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

by Rachel Lucas

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Immediately following her announcement there was a loud buzz of reporters, all vying for her attention to ask questions, each jockeying to be the first. She held up a manicured hand, asking that they wait a moment before asking questions.

  She read a prepared statement, trying to maintain eye contact with the cameras as much as she could. She didn’t elaborate much, only to say that Elizabeth Marshall was still under observation by mental health authorities. She stressed that even though the charges were going to be dropped, Elizabeth’s mental competence was still being evaluated.

  She gave a small nod of acknowledgment to Logan and Detective Hammond for their fine investigative work and said that they were a credit to the community. Both of the men seemed uncomfortable with the media attention.

  She only allowed two questions from the reporters.

  The first was asking about what new evidence had been discovered. DA Castillo gave a vague reference to blood splatter forensics and fingerprints that made me wonder exactly how much she really knew and understood about this case before she made the quick decision to drop the charges. You could never tell with politicians if they were being deliberately vague or just bluffing to make themselves look knowledgeable.

  The second question was from a female reporter with the news station I was currently watching.

  “So, if Elizabeth Marshall didn’t kill her mother, who do you think did?” I had been waiting for that question, wondering how quickly one of the reporters would ask it. I braced myself for the DA’s answer, wondering how she was going to explain it.

  “That’s still under investigation. We’ll be releasing more information as we receive it.” With that, she left the podium, leaving no more opportunity for questions.

  I had a feeling that it wasn’t going to be a question with a quick answer. Dropping the charges was one thing, but selling the public on the idea that Barbara stabbed herself thirteen times. And for what reason? That might prove to be a hard sell.

  The news station went back to a handsome young anchor at the news desk. He went on to give a brief overview of what was covered in the press conference. He asked the same questions that the reporters had and elaborated on the fact that there may indeed still be a killer on the loose. He promised they would report more about the story as additional information was revealed.

  By the time they switched stories to the local weather, I was ready to leave for the day.

  I grabbed my purse and book bag and left the office as soon as I could after that. There was one thing that was uppermost on my mind.

  “May I speak with Dr. Martin Ross, please,” I sat in my car, wanting to make this call before I even left the parking lot.

  “Who may I say is calling?” His assistant, Theresa, asked on the other end.

  “Caitlyn Stewart.” I answered.

  Dr. Ross had been very exact in his directions before about when I could visit Lisbeth. I wanted to head directly for the freeway and go to the State Mental Hospital now and share this news with her personally, but I knew he wasn’t usually there in the evenings and he was very clear about me not coming when he was not there to observe our visit. Perhaps, given the news, he would make an exception.

  “I’m sorry,” Theresa answered, “Dr. Ross will be in meetings for the rest of the day. He left a message for you because he thought you might call of attempt a visit, given recent events.”

  She didn’t sound sorry at all.

  “He has asked me to tell you that he wishes for Elizabeth to not have any visitors today.” She had a firm, no-nonsense voice. I hoped I could make her see reason.

  “Could he make an exception, just his once? I’m sure you could reach him and ask him if I could just have a short visit with her.” I held my breath, hoping she would soften.

  “No.” She held firm.

  I decided to make another plea.

  “If her new medication is still working well, don’t you think it would be okay to visit her just this one time,” I wasn’t one to beg, but I really had to know if he had told Lisbeth about the news conference or not. This was what we had been working for all along. I had to share it with her in person. “It’s very important.”

  She sighed and I could tell she was willing to open up just a bit.

  “Dr. Ross is currently fielding calls from several reporters from the local TV stations,” she didn’t seem happy with the attention their office was suddenly getting. “They’re all asking about Ms. Marshall’s current condition and requesting interviews.”

  I sucked in my breath without realizing it. I hadn’t even thought of that. Putting Lisbeth in front of a dozen cameras, the news reporters acting like a pact of hungry wolves. There was no way she was ready for that, even if this medication was helping her. I hoped, with all that I had in me, that Dr. Ross would protect her from the media for now. It could be a disaster if he didn’t.

  I suspected he would probably love the media attention, that he would see it as a great opportunity to gain more recognition. I only hoped he kept Lisbeth out of the spotlight, that he really understood what an unknown factor she still was.

  What had he told her? Had he even told her that the charges had been dropped? Did she know that the news reporters were seeking her out?

  “Why don’t you try coming for a visit tomorrow,” she suggested, softening a bit. “I’ll see if he can find the time for it.”

  “Thank you,” I replied, grateful to at least have that.

  As the call disconnected and I drove the rest of the way to my apartment, I tried to take in all that had happened and the ramifications to Lisbeth’s future. It all seemed to be happening so fast. I felt very uneasy at how much everything seemed to be being rushed.

  All this time I had been working and pushing for this outcome, but now that it was here, I couldn’t help this nagging feeling that it was all a little too premature, that there were too many still unanswered questions.

