by Regina Fagan
Did she do this deliberately, to humiliate him? How could she? Why was some man answering Christine’s phone, this early in the morning?
And then, as had happened so often – too often lately – Luther felt the horrible darkness welling up inside him. He wondered if he would ever be able to conquer it, to be free of that sickening black miasma that had always had such terrible power over him. He began to cry.
He spent the next hour huddled in his chair behind his polished mahogany desk, silently sobbing and shaking, his entire body filled with an uncontrollable hatred and rage.
CHAPTER NINE
SATURDAY EVENING
Doctor Ann Heald was exhausted when, at six p.m., she returned to her room at the Hyatt Regency Hotel. Slightly more than an hour remained before she would have to start getting ready for dinner with her colleagues. Yet as much as Ann wanted to join them, the only thing that appealed now was a hot shower and sleep - several hours of good solid sleep.
She pulled off her clothes and got under the shower, relishing the firm hot jets of water beating against her tired body. Every muscle ached. Ann had been on her high-heeled feet since before eight that morning, following the same pattern as yesterday and the day before that. A cardiologist, Ann had been keynote speaker at last night’s events at this autumn’s West Coast American Cardiology Association meeting. Today, there had been another paper to deliver together with a hectic schedule of seminars. She liked San Francisco and was pleased the city had been selected for the autumn convention. She was looking forward to a free day tomorrow, a day on which she could skip the few remaining sessions and play tourist. The weather today had been glorious. She hoped for more of the same tomorrow before she headed back home to Portland.
Ann stood for several delicious minutes under the hot water. Then, feeling relaxed already, she stepped from the shower and wrapped her hair in a towel, pulling a second one down from the generously stocked rack to dry her body. Next she rubbed her skin vigorously with lotion, and leaving her hair tied in a turban in the towel, she went into the bedroom and pulled the spread off the bed. She climbed under the cool clean sheets and settled comfortably down to rest. Maybe she could sleep for an hour or so.
It was two hours later when the telephone jarred Ann out of a deep sleep. It was one of her colleagues. Where was she? Had she forgotten tonight’s dinner?
Ann, damp hair still wadded in the towel, shivered. It was chilly in the room now and dark. She was still terribly tired and could see no possible way to get herself dressed and presentable in fifteen minutes. And all she really wanted to do was go back to sleep. So she begged off, claiming fatigue and a headache, and told the group to go on without her. Later on in the evening she would look them up and perhaps join them for a nightcap. And then she hung up, pulled the bedcovers back up around her, and promptly fell asleep once more.
***
When she woke again, feeling much refreshed, it was after ten p.m. She sat up in bed and turned on the lights, wondering what to do. It was Saturday night, but it might be pleasant to spend it alone. For Ann Heald, virtually saturated with people and medicine for the past two days, a quiet evening by herself doing exactly what she wanted to do seemed extremely appealing. She needed a break. She got up, dressed, and went into one of the hotel restaurants for a solitary meal, but decided on a whim to take a cab over to the Mark Hopkins Hotel instead. The famous Top of the Mark, the old landmark Nob Hill restaurant and lounge, offered one of the best and most breathtaking views of San Francisco, especially at night. Ann could relax with a snack and a glass of wine and then make it an early enough evening back at her hotel, ready to spend tomorrow wandering around the city.
***
She was sipping a glass of wine when she noticed the man watching her. He was seated alone a few tables away, with the clear electric night-time backdrop of the city spread out behind him.
Unwavering eyes were locked on her, almost willing her to look his way. From where she sat, Ann could not help glancing at him once or twice, but each time she quickly looked away. Soon, however, she started to feel uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny and wished she could move, but the place was packed and there wasn’t a single table available. She peeked over at the man again, and this time their eyes met and held.
He certainly was attractive. Realizing he had finally gained Ann’s full attention, he smiled at her and lifted his glass in a graceful toast. Ann, embarrassed, returned the toast and then immediately regretted doing so. Why did she do that? Well, she had better just finish up her wine and leave.
