by Adrianne Lee
A uniformed police officer appeared in the doorway, gun drawn. “Freeze.”
Behind him, Kollecki materialized, his gun clutched in his beefy hand. “Put the knife down, Doc.”
David shook his head, and Eden thought for a heart-stopping moment that the uniformed officer might shoot him. But David held the weapon up toward Kollecki. “It’s not a knife. It’s my letter opener.”
“Put it down, Doc,” Kollecki repeated more firmly.
David’s body seemed to go limp. He dropped the letter opener to the floor, and the uniformed policeman lowered his gun and rushed forward, yanked David’s arms behind him and began snapping on handcuffs.
Numb, Eden took a step toward David, but Kollecki motioned her back, then went to check on the woman on the floor. “Too late for this one. Read him the Miranda, Joe. Even though we’ve caught him dead to rights, I want everything done by the book this time.”
With that, Kollecki, who’d been a one-man task force set on making her life a living hell, smiled down at her as if they were old friends. “Good thing you called me, Mrs. Prescott. Love sure is blind. Be glad you wised up in time. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
Chapter Sixteen
“You called Kollecki?” David sounded stunned, hurt.
Eden cringed inside. “Yes. But I... David, I swear I only called him because I was afraid for you.”
Traces of shock still hovered in his mossy eyes. He did believe her, didn’t he?
“Quit wasting your time on this guy.” Kollecki stepped between them and pointed to the body on the floor. “Don’t you get it? He killed this woman thinking he was killing you.”
Eden felt shock pulling the heat from her body. She had no doubt Kollecki was half-right—this woman had been killed because someone thought it was her. But David wasn’t that someone.
Kollecki’s accusation had a more violent effect on David. He shouted, “No! I didn’t kill anyone. I was in the bathroom looking through the drawers.”
Kollecki rolled his eyes. “For what?”
David’s forehead furrowed as if he were trying to recall something. A long moment passed before it smoothed. “Combs.”
“Combs? Hah!” Kollecki shook his head and glanced at the uniformed policeman. “Couldn’t make up his mind if he wanted to stab the woman or comb her hair. Now I’ve heard everything.”
David scowled at Kollecki but didn’t expound on his search for the combs. “I heard the board in the hall creak. It does that if someone steps on it. Before I could investigate, something slammed against the back of my head. Knocked me out, I guess. You can feel the lump if you don’t believe me.”
Kollecki made no attempt to do so. “How long were you out?”
“I don’t know. When I came to, I was holding the letter opener. There was blood on my shirt and hands.” He glanced down at his stomach, at the dark splotches despoiling his shirtfront, swallowed hard, then raised his eyes again to Kollecki. “At first I thought I’d sustained a cut of some kind, but I couldn’t find a wound. Then I realized whoever had hit me might still be in the house. I staggered in here to use the telephone and found...her.” He shuddered. “I thought it was Eden.”
Eden could see Kollecki didn’t believe David. She knew exactly how tenacious the detective could be, how he could use the truth against his suspects. “Don’t say another word. Not without a lawyer.”
David glanced at her, then back at the body. He shuddered again, but the color was returning to his face, the shock subsiding. “Who is she?”
“You don’t know?” Kollecki asked.
David shook his head. Kollecki glanced at Eden. “You know?”
Eden glanced again at the woman on the floor. “No. I can’t see her face from this angle.”
Kollecki leaned over the woman and, without touching anything, studied what he could see of her face. The tension in the room was punctuated by his silence. At length, the detective said, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
He straightened and grinned at David. “Unless I miss my guess, it’s the woman you came here to meet tonight, Doc.”
“Rose Hatcher?” David blanched. “But her hair is waist length. Red.”
“Well, apparently to keep from being captured and returned to prison, she whacked it off and dyed it black.”
Rose Hatcher. Eden’s stomach lurched. The irony of this made her sick. Rose’s attempts to hide her identity had inadvertently contributed to her own murder. Eden began to shake.
Another uniformed police officer entered the room. “The M.E. and his crew are on their way.”
