“Remind me again why you’re here so early,” he said.
“Time may be of the essence, Jake. For all we know, Hillary may have moved on from Raleigh. Don’t you want to find her?”
“You know I do...I just want to be able to see her when I do.”
“Well maybe if you’d stop trying to drown your problems in alcohol....”
“Please...no more lectures. I’m well aware of my destructive behaviors.”
“I just want to get going. I feel like the more time that goes by the further away this baby killer is slipping from us.”
Jake nodded.
“I understand,” he said softly, “but you’ll have to bear with me a little bit. I’m not quite my usual, level-headed self.”
“Go,” she said anxiously. “Take a nice shower. It’ll make a world of difference.”
“You mind if I finish my coffee?” He said gruffly as he brought the cup to his lips.
Eliza rolled her eyes. Didn’t he want to find Hillary as badly as she did? She’d have thought he’d be the one most anxious to get moving.
A long, awkward silence passed between them as Jake drank his coffee. She wondered what he was thinking about. She grew more frustrated by the minute. Many times, she had thought about leaving. It was as if he was purposefully taking his time to annoy her.
The telephone rang. Jake made no move to answer it even though the cordless phone was just a few feet away from him. The call went to the voicemail. Eliza heard Patty’s heartbroken, worried voice being recorded after the beep.
“Jake? Jake, are you there, sweetheart? Amber and I are really worried about you. You just took off without saying goodbye. Please, Jake...if you’re there, please...please pick up...we need you Jake. Jake...?”
Jake clearly heard his wife’s distraught pleas yet he just callously sat there drinking his coffee.
“Aren’t you going to call her back?” Eliza asked.
Jake shrugged.
“Really? You’re just going to let them go on worrying about you?”
“They’ll get over it.”
“No, they won’t just get over it...they love you...they need you. The least you can do is call them and let them know that you’re alive, that you’re okay.”
“Patty will know that I’m alive and okay...I just need some time away from her.”
“But she’s liable to think you may have done something to hurt yourself.”
“You mean, like commit suicide?”
“I’m sure the thought has crossed her mind.”
“Yes, I guess the thought has crossed my mind too. But she knows me better than that.”
“When I spoke with her yesterday, she said you had changed so drastically, it was as if you were another man. She doesn’t really know you anymore Jake...not this new version of you. She’s so worried about you.”
“Then you call her and tell her that I’m fine.”
“She needs to hear it from you, Jake. You can’t just leave without letting her know that you’re going away. I’m not saying you have to tell her where you’re going or why, just let her know you need some time away and that you’ll be fine.”
“Eliza, I—”
“You really want her calling the cops and taking out a missing persons’ report? That’ll only screw things up, Jake...you need to think about these things.”
Jake sighed in resignation. Eliza had a point. As much as he didn’t feel like speaking with his wife, he’d have to call and let her know that he’d be gone for a while.
“Fine,” he said stubbornly, and setting his coffee down upon the table as he reached for the phone. He dialed Patty’s cell phone number. She answered on the second ring.
“Jake!” She exclaimed, her voice full of relief. “Thank God. I was so worried about you. Please come home, Jake.”
“I am home, Patty.”
“I can see that you’re calling from the house,” Patty replied. “But I mean, come back here...to us.”
“No Patty, I can’t right now, I’m sorry. I need some time to myself.”
“Don’t do this, Jake, don’t shut us out.”
“Listen Patty, I really can’t discuss this now. I just wanted to let you know that I’m safe, I’m fine, so you don’t have to worry. I just need some time.”
“How much time?”
“I don’t know, a week, a month? Don’t worry about me.”
“Don’t worry? Don’t worry? Is that all you have to say to me?”
“I’m sorry, Patty, I just can’t give you more right now...there’s something I need to do first.”
“Fine, Jake. Take all the time you need!”
Jake could hear that Patty was crying.
“I have to go Patty,” Jake said, unmoved by Patty’s obvious distress.
There was a click on the line followed by silence. Jake pressed the end button on the phone then placed it back on its cradle.
