Now You See Him

by Stella Cameron

  With bile in her throat, Ellie battled, twisted, shoved herself sideways—and turned her fist, aimed the blade for his chest.

  He dropped the pillow and rose up to undo his belt buckle. It made a snick-snick-slap sound as he undid it. And Ellie took advantage of the moment to strike at him.

  Going for the place under his collarbone, she got both hands on the opener and drove upward. A single thrust, the only one she’d make before he retaliated, sank into him, squeaked as if it sawed through sinew, and the man howled.

  He went mad. Another punch, this one to her belly, left her limp and gasping. She retched at the pains inside her. Agony clawed its way to her back. With both fists she pummeled him wherever she could make contact.

  Wailing, coughing, he swished his belt free and whipped it through the air. She braced for the slash of leather, the tearing of her flesh. Sweat trickled across her face and body.

  The belt hit some surface and he unsnapped his jeans.

  She screamed and thrashed and he managed to get a pillow over her face again.

  No, she would not die beneath this inflamed monster.

  Say something. I want to know who you are.

  Once more Ellie found enough air and scooted until her face was free. And she recognized his movements. He tried to work his pants down with one hand. Shrieking, tossing his head like a wounded animal, he reared back, and the can opener, buried in his chest, glinted.

  A yowl, low, loud and furious, stilled him. The yowl punctuated hissing in a yell so eerie it amazed Ellie. Zipper. The cat had never made sounds like that.

  With his body heaving and swaying over her, the attacker rested his head on her neck and writhed. With both hands, he batted behind him. The cat’s claws must be sunk into the man’s back. He yelled, then screamed and cursed. But Zipper didn’t quit.

  The weight left Ellie.

  Instantly, crying as she went, she leaped from the bed, taking the phone with her, and dialed Joe’s number. He picked up instantly and she cried, “Help me.”

  The intruder crashed about. She could make out his body, his flailing arms, and still the cat used darkness to cover her combat.

  Ellie made it to the bathroom and locked herself in. He’d get through the door soon enough, but she’d use the phone until he stopped her. Joe had hung up at once. Her teeth clattered together so hard her jaws hurt.

  Quiet on the other side of the door stopped her. She put her ear to the wood. Joe would already be on his way and he’d have Spike on the phone himself.

  Not a sound.

  Shaking took over her limbs. She would not leave the bathroom. Her bathrobe hung on a hook near the shower and she pulled it on, tied it tightly about her.

  A crash, and another, and another sent her stomach into her throat, but it was Joe’s voice she heard shouting, “Ellie, I’m here. Hold on.”

  Thunderous footsteps on the stairs, sounds of running boots and Joe said, “Where are you? For God’s sake, Ellie—”

  “In here,” she cried out. Her fingers trembled so badly she used both hands to unlock the door. “In the bathroom, Joe!” Now the tears streamed.

  He stared at her for an instant then put his arms around her. He sidestepped, walking her with him, and turned on the lights. “Cher.” Joe pressed his mouth shut, taking in her condition, and that of the room. “Who was it?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “He didn’t make a sound until the end.”

  Joe’s grimace bared his teeth. He hugged her so hard she couldn’t draw a breath properly. “I’m going to find him and kill him,” Joe said into her hair.

  “Just hold me,” she told him, and seized handfuls of his shirt. “Don’t let me go.”

  “Spike’s on his way.”

  Ellie said, “Don’t leave me.”

  “Never,” he said.

  “Zipper stopped him.”

  He leaned back and brushed her hair from her eyes. “What did you say?”

  She looked past him to where Zipper sat amid bloodied sheets, her eyes completely crossed and the occasional hiss still issuing. “She stopped him, Joe.”

  More boots hit the stairs and Spike bellowed, “Ellie? Joe?”

  “In Ellie’s bedroom,” Joe yelled back, then muttered, “The cat?”

  “Don’t touch a thing,” Spike shouted. “Nothing, got it?”

  “Got it,” Joe told him. “The cat,” he said again, and felt Ellie’s brow.