“Good.” Kollecki’s cheeks were puffed and red. “The doc’s going to lockup. Mrs. Prescott, can one of my men give you a lift somewhere?”
“No. I have a taxi waiting.” Eden glanced uncertainly at David. “Are you taking David to Issaquah?”
“Yeah, but don’t waste your time following. You won’t be able to see him.”
Concern filled David’s eyes. “He’s right, Eden. Please go back to the hotel. Keep the doors locked. You’ll be safe there...and the hospital might call about Beth. I’ll join you as soon as my lawyer secures bail.”
Kollecki chuckled at that. “Don’t expect the doctor anytime tonight, ma’am.”
EDEN REFUSED to answer the curious taxi driver’s questions on the ride back to the hotel. Stiffly she stared out the window, feeling as flat and lifeless as the fine drizzle now coating the streets. Eventually the driver took the hint, and the rest of the ride was made in silence.
Still reeling, Eden entered the hotel lobby, feeling like a wraith stumbling aimlessly through the graveyard that her life had become. She checked the desk for messages and was grateful that on this night of horrors, no one had called to say Beth’s body was rejecting the new kidney. So far, her sister was alive and well.
It was more than could be said for Rose Hatcher.
Eden waited for an elevator. Had Rose been framed for Marianne DePaul’s murder? Had she been just another pawn in the stalker’s cat-and-mouse game? If so, she might have died no matter what Eden or David could have done to prevent it. Eden stepped onto the elevator. What was the truth? Was Rose murdered because of what she’d known or because she’d resembled Eden from the back?
Eden trembled. Instinctively she knew it was the latter. Cold seemed to seep from her pores, chilling every inch of her, bringing on an overwhelming fear. She was meant to have died on David’s bedroom floor tonight—with David framed for her murder. The stalker’s obsession had taken a macabre turn from fixated love to malevolent hatred.
The suite no longer seemed like an elegant love nest. Just an expensive prison. She was exhausted. Wiped out. Dizzy. Even though she didn’t expect to sleep, Eden crawled into bed with her clothes on. But she did sleep, long and restless hours.
The telephone woke her. Groggily she opened her eyes to the gray daylight spilling through the room. The phone rang again, and her pulse revved. Was it the hospital? News of David? She all but shouted an anxious “Hello?”
It was David’s lawyer.
“How is he?”
“Tired.” The man had a bass voice that conjured an image of someone middle-aged, tall and snowy haired. In reality, he was in his thirties, short and balding. “Detective Kollecki’s been questioning him all night. You should know, he’s determined to pin this on my client.”
Eden’s heart sank. She sat up. Finding herself slightly light-headed, she eased back onto the pillows and shut her eyes, trying to find reasons to counter Kollecki’s dogged determination to railroad David. Her eyes came open as a memory rushed back. “But he was hit over the head. Surely a doctor will confirm that.”
“Already has, but Detective Kollecki’s claiming the wound was self-inflicted. After the search his men did of Dr. Coulter’s house, he thinks he has a rock-solid case.”
Disquiet twisted her stomach into a knot. “What did they find?”
“White rose petals in his refrigerator. A white rosebush in his backyard. A gree
n shirt Dr. Coulter claims was stolen.” He spoke as if he was ticking the items off a list. “The shirt’s covered with dried bloodstains that Detective Kollecki seems to think will tie Dr. Coulter to another of his unsolved murders.”
“Whose?”
“I’m not sure...but your former sister-in-law’s name came up once or twice.”
“Val?” Her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow. Kollecki could accuse David all he wanted, could find a whole greenhouse full of white roses in David’s basement, but she’d never believe for one minute that he could kill anyone. “Why? What reason does Kollecki give for David killing Vtterie? Or Rose Hatcher? Or any of the other victims, for that matter?”
“That’s our ace in the hole. My client has no motive in this or any of the detective’s cases.” He paused. “Try not to worry. So far, they’re only questioning Dr. Coulter. He hasn’t been booked. The forensics team is still at his house. Maybe they’ll turn up something that will point to the real murderer. I’ll call you later when I know more.”
