fear that had overcome her body.
She thought she heard her father yelling, “Is this what you call security?” to one of the staff members and, “I want her discharged NOW!” to one of the doctors.
It was all too much for Freya. She shut her eyes, covered her head with her arms and waited for everything to die down.
11:03 PM
Howard tapped the edge of his desk back at the station with his index finger. He was still reeling from the results of the day. He knew that Walker was ballsy, but he hadn't realized exactly how audacious. The phone call hadn't been long enough to get a confirmation on where it had originated. It had succeeded in scaring Freya half to death, though.
Her father had pretty much all but demanded that she be discharged from the hospital, which the hospital administration had been happy to comply with. They had already overseen two major security issues. They most likely did not want trouble or a lawsuit.
What Howard wanted to know was how Walker was able to gain sensitive information about what room Freya was moved to after it was clearly stated to Charlotte's Medical Center that that information was not to be given out under any circumstances. Maybe Walker was a lot more technical than Howard had thought.
Howard sighed and looked at his watch. It was getting late, but he felt no need to go home right now. He was too wired, and he was pissed that Walker was getting the best of everyone. This guy wasn't just some whack-job. He was smart, and he was staying two steps ahead of everyone else. The only person who had so far messed up his plans was Freya's father when he unexpectedly came into her apartment.
Howard continued to tap his fingers on his desk.
Damn it, why couldn't he come up with anything to hang this guy out to dry?
Suddenly, Howard's cellphone lit up and began to ring.
He snatched it, and answered, “Hello?”
“Detective,” came the familiar voice from the other end.
It was Joe Morgan
, and Howard had been expecting this call all day.
“Mr. Morgan,” Howard greeted.
He had been relieved to get the call after everything that had happened today. Morgan had told him just before he and Freya left the hospital that he was taking her away on his friend's gulf stream jet. He said he'd call when they got to LaGuardia.
“Please, call me Joe. I think we've been through enough to warrant that.”
“Then in that case, call me Howard.”
“Sure. Now I just wanted to let you know that we got to New York safely, and Freya is resting comfortably at my condo. Well, as comfortably as she can, given the circumstances. I'm having her things packed up from her apartment and canceling her lease. We just wanted to thank you for your help and hope that you'll keep us posted with any new information.”
“Absolutely. Thank you for giving me a call.”
“Sure thing.”
Then, the call ended.
Howard sighed.
He had a bad feeling about the whole case. Someone cleared their throat from behind him. Spinning around in his desk chair, Howard ended up face to face with his superior, Chief Andrew Johnson. It was rare to see the Chief at the station. That made Howard sit up a little straighter.
Chief Johnson was a hard-ass, a fair hard-ass, but still a hard-ass. He had spent the last forty years of his life in law enforcement and was respected throughout the city of Charlotte as well as on the force. The years had seemingly crept onto Johnson's face. He was older with various wrinkles lining his face and shots of gray hair through his otherwise brown hair.
“I see you're busy gabbing on the phone,” Johnson said. “How about you actually do some work on the Morgan case? You know the media is still running this story non-stop, and I have nothing to give them.”
Howard was quite aware. The story had been running for days now. Luckily because of the nature of the attack, CMPD had not released any names involved. That would at least save Freya some embarrassment. She had already suffered enough.
“Chief, sir, I'm working non-stop on this case, but the perp is like a ghost. It's a game of cat and mouse, except we're the mouse. I've sent you all of the information.”
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