Bad Medicine

by Caroline Fardig

  He sets his jaw and growls, “I’m in. This bitch is going down, tonight.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Hold on, now. Maybe you should sit this one out.”

  Brody furrows his brow at me. “You came over here to nag me into helping Blake, and now you’re changing your mind?”

  Cringing, I blurt out, “It’s the photo.”

  “What about it? I’m pissed that she took it.”

  “She didn’t do it to make you angry. I think she keeps trophies of her kills. She steals framed photos of her marks.”

  “How do you know that?” he asks, his eyes widening.

  I’m not even close to being ready to confess about my B and E at Brad’s apartment, so I change course. “Look, I just know. And let’s not forget the note. The note changes everything. Lydia is on to you, and you’re in danger. I think maybe you should go camp out at the police station for the rest of the week.”

  He looks at me, puzzled. “I think I can take care of myself.” Setting the note back down where he found it, he comes over and stands very close to me. “It sounds like you do actually care whether I live or die, though. I was beginning to wonder.”

  I take a step back. “It’s not like I can simply turn off my feelings in the blink of an eye. I do care about you, but that doesn’t mean I can forget about everything else.”

  “Fair enough,” he says, although his eyes look hurt. “Now tell me about the plan.”

  I shrug. “There’s not a whole lot to it. Blake’s going to dinner with Lydia, wearing a wire, and we’re supposed to sit outside the restaurant and listen. He wants to see if he can get her to talk. After dinner he’s going to invite her over to his place and…I don’t like this part…see if she tries anything. He’s going to put several cameras out, and we can sneak in and watch on his laptop from another room. I guess you’re supposed to rush in and catch her in the act. Do you think it will work?”

  He thinks for a moment. “It’ll have to. Short of a confession from her or an eyewitness account of her actually killing someone, this type of murder is difficult to link to someone because there’s very little physical evidence. Blake’s going to have to be willing to play this right to the edge.”

  I sigh heavily. “He is. He thinks he’s Superman. I’m the one who has the problem with it.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to any of us. You trust me, right?”

  I look at him dubiously. “I trust your cop skills.”

  “That’s close enough.” He gestures to the note. “I’m going to wait until later to call this in. I don’t want to attract any attention at the moment. With any luck, I’ll have enough to arrest her tonight and all of this will be over.”

  ***

  “You know what this reminds me of?” asks Brody, popping a french fry into his mouth.

  “What?” I ask. He is way too happy about us sitting in his car and staking out the restaurant where Blake and Lydia are having dinner, which just happens to be the same little Italian restaurant where Blake and I had dinner together for the first time. I’m not bringing that little nugget of history up with Brody, though.

  “Our first date.”

  I roll my eyes at him. “That was not a date. In fact, if I recall correctly, you called the evening ‘a monumental waste of time’.”

  Smiling, he shakes his head. “Nah, you’ve got it all wrong. I remember it perfectly. We were on a blind date, and you looked irresistible. Some idiot messed with you, so I very heroically came to your rescue. After that, we had dinner together and took a drive.”

  “You’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you?”

  “I’m only crazy about you.” He winks at me. Grr. He’s pissing me off just like he did when we first met.

  “No, I’m pretty sure you’re just plain old crazy. And technically, you never took me on a real date.”

  He looks taken aback. “I took you all the way to Nashville, and we had lunch. How was that not a date?”

  “It was lunchtime, and we had to eat. I’m talking about calling a girl in advance, showing up with flowers, going out for a nice dinner, and making lovely conversation.”

  He laughs. “Who does that anymore?”

  I gesture toward the restaurant. “Uh, Blake and Lydia. We’re listening in on a ‘real’ date right now. At least we’re supposed to be. You’re spending more time bothering me than surveilling, detective.”

  “I was trying to tune out your boy Blake’s pick-up lines. Tell me you didn’t fall for his bullshit.”

  I totally fell for his bullshit. And I’d probably do it again. “Girls like to be wooed,” I explain.

  “So you want me to woo you.”

  “No, I don’t…and it sounds dirty when you say it. Knock it off.”

