Glimpse of Death: A Riveting Serial Killer Thriller

by Leslie Wolfe

  She ventured a quick glance toward Tess, who was reading something on her laptop. Tess held her hand up in the air, as if pleading for a little more time.

  “One sec,” she said, “let me finish this, okay?”

  Melissa didn’t reply; instead, she approached Tess shyly, and waited by her bed.

  “Um, done,” Tess said, then closed the laptop. “Good morning to you,” she added, sounding cheerful.

  Melissa forced a smile but quickly averted her eyes. “Good morning. How are you feeling today?”

  “Great, because I’m about to leave this place,” Tess replied, then stopped talking, giving her a long, scrutinizing look. “Is everything okay with you?”

  “Yes, I told you,” she rushed, “it’s nothing. I’m fine.”

  She thought she saw a flicker of a frown on Tess’s forehead, quick to come then disappear.

  “All right, then,” Tess replied. “Listen, I was too harsh on you yesterday, and I want to apologize.”

  Melissa’s eyebrows shot up, and she put her palm in the air. “No, it’s all—”

  “Please, let me finish,” Tess interrupted. “You’ve been great with me all this time; you’ve been amazing. You put up with all this crap, with the burgers, with everything. And still, at the first opportunity, I treated you like a murder suspect. It’s in my blood, I guess, but that’s no excuse. I wanted to apologize… I hope you can forgive me.”

  Melissa’s cheeks burned and her heart beat fast. The fed seemed sincere, although one could never tell with the likes of them. This one seemed different somehow, more trustworthy, more friendship worthy. She ventured a timid smile. “It’s all right. I was worried you didn’t believe me, you know.”

  “I believe you,” Tess replied. “And I need to be in your good favor to take my stitches out in a few days. I won’t let anyone else touch me but you.” She smiled, a little dramatic, trying to be funny, and lowered her head a bit. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Yes,” Melissa replied quickly, relieved she was off the hook.

  The fed would be discharged before lunch, and soon she’d be gone. But until then, she had a job to do, and for that, she needed her gone from the room first, and that friend of hers too.

  “Say, would you like to take a shower before leaving?” Melissa offered. “I heard you weren’t going home from here.”

  “Great idea,” Tess replied. “Can’t wait to get the hospital stink off me. I’ve got some clean clothes here; I could change already, right? Get rid of the ass-revealing hospital garb?”

  Melissa helped Tess get out of bed. She moved better, but she probably was in pain, considering she’d been off her pain meds for the past three days. She seemed revigorated, ready to leave, although she shuffled her feet and walked slower than a three year old.

  “Would you like me to call your friend to help you?”

  “Nah… I sent him home. He needs to get some rest. He’s done enough. I should be fine on my own,” she added, and walked into the bathroom, then closed the door.

  “I’m here if you need me,” Melissa said a little louder, so Tess could hear her from the bathroom.

  Tess didn’t respond, but Melissa soon heard the toilet flush, then the shower running.

  She took a deep breath, then rushed to the cabinet and took out the photo prints. Then she opened one of the files Tess kept on her bedside table, and flipped though the photos in it, looking for the one she wanted to compare with her own.

  She found it, and took it out of the file, then held it in her hand next to the dark, yellowish one she’d taken at the mall. It was the same woman; there was no doubt about it. Realization hit her in the stomach like a fist, and she almost retched.

  She forced a deep breath of air into her lungs to settle her stomach, and took her photo prints back to the safety of the cabinet, then returned to flip through the case file some more. A few pages further, there were two drawings. She’d overheard enough of Tess’s conversations to know exactly what she was looking at. She stared at the first sketch for a long minute. Could that be Derek? No… it couldn’t be. His hair wasn’t like that; it was darker, longer, completely covering his shirt collar. His eyes were smaller than this man’s, and his gaze kinder. He had a nice smile, when she could still see him smile, and had fuller, more sensual lips. No, her husband didn’t even look like the man in the sketch. She breathed again, relieved.

