Don't Slay the Dragon (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 1)

by Rachel Lucas

  “Come on, Lisbeth, is it really you?” I hesitated for a moment and watched for any sign of change in her eyes or expression. None. There wasn’t even so much of a shadow that crossed her features. “How do I know I’m not sitting here talking to Sophie, or one of the others?” I was hoping that just the accusation might stir things up with her, might bring out another family member. I didn’t usually push my luck, but I had to know.

  Her smile was calm, almost peaceful. She gave my hand another squeeze.

  “They’re gone, Caitlyn. I don’t hear them anymore. I don’t feel them anymore.”

  I hated to take the risk, but I really had to erase every doubt. Maybe if I brought up a bad memory or mentioned Myst it might push her enough to get one of the others here.

  “Are you feeling well enough to talk about your case?”

  “Oh, yes!” Her face brightened and she seemed relieved to change the subject. I decided to dive right in.

  “Well, I don’t know how much you know or remember about the things we talked about during my last visits,” a look of concentration came over her, as though she was struggling to pull out memories. “I’ve been working with the detectives on the case. We’ve found a lot of interesting things. There are a few clues at the trailer that made us think your mother might have staged some of what happened.”

  I let that sit with her for a moment. She didn’t seem upset or concerned, only confused.

  “What are you saying, Caitlyn?” There was a bewildered innocence in her eyes. “She might have staged something? Are you saying Barbara might have set the whole thing up?” Her body tensed, as if rejecting the thought.

  “It’s too soon to say,” I didn’t want to get her hopes up until the forensic tests were back and I had solid proof. “We’re still waiting for the tests to come back. But I’ll definitely let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

  “There’s no way she could have done that,” her denial was obvious. She was silent for a moment and I could see her trying to process my words. The different pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together for her.

  “The planning that would have to go into it.” I could see the thoughts churning through her head. I was still waiting for her eyes or her voice to change, for Jade or even Myst to appear. Her face didn’t change, except to show a heavy sadness. “Why would she do that? What motive would she have?”

  “I really don’t know.” I answered. I had been as frustrated over that question myself. “That’s why we’re still looking.”

  “Have you found anything else?” She pleaded.

  I hesitated to tell her more, to tell her about the painkillers, the internet searches, the messages behind the hidden dragon picture her mother had painted. I had to try one last thing, though. I had to really see if I could get a reaction.

  “We did find something in your old bedroom.” I held my breath for any reaction to this. This was what lit the fuse last time. Maybe it was the only way to know for sure who was left in there. “Underneath the wallpaper we found a mural painted across the entire wall.” There was genuine surprise in her eyes this time. I looked for more of a reaction but didn’t get one. I pushed further. “It was a large picture of a giant, evil-looking black dragon. It looked as though it was attacking a woman. There was fire everywhere.” Her eyes widened a bit. “The woman looked a lot like your mom. She was protecting a little girl. The little girl looked a lot like you.”

  I let that hang for a minute. I was expecting some kind of recognition in her eyes, some kind of knowledge that she knew about the picture and had seen it before, that someone in there, Myst mainly, knew about the picture.

  “That’s bizarre,” she seemed truly perplexed. “Barbara must have painted it after I moved out. I mean, we both knew how much she loved dragons, but to fill up a whole wall of my old bedroom? Why would she do that?”

  She was very convincing. I was almost willing to believe there was a chance that that new drug was working. Almost. I had to try one last thing.

  “Well, according to Myst, your mom didn’t paint it, Myst did.” I was sure I had opened Pandora’s Box up wide now. I was sure something bad was going to come out of it. I tensed and held my breath, waiting for that creature to appear.

  “Myst? Who’s Myst?” She asked with a puzzled expression. Nothing. No reaction at all but some mild confusion. Could it be? There was no way any of the family members could have this kind of control. And certainly Lisbeth had never been able to hold it together this long before.

  “I hate to break up this nice visit, but time is up. We really do need to let Elizabeth get her rest.” It was Dr. Ross himself that opened the door. I had a feeling he had come to gloat.

  Lisbeth seemed to snap out of her confusion and rise to her feet at the same time I did. She smiled as if to tell me how much she was going to miss me. As she gave me a hug goodbye, I couldn’t stop myself from drawing closer and whispering in her ear.

  “Is that really you, Lisbeth?” I challenged a final time. “Sophie’s not the one really here?”

  She pulled away as if to make sure Dr. Ross heard her answer.

  “They’re all gone Caitlyn. I promise.” She walked with me to the door and we passed by Dr. Ross with his smug smile. “Make sure you let me know if you find out anything else about my case.”

  “I will.” I promised as we parted and began walking our separate ways.

  “You know, Dr. Ross says that if the charges are dropped and the medicine continues to work I might be able to get released. What I wouldn’t do to breathe fresh air again.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Checking my hair in the mirror one more time, I glanced out the window to the parking lot below my second story apartment. I had to admit, I was just a bit nervous. Logan was on his way over and should be arriving at any time. He’d called me yesterday, apologizing for having been so busy lately and telling me he wanted to make it up to me by taking me out on a real “date”.

