Facing Evil

by C L Hart

  She ignored him as he walked up to her, continuing to rub her hands.

  “Abby,” he said quietly. There was no response and he was unsure whether she had heard him. Kneeling down, he looked up into her eyes as she lifted her gaze to look sadly at him.

  “Have you heard anything?”

  “They said it could take a while, but they said she had a chance...a small chance.” The tears started to roll down her face. “I should’ve shot him. I should have killed him. I should have shot him in the alley this morning, but I didn’t.” Looking back at her hand, she tried to rub away what was no longer there. “It’s her blood, you know...her blood on my hands.” She pressed harder with her thumb. “Her blood, and there is nothing I can do to change it. I can’t turn back time— ”

  Lincoln rose up just enough to wrap his arms around his friend as she sobbed out, “It’s my fault. If...if I hadn’t gotten involved with her...none of this would have happened.”

  Releasing her from his embrace, he took her by both shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Abby, don’t say that. You can’t keep second guessing yourself. You couldn’t have known what he was going to do.”

  “No, but I knew what he was capable of. And now she is lying in there fighting for her life...because of me. Lincoln, she had no idea what she was getting into.”

  Yes, she did. Lincoln thought as he once again felt the weight of the evidence in his pocket.

  “They asked me about her family when we brought her in. I didn’t know what to say. I know that they are someplace in Europe, but not how to reach them. And what would I say to them anyhow?”

  “Her family... ”He hadn't thought about that and he realized then, he had no choice but to tell her who Sarah really was. He had to, but could he?

  “You know, Sarah and I talked about family. I didn’t tell her everything. I couldn’t. And now...” Abby stood up and walked over to the window. What if I had told her everything?

  He gave her a few minutes, but he wondered if it was for her sake or his own. “Abby, maybe there was a good reason why you didn’t tell her everything.” Lincoln reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded papers. “I don’t know how to tell you this,” he began uncomfortably.

  “Tell me what?”

  Abby turned to face him, and when he saw her standing there covered in the blood of the woman she loved, he had to remind himself that it was that same woman who had exposed Abby to the world. The pain and stress were etched deep into Abby’s face, her dark eyes saddened by all that had been coming down on her. Lincoln didn’t see how he could add to her troubles, but he was too good of a friend not to give her all of the facts.

  “There couldn’t be a worse time to tell you this...and maybe I should wait.” He looked back over her shoulder to the doors leading to the operating rooms. If Sarah dies, does Abby still have to know? He shook the thought from his mind. She would find out eventually.

  “What?” Abby could see the struggle on his face and wondered what could be bothering him so much. “Linc, talk to me.”

  “Abby, when things weren’t adding up, I had to find my own answers...for me and for you.”

  “And?”

  Lincoln lifted the folded papers and held them out for Abby. When she reached for them, Linc held on for a moment longer, “The only reason I am telling you now is because I don’t want you to hear this from someone else.”

  Abby pulled the folded notepaper and newsprint from his hand. She opened the papers, her lips pursed in a thin line as she flipped through each headline. But it wasn’t the words that leapt off the page at her…it was the small picture of Sarah beside each headline. Sarah’s face, though with a slightly different name.

  “Abby, Sarah is a reporter. She was the source of the news stories.”

  “What? No, you’re wrong! She couldn’t have...” A rush of emotions overwhelmed her. It seemed unreal, so untrue.

  The doors from the operating room opened with a hiss and an older man in sweat-stained hospital greens came slowly toward Abby and Lincoln.

  “Oh God,” Abby whispered as she looked at the man. “Doctor?”

  “She’s alive. Extremely lucky, but thanks to you, she is alive.” He saw the instant relief on her face.

  “Can I see her?”

  “She won’t be awake for a long time.”

  “I don’t care. I just want to see her.”

  “Okay, slow down here, Detective. She’s far from out of the woods.”

  “I know that, but she is alive and she’s a fighter,” Abby said.

  “Fighter or not, she had lost a lot of blood. Whoever did this to her used a thin razor knife, like a box cutter, and it broke off in her neck, which is the other reason she is still alive. The arteries were not severed, so that gave her a chance. Her jaw was broken and is now wired shut, but that’s minor compared to her other injuries. Several bones in her face have been shattered and will need further surgery. If she makes it past the next forty-eight hours, I’ll get in touch with a friend of mine who is a reconstructive plastic surgeon. The next battle after that will be against infection, but I don’t think we need to get into that right now.”

  “But she’s alive,” Abby said more tentatively.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Whatever she needs, she gets. Money is no object. Anything.”

  “I assure you, whatever she needs, she will get — with or without your financial assistance, Detective. Our first priority here is the patient, not the bill.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply—”

  “It’s quite all right. I understand your concerns. Money is not an issue now, but it will be in the future.”

  “When can I see her, Doctor?”

  The surgeon could see the care and concern in Abby’s features. “I’ll send someone up for you when she gets settled into the ICU.”

  “Thanks, Doctor.” Lincoln extended his hand.