  Then she looked at the second sketch, and didn’t spend any time analyzing it. It was the face of a complete stranger, although the eyes… the hair… No, that was nonsense. She didn’t know that man either.

  She was about to close the file, when a new wave of adrenaline hit her in the gut, sending panic though her veins. What if the police had their sketches wrong? She remembered overhearing all sorts of arguments about these portraits; she couldn’t remember too much detail about the arguments, but what if they were wrong? How could she be sure her husband had nothing to do with that woman’s disappearance?

  Another file caught her attention; it was labeled, “DNA Profiles,” and as soon as she saw it, she had an idea. She knew someone who owed her a favor at the hospital lab, and she could take Charlie’s DNA and compare it… to what? She needed to make copies of the DNA profiles printed in full color and stashed in that file.

  She pressed her lips together and breathed deeply, trying to control the waves of fear that ran through her body. She needed to know for sure, and it was now or never. The shower was still running in the bathroom, but she needed to make it quick.

  She put the case file back on the bedside table, trying to remember the exact position where she’d taken it from. Then she accessed her phone, and quickly took snapshots of the two DNA profiles in the file. Finally, she let the phone slide back into her pocket, and closed the file. She patted the sides, to make all the sheets of paper stay in place, and reached out to put it under the case file.

  Then her blood turned to ice when she noticed Tess was looking at her from the bathroom doorway. Her eyes were cold, analytical, inquisitive. “Are you looking for something?”

  42

  A Promise

  Stacy stood at the edge of the bed and rocked back and forth, with her eyes squeezed shut and her palms covering her ears. As soon as they’d taken Katherine and the lights turned on in that other room, she rushed to the window and tried to make them stop. She watched helplessly how they tied Katherine to that bench, and saw her encouraging gaze before she spaced out and her eyes glazed over.

  Katherine was encouraging her… The very thought of that was twisted and surreal, yet minutes later she’d understood why. It was the first time she had to watch what went on in that room, and the things she’d seen those men do to Katherine would haunt her for the rest of her life. Katherine’s screams soon became unbearable, and Stacy couldn’t handle it anymore. She found refuge by putting as much distance between herself and that dreadful window, and hoping that Katherine would forgive her for running away.

  Then she realized what she’d just seen was the sick, horrifying sneak preview of what her own future held for her, as long as she remained at the mercy of those brutes. Panic rose in her chest so violently she couldn’t breathe; when she finally drew breath, it came back out as a low-pitched cry that had no beginning and no end. She rocked back and forth continuously, and her panicked mind rushed, recalled, and grabbed onto the image of Renata and the girls, how they looked when she’d last seen them from the doorway of their home. Sweet memories of their peaceful life, the life she didn’t know to appreciate enough before it was all gone.

  She realized Katherine’s screams had quieted, and her entire being switched into high alert. Were they coming for her now? Panting and shaking, she jumped to her feet and scampered behind the shower cabin the moment she heard the door unlatch.

  The man who’d raped Katherine brought her back, half dragging her inert body. He let go of her, and she fell to the cold floor with a sickening thump. Then he looked at Stacy and sneered; that sneer evo
lved into a libidinous smirk, as he checked her out, head to toe.

  She shuddered under his gaze, holding her breath, and heard herself whimper. She wasn’t ready for what was going to happen to her. She wasn’t ever going to be ready. Oh, God… please, no.

  The man turned around and left, and she breathed when she heard him latch the massive door shut. Then she rushed over to where Katherine lay.

  Her naked body was badly bruised and her legs were stained with blood. Some bruises were older, but most were new, reddish, swollen areas that would turn black and blue in a day or two. Her neck was discolored and swollen, where he’d tried to strangle her from behind. Her breathing was shallow and raspy; she was still alive.

