by DK Herman
A few days ago, Doc had tried to talk me into stopping my investigation. That evening, I was attacked outside by someone with a knife. The attacker could have killed me in a second, but I got away, way too easily. Was it Doc, trying to scare me? And saving me in the fire. Did she know I was in the pit because it had been her that I'd heard inside the garage in first the place? The night that Doc, Gabi and I were at Hank's, was she upset about losing a patient, or was it because she’d found out her victims’ bodies had been discovered? My heart skipped a beat when I realized I was missing the turn onto our lane. There no time to waste turning around.
I stood on the brakes and turned the wheel. I thought I was going to make it, but Chitty slid sideways on the stones. The RV landed in a ditch still on all four wheels. The engine was running, so I tried to ease out. But the back wheels just spun, in forward or reverse. "Son of a bitch!" I pounded the steering wheel. Throwing open the door, I ran for home.
FIFTEEN
I ran until a stitch in my side, forced me to slow to a jog. I crossed the wooden bridge and saw a vehicle pulling from my driveway. The headlights blinded me as it accelerated quickly in my direction. It wasn't Doc's pickup, but it looked familiar. I slowed to a walk, expecting them to stop and speak to me.
Instead, the vehicle picked up more speed and swerved right at me. I dove for cover behind a tree. As the car passed, I saw Ryan Murphy's face, disturbingly angry, in the dashboard lights.
“He tries to run me down over a bloody nose.” I shook my head in disbelief. "Cripes, does he hold a grudge!" I watched him turn onto the highway and I ran toward home again.
I made it to the driveway and slowed to a fast walk. Looking at the house, everything looked normal. Doc's truck was still there, and there were lights on in the house. I heard the dogs in the backyard. Making my way up the walk, I stopped on the front porch and listened for sounds from inside the house. There were voices in the living room. Tip toeing to the living room window, I peered inside. I couldn't see anyone, but the room flickered in light from the television. Hopefully, Gram and George were upstairs, settled in for the night.
Crossing my fingers that I was wrong about Doc, I slipped off my shoes before creeping to the front door. I cringed at the squeak of the hinges when I eased the door open. Leaving the door ajar, I crept up the hall. The living room was empty, the TV tuned to a popular sit com. Back in the hall, I picked up the cordless and pushed the on button. There was no sound from the receiver. So, starting at the phone base, I followed the cord to the wall. What I found made all the hair stand up on my head. The cord had been cut, just before the jack. I patted my jeans pockets and remembered, I’d left my cell in Chitty.
I looked up the stairs. The stairwell was lit, but the hallway on both sides was dark. Gram always left the hallway lights on all night. The closest switch to turn them on, was at the top of the stairs. Cursing my lack of phone or weapon, I cautiously started up the stairs.
Silence met me at the top. But I stopped my hand from turning on the light switch. I could sneak to my room in the dark and grab my gun. I felt like a dumbass for leaving it on my nightstand again. From now on, I'd even shower with the damn thing. I took a few steps toward my suite.
"Haaaaaaallie!" Behind me, a voice called from somewhere in the darkness. It was Doc's voice, but it sounded much younger. "Come on down to Gram's room," she called playfully. Then she giggled, "We've been waiting on you."
My arms goose bumped when she giggled hysterically. I hadn't heard Doc sound like that since before her dad died. "I'll be right there,” I called back calmly and started to run toward my rooms.
"No! No, I won't do it! Just stop this!" I heard Gram shout.
I stopped and held my breath, trying to listen to my grandmother's voice. Suddenly, she let out a terrified scream. I changed direction and ran back the long, dark hall.
My Gram was a strong woman and I'd never heard her scream before. Once when I was twelve, a copperhead fell from our garage rafters and landed on Gram's shoulder. She calmly flipped it against a wall before killing it with a shovel. I turned back and hurried my pace, no longer concerned with making noise. Gram needed me, and Doc knew I was here.
As I approached Gram's sitting room, I could see the door was open and bright lights flashed on inside. I took a deep breath and carefully peered around the door jamb. My mouth dropped open, and my blood boiled with anger at what I saw inside.