  He leans over and whispers in my ear, “Woo.”

  I turn up the volume on the walkie-talkie Blake gave me. Blake’s droning on about how good he is at his job. “…investigative journalist in Chicago. That’s where the real stories are—big cities.”

  Lydia’s voice is soft, but still audible. “Do you ever regret moving away from the big city?”

  “Sure,” he says. “I came down here last year to get my grandfather’s business in order after he had a stroke. At this point, though, I could easily manage things from anywhere.”

  I often wonder how long Blake will be able to stand living in Liberty. Once upon a time, I thought maybe I would be his reason to stick around, but that dream died along with our relationship.

  “Why don’t you move back to Chicago, then? This Podunk town seems to be holding you back.”

  “I’ve considered it, but Liberty has grown on me. Plus, lately it’s become murder central, so I’m completely in my journalistic element.”

  “You’ve had several big murder stories lately, haven’t you?” she asks, sounding interested.

  “Yeah, the first one was insane. Two murders, and they both happened because that asshole Jed Stewart couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He got his karmic punishment, though. Twice, I suppose.”

  Brody turns to me. “That’s an odd thing to say. Did your boy Blake have a beef with the guy?”

  I cringe. “How do I put this…? Blake was sleeping with Jed’s dead wife.”

  Brody’s eyebrows shoot up.

  I hastily add, “Before she was dead.”

  He bursts out laughing. “You’re adorable. I love your sense of humor.”

  “Who are you, and what have you done with the dickhead cop I met last week?”

  “That was one of my bullshit pick-up lines. I’m wooing you.”

  “Well, stop it.”

  I turn up the walkie-talkie again, hoping to drown out Brody’s idiotic banter. Blake is still explaining to Lydia why Jed was such a waste of oxygen. “…thought the guy was a murderer, but it turned out to be one of his many lady friends. She killed his wife and his mistress just to get him all to herself.”

  “Oh, that sounds like a great story,” purrs Lydia.

  “Really, Lydia?” I gripe at the walkie-talkie. “‘That sounds like a great story’? How about, ‘that woman sounds like a psychopath’? That’s what a normal person would say!”

  Brody reaches over and gently takes the handset out of the death grip I have on it, placing it between us on the seat so he can take my hand. “Hey, I know this whole thing is scaring you to death, and I’m sure it’s bringing back some unwanted memories. I wasn’t trying to drive you nuts—I was trying to lighten the mood around here. I promise I’ll quit teasing you.”

  There it is again—that overwhelmingly secure and comforted feeling that I get whenever Brody is around. The problem is I know my heart isn’t safe with him. I guess at this point I can add Brody to my ever-growing list of “male friends I’ll never date for various reasons”.

  I smile, “Thanks. You’re right. I’m extremely nervous. Speaking of which, I really need to use the restroom.” I shake my large soft drink cup, now empty except for a few pi
eces of ice.

  Brody clenches his jaw. “I don’t want you out of my sight.”

  “Well, you can’t come with me.”

  “Maybe you could hold it.”

  I shake my head. “Not happening.”

  “What if Lydia spots you?”

  “The restroom is right inside the door. It’ll be fine.”

  “Hurry up. It sounds like they’re almost done. Take your phone, and call me if there’s a problem.”

  I jump out of the car. “I’ll just be a minute.”

  I quickly make my way across the parking lot and slip inside the front door. Making a beeline for the ladies’ room, I get in there and do my business as quickly as I can. While I’m in the stall, I get a text from Brody: Lydia is headed to the restroom. Get out or hide. Panicking, I finish my business and hop up on top of the toilet seat, my feet out of view. After several minutes, no one comes in, so I figure he must have been mistaken. I quickly wash my hands, and upon exiting the bathroom, I bump into a man who seems to be lurking in the hallway. I duck my head and try to go around him, but he puts both of his hands on my arms to stop me. Jerking my head up, I find myself face-to-face with Douchebag Todd. Oh, shit. I don’t have time for his nonsense right now.

