by Janie Crouch
“Have you heard anything that seems to conflict with our profile?” he asked Brandon as Sherry finished talking to victim number four and was now making small talk.
“No, nothing.”
“Anybody at the precinct fit the role?”
Brandon had been spending his spare hours at the Corpus Christi Police Department under the pretense of looking over the full case files, but really to get a read on possible suspects there.
“Only a couple.”
“There are enough people there who seem to have impeded forward progress on this case to make me suspect them.”
Brandon nodded. “Fortunately for them, being a jerk isn’t a crime, otherwise we’d definitely be arresting some people.”
“I was thinking that if someone knew we were looking for that particular tattoo he might try to cover it up, either with makeup or a shirt.”
“Yeah, we can’t legally ask everyone to show us their arms. Might make this investigation a whole lot easier if we could,” Brandon said.
Jon’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a text from Zane. Jon read it, then rubbed a weary hand across his face. “That was Wales. We’ve got another victim at Memorial.”
They had all known it was coming, but had hoped they’d be able to get far enough ahead of the guy to stop him.
Brandon muttered an expletive.
“My feelings exactly,” Jon said. “I’ve got to tell Sherry.”
* * *
NOTHING SHE’D BEEN able to do had been enough. It was the thought that kept running through her head as she sat in the backseat of the car that raced toward the hospital.
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Jon said, making eye contact with her from the rearview mirror. “I’m sure Brandon will take you to my place.”
“I will,” Brandon said. “Truly, Sherry. If you feel like this is too much for you, Jon and I would be the first to support you on that.”
Sherry thought about it for a moment but knew she could do this. The past couple of days had been tough, but she had handled it. Hearing what these women had gone through—over and over—had threatened to trigger the debilitating chills, but when it had gotten to its worst, Sherry just called for a break.
Actually the first few times, Jon had seen what was happening and he had called for a break. But then Sherry recognized the pattern herself and had started doing it. For two years she’d been interviewing victims, careful to watch for when they needed a break and when they needed to stop altogether. Because at some point more harm than good could be done by continuing to push.
Why she never realized the same was true for herself was beyond her. As a forensic artist, Sherry was not only responsible for the mental and emotional well-being of the people with whom she spoke, but was responsible for that in herself.
She felt as though a choir of angels should be singing or something at her grand epiphany.
She knew it would change everything in her career. She looked down at the sketch pad in her hand. It was now full of drawings she’d made of the past two days. Nothing important to the case, but it at least meant her mind was freeing itself to draw again.
She trusted when the time came for her to draw a face for actual police work, she would be able to do it. That might be right now at the hospital.
So, no, she wasn’t going to go home and hide and feel as if it was too much for her.
She reached up and touched Jon’s shoulder. “Truly, I’m okay. I can do this, if I’m needed. If not, I’ll just stay out of your way.”
Jon reached up with his own hand and squeezed hers, then put it back on the wheel.
They pulled into the hospital lot and rushed into the trauma unit. Sherry silently hoped this would be the same as the last time they’d rushed here—a false alarm, so to speak, where the woman hadn’t actually been raped.
But she knew when she saw the full magnitude of both the police and hospital staff fairly hovering in the hallway that they wouldn’t be that lucky.
It was Zane who met them halfway in the hallway. For the first time Sherry had ever seen him, he had his cowboy hat in his hands rather than on his head. She was absently wondering why he would hide such a gorgeous head full of hair under that hat, and then she noticed his face.
Haggard. Stricken. Completely devoid of color.
This was a man hanging on by a thread.
“What, Wales? What is it?” Jon asked when Zane couldn’t seem to get any words out. “Is it definitely the same guy? Same facial trauma?”
Jon looked toward the hospital room, highly focused on the case and not really noticing what was happening right in front of him.
“What, Zane?” Sherry reached out and touched him on his arm. “Was someone killed?”
Jon’s attention refocused on the man in front of him. “Just say it.”
“It’s Caroline. Caroline is the victim.”
Sherry took a step back, reeling into herself. No.
“Oh, my God.” She felt Jon’s arms come around her almost from a distance.
Bubbly, feisty, little Caroline? She couldn’t be the victim of this monster.
“I—” Zane seemed lost. In shock. “I—”
Brandon made eye contact with Jon, then took over.
“Hey, man.” Brandon put a guiding hand on Zane’s back. “Why don’t you come sit down over here?” He led Zane to some chairs, where he slid bonelessly into one, staring blankly ahead. Brandon sat with him.
“He’s not okay,” Sherry whispered.
“No, he’s definitely not,” Jon answered, his arm still around her. “None of us are okay, but Wales may never be okay again. I’m going to get someone to take you home.”
“No!” Sherry leaned back from him. “She’s my friend, Jon. I’m not going to go boo-hoo at your house while my friend is in there and needs support. My emotional state takes a backseat to what she needs right now.”
Jon tugged her into his chest tightly. “Okay.”
