by C. J. Lyons
He shut the door behind him. Nora stood in the empty locker room, uncertain what to do. Her vision was blurry; blinking only made it worse. She couldn’t smell anything but blood.
Her stomach rebelled, and she barely made it to the toilet before throwing up. Dry heaves overcame her; all she could think of was Seth’s face, his gorgeous face, covered in blood, his eyes staring blankly. . . . She knelt there on the cool tile floor for a moment. Then she pushed herself up, ignoring the smeared red handprints she left behind.
For once she had no urge to clean—no amount of cleaning could restore her equanimity, calm the terror raging through her.
THIRTY-THREE
Saturday, 2:42 P.M.
THE MAN REACHED BEHIND HIM TO THROW THE deadbolt on the door, then stood and lifted Gina to her feet. Shoving his free hand into her pockets, he took her cell phone, keys, and wallet.
He backed her against the wall, and with the gleeful smile of a schoolboy pulling the wings off a fly, he laid the knife against her lips. His smile widened, and he licked his lips.
Then he used the knife to cut another strip of duct tape, smoothing it over her mouth with one hand. It was hard getting enough air as she breathed through her nose, the tape scratching her nostrils with every movement.
“Don’t worry,” he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her to him. “That’s only temporary. We’ll be having a long talk later. I want to hear all about your boyfriend. And you’ll be telling me everything I want to know.” His hand drifted from her throat down to her breast, lingering there.
Then he threw her onto the couch, leaving her there as he ransacked the apartment. Gina fought the urge to vomit, knowing she could choke to death with the duct tape in place. It wasn’t easy; her insides felt as if they were hurtling out of control. She’d never been this scared before—not even during the drive-by shooting.
Why me? Gina wondered. But as the man threw Jerry’s notebooks and laptop computer onto the couch beside her, the answer became clear. Of course. Who better for the rapist to target next than the investigating detective’s girlfriend? The one who just happened to work in a hospital, like his other victims?
She couldn’t help the anger and resentment that flared through her. If it weren’t for Jerry—
“You’re the one getting the award tonight?” he asked, standing over her, the knife dangling casually from his hand. “Some kind of hero or something.”
Gina nodded.
“Yeah, I did my research. I like to know everything about my”—he paused, his gaze zeroing in on her breasts—“subjects. Your boyfriend must think he’s hot stuff, dating a good-looking woman like you.”
Gina recoiled against the cushions, trying to hide. But there was nowhere for her to go. A stray thought raced through her mind: her parents would say they’d been right all along. After she was gone, they’d blame this on her staying in the ER, working at Angels. Consorting with the “wrong” people.
“So, here’s how we’re going to play this,” he continued, oblivious to the fact that her heart was about to explode from her chest. He knelt beside her so that their faces were close enough for a kiss. She wanted to close her eyes, pretend she was dreaming, but she forced them to stay open. “I can’t manage both of you here together—this place isn’t private enough, anyway. Walls are too flimsy. You’re going to come with me and we’ll find a nice spot, quiet and private. Then we’ll call Boyle, invite him to join us for the fun.”
His lips parted in a freakish grin. A thin scar edged down from the side of his ear toward the corner of his mouth—the injury had been expertly repaired, but there must have been permanent damage to his facial nerve. No wonder he looked so cruel; only half of his face could show any expression.
As the clinician in her analyzed the anatomy of his injury, her fear subsided. Enough that she realized that her best and only chance to stay alive was to follow his orders. Jerry had a gun—she just needed to find a way to warn him, buy him time.
“Come on.” The man hauled her to her feet. “We’ll take my car.” He draped his coat around her shoulders, concealing her bound hands, then ripped the tape from her mouth. “Remember, one wrong move and you’re dead.”
LYDIA SCRUBBED HER HANDS CLEAN AT THE SINK outside Seth’s OR, watching as Diana deftly got the bleeding under control and assessed the damage. As much as she was tempted to stay longer and continue observing, she needed to get cleaned up and wanted to check on Nora.