But her admirer, regarding her gesture as an invitation to join her, had gotten up and was on his way over to Ann’s table. Damn, now what have I done, Ann asked herself. Why didn’t I just continue to ignore him? She was not in the habit of latching up with strangers anywhere, especially here; but now, here was this man standing in front of her, smiling at her.
“We seem to be the only solitary drinkers here tonight,” he said hesitantly. “Would I be completely out of line if I asked to join you, or would you prefer to remain by yourself?” He sounded British.
Ann hesitated. What should she do now? It might be nice to talk to someone. She looked around at all the couples, feeling again the pain of loneliness creeping up inside her. What would be the harm? He seemed very shy also, not bold the way so many men behaved when trying to pick someone up. So she gestured to the empty seat at her table. “Please sit down. I’d be delighted. I’m Ann Heald.”
“Delighted to meet you, Ann. I’m Luther Ross-Wilkerson.”
Ann smiled as he made himself comfortable. “You’re British. Are you visiting San Francisco?”
Luther shook his head. “No, Ann, I’ve lived here many years, and I’m long since a tax-paying citizen of the U.S.A. The accent just never seems to leave. But how about you, are you visiting or do you live here too?”
“Visitor, from Oregon . . . Portland. I’m a doctor, a cardiologist, attending some meetings here this week. I’ve been to San Francisco many times, but I always like coming back up here for a drink when I can. Maybe it’s corny, but this place is special.”
Luther looked out at the city, ablaze with lights. “No, not corny at all, it is special. People come here from all over the world just for this view. I must say, however, that the skyline of the city has changed much since I first arrived here.”
“Progress, they say. Sometimes it’s for the best, many times not,” Ann answered. “Do you come up here often then?”
Luther continued looking intently over the city, almost as if he were trying to find something out there. Sadness had crept into his eyes. “Oh, not too often anymore. I used to, once, with someone I knew. A long time ago that was. But tonight, I just felt the need, I guess. I thought it would be a relaxing experience after a rather difficult day.” He looked at Ann then. “And I’m glad I did come tonight.”
Ann watched him, aware of his odd, riveting eyes. Beautiful, but disconcerting. They were a cold, icy blue; they reminded her of the color of glaciers. They seemed sad and haunted now, and he looked as if he was struggling with something inside. Did he have sad memories of this place, some hidden pain connected with the lounge? Suddenly, she thought of her own recent and very painful breakup with a man she’d hoped to marry. She was curious about Luther, but she disliked asking too many questions. Maybe as their conversation continued, she would learn more about him.
“I couldn’t help noticing you when you came in,” he said suddenly, breaking into Ann’s thoughts. “I hope I didn’t appear rude, Ann. You reminded me of someone.”
Ann pushed her blonde hair off one shoulder and smiled. “So I’m thinking you’re recently getting over a breakup of some sort, yes? Were you married, or in a relationship that went sour?”
“No, neither,” he said. “Or rather, yes, I was involved with someone, once. But it was a long time ago. Not a particularly pleasant experience. Yet I came back here tonight.” He shook his head and looked
directly at Ann. “How about you?”
“Well, mine was very current. Painful and not pleasant either. But I’m okay. I keep very busy with my practice, so I try not to think about it too often. Although there are times when it creeps back, you know.” She looked out over the city now too, pushing back the hurt that was still always there, right below the surface.
“Yes, what would we do without our work?” Luther said. “Well, how about enough talk on unpleasant topics. Is it time for another drink?” he asked, pointing to her nearly empty wine glass.
“I should be getting back to the Hyatt, but, well, okay, one more.”
Luther beckoned to a waitress. He ordered fresh drinks for both of them and turned cheerfully back to Ann. “Tell me about your work, Ann. Cardiology! What a brilliant woman you must be! That’s a fascinating field of medicine.”