  We’d never really defined our relationship, or if there even was one or had the potential to be one. Maybe this would be the opportunity to change that.

  It was a rare, unseasonably warm day for January, and it was nice to be able to wear just a sweater and light jacket instead of having to be bundled up to my eyebrows. I had on my favorite camel colored sweater, a coffee colored jacket and matching boots with a small heel and jeans.

  As I watched his Charger pull into the parking lot, my stomach started filling with butterflies. Right on time, I should have expected that from him. Even though I was expecting him, I still jumped when I heard his knock on the door. I really had to get these nerves under control before he noticed and I looked like a fool.

  “Hi,” I greeted as I opened the door, trying to sound more casual than I felt. He greeted me with his usual smile. He was handsome in his casual burgundy dress shirt, jeans and black leather jacket. His eyes seemed to light up at the sight of me. I felt like a teenager on her first date.

  He walked me out to his car and opened the door for me as I got in. There was always something impressive about a man that had manners. I didn’t mind admitting I liked being treated like a lady. He walked around and got into the driver’s side and started the engine but seemed reluctant to put the car into gear. Noticing his hesitation I couldn’t help asking.

  “Is everything okay?” A slight fear started to grip me. Was he having second thoughts? Was he regretting asking me out? Were we breaking some kind of unwritten code in the law enforcement rule book?

  He gave a heavy sigh and seemed to lean a bit deeper into his seat. He was silent for a moment and seemed to be weighing what he wanted to say next. I tried to keep my stomach from clenching in expectation of bad news.

  “Well, I promised myself this would just be a normal ‘date”,” I could sense his frustration. He glanced out the car window at the growing darkness rather than looking straight at me. “I really wanted to have a nice evening. I wanted to just have a great dinner, maybe a movie
and just talk, about normal things. Our families, jobs, your school. Normal things.” He seemed a bit embarrassed by his confession. I understood. After some of the things we’ve both been though, it was hard to put your feelings out there when you were still just getting to know the other person. I was secretly glad he was feeling comfortable enough with me to admit that he wanted there to be more between us than just this case.

  He reached behind me into the back seat then handed me a blank file folder with several papers inside.

  “This came in from county forensics just as I was leaving the department tonight.”

  I stared at the unopened folder for a moment, not certain if I wanted to open it or not. I had to admit, I had really been looking forward to spending some time together too, time to get to know each other, time to test what we had building here without the intrusion of the case. The folder in my hands seemed to be a cold reminder of what had initially brought us together. A murder investigation. Suddenly, the light jacket and the heat from the car didn’t seem to be enough to keep me warm.

  On the other hand, what was in this folder could prove to be very significant to Lisbeth’s case. It could be evidence to prove her either innocent or guilty. Almost as though acting on their own, my hands opened the folder. The first paper on top was the toxicology report. It wasn’t the easiest report to read.

  “Extremely high levels of Oxycontin and Dilaudid. Higher than normal levels of Duloxetine, Pregabalin and Milnacipran,” Logan interpreted for me. “It was a good thing the lab preserved additional samples from the original autopsy. And it’s no wonder they weren’t found before. Drugs such as these won’t show up in a routine toxicology screen, you have to look for them specifically.” That made sense. “The vials with no labels on them, they turned out to be morphine. There was even an injection sight found between her toes. She had the highest dose of that in her system that night. It could have been a fatal dose if she hadn’t already built up a tolerance to the different drugs. The medical examiner didn’t think it was very significant until we found the syringes that night.”

  “How high of levels are we talking about?” I asked.

  “Trust me, she wasn’t feeling much that night she died. On the next report,” I turned to the second page, “you’ll see they even found traces of most of those drugs in her hair samples. She had been using high doses of heavy pain killers for some time. We were able to contact several of the doctors who wrote the prescriptions that we found that night.”

  He pointed to the next page and I saw statements by several doctors.

  “The doctors that prescribed the Duloxetine, Pregabalin and Milnacipran thought they were treating her for fibromyalgia, where you have long-term body-wide pain,” I was familiar with the diagnosis and it made sense. Fibromyalgia could be a difficult illness to diagnose and treating the pain associated with it could be challenging. “The doctors that were prescribing the other painkillers thought they were treating a serious back injury from a car accident she had several years ago. None of the doctors knew about the others. When they were shown the other medications, most of them questioned if Barbara really had any of these symptoms at all. There was a good chance she was doctor shopping.”

  I was familiar with the term, where someone will go to numerous doctors to get multiple prescriptions, usually a sign of addiction. Law enforcement officials were trying to crack down on this by having pharmacies track how often a prescription is filled by an individual. I remembered seeing not only numerous doctors but every pharmacy I could name on those bottles. It was no wonder it was hard to track them. I was amazed again at the lengths she would go through if this was indeed part of some plan.

  “Do you think she was an addict?” I questioned, unsure how anyone could even function with this many chemicals pumping through her body.

