by Неизвестный
She kicked violently backward, but then her limbs grew suddenly heavy as her head grew light.
THIRTY-ONE
“WHAT THE HELL happened?” Dillon arrived at the hospital just as Connor and Will ran up the stairs to Faye Kessler’s room. Connor could see his brother was extremely upset.
Officer Diaz looked distraught. “I-I don’t know how she did it.”
“Tell me everyone who went into that room after I left.”
“Only two nurses!”
“Two nurses?”
“One nurse about fifteen minutes after you left. Her ID checked out. She was in there for about seven minutes, then left. She signed the log here.”
“And the other?”
“Her,” Diaz nodded toward the nurse sitting in the nurses’ station, her head in her hands. “She came in thirty minutes ago and found Miss Kessler.”
Rena Klein, RN, was shaken. “I make my rounds every two hours. No patient is left alone for more than two hours. We check their vitals, talk to them. We have everyone on 24/7 surveillance.”
“Where are the tapes kept?” Will asked.
“At the central security desk in the basement.”
The three men went down to the basement. The security chief was already there, expecting them.
“I have the tape from Ms. Kessler’s room.”
“Run it,” Dillon said, tight-lipped.
He started the black-and-white tape from the time Dillon and Julia left. There were three angles of tape into the room. One showed the view from the observation area, which showed most of the room plus the patient. The second was above the patient, showing only the bed. The third focused on the door.
The door opened and a young nurse came in.
“What did her ID say?” Will asked.
“Isabel Younger,” said Officer Diaz. “But I found out Younger’s supposed to be off-duty today.”
“Pull her employment files and photograph.”
The security chief nodded to an assistant, who scurried off.
On the videotape, words were exchanged between patient and nurse. The nurse picked up Faye’s wrist and looked at her own wrist, as if taking Faye’s pulse.
“The nurse is not wearing a watch,” Connor said.
“And her fingers aren’t on the pulse point,” Dillon added.
The woman on the video wrote something down on a chart and handed Faye a small cup, then the water from the side table.
“She drugged her,” Will said.
“We’ll run a tox screen for psychotics and other drugs,” Dillon said.
More conversation. Then the “nurse” left. Faye lay there.
Connor watched the second camera. Faye had something in her hand under the blanket. She was moving her hand back and forth. For the first time that Connor had seen, Faye’s face was peaceful. Almost joyous. She rolled to her right side. Pain crossed her face, but she just lay there, eyes half closed. Sleeping? No. Darkness spread under the blanket. Blood. It looked black on the black-and-white video.
“Why didn’t anyone see this?” Dillon demanded.
“We did and called the nurse. But it was too late.”
“Why?”
Nurse Klein had come down with them. “The blood wouldn’t stop. She was bleeding for less than ten minutes. She shouldn’t have died. But maybe with her other injuries and her anemia… I don’t know.” The nurse was obviously pained. “I couldn’t staunch the blood.”
They reviewed the tapes again. Connor stopped it at the profile of the unknown nurse. He tapped the screen. “That’s Cami, the woman I encountered at Bowen’s house.”
After Nurse Klein left, Will put an APB on Michelle O’Dell a.k.a. “Cami” while Connor filled Dillon in on what they’d learned about Tristan Lord.
In the basement room, Dillon sat down and contemplated what Connor had said.
Connor added, “He’s involved—you should see the paintings, Dil. It’s like they tell a story, almost like a confession.”
“Almost impossible as far as evidence that will stand up in court,” Will said.
“What I don’t understand is why,” said Connor. “What’s Tristan Lord’s motive?”
“Sunday was the anniversary of Bowen’s sister’s death,” Dillon said. “Tristan’s mother, Monica. You said Tristan’s mother was ill and they moved in with Garrett and Eric Bowen. What about his father?”
“Eric didn’t know much about Tristan’s father, other than that he hasn’t been part of Tristan’s life since he’d been a young child. Monica Lord traveled a lot, and Tristan went with her.”
