by Brenda Novak
BRIANNA’S SCREAM HELPED Madison force back the blackness, gave her the strength to keep fighting. She had to make her legs work, had to remain conscious long enough to be sure Brianna was all right.
Never had a hall seemed so long. Madison didn’t think she was going to make it. She could hear her daughter whimpering, “Mommy…Mommy…Mommy…” and clung to that small voice.
“Shut up!” The woman. Angry. In Brianna’s room.
Madison had to get there. And she had to do it now.
Now…now…now… The words inside her head echoed with urgency, but Madison could no longer walk. The world was spinning, tilting out of control. She was going to throw up. She wanted to sink to the floor and rest her head in her hands, let whatever lapped at her ankles suck her completely away.
Only she wouldn’t give up until she knew her daughter was safe.
Falling to her knees, she crawled closer. She heard the squeak of the bed as someone pushed it around, heard low muttering, Brianna’s crying….
Brianna, hang on. I’m coming. Mommy’s coming.
Madison was breathless by the time she dragged herself into the doorway of Brianna’s room. She could see a shape that had to be Holly down on her knees, trying to reach Brianna, who’d apparently crawled under the bed.
Gathering all her strength, Madison managed to find her feet again. Get away from her. Get…away from…my daughter! she shouted, but only inside her head. Then she launched herself at Holly.
Madison’s movements weren’t coordinated enough to do much damage, but she pushed Holly to the ground and their arms tangled. Holly tried to shove her off, to get up, but Madison used the weight of her body to pin her down. She could sense Holly’s interest in Brianna, her desire to return to her daughter’s bed.
Not at any cost, Madison told herself. Grabbing a fistful of Holly’s long hair, she kept hold, focusing on only one thing, even as the darkness overcame her.
Don’t let go…don’t let go…don’t ever let go….
She was just drifting off when she heard footsteps tramping down the hall and a male voice calling to her. Then Holly was wrenched away from her, screaming as she lost two fistfuls of hair, and the blackness became both silent and complete.
CALEB SAT NEXT TO Madison’s hospital bed, a rectangle of pale yellow falling through the open door the only light. He was tense with worry despite the doctors’ promises that she was going to be fine. Madison had been through so much. So much she didn’t deserve. They all had.
Because of Holly.
Shaking his head, he swore under his breath, angry with himself for not realizing his ex-wife was insane. Gibbons had called to tell him he’d found a bunch of other things in Holly’s attic—his own attic at one time—many of them belonging to women they’d long believed to be victims of Ellis Purcell.
He should have realized somehow, figured it out sooner. He’d known she had emotional problems. He’d just never imagined they were so severe, never imagined she was capable of doing what she’d done. He’d been too busy blaming himself for her problems because he couldn’t love her the way she said she needed to be loved. Even after writing that book about the female serial killer Aileen Wuornos, he’d never considered that the Sandpoint Strangler could be a woman. What had happened was a classic example of looking beyond the mark. If a woman was going to kill, she typically used poison.
Holly had sedated her victims with drugs, he mused, which made it easy to sexually assault them with whatever she chose, whatever was handy at the time, and strangle them afterward. She was cunning, far more cunning than anyone he’d written about so far. She knew exactly how to make it look like a man’s crime, how to cover her tracks.
Damn! He’d known there was some sort of link between the killer and Madison’s family. He’d just never dreamed it was him….
Light crept through the window as the sun began to rise. In the hallway, Caleb could hear movement, creaking wheels, the smooth voice of a woman over the intercom. Holding Madison’s hand, he gently rubbed her delicate fingers. The effects of Rohypnol typically lasted for several hours, but according to blood tests run by the doctor when Madison first arrived, she hadn’t ingested very much.
She’d been stirring for the past few minutes, so he wasn’t surprised when she finally opened her eyes.
“Welcome back,” he whispered, feeling relief pour through him.
“Caleb.”
He squeezed her hand.
“Where’s—” her eyebrows drew together “—where’s Brianna?”
“She’s with your mother.” He pressed the back of her hand against his lips, enjoying the warm, reassuring feel of her skin. “They just left. Thanks to you, she’s fine.”
Tears trickled from the corners of Madison’s eyes. “What happened? I—I can only remember Holly sitting at my kitchen table, drinking tea. And then…Brianna needing me.”
Before he could answer, Caleb felt a presence at the door and turned to see that Johnny had returned from his trip to the cafeteria.
“She awake?” Johnny asked.
Caleb nodded.
“Johnny, you came back,” Madison said.
“And it’s a good thing,” Caleb told her. “He arrived at your place before I could get there. He came before the police arrived. If it wasn’t for him—” Caleb didn’t want to think about what might have happened if Johnny hadn’t shown up when he did.
“I didn’t do much,” Johnny said, chafing beneath the praise. “The cops came almost right away.”
It would’ve taken Holly only a few minutes to add two more victims to her tally. But Caleb wasn’t pointing out that grisly truth. He wanted to focus on the fact that everything was going to be okay. It was over. Holly was in jail. Even if she didn’t get the death penalty for reason of insanity, she’d never set foot outside prison. She’d murdered nine women before he ever met her, another two while they were divorced the first time, and a woman in Spokane, as well as Susan, since he’d moved.