  “It’s hard to say if she was addicted or if she had been planning this for a long time. Or maybe both. Back at the beginning of the investigation, I interviewed the owner of the bookstore where she used to work. He told me that he was considering letting Barbara go a few months before her death because she kept calling in sick. He said he hated to see her go after so many years but he just couldn’t rely on her any more to work her usual shift and they needed someone more dependable.”

  It sounded as though there were signs of her deterioration a while before her death. There could have been signs of mental deterioration too. If I had lived here at the time, if I had moved back here sooner, would I have noticed them? Regret ate away at me, but how could I have known? How could I have foreseen her deterioration or her death? Perhaps if I had tried harder to stay in contact with her and Lisbeth. Could any of this have been prevented?

  “So, the high doses of painkillers are suspicious. Do you know for sure she administered it all herself? Could someone else have dosed her or injected her?” It was a long shot, but I had to make sure all the bases were covered.

  Logan grinned at my thoroughness and pointed to another page.

  “Are you sure you’re not studying to go into criminal justice?” He teased then pointed down to the page in question. “We dusted for fingerprints all around the area she hid the prescriptions and the syringes,” the next report showed the results. “The only fingerprints found belonged to Barbara. There was no evidence that anyone else even knew about her hiding place. Not even Elizabeth.”

  The evidence was stacking up against Barbara and for Lisbeth. It was helpful, but would it be enough to clear her of the charges? There had to be more.

  “What do you think, Logan? Just this might not be enough to prove her innocence.” I said doubtfully.

  “Wait, there’s more.” He said with a smile.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  “The dinner napkin, I’d almost forgotten it.” We sat at a table for two looking out over the twinkling lights of the city below, enjoying a wonderful Brazilian Grill. I had eaten enough to last me a week, no ladylike appetite with food like this. Logan seemed to be having a great time trying to keep up with me. We were nibbling on the grilled pineapple and fried bananas for dessert while I continued going over the reports.

  “When we had first looked over the crime scene, we hadn’t given the napkin much thought. It was slightly under her body, so we didn’t think it was very important.” I was looking at several pictures of the napkin, showing where it was found at the scene and then pictures of it from both sides. “The blood splatter on it didn’t make sense down at the lab. It wasn’t until I mentioned to them about your suspicions about what hand Elizabeth used that they looked at it from another angle.”

  The next picture showed a latex-gloved hand holding the napkin-covered knife. It was probably a CSI technician doing a demonstration. The napkin was folded to cover both the knife and most of the hand holding it. Then the next photo showed the napkin spread out flat. You could almost make out from the blood splatter where someone had used the napkin to hold the knife. Was it to preserve the fingerprints already on the knife? Lisbeth’s fingerprints?

  “They actually sent the napkin out to a state lab because they didn’t have the technology to find latent fingerprints on the napkin,” he explained. “The knife had very little cast off blood on it for being the murder weapon. The only fingerprints on the napkin belonged to Barbara. Between the blood splatter and the fingerprints, it’s easy to see how Barbara used the napkin perhaps to protect Elizabeth’s fingerprints on the knife and then use it to stab herself.”

  What an awful picture it was creating in my mind. How insane or desperate would you have to be to stab yourself thirteen times like that? And to make your only child the suspect in your own “murder”. It was almost more than I could take in.

  “What do you think, Logan?” I asked, trusting his judgment like few other people. “Do you really think Barbara planned all this and killed herself?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism out of my voice or the vivid pictures out of my mind from the evidence before me.

  “Well, I have to admit, it’s a
pretty elaborate way to commit suicide. She had access to enough drugs to make an overdose an easy out.” He pointed to the earlier toxicology reports.

  “I know. It was as though she wasn’t just trying to kill herself, it was as though she was deliberately framing Lisbeth for her death.” I glanced again at the papers spread over the table. “Why do you think she would do that? What motive could she possibly have to do such a heinous thing to her own daughter?” My head was starting to hurt just by trying to sort all this out.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t know her. You were one of the few people who did. Can you think of anything?”

  “They didn’t get along the best, I’ll admit, but I always thought that Barbara’s love for Lisbeth would outweigh anything else.” Something seemed to be nagging at me, some tiny clue at the back of my mind that I seemed to be missing. “There would have had to be weeks, maybe months of planning that went into this. Even all that medication. It almost seems like over-kill, using so many different prescriptions and for so long. Besides, Barbara had nothing to gain from her own death. Isn’t that what a motive is all about?”

  “In a normal situation, yes.” He agreed. “But I’m beginning to think there’s been nothing normal about this case from the moment I first started to investigate it.”

  “And what about the Black Dragon and Atrus Dracona? What was that all about?” I was trying to mentally scan over all the evidence we had discovered since the beginning of the investigation.

  “It’s hard to say. I’m not sure I really believe in demons and exorcisms and all that. It could be true, or Barbara could have just been deteriorating into the depths of insanity for years. With her gone and Elizabeth the way she is, we may never know the answers.” He shrugged.

  “I hate to say it, but I almost wish Dr. Ross hadn’t tried that new drug on Lisbeth yet.” I’d filled Logan in on my last visit with Lisbeth and what Dr. Ross had been trying to accomplish. “There still could have been more to discover from the family members.”