Eden decided to call the hospital to check on Beth. Denise Smalley’s voice rang familiarly in her ear. “Fourth floor. Transplant wing.”
Eden considered hanging up, then realized it would gain her nothing. She’d have to call back and she’d still have to talk to Denise. “This is Eden Prescott.”
She heard a sharp intake of breath... as if Denise hadn’t expected to speak to her again... ever. “You!”
“Yes, me.” Eden swallowed hard. Had Denise thought she was dead? “May I speak to my sister’s nurse?”
After a weighted pause, Denise said, “I’ll see if she’s available.”
There was a click on the line, and music filled Eden’s ear. A minute passed. Three minutes. Five. Seven. She reached to press down the disconnect button but was stopped by a voice issuing through the phone. “Hello, Mrs. Prescott.”
Eden resettled the telephone to her ear. “How is Beth doing?”
“Her signs are good. No indication of rejection so far, but it’s early days,” she cautioned.
Relief skittered through Eden. But the nurse’s warning about “early days” could not be dismissed. Right now they had to take it hour by hour. It was dangerous to build unrealistic expectations. At this point, rejection could occur at any time. But on a day when so much seemed desolate, she couldn’t help grasping the tiny thread of hope. “Please tell Beth I’ll be in in about an hour.”
Eden stood. Dizziness attacked, dropping her back onto the bed. She drew several deep breaths, but starting at the corners of her eyes, a curtain of black seemed to be slowly drawing together. She lowered her head between her knees.
The curtain ebbed away, and soon the room came sharply back in focus. She gave herself another five minutes, then stood again. All light-headedness had gone. She showered, dressed, then took a cab to the university medical center.
Her mind was on David. She knew exactly how he had to be feeling—trapped by Kollecki’s unyielding tenacity. She had desperately wanted Shannon and Peter’s murderer to be found, to absolve her, to restore her reputation. Neither had predicted the murderer would turn the tables on them, that her vindication would cost David his freedom. His life.
The black thought lost some of its terror in the knowledge that the forensics team was still searching David’s house. There was hope that something would be found to clear him. It would even be sweet justice if that something made Kollecki eat crow. The idea strengthened her, and she arrived at the medical center heartened.
The lobby corridor held the expected swarm of activity, visitors and personnel flitting to and fro. The tantalizing aroma of espresso slowed her steps. She glanced longingly toward the cart set in the solarium. Wasn’t caffeine bad for pregnant women? She’d have to ask her doctor before she indulged in any of her favorite double lattes.
She was about to turn away when she spotted Lynzy at one of the solarium tables. She was alone. Eden hesitated. Should she tell her about David, or leave that up to him? And let Lynzy find out from a news broadcast, or from someone who’d heard a news broadcast? Better that she tell Lynzy instead.
Lynzy’s brown eyes widened, and a warm smile parted her lips as Eden asked if she could join her for a few minutes. “Sure. Sit down. How’s your sister?”
“Fine.”
“Don’t you want some espresso?”
“Not now, thank you.” Eden didn’t know how to begin. She glanced around to make certain they wouldn’t be overheard. No one sat near enough for that. Still, she leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I feel I ought to tell you what has happened so you will be able to handle things if it becomes necessary.”
“What kind of things?” Lynzy peered over the top of her cup. “You look like it must be something pretty harsh.”
“Harsh. Yes, you could call it that. Rose Hatcher was murdered last night at Dr. Coulter’s house.”
Lynzy gasped, then blushed crimson, obviously embarrassed by the loudness of her response. “Sorry. Oh, not that she’s dead. I’m glad. I’ve been scared silly since Doc said she’d escaped from jail. Who killed her?”
“We don’t know. But the police have David in for questioning, and it looks as if they may charge him.”
“What? No way.” Lynzy shook her head like a stubborn child. “Doc wouldn’t off anybody.”
“We know that. Let’s just hope there’s some proof.” Eden drew a shaky breath. “Lynzy, promise me you’ll keep this under your hat. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Not even Colleen?”