“I know you have stuff you need to do. I’m okay. Just get me in to see her as soon as you can.”
“Are you sure?”
“More than positive. I’ll sit with Zane while you and Brandon go work this situation.” She looked at all the people milling around outside Caroline’s door; they were almost like zombies. “Those people need somebody to lead them and tell them how they can best help.”
She knew without a doubt Jon was the man for that job.
Jon turned to do his job, and Sherry walked over to the chair, relieving Brandon.
“Are you okay?” Brandon asked.
“Yes. I’m going to sit here with him. You go do your job.”
Sherry wrapped an arm around Zane as she sat.
“Caroline is the strongest, most feisty gal I know,” she said. “We will help her get through this.”
“I should’ve been there,” Zane said, sliding his hat in circles in his hands centimeter by centimeter. “I was supposed to have been there.”
“Zane—”
“Caroline isn’t stupid. She wouldn’t just open her door to anyone when there’s a maniac out on the loose. I was supposed to go to her house this afternoon, but decided not to go. Decided she wasn’t what I wanted. Again. Like the dumb ass that I am.”
Sherry wasn’t sure what could be said to comfort the man. “Zane, you can’t blame—”
Zane turned and looked Sherry in the eye. “She opened that door this afternoon thinking it was me. I know that with every fiber of my being. But it wasn’t me. It was a monster.”
Sometimes there weren’t any words that could be said. Nothing would fix this. She rubbed his arm. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ll have to live with that every day for the rest of my life.” He crushed his hat with his fing
ers. “She’s in a coma, Sherry. The trauma was much worse than the previous victims. Dr. Rosemont isn’t sure when she’ll wake up. If she’ll wake up.”
Sherry could feel tears pouring down her cheeks. “She’s strong, Zane. A fighter.”
“I should’ve been there.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Are you sure Sherry is going to be okay?” Brandon asked as he caught up to Jon walking down the hall. “Caroline is her friend, right?”
Jon glanced at Sherry over his shoulder where she sat with Zane. “That woman has shown a measure of grit in the past forty-eight hours that is truly remarkable.” Jon had seen seasoned agents crumple under less pressure.
“No arguments from me.”
“I’m beginning to think there isn’t anything that Sherry can’t handle. She might have to work her way through some bad points initially, but she gets herself there.”
It was downright impressive.
He realized Brandon was staring at him. “What?”
“First Derek, now you.”
Derek was a member of Omega’s SWAT team who was currently on his honeymoon or he would probably be here right now helping with this case. “First Derek what?”
“Nothing.” Brandon slapped him on the shoulder, smiling. “You’ll figure it out. You’re smart.”
Jon shook his head, turning his focus to the case at hand. The hospital hallway was crowded, even more than it had been with Jasmine Houze a week ago. Jon knew why.
Caroline was one of their own. The desire to stop this bastard had just shot through the roof. It also made for a very explosive Texan crowd that would need to be handled appropriately.
First he needed all the details from Dr. Rosemont about Caroline’s condition. She was still in there with Caroline, but Jon spotted Dr. Trumpold, Sherry’s “handsome” doctor—although Jon decided not to hold that against him this time—and cornered him to ask some questions.
“Dr. Trumpold, I just arrived. Can you give me any sort of update?”
“Agent Hatton.”
Jon was a little surprised the man knew his name. That meant there had been too damn many victims brought in.
“I haven’t been in there, of course. Dr. Rosemont and I have agreed that it’s best for all male personnel to stay out of any of the victims’ rooms unless they’ve been given express permission.”
The man shrugged, hands in his lab coat pocket. It wasn’t difficult to see he felt frustrated for being left out of the loop.
“But from what I understand, Ms. Gill is in a coma,” the doctor continued. “Evidently the craniofacial trauma was much greater this time.”
Jon looked over at Brandon. “He’s really escalated, then. Sick bastard.”
“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have to attend to some other patients. Dr. Rosemont should be out shortly.”
Jon and Brandon turned back toward the door.
“A coma,” Jon muttered. “That’s not good. Maybe she saw something and he’s trying to keep her quiet.”
“It’s possible. But with this guy, I think he would’ve finished the job and killed her outright. Made sure there was no chance she could identify him.”
Jon agreed. This guy wouldn’t leave loose ends.
“I think this has to do with Caroline’s connection with Sherry. Pointing out that he knows things about her—who she’s friends with—and that he isn’t afraid to punish her for her continuing to help the police.”
Jon could feel rage flow through him. He was more determined than ever to keep Sherry out of this madman’s hands.
“That anger you’re feeling? Everybody in this hallway is feeling the same thing,” Brandon said as they looked at the twenty or thirty people standing around. “I know you think someone in the department could be the rapist, and I’m not discrediting that possibility. But everyone here is furious for what has happened to one of their own. And they’re feeding off one another.”