And Ann, no longer bothered by the strangeness of Luther’s eyes, seeing instead only their beauty and charmed by this handsome man, relaxed fully and began to tell Luther all he wanted to know about her life.
***
It was very late, much later than Ann had planned on staying out, when she and Luther left the nearly deserted lobby of the Mark Hopkins Hotel. The early morning air was cold and fresh, and Ann took a great gulp of it, trying to clear her head. She had been having a delightful time with Luther, finding him not only charming and amusing but also intelligent and well-versed on every topic that had come up. He had now very kindly offered to take her back to her hotel. Ordinarily, she would never accept a ride with a strange man. But after the great evening they had spent together here, Luther now seemed like anything but a stranger.
Ann was definitely feeling fairly strongly the abundant amount of wine she had consumed. That was something else she didn’t do much: drink to excess, and she’d had very little food all night. Once out on California Street, she wondered what had happened to her tonight. I guess I’ve been working harder than I realized. And I’m lonely, too damn lonely now.
She took another big gulp of cold air. She did feel relaxed and happy. The evening had turned out to be fun after all. She considered asking Luther to come with her tomorrow and play tourist. Maybe they could have lunch somewhere. She even allowed herself to think about a possible relationship with him. Portland and San Francisco were certainly close enough, a short flight apart. Who knew where this evening would lead her? Smiling, she slipped her arm into his, and walked with him toward an elegant blue BMW. It looked brand new.
“That’s a gorgeous car, Luther. I really hope you don’t mind driving me back to my hotel?”
Luther unlocked the doors and helped Ann into the front passenger seat, running his hand first over her silky blonde hair that gleamed so gloriously in the moonlight.
Then, momentarily, he was confused. Was this lovely woman Christine? No, she had said she was Ann, and he did like her very much, perhaps too much. Perhaps he should just bring her home with him to the penthouse. But she wasn’t Christine. He had made another mistake.
But he liked her and wanted her. No, she wasn’t Christine, but she was so lovely. “My dear Ann,” he said softly. “It will be my pleasure to drive you. There is nothing I would rather do right now than be with you. I want you, you know, desperately. Would you come home with me?”
A look of fear spread across her face then, and the voices started up inside his head. “She doesn’t want you, you fool, of course she doesn’t. She’s just like Alyson. You know what you have to do. Don’t argue! You know. So do it!”
Ann smiled nervously. This was not what she’d wanted, not now, even though she found Luther very attractive and would be willing to get to know him better and perhaps begin a relationship with him slowly. “Luther, I would rather not, not tonight, not right away. Please just take me back to my hotel. Tomorrow, I’m hoping we can see each other and spend the day together. Maybe we have a future together. I do want to see you again, but I can’t spend the night with you this quickly. Please understand. Let’s take this slowly, okay?”
But Luther suddenly looked like another man, with a blank hollow mask across his face, almost in a trance. He had started the car and sped away into the night, with Ann watching him and wondering what had happened to the charming man she had spent the evening with. All of a sudden she was alone and helpless with a frightening stranger. What was she going to do?
CHAPTER TEN
SUNDAY - OCTOBER 9th – EARLY MORNING
A heavy fog spread over the city again shortly before dawn on Sunday. Not at all an unusual occurrence for San Francisco, the fog would with luck burn off again toward noon, leaving another beautiful day in its wake.
At six a.m. however, the fog was colder and damper than Jackie Madden had expected when he drove to Golden Gate Park for his regular morning jog with his dog, Sally. The drive from his parents’ house had been treacherous. Once at the park, he considered the wisdom of running alone in the thick fog. But Sally was with him, and he thrived on his morning run, so he and the dog picked their way to their customary running path and began. If visibility became too bad, Jackie could always shorten the workout.