“You handled that really well,” Eliza criticized.
Jake’s headache had gone from intense to unbearable. He rubbed at his forehead then pressed firmly on his right eye where the pain seemed especially concentrated. He didn’t want to discuss it with Eliza any more than he had wanted to discuss it with Patty.
“Eliza,” he said, raising his voice despite the additional pain it caused. “We need to establish some ground rules if this is going to work.”
Eliza grew red in the face as he spoke.
“You don’t mention my wife and daughter and my failure as a husband and a father and I won’t mention your—”
He was going to say “daughter and failure as a mother,” but even in his compromised state, he knew that would be unduly cruel and distasteful.
“...any of your issues,” he added.
“Okay,” she said irritably, “and while we’re on the topic, you stop the whole ‘woe is me, life sucks’ sob sessions. When my daughter was killed, I didn’t— “
“I thought that was off limits.”
“Off limits to you, not to me. I grieved and I mourned her loss but I kept my head up and carried on.”
“First of all,” he said, closing his eyes to keep the room from spinning, “you’ve had—what? Nearly four years to mourn? I’ve just had a minute, so excuse me for not getting over it and embracing life like it’s some sort of gift. Second of all, you’re still grieving. You’re not over it, not even close.”
Eliza swallowed hard as she fought back her emotions.
“You’re right, I’ll never come really come to terms with it, I’ll always mourn her loss but the point is, I’ve moved on. You still have to live your life, Jake.”
“Another ground rule...you don’t give me advice and I won’t give you advice. Our sole purpose is to find Hillary and that’s all we need to focus on.”
“Fine,” she spat as she abruptly arose to her feet. “I’ll be in the car. Be ready to go in half an hour or I’ll leave without you.”
She ignored Jake’s complaints and rambling as she swiftly walked away and exited the house. She didn’t even catch what he was saying aside from an expletive or two. If they pursued this joint venture, it would be on her terms. She would wait for thirty minutes and not a minute longer. If his butt wasn’t in her passenger seat by 8:34, she would go off in search of Hillary on her own.
Jake was a prick. Sure, he had survived a terrifying ordeal, but at least he had survived. He had lost a great deal in the process, Eliza understood that...she didn’t fault him for feeling angry and bitter and resentful. What annoyed her was the fact that he was misdirecting all of those feelings, using them as weapons against those who loved and cared about him and wanted to help him. He was a psychiatrist, for God’s sake. What kind of psychiatrist was he if he couldn’t even control his own emotions and cope with his own losses?
Eliza scoffed at the thought that she had been willing to seek his professional help.
What a mistake that would have been, she thought acrimoniously.
He should know bette
r than to lash out against people who are there for him. Instead of pushing them away, he should rely on their support...especially his own wife and daughter. How dare he drag them down with him? Who was he to make them suffer, entangling them within his own hell? He was selfish and inconsiderate and now, like a contagion, hostile thoughts were contaminating Eliza’s brain as well.
She had envisioned this alliance far differently than it was panning out. With his insight into the human psyche and her experience with the criminal element in society, they should be combining their skills and intellect. They should be having meaningful conversations instead of bickering with one another.
She had wanted to ask his opinion as to how people who start out so seemingly benign and normal can suddenly snap and become such murderous animals. Was bloodlust a product of nature or nurture? Were these deranged criminal minds the result of some sort of environmental abnormality or were such people simply born evil? And most importantly, was there really any way to rehabilitate them once they acquired a taste for torture and murder?
Eliza thought about Samuel Dolan, the man who had tortured, raped and murdered her little girl. It took nearly a year for the cops to track him down and another year for him to be prosecuted. Police had uncovered the remains of three other young victims. Notwithstanding, there was a big push for him to be “rehabilitated,” at the taxpayers’ expense no less. Despite the uproar, despite the outrage, despite the prosecutor’s best efforts, Samuel Dolan did not get the death penalty he deserved. In fact, thanks to his defense attorney, whom Eliza regarded with extreme contempt, Dolan had received a mere eight-year sentence. Her daughter had suffered and lost her life to this crazed maniac and he was getting off with little more than a slap on his wrist. It didn’t much matter, though. As fate would have it, Dolan had an “accident” in prison and died four months later, to Eliza’s relief and delight.