She started down the hall to the locker rooms when she saw Jerry Boyle arguing with Glen Bakker. The security chief was standing guard outside the women’s locker room, arms akimbo, eyes narrowed, obviously not recognizing that Boyle’s authority trumped his own.
Boyle mirrored Glen’s posture, using his elbows to push his jacket aside, revealing both badge and gun. “I need to talk with her. Now.”
“I told you, she’ll be out as soon as she’s ready,” Glen said to Boyle. “She’s pretty broken up,” he told Lydia. “I called Tommy Z.”
Lydia appreciated Glen’s thoughtfulness, even if she didn’t share his confidence in Tommy Z’s abilities. “I was there, Boyle. I can tell you everything you need.”
Boyle nodded and pulled her down the hall to where they were out of earshot of Glen but he could keep an eye out for Nora. Lydia quickly went over how they’d found Seth.
“How long do you think he was down before you found him?”
“He still had a pulse, so no more than three to four minutes, given the rate of blood loss. Another minute or so and we would have been too late.”
“And you didn’t see anyone?”
“No.”
“Well, that rules out Lazarov. He was down in security under guard at the time.”
“I don’t think he killed Karen, either. But he might have stolen the rape kit—he has it in for Nora. Although he was pretty convincing when he said he was being framed. In any case, I’m pretty sure he’s the one who’s been talking to Pete Sandusky.”
“Doubt he will be in the future. Janet really put the fear of God into him.”
“Good.”
Boyle eyed the still-closed door to the locker room. “She’s been in there a while. Maybe you could—”
“I’ll go check on her.” Lydia nodded to Glen, who stood aside to let her enter the locker room. Inside, the shower was running, steam billowing out into the main changing area. “Nora?”
No answer. Lydia grabbed a towel from the linen cart and pulled the shower door open. Nora was crouched at the bottom, curled up, hugging her knees, ignoring the scalding hot water pummeling her naked body.
“Nora, come on out.” She turned the water off, knelt down, and wrapped the towel around Nora. Nora’s teeth were chattering even though her skin felt flushed. She didn’t look at Lydia, but instead gazed at an invisible point in the distance.
“Seth?”
“He’s fine. Diana DeFalco is repairing the damage. I think he’ll be okay.”
“Really?” Her gaze finally found Lydia’s face. “If anything happens to him—”
“He’s okay, honest. Come on, let’s get you a clean pair of scrubs.”
Nora allowed Lydia to pull her from the shower stall. With mechanical motions she dressed in scrubs and towel-dried her hair. Then she pulled her shoes back on.
“Jerry’s outside,” Lydia told her. “He needs to hear—”
Nora nodded. “I know.”
Lydia led her to the door. When she opened it, she found three worried men waiting for them; Tommy Z had joined Glen Bakker and Jerry Boyle.
“Nora,” Tommy said. “Are you okay?”
Nora bolted past the others and fell into Tommy’s arms. “No. No, I’m not.”
DR. KOENIG GRACIOUSLY INVITED AMANDA TO observe Narolie’s surgery. She called Tank to update him, as promised. To her surprise, it sounded like a party was going on in the background when he answered.
“I’m downstairs at the gala,” he told her. “My mother told me I had to come, to
make up for scaring her this morning. Said I’m the man of the family now. But it’s not too bad, even if the music’s lame. Ken’s here; he’s going to sneak me up to see Narolie when she’s out of surgery.”
“I’ll call you as soon as she’s back in her room.” She hung up on Tank and blew her breath out. Time to face the music.
She dialed Lucas and was surprised to hear his phone ring not far away from where she sat at the nurses’ station. She glanced around and saw that she was too late. Dr. Koenig had ambushed Lucas at the PICU entrance. He was gesticulating wildly, pointing at her, at Narolie, beaming with delight as if Amanda were responsible for curing cancer. Except, of course, he’d be taking any credit.
Lucas didn’t look as excited by the prospect. He nodded and passed Dr. Koenig as the OB-GYN exited the PICU, then headed straight for Amanda, a scowl narrowing his face.