Jon agreed. They needed encouragement and they needed to be dispersed. He wasn’t sure they were going to listen to him. He was still the outsider.
But he had to try.
Jon got their attention. “People, I know Caroline Gill appreciates your show of support here, but we’re going to need everyone to leave.”
There were some loud murmurs of disagreement. The men and women were angry and Jon had just given them a target at which to direct their anger: him.
“Look, I know you all care about Caroline, have worked with her, are friends with her. But right now you are needed elsewhere, doing your jobs.”
An angry voice from the crowd shouted, “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t really know Caroline at all.”
Jon took in a deep breath. “I know I don’t. Not nearly as well as you guys. This is what I do know—when word gets out there has been another attack, the city is going to be tempted to tip over into panic. Each one of you is needed to stop that from happening.”
“Do you think you know our town better than us?” A different voice this time.
“No. I do know that we need to work with the evidence we have. We need to hit the tattoo parlors again for information about the one piece of visual evidence we have. We need to be hitting the streets, seeing if any contacts—old, new or otherwise—have heard or seen anything to do with the attack. Most of all, we need to be a visual presence in the city, helping people stay calm.”
“Why should we listen to you? You don’t really care about us.”
He wasn’t getting through to them, Jon could tell. They were too incensed.
“No.”
Jon was surprised to hear a voice from behind him as he tried to figure out what he could further say.
It was Zane. Cowboy hat back on his head.
“That sort of talk needs to end right now,” Zane told them, his tone brooking no refusal. “Agent Hatton—Jon—has worked tirelessly on this case and it’s time we all start treating each other like we’re on the same side.
“There’s a real bad guy out there,” the detective continued, his voice breaking just slightly at the words, “and it’s not Jon, or any member of the feds. It’s time we pull together and stop this bastard.”
People were nodding, responding to Zane the way they couldn’t to Jon.
“So go do like you’ve been directed.” Another voice this time. Captain Harris. “Do what Agent Hatton told you to do. We solve this, stop this, as a team. The city needs to see you right now and know you’re there, like Hatton said. He may not be from Texas, but he’s close enough in my book.”
The leadership from these two men made all the difference. The officers and hospital workers began to disperse, a few even coming to shake Jon’s hand. He promised to keep everyone updated.
“Thank you,” he said to Captain Harris and Zane.
“I’m done messing around,” Harris said. “He attacked one of our own. He’s going down.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
* * *
SHERRY SPENT THE next thirty-six hours next to Caroline’s hospital bed. Most of that time Zane sat there with her—when he wasn’t pacing up and down the hallway. Sherry had at least gotten a little bit of sleep on the couch in the room. Zane hadn’t even considered it.
The doctors still had no definitive answer for when Caroline might wake up. She did have brain activity. That was the most important thing.
Jon had been in and out, willing to leave Sherry at the hospital as long as she promised to stay put and not leave alone under any circumstances. She knew Jon had other things to do besides babysit her: the crime scene, not to mention advising the mayor on further media issues.
Especially now that everyone was willing to listen to him, thanks to Zane’s and Captain Harris’s words at the hospital.
&nbs
p; Caroline’s face was hard to look at, the trauma so much more extensive than the other victims. Her nose was broken, cheekbone shattered. She would need reconstructive surgery, but they wanted to wait until she was out of the coma first.
Dr. Rosemont said Caroline might be able to hear what was going on around her, so Sherry tried to talk to her as much as she could. She even read to her from the local gossip magazines. Her voice was starting to get hoarse.
She was pretty sure Zane sat there and whispered in Caroline’s ear when Sherry was sleeping. He was determined to let her know she wasn’t alone.
Sherry hadn’t seen much of Brandon. Jon said he was wandering around the police station and the mayor’s office, anywhere that might have known about the connection between Sherry and the department.
“What is he doing?” she asked.
“Looking at people’s hands,” Jon said with a shrug. “The damage to Caroline’s face couldn’t be done without there being some sort of telltale sign on the perp’s hands and knuckles.”
She and Jon were sitting in the hallway outside Caroline’s door. His arm was around her and she had her head on his shoulder. It felt good to be like this; to be close to him. Plus, it allowed them to talk, since Zane had finally fallen asleep sitting in the chair, his head propped next to Caroline’s arm on the bed. Sherry didn’t want to wake him.
“He’s a mess. He blames himself,” Sherry said.
“Yeah, I know. He’s going to have to work through this in his own way.”
“It’s not his fault.”
“Yeah, but nobody in the world is going to be able to make him believe that except him. Or maybe Caroline. I doubt even her.”
They sat in silence for a while, just holding on to each other. She knew Jon probably had other things he needed to do.
“Do you have to go?”
His arm tightened around her. “Eventually. But not right now. Right now I’m not going anywhere.”
Sherry snuggled in deeper.
A few minutes later Dr. Rosemont and some of the other hospital staff came running down the hallway and into Caroline’s room. Sherry and Jon both jumped up.