  “Dou—Todd, hi. I’m in a terrible hurry. You’ll have to excuse me,” I say, trying to disentangle myself from him.

  “Lizzie, I can’t believe how we keep running into each other,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on me.

  “I have to go now,” I warn, my voice sharp.

  “Oh, you have to go all right, but you’re going with me.”

  “No I’m n—” At the feeling of something hard being shoved against my ribs, I clam up abruptly. I glance down and see a gun in Todd’s hands and gasp.

  “We’re going to walk out of here very quietly, right Lizzie?”

  “Sure, Todd. Whatever you say.” Seriously? I so don’t need this shit right now. I thought Todd was simply a lonely loser, not a kidnapping psycho! How am I going to get out of this, especially without getting shot? I guess I could try to make a run for it, but I realize he’s steering me through the practically empty bar and out the delivery entrance, which is on the opposite side of the restaurant from where Brody is parked. Damn it! Why did Todd pick tonight to creep out on me?

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask worriedly as we exit the restaurant and head for a sedan parked nearby.

  “This is going to be great. It’s going to be like a party.”

  It’s beginning to get dark, and I can just make out two figures inside the car. All of a sudden, I don’t like my odds. Placing my free hand on his chest (gross!), I flirt, “Todd, I’d much rather spend time with you alone. Why don’t we go back inside, have a couple of drinks, and see where the evening takes us?”

  Todd laughs. “Oh, you think I’m interested in you? Not even close. Just get in the car.” He opens the back door for me and shoves me inside.

  I fall against a man slumped in the back seat and immediately squeeze my eyes shut, scrambling to get off of him. He’s not moving. Oh, holy crap. Don’t tell me it’s a dead guy. I can’t ride around in the back of a car with a dead guy! I open one of my eyes just a crack. Wait. It’s Blake!

  “Blake!” I scream, shaking him violently.

  He lifts his head a bit and looks over at me. “Lizzie?” he slurs, dropping his head back down onto the headrest.

  Tears spring to my eyes. He doesn’t look good. If anything were to happen to Blake, I’d probably go insane. What has Todd done to him—and why? I’m trying desperately to figure out the connection when I hear a soft laugh from the person in the driver’s seat.

  Lydia turns around and sneers, “Well, well. What a lovely double date.” Todd gets into the passenger’s seat, and Lydia says to him, “We’re getting a two-for-one tonight, Dale.”

  Dale. She called him…Dale? Where have I heard that name lately—shit, shit, SHIT! Dale is Lydia’s brother. I breathe out a long, shuddering sigh and cradle my head in my hands. We’re dead.

  Lydia very calmly pulls out of the parking lot and onto the road. I look behind us. Brody’s car hasn’t moved. He doesn’t know Blake and I are in this vehicle. It was parked out back, out of his line of vision. Blake drove Lydia to the restaurant in his Porsche, and that’s what we assumed we’d be following, not this random, nondescript sedan. But surely Brody heard what was happening over the walkie-talkie, didn’t he? I very discreetly move closer to Blake, feeling around in his pockets and at his belt, trying to locate his handset. Blake stirs a bit, and mutters something about buying him dinner first. Even drugged, the man is still cracking jokes. Which reminds me, I need to try to find out what drugs Lydia gave him so I can figure out what we’re up against.

  Lydia calls from the front seat, “No need to grope my date, Lizzie. We got rid of the wire.”

  That’s not good. Now Brody is flying blind. I would try to call Brody on my cell phone, but it’s so dark, if I even turn it on the screen will illuminate the entire backseat and they’ll bust me. I reach into my pocket and turn off the ringer in case Brody tries to call me. I might be able to pick up a call from him without getting caught, but I could never make one.

  As if reading my mind, Todd turns around and says, “Oh, and Lizzie, I’m going to need your cell phone.”

  Damn it. “I left it at home,” I lie.

  Todd points the gun in my face. “Try again, sweetheart.”

  Reluctantly, I hand over my phone, and Todd tosses it out the window. Great. There goes any chance we have of Brody finding us. “You didn’t have to throw my phone out the window, asshole.”

  “Shut up,” Todd orders.