Gram stood near her bedroom door with Doc looming behind her. Doc had one arm tight around Gram’s chest while her other hand held a knife to her throat. I could see Gram gasping for air, her eyes wide with fear.
"Let her go!" I said, stepping into the room. Everything was surreal. "What the hell are you doing, Doc!"
"Setting you up as the murderer," Doc answered coolly. “After helping Hank kill those poor little girls, you turned on your own family. "
I was too horrified to answer and moved closer, trying to think of a way to help Gram. This couldn't be happening. Doc couldn't be a killer. I looked into her eyes, hoping it was all a joke. But her face didn't really look like Doc’s. Her expression was hard, and her eyes glittered with obvious enjoyment at Gram's pain and fear.
With an arm like a steel band around her chest, Doc squeezed Gram until she couldn't breathe. Grams eyes pleaded with mine for air.
"What do you want me to do?" I took two steps toward them. I wanted to break Doc’s neck for hurting my grandmother.
"Back off!" Doc warned, putting the point of the six-inch blade against Gram's neck. She applied enough pressure to make the skin dimple, and a few drops of blood appeared.
"Please Doc, don’t hurt Gram." A tear ran down my cheek when Gram whimpered.
"I have to, I don’t want to go to jail. I can’t help it, it’s not my fault."
“Why would you go to jail? Talk to me, Doc. I want to help you.” Keep her talking, and don’t let her hurt Gram, I thought.
Doc eased the pressure on the knife and loosened her arm around Gram's chest. "George knows, he saw the picture. I don’t know why he hasn’t told anyone yet. So, I came here to set you up, just like I set up Hank. When I changed into your swimsuit this afternoon, I left my knife under your bathroom sink." She pulled the knife away from Gram's throat and wiggled it in her fingers at me.
"What picture?" I asked.
“Remember the evening before your aunt left on her cruise, and I came to bring her the hat. I dropped my phone in your living room. George picked it up and saw the picture that I took of Cara Gordon. I always take their picture before I start on them because they aren't so pretty when I'm done." Doc's smile made my blood freeze. "George knows what I’ve done because of those damned flyers all over town. He even left me a note, inviting me to your picnic on the back of one of them."
That's where the flyer, I’d picked up at Gabi's went. I told George that I had scrap paper in my purse when we stopped at Doc’s. "That’s why you were trying to kill George.”
"Mostly." Doc laughed. "I didn't realize though, what a tough old bird he is. If I could’ve gotten him alone, I would’ve distracted him and popped him in the back of the head. But he's taking a nice, long nap now. I made him take an overdose of his pain meds. If he's still alive when I'm done with you two, I'll slit his throat in his sleep. Then, when I’m all done with the three of you, I’ll put the knife in your hand, Hallie.”
I felt dizzy and sick, but some of the color was returning to Gram's face. I recognized the expression, she was angry. I shook my head a little, trying to warn her not to do anything. I had to keep Doc talking until Andy got here. "Why did you kill Dr. Robinson?”
The smile left Doc's face. "Because he knew, damn him. The son of a whore knew, all those years, and he wouldn't help me." Tears came to her eyes. "He treated most of the injuries that she gave me. Afterwards, he’d tell me that I should have been a good girl!” She screamed in outrage at the memory.
“What do you mean? What did he know about, Doc?" I asked. I couldn’t thin
k of anything else to say. She was really losing it. Where in the hell was Andy?
"He knew that her mother was abusing her,” Gram said. Her voice shook at first, then got stronger. "I tried to help you, Doc. Remember the day I came to your house and spoke to your mother. I suspected she was hurting you from things that Hallie and Gabrielle mentioned. So, I warned her, if it didn't stop, I would see her put into jail and raise you myself."
"You should have taken me away from her. After that, she was madder and it got worse. She just hid it better." Doc's eyes flowed with tears. "She stopped breaking my bones, but she would tie me up. Then she would cut me and burn me, anywhere that my clothes would cover it." She sobbed and yanked up her shirt. Every inch of skin on Doc’s belly and breasts was covered with scars. She turned a little without letting go of Gram, I could see more scars on her side and back.
A tear slipped down my own cheek, imagining the pain my friend must have endured. "Oh Doc, I'm so sorry. I didn't know." How could I not know, damn it?