  Once at my apartment, I was surprised to see Logan there already. He had changed out of his uniform and was back into his casual street clothes. He must have come straight here after the news conference. I hadn’t realized how stressful all this had been for both of us. Through it all, there was only one thing that I wanted. To be in his arms.

  He wrapped me in his embrace as though reading my mind and just held me. All the emotions of the day, all the feelings of elation at having the charges dropped yet hesitation that so much was still unknown, seemed to evaporate in his arms. I allowed myself to just feel peace for the moment, and gratitude for his presence.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  It felt comforting to have someone with me on this drive down south towards the Mental Hospital. The night before we had had a snow storm. It wasn’t a large one, just enough to paint everything a frosty white. It looked like a frozen wonderland, just unthawing and coming to life once again. The roads were clear and the temperature was rising. The skies were gray overhead and the winter sun struggled to shine through them over the eastern mountains.

  I looked over at Logan driving his car through the morning traffic with his usual confidence. It was amazing how quickly I was growing used to having him with me. He had freed up his schedule in order to make this trip down to Provo with me. He wanted to see Lisbeth under better circumstances than the last time he had seen her, the day he had taken her into custody,

  I think he also wanted to see for himself if her new medication had really worked for her the way Dr. Ross had claimed. I had to admit, I was nervous myself about how safe this was for him. In the event that the medication really wasn’t working, she could still be a very serious threat to him. Especially if she remembered him from her arrest. It had to have been a traumatic time for her, and it was common for a more violent member of the family to appear when a bad memory surfaced. I prayed I wasn’t walking him into a harmful, threatening situation.

  “I hope we’re not making a wasted trip,” I spoke my thoughts out loud as I watch
ed the thawing landscape rush by. I tried not to worry about what I was missing at school today. I was only into the first few classes of my Child and Adolescent Psychopathology class and I hated to miss it, but this was more important.

  “Do you think Dr. Ross will let us see her?” Logan asked while keeping his attention focused on the road.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “It concerns me that he hasn’t called me back yet.” I looked at my cell phone in my hand, as though willing it to ring.

  “He’s might be too busy handling all the calls from the news stations,” he tried to reassure me.

  “You’re probably right,” I agreed. The news conference had been covered yesterday on the four o’clock news, then reviewed again at 4:30, 5:00, 6:00 and finally again at 10:00p.m. It was probably the top story on the morning news too but I was too weary of it all to turn on the TV to find out. “I bet he’s enjoying every minute of this attention.”

  “You know, I have to wonder,” I looked at Logan, noticing a slight change to his expression, “DA Castillo made a few calls right before and right after the news conference. I wonder if by some chance she might have called him, to check on Elizabeth’s condition or to let him know she was about to make the announcement.”

  “Do you think so?” That had my attention. “Why would she do that?”

  “Professional courtesy. Maybe to prepare him in case the news media decides to descend on him at the hospital.”

  As he said the words, we pulled into the State Hospital parking lot and I began to see that he was right. It was filled with news vans from every TV station and several radio stations. Reporters were staged in front of cameras, all vying for the best camera angle with the Utah State Mental Hospital sign in the background. Bright lights were blaring, putting more focus on the talking reporters and trying to brighten the gray day. It was chaotic.

  Logan slowed as we entered the parking lot and I could see that he was trying to decide if maybe we shouldn’t leave before we drew any attention.

  “Maybe we should try reaching Dr. Ross again,” he suggested, glancing at my phone as he did a slow, tight circle and tried to exit the parking lot unnoticed. We didn’t quite make it to the street before a reporter saw him and must have recognized him from the news conference yesterday. Before we knew it, the reporter was sprinting across the parking lot and knocking urgently on the driver’s side window, drawing the attention of the other reporters.

  “Too late now,” Logan took a deep breath and found a parking space nearby, not wanting to run over the feet of the reporter stubbornly chasing the car and still knocking on the window. He sat there for just a moment, looking around to see if any of the other reporters had noticed us then turned to me with a resigned look on his face. “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We could still turn around and leave. We could try to come back another time.”

  I looked up to see another female reporter watching the reporter knocking on our window. She was becoming curious and motioning for her cameraman to follow her in our direction.

  “I have to see her, Logan,” I pleaded. “I have to make sure she knows that the charges have been dropped. I have to see if the medication is still working, or if it ever really worked at all.”

  Logan nodded and seemed to square his shoulders for what was ahead.

  “Are you Detective Sawyer?” The reporter was demanding before Logan even had a chance to cut the engine. “You are, aren’t you? I recognize you from the news conference yesterday,” he insisted excitedly. “Are you here to see Elizabeth Marshall? Can I get a statement from you?”

  Logan got out of the driver’s side, carefully maneuvered himself around the reporter, and came around to open the door for me. As I got out of the car, he pulled the collar of my jacket up as much as he could to cover my face then put a protective arm around me and started guiding me towards the hospital entrance.