He felt terrible for her parents. After all they’d done to raise her and love her…And he felt even worse for her victims and their families.
“How long will I be here?” Madison asked, her eyes circling the room.
“Not long,” Caleb assured her. “Holly slipped some date rape drug in your tea. The doctor wants to make sure you come out of it okay. Then he’ll release you.”
Her eyelashes fluttered to her cheeks. “Are you sure Brianna’s okay?”
“I’m positive. But I want you to know something else before you fall asleep.”
He watched her fight the weariness. “What’s that?”
“You were right, Maddy. Your father never killed anyone.”
Madison managed a fleeting smile, but he could tell she was struggling to remain conscious. “I’m so tired.”
“Go ahead and sleep.”
“Will you be here when I wake up?” With obvious effort, she raised her eyelids once again and met his gaze.
“Yes.” He glanced at Johnny. “Tye and your mother are on their way. Your family will be waiting right here.”
“My family,” she said, and that faint smile returned as she drifted away.
THE NEXT TIME Madison woke, a nurse helped her dress, and Caleb drove her home. There were so many questions she wanted to ask about what had happened, so many nuances she didn’t understand. But she felt as though she was living inside a bubble, or swimming underwater, completely out of touch with her normal environment and those around her. She knew Brianna was safe, Johnny was back and Caleb was with her. The rest could wait.
When they reached her place, Caleb insisted on carrying her inside. Leaning against his chest, she turned her face into his neck, comforted by the scent of him and the ease with which he bore her weight. As he tucked her into bed, she knew everything was going to be fine. Everything was going to be better. A feeling of hope and excitement told her she had something special to be happy about. She couldn’t remember why—until she started to dre
am.
She was five and her father was pushing her on a swing in the backyard…. She was ten and finding a candy bar her father had slipped into her drawer to surprise her…. She was sixteen and getting into her car to find her father had filled it with gas, even though her mother had sworn she’d have to buy her own….
Simple things, but Ellis Purcell had been a simple man. He’d never asked for thanks or a great deal of attention. Not in life, not in her dreams. He was just there. And he was the man she’d always known—not a perfect man, but an innocent man, and a father who’d loved her.
Then her dream changed. Her father was walking toward her across the grass and she was going to meet him. He looked just as he had before he died, with his barrel chest and thick shoulders, salt-and-pepper flattop, calm brown eyes. He didn’t wave or speak. But a lump grew in her throat as she reached him and put her arms around his neck. “I love you, Daddy,” she murmured, and woke to find that she was crying.
“TAMARA WANTS TO TALK to you, too,” Justine said. “Tamara, pick up the other line.”
Caleb tossed the towel he’d been using to dry dishes across the kitchen to land on Madison’s counter, and rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to repeat everything he’d just told his mother, but his family was understandably shocked at the truth about Holly. He was shocked. There were moments when he still couldn’t believe that the woman he’d lived with on and off for seven years had tried to kill Madison and Brianna, had succeeded in killing Susan, and had taken the lives of at least twelve others.
“My God, Caleb. What’s happened is so unreal,” Tamara said. “Poor Susan.”
Caleb thought of Susan lying in the morgue. He’d been completely convinced by Holly’s grief that day they’d identified the body. Her sadness had been so palpable, so real. Obviously she hadn’t been grieving for the reasons he’d assumed.
“I should’ve known somehow,” he said, finally speaking his thoughts aloud.
“Caleb, quit beating yourself up,” Tamara said. “How could you have known? You never saw any proof of it, did you?”
“That depends on what you mean by proof. She was off balance. We all knew that. She was manipulative, obsessive.”
“So? You were trained since you were small to shield and protect women. Of course you wouldn’t even think of suspecting her. Lots of people are off balance, manipulative, obsessive, even certifiably insane, yet they don’t become serial killers.”
“She loved you, Caleb,” his mother added, on the extension. “Make no mistake about that. I’ve never seen a woman so head over heels.”
“Maybe she ingratiated herself with you because you were working on the case,” Tamara said, “but it quickly turned into more than that.”
No kidding, Caleb thought. Almost as soon as he and Holly had started dating, he’d tried to break if off and hadn’t been able to.
“You were particularly susceptible to a needy woman like her,” his mother said. “You’ve always been drawn to people you think you can help, and you tried to help her. Only she was too broken. I feel almost as sorry for her as I do for the people whose lives she destroyed. What would make a woman do what she’s done?”
“Who can say?” he said. “I know she blames other women for almost every problem she’s had in her life—her adoption, her unhappy childhood, her sister always stealing the limelight. She’s always hated other women, distrusted them. But I never guessed that what she felt would be enough to turn her into a homicidal maniac.”
“Caleb, at what point does any man look at his wife and wonder if she could be a cold-blooded killer?” Tamara asked. “No one is all good or all bad. We don’t walk around with signs posted on our foreheads that label us good or evil, because we’re all a mix to one degree or another. And Holly was so adept at pretending to be something she wasn’t. Which is why I never liked her.”