  “No,” Ellie said, shaking her head. Her teeth chattered together. “I’m not nuts. That man was going to rape me. Zipper attacked his bare rear and hung on. It had to be that. She took chunks out of his butt.” Her own laughter came in uncontrolled bursts. “And…and I stabbed him with my can opener.”

  “Hush,” Joe said. He took a bath sheet and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Try to hold on.”

  The bedroom door shut. “Keep still, you two,” Spike said. “She’s biting her nails.”

  Ellie wanted to sit on the floor. She couldn’t stop laughing and shaking.

  “Who?” Joe said.

  “Ellie said the cat took chunks out of him. Good kitty. Kitty, kitty. We don’t want her swallowing any DNA.”

  32

  “I’m not dead yet,” Ellie said. Bruises stained her already scratched face and her lower lip had swollen. “Why do I need a medical examiner?”

  “You don’t.” Reb Girard smiled and put an arm across Ellie’s back as if she could stop her spasms of trembling. “I just meant that folks forget I’m the medical examiner in Toussaint. And I get called in to help out after…after the kind of experience you’ve had.”

  “Do you want us in your consultin’ room?” Joe asked, anxious to get out of the hallway. Reb’s easy smiles were impressive. Nothing would amuse him in the near future, not until a single-minded pervert was where he couldn’t keep on victimizing Ellie.

  “Joe,” Reb said, smiling as if he needed reassurance. “Marc’s in the kitchen makin’ coffee for the two of you. You’ll be comfortable in the study. Keep it down, though. William and Gaston are asleep in my old bedroom.”

  “What is it with the women in this town and dogs?” Joe pretended to frown at her. “You just told me to get lost.”

  “I don’t trust people who don’t love dogs and Gaston’s the best baby-sitter around.” Reb looked at Ellie. “It’ll be easier if Ellie and I work on our own.” She looked at Ellie. “Don’t you think so? If you really want Joe—”

  “No,” Ellie said quickly. Each time she spoke her jaw shook. “He’d be bored.”

  “No I wouldn’t,” he said before he could control his big mouth. “I mean—”

  “We know what you mean, Joe,” Reb told him. “Have you always had voyeuristic tendencies?”

  “Darn it,” he said, annoyed. “All I want to do is make sure Ellie’s okay, Doc. I’ll go in the sitting room.”

  Carrying a tray, Marc emerged from the back of the house where the kitchen was located. “You hungry?” he asked Joe. “Wake me up this early in the mornin’ and I could eat a few fat nutrias—which I hate.”

  Joe grimaced. “If I was hungry, I’m surely not now.”

  Reb escorted Ellie away.

  It was killing him to see her so bowed and he wanted just one thing, to get his hands on the creep who did this to her. He wanted something else, too—to be alone with her and start the rebuilding process between them. It scared him to think about how she might react to him as a man after being sexually attacked again.

  The doorbell rang and Joe opened it. A female officer stood there, carrying a large, hard-sided bag and displaying her badge. “Officer Angelle. I’m here to see Dr. Reb Girard and an Ellie Byron.”

  “Take this, please,” Marc said, giving Joe the tray. “Take it into the study. I’ll be right there.”

  The study had changed since Joe saw it last, when he was a kid and the room belonged to Reb’s doctor father. The old desk remained, but red suede had replaced studded leather on the couch, one chair and an
oversize round ottoman. Dark blue quilted drapes covered the windows and two wing chairs were upholstered with the same fabric.

  Joe put the tray on a painted Chinese chest used as a table in front of the couch. Fitted Persian carpet with a deep burgundy ground and a ceiling painted the same shade reminded him of Marc’s involvement in architecture and design. For himself, Joe had long ago decided he was design-challenged, but he appreciated the room a lot.

  “It’s going to get busy around here,” Marc said, closing the study door behind him. “That one records everything and takes photos.”

  “What kind of photos?” Joe asked, feeling irritable.

  Marc shrugged. “I don’t know about these things. Whiskey’s available if you’d like a shot in your coffee.”

  “No—yes, please. Maybe I need whiskey with a shot of coffee.”

