by Stacy Green
“What? Don’t bring her into this.”
“She is this!” I waved my hand between us. “She’s always been this. You’d didn’t listen to her, and she killed herself. Her death was your fault, and you never acknowledged that. You never took any accountability. You just sucked up all the attention you could, and when that died down, you put her death photos online so you could revel in that attention. How could you?”
Her face pinched like a rubber doll’s, turning the wrinkles between her eyes into craters.
I felt breathless and yet charged with energy. Two steps forward, and I could put my hands around her throat. Choking the life out of her would be easy enough. She wasn’t strong enough to fight me.
“How dare you!”
“How dare you?” I cut her off. “You’re her mother. You were supposed to put her first. To protect her. Your boyfriend raped her for months! I knew something was going on, but I was young and innocent enough my mind didn’t go there until she finally told me. But you were the adult. You had to know he snuck out of bed at night. Where did you think he went? For a fucking snack?”
Joan’s smeared mouth trembled, her flinch brief but enough. I’d never allowed myself to go down that horrific road because I knew if I found out Joan had known before Lily told her, I wouldn’t be able to handle the reality of it.
My system burned as though I just consumed fire. Pain struck the back of my head, reaching around my skull as if I’d put it into some sort of torture device. Two steps, and I closed the white space between us. Joan tried to stand her ground, but she coiled into herself so she appeared even shorter. Fear glistened on her forehead and upper lip.
The words came out in a hate-filled whisper. “Did you know before she told you?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
I looked around the small waiting room. We had it to ourselves, but the door stood wide open. Rage coursing through me, I quietly shut it and turned the lock. When I faced Joan once again, all the color had drained out of her face.
“Listen to me, Joan.” My tone flat-lined. Whatever emotion for Joan I’d once clung to finally evaporated. She was just like Riley, turning a blind eye to a child’s suffering. Except this time, the child had been her own flesh and blood. “Answer the question.”
Her eyes travelled over me as though she were seeing me for the first time. And she was. I no longer needed the facade I forced in her presence. She didn’t even qualify for the socially acceptable version of me.
“I didn’t want to lose him,” she finally choked out. “He provided for us, and if he’d left, I would have had to ask my parents for help or get a second job. I couldn’t do either of those things.”
I blinked against the throbbing of my head. “So you allowed him to use your child?”
“He said he was just talking to her.” Joan’s chin jutted defiantly.
“You knew he wasn’t.”
“Not at first, but then I heard…noises.” She glanced between the door and my shaking form. “You know how Lily was. She knew she was beautiful. And so willful and always against me.”
I bit my tongue until I tasted blood just to make sure I hadn’t slipped into a sick trance. Once again I stepped into Joan’s space, breathing her minty breath. “Are you blaming her?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s not. He was a sexual predator, and you prostituted your daughter.” My spittle landed on her cheek.
“I never-”
“You just said he provided for you financially, so you allowed it. That’s prostitution. You sold your daughter for material things, and you killed her.”
Joan slapped me hard enough my head twisted to the left. The sting made me smile.
“Do you know why I came in from Alexandria yesterday?”
She shook her head, her shoulders nearly pulled to her ears. “Because I found out about the message board. Do you know why Detective Beckett was so interested in your posting those photos?”
“I didn’t post anything.”
“Stop lying to me.” The guttural tone had much more impact than shouting. She snapped her mouth shut. “You somehow conned the police to give you copies, and then you posted them online for attention. You wanted people to feel sorry for you. Those pictures were used to stage a murder victim’s body.”
“What do you mean?”
I soaked up the shock on her face. She deserved everything I was about to deal her. “A young girl in Alexandria was killed and posed to look like Lily’s death scene. The message was for me.”
“You? Why?”
I smiled, feeling the power work its way through me. “I have enemies, Joan. Someone wants to settle the score.”
Her gaze again darted toward the door as she shrank back from me. “Why would you have enemies?”
“Oh, I’ve done bad things, Joan.” I felt crazed, a schizophrenic energy eclipsing everything else. “Ever since Lily died, I’ve blamed myself because I didn’t do enough. I should have stood up for her. I thought if only I’d tried to talk to you, things would have changed. But I was wrong. You made sure she never had a chance.”
A bead of moisture trickled from Joan’s temple. “You’re not thinking clearly. You just need to sit down and process, and you’ll see.”
“I see very clearly now.” My hands reached toward her, my fingers long and pale and wicked. I had no other thought but extinguishing her miserable existence.
“Lucy! What are you doing?”
“You ruined our lives.” My fingers wrapped around her neck. No pressure yet–I would take my time, breathe in her fear. She grabbed my wrists, but I barely felt her scratching fingernails. “I hate you.”
A loud bang made both our heads whip to the left. Todd’s face in the tall, rectangular window. His eyes locked with mine. He mouthed my name, his hand on the glass.
I wanted to kill Joan.
You can’t do that to Mac.
I dropped my hands, and Joan staggered back, falling into a chair dramatically.
The same numbness that accompanied every kill enveloped me as I unlocked the door and pulled it open. Todd stared at me, his hands outstretched as if he didn’t know what I was about to do.