“So his mother dies, Tristan starts self-mutilating, and Garrett Bowen created an anonymous group to help his nephew.” Dillon thought more on it. “There’s something there—the anniversary of Monica Lord’s death, the use of Wishlist, killing Bowen. It all circles around Tristan Lord. But why? What did he have against Bowen? And why the elaborate plan to kill Paul Judson, Jason Ridge, and Victor Montgomery? And there may have been others. Faye denied knowing anything about Jason Ridge’s death, but that could be to protect this ‘Cami’—Michelle O’Dell—who ended up killing her.”
“We’re looking for Lord and O’Dell,” said Will. “It’s only a matter of time before we pick them up.”
“Unless they’ve already left the country.”
Will said, “I have flags on their passports and we’ve alerted airport security.”
“They could drive over the border and disappear, especially with enough money,” Connor said. “I need to call Julia, fill her in.”
“She’s on her way here,” Dillon said. “I talked to her when Officer Diaz called Will.”
Connor glanced at his watch and frowned. “That was over an hour ago.” He pulled out his phone and dialed Julia’s number. Her voice mail picked up immediately. He left a message, hung up, tried her home number. Her answering machine came on after four rings.
Worry, and a deep-seated fear, hit Connor as he dialed her office direct line. Her voice mail picked up once again. “It’s not like Julia to not check in or be unavailable,” he said. “Where was she when you told her about Faye?”
“Her office.”
Will said, “I’ll put all-units on the lookout for her. What rental is she driving?”
“A white Ford Explorer from Enterprise.” Connor walked to the elevator, pushed the button. “I’m going to find her.”
“I’m coming with you,” Dillon said.
When the elevator didn’t come right away, they ran up the stairs. In the parking lot, they jumped into Connor’s truck and peeled away. “We’ll go back to the DA’s office and retrace her steps,” Connor said.
As they drove in front of the hospital, from the corner of his eye, Connor saw a white Explorer. He slowed down and gave the vehicle a closer look. On the back bumper was an Enterprise company sticker.
Hitting his hazard lights, he pulled parallel to the SUV and jumped out. Looking in the window, Connor saw Julia’s briefcase on the front seat.
“This is her rental car.” Connor pulled out his phone again, dialed her number. Again, voice mail picked up immediately.
He walked around the car, stopped next to the meter. Two quarters reflected the falling sunlight. Squatting, he studied the ground next to the car, but there was nothing to see on the cement.
Dillon phoned Will. “We found Julia’s rental out front. Has she come up there? Maybe we missed her.”
Dillon shook his head when Connor caught his eye.
Dammit, where in the hell was Julia?
When Julia woke, her body was physically drained, but her mind was instantly alert. She remembered being attacked as she fed the meter outside the hospital, but she hadn’t seen who’d grabbed her.
Her neck hurt, and she put her hand on a sore spot that stung something fierce.
She blinked open her eyes, saw a familiar man leaning against the doorjamb of an unfamiliar room. The walls were covered with paintings, some half complete. The only light c
ame from small spotlights over a few of the pieces.
She glanced behind her. She was leaning against a railing, at least three stories up. Paintings and art hung everywhere. Most she couldn’t make out in the shadows. One huge painting, however, hung in the middle of a brick wall, the streetlights casting a dim glow into the vast room. As she stared, an image emerged of a woman hanging. A man stood beyond. Julia blinked, and the image seemed to change.
The drugs in her system—whatever it was that had knocked her out so completely—were still messing with her mind. She slowly sat up. Feeling nauseous, she leaned against the pillar, willing her body to get it together. She would need all her strength to figure a way out of here.
Julia stared at the figure in the open doorway. It took her a minute to recognize Tristan Lord, the young artist, Bowen’s nephew, whose studio had benefited from Saturday night’s charity event. She’d only seen the tall, slender artist briefly at the party, but his shaved head and arty tunic were distinctive.
But the quietly confident, almost ethereal appearance of the man Julia had seen at the fund-raiser didn’t match the wild-eyed, vicious glare of the monster staring down at her.