  I turn my attention to Blake, cradling his face with my hand, and whisper, “What happened to you?”

  He winces. “I dunno.”

  I grab his wrist and check his pulse. It’s very slow. I’m really starting to get scared. Not knowing what else to do, I sit close to him and hold his hand with both of mine, trying not to cry. Looking out the window, I notice we’re heading back to town. I wonder where Lydia is taking us. She killed Jason and Brad in their homes, but she killed Jed at the funeral home and Mark Heston in his car, so she doesn’t seem to be following an exact pattern. She’s obviously not taking us to Blake’s, because it’s nowhere near here.

  Lydia says, “Did your boyfriend get my note, Lizzie?”

  I suck in a breath. Why, oh why, did she have to find Blake’s wire? That was as good as a confession! I reply sweetly, “Oh, was that from you? We thought it was from some sociopathic murderer.”

  She laughs. “Let’s not resort to name-calling, slut.”

  “Enough with the chit-chat. Where are you taking us?” I demand.

  “To the scene of your final murder.”

  “What? My final murder? What the hell are you talking about, you crazy bitch?”

  She laughs. “You’re going to write a confession for killing Jed…and maybe a few others. Maybe even in your own blood. Then, you’re going to kill Blake. You’ll be so remorseful about it that you’ll end up taking your own life.”

  I tense up all over, probably crushing Blake’s hand in the process because he jerks his hand away and grunts. Lydia’s plan is to have me take the fall for her killing spree? That is not going to happen. Taking a shaky breath to try to calm my frazzled nerves, I remind myself that no one can actually make me kill anyone. Sure, they could hold a gun to my head, but I would take a bullet before I’d do any harm to Blake.

  Putting his hand on the back of Lydia’s neck in a less-than-brotherly way, Todd says, “And we’re going to watch.” Douchebag Todd even hits on his own sister? That’s ten kinds of nasty.

  My heart sinks as Lydia turns onto my street. She means for this all to go down in my home. I don’t know if I can handle that, especially alone, with Blake down for the count. As we arrive at my house and Lydia pulls up behind my car, I gather every bit of courage I have left.

  She turns to me and orders, “K
eys. Now.”

  Channeling my fright into sarcasm, I reply, “Sorry. Didn’t have them with me when you kidnapped me.” Todd shoves the gun in my face again, and I complain, “That’s getting old, Todd. See? I really don’t have them.” I turn the pockets of my jeans inside out to prove it. I left my purse in Brody’s car.

  Lydia waves her hand. “No matter. Dale is an excellent lock picker. Aren’t you, love?” She looks at him with adoration, and I throw up a little in my mouth.

  Handing Lydia his gun, Todd smiles and gets out of the car, trotting up to my back door. He has it open in under a minute. Too bad Blake’s so out of it. He would have appreciated a good lock picking. I glance over at Blake, and he’s not doing any better than when we left the restaurant.

  Trying desperately to come up with a plan to get away from Lydia and Todd, I realize there’s no way I can drag Blake’s limp ass with me. Not that I want to leave him with them, but if I could somehow get to a neighbor’s house, maybe I could call the police and they could get here before anything too terrible happens to Blake. Todd is walking back to the car, so it’s now or never.

  Lydia has the gun trained on me, so I need to distract her. Also, I need to somehow knock Todd down so I can get a head start at running for my life. Todd opens Blake’s door and starts dragging him out of the car. Blake easily has four inches and fifty pounds on Todd, but like I said before, Todd is really strong for his wimpy stature.

  As soon as Todd has Blake almost out, I point toward the rear window and scream, “Oh, look! It’s Brody! He’s come to rescue us! Brody! Over here!”

  Removing her gaze from me, Lydia whips her head around, trying to see what I’m going nuts about. I lunge out of the open door, toppling both Blake and Todd in the process. Disentangling myself from them, I begin to sprint across my yard and toward the street, running as fast as my legs will go. The lights are on in my across-the-street neighbor Ray’s house, so he might be home. He’s a big guy, and would be able to subdue Todd for me if I can only get to him.