  A few other reporters started noticing the attention we were getting and sensing a juicy story started heading in our direction. Logan tried to politely side-step the reporters but we hadn’t made it more than several yards before we had numerous microphones in our face. There were camera bulbs flashing, almost blinding me as I leaned towards Logan and away from the bright lights.

  “Detective Sawyer, can we get a statement?”

  “Can you tell us why you’re here?”

  “Does Elizabeth Marshall know that the charges have been dropped?”

  “Who is that with you?”

  “Does she have a connection to Elizabeth Marshall?”

  Logan carefully winded his way through the crowd, never dropping his protective arm from around me, showing a remarkable patience with the members of the media. They crowded around us like paparazzi stalking reclusive celebrities. Having Logan here with me was both a blessing and a curse. I might have been able to get into the hospital without drawing too much attention. After all, I was just an unknown visitor. I could have been visiting any of the patients inside. But it was comforting to have his arm around me and his strength at my side.

  “No comment,” was all he said, then when pressed again, “no comment at this time.”

  I thought we would never reach the front entrance. There were security guards outside the door this time, something I hadn’t seen before. The hospital administration must have increased the security due to the extensive media attention. Logan’s police badge got us past the guards and thankfully beyond the reach of the reporters.

  “Thank you for coming with me today,” I told him as soon as we passed the first security check. He grudgingly left his weapon behind, locked up with the security staff for now. I knew it was hard for him not to have it within reach, but he understood the wisdom of it. “I don’t know how I would have gotten though that media circus outside without you.”

  He gave me a small smile, as if embarrassed by my gratitude.

  “I don’t know,” he put his arm back around me as I showed him which direction to go to get to Ward D, “I think you’re one of the bravest, strongest women I know.” He looked around at the dreary, aesthetic surroundings. “After all, you have what it takes to keep coming back here.”

  I hadn’t thought of it that way. Me, strong? Brave? That wasn’t how I usually saw myself. I looked around us at our surroundings through his eyes. I guess it wasn’t exactly the kind of place someone comes willingly, unless you have a specific purpose. Yet I did still keep coming back here, time after time, drawn as much by my need to see and help Lisbeth as I was with the puzzle of who she was and whether or not she could really live a normal, productive life. I didn’t think of all my work to help Lisbeth as anything out of the ordinary or courageous. I was just what you did for a friend who needed you.

  As we approached the final security check before Ward D, we were stopped.

  “Ms. Stewart. Dr. Ross is expecting you. He thought you might be visiting today.” The voice was Theresa, the same administrative assistant I had spoken to the night before. I had met her briefly during some of my prior visits. “And I see you’ve brought a guest. Let me show you to his office. He will be joining you shortly.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  “You did WHAT?” I rose to my feet without hardly realizing it, my voice rising as I braced both hands flat on Dr. Ross’ desk and stared down at him in surprise. He seemed taken aback by my response. I’d never really shown a temper with him before. Well, he’d never pushed me this far either. He cleared his voice uncomfortably before repeating himself.

  “I’ve had Elizabeth transferred to a transitional facility,” he seemed to be struggling to put strength in his voice.

  “Why in the world would you do that?” I demanded, not backing down, worry and dread fighting within me. Was I hearing him right?

  He stiffened his back and tried to defend himself.

  “It was the best solution for her safety,” he argued.

  “She was perfectly safe here. How many different security checks do you think I have to go through every
time I come to visit her?” I straightened away from his desk but still stood, staring down at him. “You seem to have a very competent staff here, all of whom are aware of her and what she is capable of. This is where she needs to be. This is the safest place for her and those around her.”

  “Having all the media here isn’t good for her or for all the other patients we have here. It can be very disruptive to their treatment.” My anger might have caught him off guard for a moment but he was settling back into his authoritative physician’s role again and pressing his agenda.

  “This facility is so big and so insulated I doubt any of the patients even realize the media is here,” I scoffed at what I thought was his lame excuse. “What kind of a transitional facility have you transferred her to?”

  “What kind of security do they have there?” It was the first time Logan had spoken since I had made the introductions. Until that moment, he seemed content to let me direct the conversation with the psychiatrist. It was only because Logan was one of the lead detectives on Lisbeth’s case that Dr. Ross had even allowed him into our “meeting”.

  Logan had seemed to read my mind with the direction of his question. As I glanced over at him, I realized that he knew first hand just how dangerous Lisbeth could be and that security would be his foremost concern. He had arrested her after all. He had seen her come apart. As a police officer, and as someone witnessing her violence, he would understand exactly what was at risk here.

  Then I noticed that Dr. Ross hadn’t answered us immediately. My attention swung back to him.

  “They have low to medium security there,” he seemed to answer reluctantly.

  I had my hands planted on his desk again and was looking him straight in his dark, nervous eyes. He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be struggling to keep any eye contact with me.