  “I just stitched her back together, so let’s see where it goes from there. I don’t want you two to get your hopes up too high. She has a long road ahead and she hasn’t even taken the first step yet.”

  “I understand that, Doctor — I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  “Doctor Marcot.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Marcot,” Abby said sincerely. He nodded, then turned and disappeared back through the doors to the surgical suite.

  ♥

  Lincoln was reluctant to leave, but he was due back at the crime scene. Abby could tell he wanted to talk, though she wasn’t sure if she was ready yet. With a promise to keep him informed, she gave him a hug.

  “Abby...about Sarah?” he ventured cautiously.

  “It’s not her!” Abby stated firmly.

  “Yes it is, Abby. You just don’t want to admit it right now.”

  “You’re wrong, Linc.”

  “I’m not wrong, Abby.” Lincoln looked at the folded papers. “I wish I was, but I’m not.” He watched her for a moment, unsure of where her mind was, though he knew his partner well enough to see her anger growing.

  Jaw set, she looked to the ceiling as she ran her hands through her hair. “Goddamn it!” With her hands on her hips, she made her way over to the window. “All my life I’ve worked to keep my private life private, doing my best to honor my parents’ memory by keeping the past where it belongs — in the past. And now it’s out there for everyone to read with their morning coffee. And you’re telling me it was Sarah who did it.” Abby went still as she looked out the window.

  Lincoln came up behind her. “Yes.”

  Abby stood silent for a long moment before she turned to him. There were lies and half truths that needed to be corrected, but Abby just couldn’t bring herself to do it now. “Who knows about this?”

  “Right now it’s between you and me, although it won’t be for long.”

  She looked to her partner and closest friend. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just, I can’t believe — because if I do, that means everything we had
was a lie.”

  “I wish there was another explanation—”

  Abby held up her hand to stop him. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? Just give me...just give me some time.”

  “I’d love to, Abby. I’ve got to go. Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be better once I know she’s out of the woods.”

  Lincoln put a hand on her shoulder, “Abby, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”

  “Just...let it be. I need some time with this.”

  ♥

  The time in the waiting room seemed to last forever, so Abby busied herself by trying to locate Sarah’s parents. She didn’t have a lot to go on, though she had resources and she put them to work. Time ticked by slowly as she made call after call, continuing to come up empty. There was no sign of a Phillip or Maggie McMurphy anywhere. She was sure those were the names Sarah had mentioned, but she had said so many things. For a brief moment, Abby thought about changing the search to Murphy, though if she did that, it would mean... It was her, and she was the reporter. Was it all a lie? I don’t believe that! I remember the look in her eyes. But I also remember the torment she was going through — that would mean... If she was the reporter, then what did she know? I lied to her; hell I’ve lied to everyone. That doesn’t change how I feel about them. The only ones who knew the truth...

  The thought of family brought a whispered name back to her, one she refused to acknowledge. She hadn’t talked to her uncle in so long, she wasn’t sure what she would say now or how she would tell him about what had happened. With nothing else to do, she did the only things she could: she paced. And she waited. And she tormented herself with the past. As time ticked by, she kept glancing over at the folded newspapers. That is Sarah’s picture, but... And she waited. She didn’t want to believe what Lincoln had told her. Something in her heart wouldn’t let her believe that Sarah’s love wasn’t real, no matter whose name was under those damning headlines. Abby slowly walked over to the newspapers and sat down. With growing anxiety, she reached for the paper and started to read what had been written under Sarah’s byline.

  ♥

  A young nurse eventually came down the hall. “Are you Detective Stanfield?”

  “Yes.”

  “This way, please.” The nurse motioned down the hallway. “I just want to prepare you for what you are going to see. She will be hard to recognize because of her injuries, but keep in mind it is your friend under all those bandages and tubes.”

  “I understand. You don’t have to worry. Being a cop, I have seen lots, believe me.”

  The nurse stopped at the ICU desk and picked up a metal chart. “I’m sure that is true, but when it’s someone you know, it makes a big difference. She’s right back here.” She pointed with the chart to a dimly lit room with a large sliding glass door.

  Abby stopped outside the glass door and looked inside. The nurse had been right — it was different when it was someone you knew. Sarah’s small, fragile body was almost hidden from sight beneath the tubes and gauze. The stark white bandages contrasted sharply against the bruised and battered skin that was visible. A large tube went into Sarah’s mouth and down her damaged throat. A valve was rising and falling with each breath. Abby looked from the respirator over to the monitor that beeped and flashed with different numbers, in different colors, all representing Sarah’s vital signs.

  The nurse put down the chart and came back to stand beside the visibly shaken detective.

  “Oh, my God,” Abby whispered, unable to take her eyes off her. “She looks so...” Words failed her, and took her a moment to speak. “Now what?”

  “That depends on her. She has to want to fight to stay alive, and after everything she has been through... That was a tremendous ordeal, quite a shock to her body, and she lost a lot of blood with that gash to her neck. I understand you saw it.”

  Abby nodded.