“Lucas, I’m sorry,” she said before he could say a word. He came to a halt two feet away from her, standing over her, staring down, saying nothing. Amanda felt compelled to fill the silence. “After the ultrasound revealed the teratoma, I asked Dr. Koenig for advice and things kind of—”
“Is she stable enough for surgery?” he asked, the words clipped.
“Stable? Yes, anesthesia cleared her. We’ve gotten her blood pressure under control, and she hasn’t had any more episodes of bradycardia.”
“Okay, then. The OR is waiting for you and your patient.” He turned and stalked out of the unit without another word. Or, more hurtful, without a glance back.
STAY CALM, STAY CALM, STAY CALM. THE TWO words were Gina’s hold on reality as the man forced her to drive through the snow and dark. It seemed like she’d never seen the sun at all the last few days. She was going to die, never see the sun again. . . .
Fear surged through her, and she pressed on the accelerator. The man had exchanged his knife for a gun and now poked the pistol into her side, hard.
“Slow down. We don’t want to attract any cops.” He chuckled. “Not yet.”
She did as she was told, and he relaxed the gun, giving her room to breathe.
“Your boyfriend must really love you,” he said in a conversational tone. “You know he didn’t just rent a tux for tonight’s shindig, he actually bought one? On sale, but still. Not many guys would do that. So I’m thinking, with this thing tonight, he’ll be expecting you there, right? Be a good place to ambush him. And hospitals have all sorts of private nooks and crannies.”
Oh God. He was going to kill her and Jerry right there at Angels. In front of everyone she worked with—in front of her parents . . . again, she forced her thoughts back on track, following the man’s directions to drive around the hospital.
“There, pull in there.” He pointed to the loading dock at the rear of the research tower. About as dark and private as you could get.
The perfect place for an ambush.
THIRTY-FOUR
Saturday, 5:17 P.M.
“NOW, CALL HIM,” THE MAN TOLD GINA, SWITCHING her phone to speaker and hitting the speed dial for Jerry. “Get him down here.”
Gina stared at the deserted loading dock. The fire exit for the research tower was beside it. On the other side of the building, several hundred people would be gathered to celebrate her heroism. Was she really going to draw Jerry into his death?
“Hey, Gina.” Jerry’s voice came through the speaker, jolting her back to the present. “I’m kind of busy.”
The man jammed the pistol between her ribs so hard that she gasped in pain. “Jerry, I need your help. It’s important.”
“Are you here at Angels? What do you need? What’s wrong?”
The man nodded in encouragement. A light went on in the research tower before her and she thought of Ken Rosen. And his crazy lab, a study in chaos theory.
Gina gathered her strength and threw everything she had into her next rush of words. “I need to see you. It’s life or death. Meet me at Ken Rosen’s lab.”
The slap rocked her head back against the headrest. The man was immediately on top of her, one hand circling her neck to choke her as he raised the gun.
“Gina, what’s wrong?” Jerry’s voice came from the speaker, sounding tinny and far away. Another voice came in the background—Lydia’s? What was Lydia doing with Jerry? Gina wondered through the haze of pain as she struggled to breathe. “Okay. I’m on my way.”
The line went dead.
“You bitch,” the man said, squeezing her neck so hard that Gina came up out of her seat. “Who’s this Ken Rosen? What the hell have you done?”
He released her and she fell back into the seat. She massaged her throat until she found the strength to speak. “Look up. No one’s in the tower because of the gala. You said you wanted privacy—it’s better than out here where the security patrols could drive by and see something.”
A car chose that very minute to drive by. The man forced her head down as the lights sliced through the car windows. He held her there until the coast was clear. Then he dashed from the car and around to her side before she could do anything.
He opened her door and yanked her out.
“If this is a trick,” he whispered into her ear, jamming the gun into her spine, “you’re going to live a long, long time. And you’re going to be screaming in pain every living moment.”
“SHE’S NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO TELL YOU MUCH tonight.” Nora heard Lydia’s voice as though from a distance. “Can’t you take her statement in the morning?”