"Don’t cry, Hallie. Mommy dear got hers, she was the first person I killed." Doc's tears stopped. Her face looked hard with an ice-cold smile. "My mother, the insulin dependent diabetic, who loved her sweets. When I was a kid, I thought up a plan to kill her. I was going to put sugar in her coffee until the miserable bitch dropped dead.” Doc shook her head, a delighted smile on her face. “When I was premed, I found an easy way to do just that. I got my hands on a drug to treat hypoglycemia. I brought it home from school, tied her down and injected her with an overdose. I watched her convulse, go into a coma, and die. I filmed the whole thing with her old camcorder." Doc giggled. "It’s my favorite movie! I still watch it when I need a laugh."
I stared at my best friend, unable to find any words. The room was soundless, all three of us stood like statues.
"Letty Shuman was a nasty, vile excuse for a human being," Gram said firmly, breaking the silence. "Nobody would blame you, for what you did to her, honey. But Doc, why did you hurt those young girls?"
"They all had good mothers and a nice family," Doc roared, spit flying from her lips. "And they didn't appreciate them. So, I showed them what it was like for me. What it was like to be at the mercy of a woman, just like my mother!" Doc pulled at her own hair, tearing out a clump. Then she began breathing hard, like a bull. Just like I’d heard in the dark woods and our driveway.
Doc saw me shudder and put the knife tightly to Gram's throat. "Are you afraid of me, Hallie?" She asked slyly.
"No," I found my voice. "I love you. We've been friends for over thirty years. I'm not afraid of you,” I lied.
"You should be," Doc sing-songed. "After all, being friends didn't help poor Heather."
"You killed Heather Ross.” My mouth dropped open. Some detective I was. How could I have not known, something was badly wrong with my friend.
"I sure did. Right after my mother’s funeral." She was bragging now. "Heather was furious at Hank when I picked her up. You should have heard the language she was using. The ungrateful little bitch said some terrible things about her mother, too. All because, her mom didn't want her getting serious with that boy. Talking trash about her wonderful mother, over a god damned boy!" Doc's eyes bulged. "My mother always threatened to cut my throat. Especially, if I fought her when she was hurting me. I wondered what it would be like. Was it hard to cut somebodies throat? Well, I found out. Heather's throat sliced like butter." She pulled the blade away from Gram and showed me the edge. "My dad taught me how to sharpen knives. This one was his, you know. It’s soooo much easier to cut through a windpipe with a sharp knife." Doc threw her head back and laughed so hard that her body bowed backwards.
A shot rang out, and Doc's eyes widened before the knife fell from her hand. The knife hit the floor, a few seconds before Doc crumpled beside it. I dove for Gram, putting my arms around her. She was looking at the doorway, tears pouring from her eyes. I turned to thank Andy for saving us. But my mouth dropped open when I saw George, holding my Glock in his hand.
"Are you OK, sweetheart?" George walked into the room, keeping my gun trained on Doc. He kicked Doc's knife under the couch, and satisfied that she was unconscious, went to Gram.
"I thought you were already dead." Gram sobbed onto his good shoulder while George led her to the couch. “She bragged about giving you an overdose of pain pills."
George sat next to Gram and lay the gun on his lap. “I spit em out when she wasn't looking and hid them under my pillow. Then I pretended to fall asleep. After she left the room, I snuck over to Hallie’s room and got her gun." He glanced at Doc, still lying on the floor. "Hallie, will you see about stopping her bleeding. I want her to live, so she can go to jail for a long time. I didn't aim to kill her."
I grabbed a towel from Gram's bathroom and kneeled next to Doc on the floor. I shook my head in disbelief. “Wow, George must be close friends with karma, she’s always there for him,” I mumbled. Doc's wound was in the exact same spot as George's when she had shot him. I folded the towel and pressed it down hard on her shoulder. "Someone needs to call for help, I don't have my phone."
"Good, you won't be needing it." Ryan Murphy entered the room, a 12-gauge shotgun in his hands. He pointed the barrel at his father. “Throw that gun over here, old man."