It was 8:12 a.m. now. Eliza was growing increasingly impatient waiting for Jake as depressing thoughts clouded her mind. What she would do for a cigarette. She had given up smoking just after Jenny died. Her little girl had always nagged her about smoking. She did it in honor of Jenny’s memory...as some sort of posthumous gift to her child. She had given it up cold turkey at a time when most people would have doubled, if not tripled, the amount of cigarettes they smoked. She seldom had the urge to smoke, but here and now, thanks to Jake putting her in such a foul mood, Eliza would have given her left arm for just one good puff.
She turned on the radio as she waited. Nice, relaxing music would have comforted her and helped to relieve her stress. But for the past few days, all Eliza listened to were national news broadcasts on her satellite radio. Sometimes she got lucky, catching a story about the so-called “Hillary Copycat.”
While she listened to the depressing news about lives that were destroyed by automobile accidents, gang violence and senseless crimes, her mind slipped back to thoughts of the sweet, innocent girl who had been tragically taken from her. For years she had learned to cope with the pain. She had come to accept what happened. She had kept her feelings at bay.
Now, seemingly overnight, all of that hurt she had fought so hard to suppress had been dredged up thanks to Hillary Greyson. It amazed her how new and fresh the uncovered wound had remained after all those years. The pain was just as harsh today as it had been the day she heard her daughter die. It was actually worse now, having been magnified by years of remorse, self-reproaching and self-loathing.
Eliza bit down on her lip to keep from crying. She had shed so many tears. Would her life ever find even the slightest form of happiness again? Would finding Hillary make her happy? What was the point anyway? Did she really think that by removing one child killer from the street it would make that much of a difference? There were still thousands more lurking out there waiting for the right moment to strike. What would finding Hillary really accomplish? It wouldn’t bring her daughter back. And no, it wouldn’t bring her happiness. At most, it would provide a fleeting sense of satisfaction in knowing that she might have saved someone else’s child. But it wouldn’t be enough. It would never be enough....
Eliza turned the key in the ignition and started the car. She was about to abort the entire mission and drive home when a news story on the radio captured her attention. The female broadcaster had said the magic word: Hillary. She shut off the engine and raised the volume.
“So was it the Hillary Copycat?” The voice transmitted. “That’s what police officials in Richmond, Virginia are trying to determine after the body of a twenty-eight-year-old man was discovered in a bathroom stall at the Greyhound bus terminal. He was identified as Clint Hayden by a friend who wishes to remain anonymous. Hayden’s throat had been mutilated and his body was dumped in one of the restroom stalls. Fifty-six-year-old Howard Shea stumbled upon the body after noticing the man’s legs jutting beyond the stall door.
“I knew something was up,” Shea’s voice spoke over the radio. “The bathroom door was locked but I could hear someone in there. I kept pounding on the door and when it opened, a small man just ran into me full force...nearly knocked me to the floor. I had to go so bad, you know, I didn’t run after him. I just saw that he was wearing blue jeans, a white shirt and had his blond hair tied up in a ponytail. After I finished my business and was washing my hands, I looked in the mirror and noticed a pair of legs sticking out from under one of the stalls. I knocked on the door but no one said nothing, so after a couple of minutes, I hoisted myself to look over the stall—you know, just to make sure the guy was okay. I just about fell and broke my neck after seeing all that blood on him.”
The voice of the female news broadcaster followed.