“I can take her over to my office,” Tommy said. “She needs a chance to defuse, to start processing some of these emotions. Otherwise she might not make a good witness for anyone.”
“Well . . .” Jerry didn’t sound too sure. “I don’t want her alone—or without protection. Let me get one of my guys up here.”
“I’ll stay with her,” Glen volunteered. “I’m off duty anyway, and you guys have things covered here.”
Jerry’s phone rang before he could answer. From the conversation, Nora gathered it was Gina. She and Tommy had already begun heading down the hall to the elevator banks. Lydia and Glen followed.
There was a guard at the elevators, but he nodded to Glen and pressed the call button. Nora turned to Lydia as the doors opened. “Stay here, please. Let me know as soon as Seth is out of the OR.”
“You sure you’re going to be all right?” Lydia asked, gripping Nora’s arm.
Nora had no answer to that.
AMANDA HADN’T REALIZED HOW FAST THE TERATOMA removal would be. It was done laparoscopically, through a small incision. Dr. Koenig might have been a pompous windbag as a teacher, but in the OR he moved with a precise economy of grace that was inspiring to watch.
“There’s our baby,” he said as the forceps emerged with a glistening blob of tissue, no more than two centimeters in diameter.
“Hard to believe something so small could cause so much trouble,” she’d said.
He chuckled. “If you were right. Only time will tell.” He deposited the teratoma into the specimen jar the nurse held. “Now we wait.”
LYDIA HATED WAITING. SETH WAS STILL IN THE OR, Narolie was in the OR, Gina was probably getting her medal by now, Nora was talking with Tommy—hopefully the counselor was more effective than he had been with Lydia—and she was stuck waiting.
Her phone rang. Oh shit. Trey’s mother again.
“Ruby, I’m so sorry—”
“It’s me,” came Trey’s voice. “I wanted to let you know I was at my folks’. In case you were wondering.” It might as well have been Ruby. Seemed like Trey had mastered her technique of long-distance guilt induction.
“You have no idea the kind of day I’ve had.”
His sigh resonated through the phone lines. “Look, my family put a lot of effort into planning things for today. They wanted you to feel welcome. I really think you owe them an apology.”
An apology? Over a bunch of cookies? She was smart enough not to voice her thoughts out loud. “Okay, I’ll apologize. Put Rub
y on.”
“Not over the phone, Lydia.” Irritation crackled through his voice. “Call me when you’re headed home.”
She started to tell him about Seth, about everything going on—but why? He’d rush over, crowd her, and then it would be two of them waiting with nothing to do. “I will.”
She hung up and pocketed her phone. Her clothes were stiff as Seth’s blood dried. Thankfully her dark jeans and top masked most of it from casual gaze, but it was uncomfortable. She had running clothes down in her locker, so she headed for the ER.
The sounds of the gala echoed down the narrow corridor that connected the cafeteria to the ER—clinking glasses, laughter, music. Social butterfly Gina would fit right in. No wonder the public had singled her out as the Hero of Angels.
The public as led by Pete Sandusky. The thought of him made her detour to the security office. No way was she going to allow him to shape Nora’s life through his slanted reporting and photos.
TOMMY, NORA, AND GLEN RODE UP TO THE EIGHTH-FLOOR skyway and crossed it in silence. Tommy’s office was on the fourth floor of the research tower, so there was another short elevator ride down. Nora felt dizzy—not from going up and down, but somehow time seemed to be going fast, then slow, whirling her around with it.
They stepped out of the elevator and Glen used his PDA to turn on the hall lights. The three of them walked down to Tommy’s office.
“You okay?” Glen asked as she moved to follow Tommy inside.
Nora shrugged in reply. Didn’t have energy for more.
She couldn’t shake the image of Seth, lying in his own blood. It was frozen in her vision, while everything else swooshed past her.
“Tell me about what happened,” Tommy said once the two of them were safely ensconced in his office, Glen standing guard outside. Nora sat on a leatherette love seat and Tommy sat beside her in a similarly upholstered chair. The lights were dim but she could see herself reflected in the window, as if she were looking underwater, into a dark lake with no bottom.