  “Here you go,” Marc said, bending over to pour from a decanter, for Joe and for himself. He looked up at Joe. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

  “Just about the worst.” Joe averted his face. “But Ellie says he didn’t actually rape her.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Saved by the cat.”

  “I heard about that,” Marc said, and had the sense not to laugh. “Joe, I understand how you’re feeling. You want to get your hands on him. I’d be the same.”

  “Spike said to leave her dressed like she was and put a coat over the top.”

  Marc nodded. “To protect any evidence,” he said without emotion. “Makes sense.”

  Nothing made sense. She’d been through hell in her life and managed to come out of it. He still marveled at his luck that Ellie had put the prolonged sexual abuse behind her. Now he had to hope she wouldn’t withdraw from him again, as she had in the beginning.

  “Sit down,” Marc said. “Beating yourself up won’t help Ellie.”

  “I should have insisted on staying with her last night.”

  Marc sat on a the ottoman. “The way I heard it, she didn’t want that.”

  “I think the damned pigeons gossip in this town.” Joe drank coffee, grateful for the kick Marc had added. “What she thought she wanted shouldn’t have put me off. She decided she had to be brave and stand on her own feet. She needs to be with me.”

  Marc drank his coffee but the corners of his mouth turned up.

  “What’s funny?” Joe asked.

  “Sounds to me like you’ve made a big decision.”

  Joe understood him. “Maybe, but don’t go mouthin’ off because marriage takes two and I can’t be sure where we stand. Some days I’m sure, other days I’m not.”

  “Sounds familiar. I remember courting Reb.”

  “Strong-minded women.” Joe sighed. “You gotta love ‘em.”

  “Yeah.”

  They sat quietly, drinking coffee. Marc poured refills from a carafe and added a larger measure of whiskey than the first time.

  “Do you remember my sister, Amy?” Marc asked.

  Joe hadn’t really known her but he did remember her story. “Did you hear from her again?” She’d dropped out of sight several years back but kept in touch. Marc and Reb kept trying to persuade her to return to Toussaint. Or that’s what Joe understood.

  “She calls most months. I still don’t know where she is because she wants it that way, but she’s starting to talk about visitin’. It’s William, of course. She wants to meet her nephew.”

  “That’s good news,” Joe said.

  “It will be if she ever comes,” Marc said. “I thought of her because she’s another hard-headed female. In her case it didn’t always serve her so well. That’s what brought Wazoo to Toussaint—Amy. They shared an apartment in New Orleans while Amy was going through some pretty awful stuff with a man who had used her since she was a teenager. Wazoo looked out for her in the way only Wazoo could. Reb and I have a special place in our hearts for that woman—even if she can make us all crazy.”

  A sharp, loud knock and they heard people come through the front door. Men talked over one another.

  “Reb? Where are you?” Spike raised his voice.

  Joe got up rapidly and went into the hall. “Keep it down,” he said. “William’s asleep upstairs. Reb and Ellie are in the consultin’ room with a female officer. Come on in the study.”

  Cyrus, Madge and Guy Gautreaux were with Spike. “Now that Charles Penn’s out of the picture, NOPD’s off the case and the sheriff’s on my neck for information. So is every other agency around. I need to see how things are goin’,” Spike said.

  “No you don’t.” Joe gritted his teeth. “I’ll call through the door and let them know you’re here.”

  Spike’s face colored. “Sure. Why don’t you do that?”

  “I’ll do it,” Madge said, her expression too innocent.

  Off she went and Joe led the others into the study. “We’ve been banished,” he told them, taking a long look at Guy, who still didn’t seem himself.

  “Nothin’ about tonight’s events makes much sense,” Spike said. “It’s a forensics dream, though. The guy behaved like he wants to be caught.”

  Cyrus, who hovered, his expression badly troubled, said, “What does that mean? You’ll catch him, then? The folks in this town have been through too much. The fear needs to be over.”

  “I can’t go into all the details.” Spike watched Cyrus. “You’re jumpy. You’re usually the cool one.”

  Cyrus went to the windows, pulled a drape aside and pretended to be looking at something in the blustery darkness outside. “We may be boarding up by some time tomorrow, after all,” he said. “Looks like the hurricane’s really comin’ this time.”