“Although the description of the suspect matches the one provided by Dr. Jacob Bentley, who narrowly escaped death at the hands of the Hillary Copycat, the nature of the murder in Hayden’s case is dissimilar to those involving the three victims who were brutally tortured and murdered nearly three weeks ago. This leaves law enforcement agents questioning whether, in fact, the crimes are connected. Hillary Greyson made national headlines several months ago after butchering her family members and five others with no apparent cause or provocation. Her mother, Kathy Greyson, offered little insight into her daughter’s bloodshed. She barely survived the massacre only to fall victim to the Hillary Copycat murderer. The woman’s murder, along with those of Dr. Patrick Morrison and his wife Monica, is eerily similar to the atrocities committed by Hillary Greyson herself. Renowned criminal psychologist, Dr. Giuseppe Luciano, surmised that the killer purposefully targeted Kathy Greyson as a way to pay homage to his idol, Hillary.”
The voice of Dr. Giuseppe Luciano continued the broadcast.
“Clearly, this new serial killer is fascinated by Hillary Greyson and is picking up where she left off to bolster his self-image and self-worth. Where we see his actions as barbaric and insane, he sees it as a way to appease his idol, Hillary.”
“Based on Dr. Luciano’s supposition, police officials are taking precautions and have provided a police escort for sixteen-year-old Laura Dempsey,” the female broadcaster said. “Dempsey escaped from Hillary after the teenager lured her into the woods, intending to kill her. It was because of Dempsey’s courage and clever thinking that police were able to apprehend Greyson so soon after the murders. While Dr. Luciano expressed concern that Dempsey may be a likely target based on Greyson’s ‘unfinished business,’ he refrained from commenting on whether, in his opinion, Clint Hayden’s murder was committed by the Hillary Copycat, stating instead that he lacks sufficient details to draw a conclusion at this point. One thing seems clear...if the murderers are one and the same, then he has moved north and may have boarded a bus to any number of destinations....”
Eliza was so absorbed in the broadcast that she didn’t notice Jake approaching. She jumped when he opened the passenger door to her car. He was carrying a small overnight bag which he tossed into the back seat.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s go.”
�
�Change in plans,” Eliza said with a soft sigh. “She’s on the move again…headed north. A body was found in the bathroom of a Richmond, Virginia bus terminal. A witness saw a small man with a blond ponytail leaving the restroom.”
“Hillary’s not a small man, Eliza.”
“She was coming out of the men’s room, Jake. Plus, you put it in everyone’s head that the so-called Hillary Copycat is a man.”
“You really think it’s her?”
Eliza nodded.
“So we’re headed to Richmond?”
“Well, for now. We’ll head north and keep our ears open for additional news footage about Hillary—well, you know, the alleged copycat. But I have a feeling she hopped a bus and will be long gone by the time we get there.”
“Great,” Jake said, feeling highly irritated.
“Well, it’s a starting point at least and I’ve got some friends on the force and in the Feds that I can call when we get there.”
“I guess we’re all set then,” Jake said, but Eliza detected a hint of uncertainty in his voice.
Jake was harboring doubts of his own, though unlike Eliza, he was sure that he wanted to find Hillary. His doubts concerned Eliza herself. Could he really trust her? He wasn’t convinced that he could and he worried that she might get in the way when the time came to take action. Yet there were practical reasons to team up with her. First, the inside information she could acquire from her acquaintances in law enforcement could lead them straight to Hillary. On his own, it would just be a guessing game. It would be sheer luck if he encountered Hillary. Second, and equally important, since he didn’t have any identification, it would be difficult to do certain things—like get a room at a decent hotel. Not to mention the fact that having Eliza around would prove fiscally prudent since they would both share the costs. It could be a mutually beneficial alliance. If only she would stop being so judgmental and irksome.
In fact, from a logistical standpoint, one may even deduce that Jake had more to gain from their joint venture than Eliza. But there were some advantages that Jake had. He had known Hillary, up close and personal (which Eliza suspected). Most importantly, he knew that a covert branch of the military was involved in Hillary’s capture. He didn’t know too much unfortunately, not even the name of the man who had brought Hillary to Dr. Morrison. He had gone to the Morrison house in search of information, but by the time he was released from the hospital and able to get there, Patrick’s office had been cleaned out either by the police or the military. Either way, Jake was unable to get more information. But he knew the truth. And the truth would set him free....
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