Eden sat back. Lynzy was the only suspect on their list she trusted. But if Colleen wasn’t the murderer, she also had the right to be told privately about David. “Is she coming in today?”
“No. She left a message that she was going to spend the day with her mother.”
“Then let’s do this. If anyone asks you about David being arrested or at the police station, then try and reach Colleen and tell her. Otherwise, it’s our secret. Agreed?”
“You betcha.”
“I have to see my sister now.” Eden stood.
“Keep me posted—on Doc and on Beth, okay?”
“Of course.”
With her mind on David, Eden headed down the hall toward the elevators. Alone in the crowd of people, she felt vulnerable, jumpy, fearful. Someone had meant to murder her last night. She’ll have quite a shock when she discovers I’m still alive. Eden thought again of Denise’s stunned voice when she’d identified herself. She tensed. Maybe the stalker already knew.
She squeezed into the elevator, her discomfort hugging her like a cloak. Could she reach Beth’s room without seeing Denise? The security guard would be there. The thought of him buoyed her. But as the elevator doors slipped open, she realized Denise would probably be at the desk. Fear shivered through her. She couldn’t get to Beth’s room quick enough.
Several people exited the elevator with her. She turned toward the transplant wing. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a woman lurch out of one of the waiting-area chairs and rush toward her as if she’d been waiting for the elevator.
Eden focused on the nurses’ station ahead. Denise was there. Her gaze drilled into Eden, and even from this distance, Eden could see she’d been waiting for her.
Her mouth went dry, and her steps faltered. Denise was rounding the end of the counter, coming toward her.
“Eden?” From behind her, a woman’s voice sounded close to her ear, stopping Eden cold.
She turned around and glanced into the familiar face, surprise darting through her. “What are you doing here?”
“THIS LITTLE SWATCH of cloth doesn’t prove a thing, Doc.” Kollecki stopped pacing and dangled a tiny plastic bag at David. “If Tagg can’t find anything at her house to verify your story, you’re going down for the murders of Rose Hatcher, Shannon Smalley and Peter and Valerie Prescott.”
They were in Kollecki’s office—had been since the forensics team had found that bit of fabric under Rose Hatcher’s body this mornin
g. David watched the swinging plastic bag as if it were a pendant held by a hypnotist. His freedom depended on that bit of cloth. His life. Eden’s life. But Kollecki refused to warn Eden until they had proof of the woman’s guilt. “This waiting is hell.”
“We’ll hear soon.” His lawyer spoke from his spot in a chair against the wall.
“Even if you’re right about this woman,” Kollecki continued, “I might charge you with harboring a fugitive.”
David’s head jerked up. “Harboring a fugitive?”
Kollecki’s little black eyes were hot with impatience. Waiting wasn’t his strong suit. “Suppressing information about an escaped convict’s whereabouts—it’s the same thing.”
“I called and left a message for Detective Tagg. He didn’t call me back.”
“He wasn’t on duty. Why didn’t you ask for me?”
David clamped his mouth shut. If he told the truth about that, it would only prejudice Kollecki against him all the more.
The lawyer said, “How did Miss Hatcher get into Dr. Coulter’s house?”
Kollecki stopped his pacing and lurched around “We found a broken window in the basement.”
“Tell Tagg to look for a key to my front door,” David interjected. “It has to be how the other woman got in to take my combs, my green polo shirt and the letter opener.”
“If Tagg finds anything at all, I’ll be sure he checks for that, too.”
The phone rang, sending David’s heart into his throat. He sat on the edge of his seat. Kollecki answered and assured them it was Detective Tagg.
Even hearing only one side of the conversation, it was obvious that they had the stalker.
David’s body flushed cold, then hot. He leapt from his chair, panic scurrying through him. “We need to warn Eden.”
Kollecki signaled for him to use Tagg’s phone on the opposite desk.
David called the hotel first, and as the clerk informed him Eden had left for the hospital, his gaze fell on the scrap of fabric in the tiny plastic bag. As he’d known the moment he’d seen it, the hot-pink rayon could only have come from one of Ariel Bell’s uniforms.