  Stacy tried to lift her gently, to put her on the bed, but she was too heavy. Katherine’s swollen eyelids stayed closed, but her lips moved slightly.

  “Don’t… touch me,” she whispered hoarsely. “I…can’t.”

  “Tell me what to do,” Stacy pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. “Please… You’re the doctor, tell me what to do.”

  Katherine didn’t move, or say anything. After a while, Stacy covered her with the blanket she took off the bed, and sat on the floor next to her. Gently, she took Katherine’s head in her lap, and ran her fingers softly through her hair.

  “They’ll come for us,” Stacy whispered, “you’ll see. They’re looking for us. They’ll find us soon, I promise.”

  43

  Discharged

  And that’s how you catch ’em, Tess thought, seeing how Melissa had frozen in place, blood draining from her face. For a while she’d suspected her nurse had something to hide, and a personal agenda on top of that, but she couldn’t get her to talk. The folder she’d messed with had DNA profiles, nothing more. Those weren’t of any use to anyone.

  Maybe catch that fly with honey, and find out what was going on?

  Melissa stared at her for a long second, speechless, then she shot a quick glance at the bathroom door. The shower was still running, and she probably was asking herself what the hell had just happened.

  “Are you looking for something?” Tess repeated her question in a softer tone, staying true to the honey strategy.

  “N–no,” Melissa managed to say. “I just swatted this file by accident, and it fell. I was putting it back.”

  “Oh?” Tess asked, careful to put just enough worry in her voice to keep it credible. “What were you doing there?”

  “Getting readouts from the machines,” Melissa replied, pointing at the heart monitor installed above Tess’s bed. “I turned too quickly, and… I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tess replied. “Can you please turn off the shower for me? I don’t even have the strength to do that… it’s pathetic.”

  Melissa went straight to the bathroom, seemingly relieved. The shower’s noise subsided, and she reappeared, a little hesitant.

  Tess looked at her with a smile, carefully taking in all the details. Her hands were trembling slightly, and she clasped them together, trying to hide it. Tiny beads of sweat were appearing on Melissa’s forehead, and her pulse was rapid and strong, visible on her carotid, on the side of her neck. She was scared.

  Tess took out a business card from her laptop bag and handed it to her.

  “This is my cell phone number, if you ever need anything. I know you’re under some nasty personal stress lately, and I want you to remember you can call me at any time, for anything, all right?”

  Melissa nodded quickly, but didn’t say a word.

  “Family stress can sometimes go south really quickly, and if it does, I’ll be there for you, Mel. I’d be happy to pay you back with a favor, any favor.”

  Melissa started to shift her weight from one foot to the other, while her eyes danced around, from Tess’s face to the ceiling, walls, floor, and back. She was probably considering the implications of what she was going to say, her internal turmoil reflected in her eyes, every unanswered question and every bit of worry.

  “There’s, um, something that I—”

  “All ready to go, against my firm recommendation?” Dr. DePaolo interrupted, appeared out of nowhere at the worst possible moment.

  Tess refrained from cussing out loud and averted her steaming glare away from Dr. DePaolo, who’d done nothing to deserve it. Instead, she quickly pasted a smile on her lips, while secretly hoping she’d get Melissa talkative again.

  “Yes, ready to go, Doctor. I’ve been ready to go since you let me off your table.”

  “You’ve ignored the majority of my recommendations, Agent Winnett, but who am I to complain when you’re recovering so nicely?”

  He lifted her dressing and inspected the sutures, then touched the edges of the wound with his gloved finger. “Any pain here, if I touch like this?”

  “No.”

  “Good; no signs of infection, so you’re doing great. Please don’t ruin my work, Agent Winnett. Take it easy, rest a lot, keep the showers short and moderate temperature, don’t make sudden moves. Same thing I’ve been telling you since the day we met.”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, smiling.

  “We’ll see you back here on the twenty-seventh, to remove your sutures. Then we hope to never see you again, Agent Winnett.” He chuckled lightly and squeezed her shoulder.