Cognitively, Caleb knew women were capable of violence. He’d done that book on Aileen Wuornos. But he’d also written a few other books about women who’d killed for more immediate reasons—because they’d been severely abused or stood to benefit financially. A violent woman who killed for power and control had never been part of his personal reality. And when he researched the crimes he wrote about, he was always dealing with a perpetrator who was a stranger to him, someone else’s father, brother, cousin.
“What’s going to happen to her now?” his mother asked.
“She’ll go to prison.”
“You’re sure?”
He thought of the halter top in Holly’s bedroom, the DNA evidence that should be forthcoming, and the tire imprint. Gibbons had called to tell him it matched an old Chevy belonging to Holly’s neighbor. Evidently, she’d borrowed his truck when she’d dumped Susan’s body. “There’s plenty of evidence, so much that she knows she doesn’t have a chance of fighting. Gibbons told me she confessed.”
Madison’s telephone beeped. Caleb glanced at the caller ID to see that her own mother was calling.
“I’ve got to go,” he said.
“Does this mean you won’t be baby-sitting for me this weekend?” Tamara asked.
Caleb smiled because he could tell she was joking, trying to lighten the mood. “Do you think you can get Mac to stay off the phone long enough to make leaving with him worthwhile?”
“He’s promised to give up his cell phone for the whole weekend. We had a big fight yesterday. I threatened to leave him, and he swears he’s going to do better.”
“I like the doing better part. If he’ll leave his phone at home, I’ll gladly baby-sit. See you later,” he said, and switched to the other line.
“How’s Madison doing?” Annette Purcell asked.
Caleb went to the window and gazed out at Johnny in the yard. Caleb had promised Madison’s brother forty dollars if he’d mow the lawn and trim the bushes. Caleb thought it might help keep his mind off his crack addiction and, for the moment, it seemed to be working. “She’s still sleeping, but the doctor checked her just before we left the hospital and said she’ll be fine. How’s Brianna?”
“She’s happy here. We just bought a new coloring book and some washable markers. Later we’re going to look at some pictures of Grandpa.”
Caleb could hear the pride in Annette’s voice when she spoke of Ellis. She’d loved him and stuck by him through the whole thing. Her loyalty was impressive. It was tragic that Ellis had killed himself before this day could come. In a way, he was another of Holly’s victims.
“I’m sorry about all you’ve gone through, Annette,” he said. “And for my role in it.” When they’d spoken at the hospital earlier, he’d told her who he was. She’d been upset at first, but she was too relieved to have Ellis’s name cleared to hold it against him.
She was silent for a few seconds. “Everything’s going to be fine now.”
“I really thought it was Ellis,” he said. “I came back here determined to finally prove myself right, and I nearly got your daughter and granddaughter killed.”
“But you didn’t get them killed. Do you realize that if you hadn’t come back, we still wouldn’t know the truth? Holly would still be preying on innocent people.”
Caleb smiled. There was definitely some solace in that. As much as he hated the fact that he hadn’t been able to save her past victims, his returning to Seattle had saved any future ones. “Thanks.”
“Have you heard from Danny?” she asked.
“No.”
“I guess I should call him.” She sighed. “No one likes him much, but he is Brianna’s father and should probably know what’s going on.”
Caleb chuckled. “Do you think he really intends to take Madison back to court for custody?”
“He might. He threatens often enough. But after what Madison just did for that child, I don’t think there’s a court in the country that would take Brianna away.”
“I hope not,” he said.
“Well, I’ve made some chicken soup for the both of you. I just wanted to let you know I’m on m
y way over.”
“I’m sure it’ll be good for Madison to see you—and Brianna.”
“She’s been asking about her mother. But she’s been asking about you, too,” Annette said. “Seems she’s growing quite attached to you.”
“You might mention to her that—” Caleb was about to tell Annette he was going back to San Francisco right away, as originally planned. But Madison called to him just then and suddenly San Francisco seemed very far from home.
“Never mind.” He wasn’t sure he could gain Madison’s confidence again. He’d betrayed her trust and unwittingly put her in danger. But he did have a lease on the cottage. And it didn’t run out for another five months.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
MADISON STUDIED CALEB as he came to stand in the doorway of her room. He was wearing a gray polo, a pair of jeans and a Giants cap, and the dark shadow covering his jaw indicated he hadn’t shaved this morning. But he looked as good as always—strong, masculine, confident.
“How do you feel?” he asked, the muscles of his arms flexing as he hooked his fingers on the doorjamb over his head.
“I’m still tired,” she admitted.
“You want to sleep some more? Or are you ready to eat something?”
She wriggled into a sitting position. “I want to talk.”
He cocked an eyebrow, as though he was a little worried about what she might say.
“I need to understand what happened,” she explained.
Letting go of the jamb, he moved closer, and she slid over so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “It was Holly,” he said simply.
“How could that be? How could she kill her own sister?”
“Obviously she’s not right. I arrived here just after the police arrested her. She was hysterical by then, cursing at the top of her lungs and blaming me. I couldn’t get any coherent answers out of her. But I called Detective Gibbons from the hospital later, and he filled me in on a few things.”