  “So I heard,” Guy said, meeting Joe’s eyes. “We all heard it on the radio comin’ over here.”

  Groans made the rounds.

  “How long have they been in there?” Spike asked, angling his head in the direction of Reb’s consulting room.

  “Too goddamn long,” Joe said. His control threatened to snap completely. “You know the state Ellie’s in. Looks like Madge is helping out there.”

  “She’s good at making people feel better,” Cyrus remarked.

  Marc said, “How did she know to come?”

  “My fault,” Guy said. He sounded grim. “Made a nuisance of myself yesterday. Drank too much. She and Cyrus ended up looking after me at the rectory.”

  Nobody commented.

  “If you had to guess,” Spike said to Joe, “what would you say the perp wants? Is he only interested in scaring Ellie, and raping her, or does he intend to kill her?”

  “I’d say keep your questions to yourself, moron.” Joe breathed rapidly. Sweat popped out along his hairline. “You’ve got a wife you love. How would you like that question comin’ your way?”

  “Joe,” Cyrus said. “Perhaps—”

  “Perhaps nothin’. You’d be okay with someone askin’ you if you thought Madge was supposed to die? Shit. You talk about Ellie like she’s a thing, not a woman.”

  Spike’s cell phone rang and he went into the hall to talk.

  “Shit,” Joe said again and pushed his fingers through his hair. What was it with his mouth? “Sorry. Why is it taking so long? Do y’all think that jerk wanted Ellie dead? What kind of thing is that to think about?”

  “No kind,” Marc said. “I’ll make fresh coffee.”

  “Deputy Lori checking in from Ellie’s place,” Spike said, strolling back into the study. “Says she never saw a crime scene like this one. We’ve got prints, hair, fibers, blood—two types. And the cat did have traces of tissue in her claws. And Einstein left his belt behind. Expensive, she said, and covered in prints.”

  Spike’s phone blared again and this time he didn’t bother to leave the room. “Devol,” he said. “But…Yes, it was, thoroughly. I thought so.” He listened, only adding an occasional word to the conversation. “Thank you. I want you to go home, right now.”

  He took the phone from his ear, looked at it and switched off. “Sheesh. She hung up. Wouldn’t have hap
pened when I was a kid on the force. Get this. The creep’s been hangin’ out in the attic of the empty house between Ellie’s place and Joe’s. There’s a stash of canned food there. Water, and some stale baked stuff from Ben’s Foods. Best of all, the guy left a receipt in a plastic bag. It’s always the small mistakes that break a case. At least the folks at Ben’s have got surveillance tapes we can look at. Something might show up. He made a hole through into Ellie’s attic and sat there like a brown spider waitin’ to strike.”

  “How the hell could that happen if your people searched up there?” Joe said.

  Spike subsided with an expression that suggested he thought he’d been too free with the facts.

  “C’mon,” Joe said. “We’re in this together.”

  “Anything I say won’t be good enough for you. We did search but I’m thinking no one pulled down the attic steps.”

  “Spike?” Reb put her head around the door. “A word, please.”

  “What is it?” Joe beat Spike into the hall.

  Reb glanced at Spike, who nodded.

  “We’re still bagging evidence and we’ll probably get a few more shots. You’d better be thinking long and hard about who this might have been. He’s an animal. We can all thank God he didn’t finish what he started, and he got close. We’ve got semen.”

  Joe crossed his arms. His mouth was too dry for him to talk.

  “Ellie will be fine. He beat her up. She mashed her lip pretty bad but it’ll heal fast. She’s got a couple of bad bruises on her face and scratches on her body—in addition to the ones that aren’t quite healed from before. She said she bit his hand because it was over her mouth. In addition to Zipper’s contribution, we’ve got more blood on Ellie. Blood that isn’t hers, that is. There’s pubic hair.”

  Guy had come to stand in the doorway to the study. “Bastard,” he said. “But if we can’t find him with all we’ve got, we should try a different business. I just checked in with an old buddy who still talks to me. The clipping they found in that so-called hideout came from a San Francisco paper.”

  “Well, that’s a big help,” Joe said.