  Tess could barely wait for the doctor to pull the door shut behind him. As soon as he was gone, she turned to Melissa, smiling encouragingly. “I’m listening, Mel. What were you trying to say?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she replied, keeping her eyes riveted to the floor. “Nothing important.”

  Damn, Tess thought, but her smile didn’t waver. “Call me, all right? Anytime.”

  “Uh-huh,” Melissa replied, and helped her get dressed, without saying another word.

  As she held Tess’s shirt, she touched her bare skin and Tess felt the coldness of Mel’s fingers. The coldness of extremities only fear puts in humans, when the flush of adrenaline and cortisol rushes blood to critical organs, to ensure survival.

  Cat opened the door and pushed a wheelchair inside. “Ready, kiddo?”

  “More than you’ll ever know, Cat,” she replied.

  She turned and opened her arms. “Give me a hug?” she asked Melissa. “You’re good people, Mel. Know that.”

  Melissa hugged her hesitantly, a little rushed to let go, still averting her eyes.

  “You know you’re getting out of here in a wheelchair, right?” Cat asked, holding on to the chair’s handles.

  “Yeah, whatever,” she grunted, but sat in the wheelchair without dispute.

  “I’m surprised you’re not arguing with me,” he said, and started pushing her down the hallway, toward the elevators.

  “Not worth it,” she replied with a chuckle. “I’m saving my energy for the suspect I’ll be interrogating later.”

  “Later this week, I hope?”

  “Later today, after you drop me off at Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office.”

  “Jeez, kiddo, you don’t let those engines of yours idle, do you?”

  As soon as she took the passenger seat in Cat’s old Jeep, she whipped her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed a number.

  “Donovan? It’s Tess. Hey, listen, Constance Gilliam, Dr. Nelson’s so-called best friend, wasn’t her bestie after all; she was her AA sponsor. Our Dr. Nelson was a struggling addict; amphetamines. That explains the cash withdrawals she was making. Find her dealer, and let the guys know to reel him in.”

  “You must have me on speed-dial or something,” Donovan said humorously. “Consider it done.”

  “Check with the ME, see if the advanced tox reports for Lisa and Sarah showed any drug use, recent or not.”

  “Got it.”

  There was silence on the line, while Tess bit her lip, then her index fingernail.

  “Okay, spill it, what else?” Donovan asked. “You got something on your mind, or you can’t seem to let me go? Which one is it?”

  “It’s… I don’t know what it i
s, nothing more than a hunch, I guess. Run background on Melissa Henderson’s husband. Tell me what you find.”

  “Your nurse?” Donovan sounded almost shocked.

  “Yep. Don’t ask… it’s just my gut, that’s all.”

  44

  Back in the Saddle Again

  Tess entered the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office building and gave the stairs a long glance, then opted for the elevator instead. Despite how miserable she felt at the thought of taking the elevator for one level, it was faster, and they didn’t have any time to lose.

  She entered the conference room after walking through the squad room and greeting briefly the few people who were there and knew who she was. Once in the conference room, she stopped right in front of the case board, going over every detail, although she’d seen it all before. It was different when she could look at it up-close, and could write on it without asking Fradella to wield the dry-erase marker for her.

  Fradella sat at the table, buried in his laptop, typing quickly.

  “Good to have you back,” he said, without taking his eyes from the screen.

  “Thanks,” she replied. “Where’s Gary?”

  “Downstairs, with Doc. He’s got something new on the tox reports. I’ll ping them,” he offered, then sent Doc Rizza a quick message on the internal communicator.

  “We’re running out of time,” Tess said, as soon as Michowsky and Doc Rizza entered the room. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she said, pacing the space in front of the case board nervously, and sipping precinct coffee from a borrowed mug.

  “They’ve only had Katherine Nelson for a week,” Fradella said. “Not that we’re not moving as fast as we can, but—”