"What are you doing, son? "George blinked. "Put that gun down, it’s over." He pointed toward Doc and me. "That girl over there is a murderer, and we need the police."
"She may be a murderer, but she was a lot of fun in bed." Ryan curled his lip. "And she was helping me get my inheritance before you wasted it all."
"You greedy, little prick." George said angrily. But his face showed how hurt he really was.
"I'm going to kill this dried up, old bitch, right in front of you. That way you'll suffer before I blow your head off," Ryan said gleefully. "I'll blame it all on Doc. She won't mind."
George reached for my gun to defend Gram, but everyone froze when Ryan shot a shell into the floor. The noise was deafening, and it left a nice size hole in the floor. George tossed my gun at Ryan’s feet then leaned sideways, lying across Gram, trying to shield her from his son.
"This is kinda fun. But it’s not as much fun as when Doc let me slice one of the little blonde’s throats," Ryan said. “But now, I heard that little bitch is still alive and in the hospital. I guess I need some more practice.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me. "I did it while she was unconscious, after Doc was finished torturing her. Doc was animal, in and out of bed. It was fascinating to watch her mutilate and terrorize those pretty little girls. Doc had a real gift for torture.”
"Doc's not dead," I informed him.
"She will be, let her lay there and bleed. Get your ass over here on the couch with the old folks. I want to get this over with, right now." Ryan said.
"You’re a sick bastard, worse than Doc," I said. “How can you kill a sweet elderly woman and your own father?”
"I'm fucking sick of you bitch. I told Doc to let you burn in the fire, but no, she had to save her, pain in the ass, friend." Ryan screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. "I'm going to shoot you in the face, right now." He swung the barrel of the shotgun my way.
There was nowhere to run and nothing to hide behind. I closed my eyes and cringed, waiting for hot lead to rip through me. I was too terrified to cry. Would I feel it?
A shot rang out. But it didn’t sound like the shotgun, and I didn’t feel like I’d been shot. Opening my eyes, I blinked at Andy. He was in the doorway; Chief Woods right behind him. Both men entered the room, keeping their guns pointed at Ryan, who lay face down on the floor.
Andy picked up Ryan's shotgun and called for two ambulances. Then he checked on George and Gram before making his way over to me and Doc. “Shit, is she alive? Doc can you hear me?
Doc stirred and looked up at him. "I'm sorry about Heather. I shouldn’t have done it,” she whispered.
Andy's face showed disbelief, he looked at me for an answer.
I nodded. "She killed Heather."<
br />
Andy dropped to his knees next to Doc. "Why damn you? What did you do with her?" he demanded.
"She's out there with the others. Dig deeper." Doc lost consciousness again.
"Why would she kill Heather?" Andy's asked. He seemed in a daze.
"I'll explain everything after the ambulance gets here,” I said. Folding the towel again, I applied pressure on her shoulder. I didn’t want Doc to die. In a way, she was a victim, too. She couldn’t be allowed to be free, ever again. But if her mother wouldn’t have tortured her, for years, Doc never would have hurt anybody.
"There's a lot of explaining to do." He sighed. "Who shot Doc?"
"George did. When she was holding a knife to my grandmother's throat and bragging about the people she's killed. Including her own mother,” I added.
"Wow, I can’t believe it! Let's wait, till we can do this official." Andy said. "I don't want either of these two, getting out of going to jail because I screwed up."
I nodded. "But thanks for saving us. You were just in time, I thought I was done."
"The Chief and I were on the front porch when we heard a shotgun blast," Andy said. "We busted ass, getting up here. We heard him bragging about cutting a girl’s throat when we were outside the door."
"He meant Amy Klein," I said. "Doc let him do it because Amy was unconscious. But it was his first time, and he screwed it up."
"It’s why she's still alive." Andy stood. "That and you finding her before she was buried alive."
Andy walked to Chief Woods, avoiding the hole in the floor from Ryan's shotgun. The Chief was instructing another cop to tend to Ryan's wound. The sound of sirens in the driveway was hopefully, medical assistance.
Two pairs of paramedics arrived to tend to Doc and Ryan. Chief Woods gave permission for Gram and George to go to George’s suite. I walked with them down the hall and made sure they were comfortable.