Jackie let Sally off her leash. The dog was accustomed to running next to him. About ten minutes into the jog, Jackie was surprised to see Sally run straight ahead and then off the path and to the right. Jackie broke pace and stopped, calling to Sally to come back. Through the swirling fog, he could see her start to run toward him. Then, about two feet from where Jackie stood, Sally stopped, barked twice, and turned again in the same direction she had just come from. Jackie called to her once more. He heard a distant bark in reply, but Sally did not return. Jackie, mystified at this odd behavior, started to walk across the grass to find out what she was doing. Again he called, and this time Sally bounded up to him, stopping as she had before to bark excitedly and then turn back to a clump of bushes and whatever had caught her interest.
Jackie continued across the wet grass. No longer running, he began to feel the cold. “What’s up, Sally?” he called out. “What are you doing in there?” Jackie reached the bushes. “Sally? Where are you? Come on, girl, it’s cold out here. Gotta keep moving.” In the distance, he could hear the low, mournful call of a foghorn.
Sally ran out from behind the foliage, barking at him, and although Jackie didn’t relish following her, it looked like he had no choice. “Okay, I’m coming. This had better be good.” He decided that, from now on, it might be best to keep the dog on her leash when they ran, so there would be no more of these silly escapades, even though she had never done anything like this to him before.
He pushed his way through the foliage into a small clearing about three feet wide, a clearing that would be hidden from the path outside even in good weather. It was terribly cold, and Jackie began to shiver.
On the opposite side of the clearing, Sally was sniffing and pawing at a dark bundle huddled on the ground next to the bushes. The dog whined softly, then turned back to bark again. Slowly, Jackie came closer.
At first, he thought it was only a pile of clothing. And then, sheer cold terror gripped him, causing him to shiver almost convulsively when he approached his dog and looked closely at the object she was so intently sniffing. It was a woman, lying crumpled and broken on the cold, wet ground, her face bruised and surrounded by tangles of matted blonde hair. Something was tied tightly, gruesomely around her neck.
“Oh shit!” Jackie grit his teeth together to keep from retching. “Shit, Sally! Come on, we’ve got to get out of here. Gotta get some help. Come on, come with me, now!”
He managed to control his violent shaking long enough to clip Sally’s leash onto her collar, and then he dragged the whining dog away from the clearing and back to the fog-shrouded path, where they raced breathlessly out of the park and back to Jackie’s car and sped recklessly home in the deep morning fog.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kinsella eased himself carefully through the tangled clump of bushes and damp dirt to the grass, just as
a small unmarked van maneuvered along the adjoining sidewalk. Two men got out and rolled a gurney across the grass, while a few joggers stood together on the sidewalk beyond the yellow crime scene tape, talking quietly to one another.
A second man squeezed his large body out through the bushes and joined Kinsella. “How’s the kid who found her? Feeling any better?” Kinsella asked him.
“A little bit, poor guy. Finally stopped crying. His father is with him over there.” Officer Phil Lawrence ran a hand through thick red hair before pulling his jacket around him against the morning cold. “He had a hell of a shock, of course.”
Lawrence looked around them. “The ground is only slightly damp around the area where she was left. We can’t distinguish any clear prints. For one thing, it’s mostly grassy. The kid and his dog both were running around there. There’s a service road that runs a few feet behind that clearing in back. Whoever left her probably drove in there and carried her across the grass on the other side. Doc says too that she’s only been dead about four hours at most.”
“It’s too much like Kelley Grant,” Kinsella said. “Strangled with a blue scarf again. They even look alike. You noticed that, right?”
Lawrence only nodded grimly in reply. Of course he had. Kinsella and he were both thinking the same thing, but not wanting to say it.
Kinsella just wanted to get out of here, away from this desolate cold place, away from those somber, frightened joggers watching him, away from the strangled body of that pretty young woman in the bushes. Ann Heald was her name. Doctor Ann Heald, M.D. There was a key card from the Hyatt Regency in her purse, and a schedule for a medical convention she’d attended here in the city during the past week. How in God’s name had she ended up here?
Most distressing was the resemblance between Ann Heald and Kelley Grant. Murdered four days apart, each killing was similar in method as well.