  “It just missed her windpipe, which is good, though the soft tissue damage is rather extensive. I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but at this point there is no sense in sugarcoating it.”

  Abby stared through the glass, “Do you think she will she make it?”

  “The next forty-eight hours will be the toughest. After that...” The nurse turned to look at the young woman in the bed. “Her broken bones will heal, as will the cuts to her face and body, but the psychological damage could be the worst of all. The human body can be quite fragile; however, it is also quite resilient. She’s a fighter; we can tell that already. And as for her vocal cords, those we won’t know for a while.”

  “Vocal cords? Her voice?” Abby’s gaze moved from Sarah’s battered body to the nurse standing beside her. “Because of the paste?”

  “Paste? I don’t know anything about a paste. I was referring to the damage from the actual trauma in that area. We won’t know until she wakes up. One thing at a time, one hour at a time. That is how her life will be measured for the next little while.” She turned to look at Sarah. “I’m sorry, I wish I could stay here with you longer, but I need to get back to work.”

  “Thank you,” Abby whispered.

  “You’re welcome. Just call me if you need anything; my name is Robin.”

  “What...what do you think her chances are?” Abby asked as she watched the rise and fall of Sarah’s respirator.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t say. I’m not a doctor,” Robin said with a weak smile. She turned to look at Sarah’s small figure. “I’ve seen people survive worse, but to be honest with you...I don’t know how.”

  ♥

  Abby watched from outside the glass for a long time before she finally found the courage to enter the hospital room. The moment she opened the door, she heard the beeps, the rhythmic hiss of the respirator, and saw the constant flashes of light, all of which told her that Sarah was alive.

  Beep...beep

  Moving closer, she studied the deep red and purple mottled bruises around Sarah’s face that contrasted so sharply with the pristine white of the thick bandage around her neck.

  Beep...beep

  Sarah’s face had been stitched back together. Twisted lines of dried black blood crisscrossed her face where the skin had been split open by Billy’s fist, and swollen, encrusted lips were wrapped around the plastic tube filling her lungs with air.

  Beep...beep

  Was this really her Sarah? Where was that innocent face, that infectious smile? Abby had to tell herself somewhere behind those eyelids that were swollen shut was a pair of bright emerald eyes. And she had to keep telling herself that.

  Beep...beep

  Abby brought up her hand to try to stifle a sob as it rose from her chest. Billy did this. She knew just as she had known before. The fires of Hell burned brightly in her mind as she thought about his past and what he had already taken from her life.

  Beep...beep

  Walking quietly forward, Abby pulled over a chair and sat down next to Sarah. Reaching through the bars of her bed, she collected Sarah’s small hand into hers. There are so many things I want to say to you. Please...don’t leave me.

  Beep...beep

  With her emotions in check, she silently promised herself not to miss the second chance she had been given. I love you, Sarah, and one day I will look you in the eyes and tell you.

  

  The medical staff wouldn’t let her stay long in the room with Sarah, not yet. Abby found an uncomfortable set of chairs just down the hall within sight of Sarah’s room. They had tried several times to get her to sleep in one of the beds provided, but Abby refused when she realized that she wouldn’t be able to actually see Sarah.

  She went back to trying to locate Sarah’s family, and kept coming up with nothing. There was no evidence of there being a Phillip or Maggie McMurphy that fit the parameters Sarah had described. The voice in the back of her head was growing louder, and she knew that she couldn’t ignore it any longer. Regardless of what had happened — of who she was or what she had done — Sarah needed her family with
her. But if Lincoln was right about Sarah writing the articles, then what did that mean?

  With a heavy heart, Abby changed her search from Phillip and Maggie McMurphy to Phillip and Maggie Murphy. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done because it meant Sarah really had lied about who she was. Within hours, she had located a phone number for Sarah’s parents. She left her name and number and was assured someone would be in touch.

  Leaning back in one of the chairs, with her head resting against the wall, she thought about what it meant that Sarah had given her a falsified name. Was Sarah really that reporter, and if so, did that mean their entire relationship was a lie?

  No way, was the first thought in her mind. But if she didn’t write the articles, then who did? Someone had told them things that only a few people knew.

  Abby heard the approach of the soft-soled shoes. She opened her eyes to see Robin.

  “There is a call for you at the desk. You can take it in there if you want.” The nurse pointed to a small room where there was a sofa and a phone.

  “Thanks, Robin.”

  The small light on the side of the phone lit up and Abby reached for the receiver. “Detective Stanfield.”

  “Abby, it’s Lincoln. How is she?”

  She smiled at the sound of the familiar voice. “Hanging in there.”

  “Somehow I knew she would be a fighter.”

  She rubbed her face and her tired eyes. “Any sign of Billy?”

  “No, but we have everyone looking. Abby, the reason I called is that you’ve gotten a number of calls from a Bartholomew Van Murien. He won’t say what it is about.”

  “Did he leave a number?” Abby reached for the pad next to the phone. Lincoln dictated the number to her and she scratched it down. “Thanks, Linc.”