I took both of his hands and then pulled him to me, wrapping my arms around his waist. “She knew Lily was being molested. Is there a statute of limitations?”
“You know it’s more complicated than that. Lily’s not here to accuse her.” He held me stiffly, his heart pounding in his throat.
I pulled away and looked into his shocked face. “I would have killed her.”
“I know.”
Agent Williams knowledge of Lily’s pictures came back to me. “Why are you here?”
“He’s with me.” Lennox stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall. “I’m sorry about your stepfather, but we don’t have much time.”
Todd took my hand. “Lucy, we need to talk.”
The insidious worry that sprouted at the Cook’s house bloomed larger. “All right, but I need to be with Mac first. I don’t think it will take long.”
I’ve never relied on anyone else for anything, but I needed Todd to go inside Mac’s room with me. I didn’t expect to fall into a crying heap, but I wasn’t sure how I could handle watching Mac take his final breaths with Joan’s theatrics–not after what I’d just found out. I didn’t trust myself not to attack her again.
Todd stood on my right side, his arms crossed and his face drawn into an unreadable expression. Joan positioned herself to Mac’s left, clutching his hand and simpering. The hospital chaplain flanked her, his black uniform making me thinking of the raven waiting to swoop in on the dead. Joan didn’t look at me.
If the doctor noticed the dynamics, he didn’t comment. “Once the machines are off, Mac’s body will begin to shut down. Because he suffered a great deal of brain trauma, I think his organs will stop quickly.”
Joan wailed. “What am I going to do without him?”
I went rigid, s
taring at her. Todd’s hand closed around my elbow. I breathed deeply, forcing the murderous thoughts to their normal corners. “Will he suffer?”
The doctor shook his head, touching one of the tubes that ran into Mac’s IV. “He’s getting a steady dose of morphine. He won’t feel any pain.”
I swallowed over the rock in my throat. I still couldn’t grasp how quickly this had happened. Hours ago, Mac had waved goodbye as Chris and I drove off in search of Kelly. If I’d known that would be the last time I spoke to him, I would have said so many other things. I would have thanked him for being a good father and for showing me there are still good men in this world. I would have made sure he knew his influence on my life, and that he was loved. I would have done so much more.
But now he was gone. “You’re absolutely sure?” I asked the doctor one more time. “There’s no chance of any recovery? Not even a tiny percent?”
The doctor nodded, no sign of impatience or frustration on his plain face. “His brain will never work again. It can’t tell his heart to pump blood or his lungs to breathe. It can’t do anything. All the things that made Mac a person have already died. His body is just a machine that needs to be turned off.”
Joan threw her head against Mac’s unfeeling arm. The chaplain patted her shoulder.
“I’m sorry to be so blunt,” the doctor said. “I can’t imagine your pain, and I’m sorry for your loss. But I don’t like to mislead anyone.”
“I appreciate that.” I looked again at the shell in the bed. Mac’s face looked peaceful, as though he was caught up in a deep, blissful nap. I smoothed his bushy eyebrows, and then took his hand, almost smiling at the missing finger. His silly story about losing it in his nose had been so long ago, and yet I could remember it clearly, watching his eyes sparkle and hearing his big belly laugh.
He didn’t want to live this way, and he’d counted on me to do the right thing.
I kissed his forehead, feeling the hatred burning off my mother.
My gaze shifted to her. She still refused to make eye contact, and I still wanted to squeeze the miserable life out of her.
But this was about Mac.
“Have you finished saying your goodbyes?”
She jerked her head up at the question as though she were about to argue. Finally, she looked my way. I watched her take everything in, from my clothes to the man by my side and finally my face. With the mask gone, did she see the monster?
Joan shivered. “Yes.”
I looked at the doctor. “Go ahead.”
He nodded again and then began turning off the machines. They stopped quietly, with the morphine drip being the only thing left. Mac coughed, his body failing.
Death had been on my mind for as long as I could remember. Even as a small child, I was acutely aware of the life cycle. Graveyards both terrified and fascinated me. Until Lily died, I believed my grandmother when she said death was a peaceful transition to the next phase of our existence.
Lily showed me the truth, and fascination turned into fear.
As Mac’s body died, I waited for that fear to sink its teeth in and for the panic to ensue.
We’re all eventually nothing.
But the feeling never came. Instead I saw a wrecked body stop fighting a losing battle and felt a peculiar feeling descend: calmness.
If anyone would make it to the place Christians called Heaven, it would be Mac.
The doctor pronounced time of death, and Joan started her show all over again.
I took Todd’s hand and left the room.
His grip felt strong and comforting. We didn’t speak as we left the cardiac ward, taking the northeast elevator to the first-floor cafeteria.
The option of denial died with Mac. No matter how selfish or cruel I might be, I needed Todd in my life. I wanted him by my side. Eventually I would have to tell him how I felt. A tremor of fear raced through me at the prospect. And then I glanced at Todd’s watch, and the reality of the situation crashed over me.
I leaned against the side of the elevator, defeated. Evening approached. How many hours did Kelly have left? Lennox said she wouldn’t be killed, but how could he know?
And why had he brought in Todd?
As the elevator ground its way to the first floor, my eyes drooped. I forced them open and tried to find something to focus on. A poster on the opposite wall advertised a class at Penn State for paramedic training. The course promised to bring in current Philadelphia paramedics to talk about the rigors of the job.
The photographer had positioned the best looking paramedic in the center, making him the focal point.
The camera certainly loved Chris.
27
The pub across from the hospital was nearly empty, and I thanked God for that small blessing. I sat down at the table across from Lennox and Todd and waved at the college kid loitering between tables. “Rum and coke, two shots, no ice.”
Neither man spoke as we waited for my drink. The bar was mostly empty this time of day; a few doctors and nurses had come in to grab something after their shifts, and a sketchy guy hung out in the back corner, but our section remained empty.
The waitress returned with my drink and offered food. I waved her off as I slugged down the alcohol. It hit my throat with pleasant warmth but did nothing for my nerves.
“All right.” I set the glass down and looked at Todd. “I’m happy to see you, but why are you here? And how did Agent Williams know about Lily’s pictures?”
He scratched his ear and shifted. “There are some things you don’t know.”
“I gathered that. Thanks for sharing.”
His nostrils flared. “Like you shared with me about Kelly? You couldn’t trust me? Or do you just think I’m not a good enough cop?”
“It’s got nothing to do with that.” I hated that Todd was going to hear the truth about me–or rather, I hated I was going to have to watch his face and see the disappointment.
“And thanks for breaking Justin’s heart,” Todd said.
“You think I enjoyed that? I was trying to save Kelly’s life. You didn’t say anything to him, did you?”
Lennox finally stepped in, waving his large hand between us. “Justin still believes Kelly is in the hospital. Can we skip the lover’s quarrel and get to it?”
Todd’s head dropped to his chest. I took a long drink. Might as well get it over with. The sooner I spilled my guts, the sooner Kelly could be found.
“Fine.” I drained the glass, wishing I’d taken the time to appreciate the liquor. “Like I said, I originally thought whoever took Kelly was out for revenge over the sex trafficking ring. But I was wrong. It’s much more personal.”
“You called Lennox because you thought he could maneuver faster?” Todd rested his elbows on the table, his hands close to mine.
“I called Lennox because I didn’t want to hurt you. But you’re here now, so you might as well hear it all too. It’s nothing you haven’t suspected. I’m just going to share names so Lennox can start investigating. If it’s not too late.”
Todd’s hands jerked. “Lucy, don’t.”
My head snapped back and forth fast enough to hurt. “This is Kelly. I would do anything for her. If it’s the end of me, then so be it.” I looked at Lennox. “I guess you’ll get the credit for breaking the case, if there is really one. I’m sure someone cares, but since we’re talking about the bottom of the barrel in society, who the hell knows.” I knew I was rambling, but I had to work up to admitting to killing over half a dozen men in less than two years. Throwing my life away wasn’t easy, especially when it might be too late to save Kelly.
“Don’t say anything else.” Todd slammed his fists on the table. “For once in your life, let someone else talk. Agent Lennox, tell her what the hell’s going on.”
Lennox loosened his bright red tie. “I’m going to say I don’t know what you were just referring to and move on to the case at hand, because while I think Kelly is still alive, we don’t want to mess around too long.”
“The case at hand is what I was going to talk about.”
“Lucy, please.” Todd looked ready to leap over the table. “Don’t talk anymore.”
I pointed at Lennox. “You said this was about me. So I’m doing the right thing.”
He took off his blazer and carefully folded it on the back of the booth. “It’s about you, but you’re way off. Have you ever heard of the Silver Stalker?”
I shrugged. The name sounded familiar, but my brain verged on mush.
“He’s a serial killer who leaves a coin with his victims–who are all female. Stupid signature, but Kelly said silver has a lot of symbolism,” Lennox said. “I’ve been tracking him for over two years. The media thinks he’s relatively new, but that’s by the FBI’s design. We don’t want another serial killer sparking national attention.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” I said. “How are women supposed to protect themselves if they don’t know he’s out there?”
Todd made a noise that sounded like agreement. Lennox glanced at him, the tension in the air growing thick. The FBI didn’t always share with the police and vice versa. Egos on the rampage. I had no time for it.
“He operates primarily in Pennsylvania, but we’ve confirmed other victims in Delaware and Maryland, and we’re currently investigating an older case in eastern Ohio,” Lennox supplied. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. I gave him a few moments. Chasing a man like the Silver Stalker had to suck the life out of him. My own victims weren’t bloodied or broken or innocent. The only time I’d come close to experiencing some of the revulsion of Lennox’s job was during the winter when the teenage girl had been found in the hunting cabin. Mary Weston’s work, and the image of the tortured girl would stick with me for the rest of my life. Lennox had dozens of those images to live with.
He put his glasses back on with a sigh. “The Silver Stalker doesn’t discriminate, which is unusual for a serial killer and makes him especially hard to track. He’s meticulous in his planning, and he kills every victim the same way. But he doesn’t care if they’re black, white, Hispanic–you get the picture. Some are tall, some short. Thin or heavy–again, no preference.”