There was no doubt in Julia’s mind that Tristan meant to kill her.
She unconsciously scooted back, but had nowhere to go. Below her was a three-story fall. She was in his studio. It was late. The sun was down, the shops on the street were closed.
If she screamed, who would hear?
“Why?” he said to her.
“Why what?” Her voice was hoarse.
“Why did you give Faye the knife? She was no harm to you.”
“I didn’t give Faye a knife.” Julia swallowed.
“I saw you.” A woman’s voice came from her side. “Just like you saw me. Loose ends.”
Julia hadn’t been able to see her from her position on the floor, Michelle O’Dell had been hidden by a large metal art object. But when Michelle stepped into view, there was no doubt this was the same girl who told Connor her name was “Cami.”
“Why would I give Faye a knife? She’s a suspect in a murder investigation.”
Michelle laughed. “Does anyone need a reason to kill?”
Julia stared at her. “Yes.”
Michelle crossed her arms and looked at Tristan. “Ms. Chandler here gave Faye the knife because of what happened to her niece, Emily.”
Michelle held a gun.
“Emily has nothing to do with this.”
“But the police thought she did,” Michelle said. “It could have easily gone the other way.”
“Were you trying to frame Emily?” Julia asked, incredulous. “Were you trying to make her seem guilty?”
Tristan interrupted. “Of course not. Emily was an innocent.”
Julia wondered if Michelle felt differently than Tristan. She wondered who was really in charge.
“What do you want with me? With all Tristan’s money, the two of you could have escaped, been halfway across the world by now.”
Tristan shook his head. “You’re an example of the corrupt system, one of the twisted people who decides who lives, who dies, who goes to prison, who goes free.”
Julia shook her head. “I’m doing my job. Trying to get people the justice they deserve.”
“Bullshit!” Tristan grabbed a manila file from the top of a desk near the door and threw it to her feet. A few papers—they looked like court documents—slipped out. “When we were researching you, we pulled all your cases. Your plea agreements. Your prosecutions. When you asked for the death penalty and when you asked for minimal time.”
“Every case is unique,” Julia said. “I look at them based on the evidence and what I think a jury will convict on. And my boss—”
“Stop. Don’t offer some lame justification. We’re not buying it.”
“But none of this has anything to do with me.” Julia was grasping at straws, hoping one would hold. “It’s Faye, right? You think I hurt her. I didn’t. I didn’t bring her a knife. I swear to you, I had nothing to do with her suicide.”
Tristan looked torn, and Michelle interjected. “Shut up. We don’t believe you.”
Julia glared at the girl. “You were there? Why? What reason did you have to go to the hospital? You must have known the police were getting closer.”
“You wouldn’t have figured it out in time,” said Michelle. “And I’m on my way south. Way south.”
“You’ll never make it. We know all about you. Your mother must have told you about my visit, that I have your picture. You changed your appearance a little—lightened your hair, changed your clothing style—but anyone who saw you would realize that Cami and Michelle are one and the same.”
“None of that means anything,” Michelle snapped, “and it doesn’t matter what you know because you’re helping me get out of town.”
“Just tell me how you killed Jason. I’m curious.” Julia was trying to buy time. By now, Connor would know she was missing and be looking for her. They knew about Michelle; had they figured out Tristan Lord was involved?
“Don’t you want to know why? Why is much more interesting than how.”
“I know why.”
“Really?” Michelle stared at her with disbelief. “Why?”
“He raped your best friend. This elaborate plan of yours was a way to seek justice because the system failed Shannon.” Julia stared at Tristan. “I don’t understand why you’re involved.”
But Tristan wasn’t looking at her. He stared at Michelle. “Who are you?”
“Don’t listen to her.”
“You’re Shannon’s sister.”
“We were like sisters.” Michelle turned her head from Tristan to Julia.
Julia remembered something in the back of her mind, from Garrett Bowen’s party.
“Where’s Camilla?” Bowen asked his girlfriend.
“She’s in the little girls’ room.”
What was her name? Marisa Wohler. The triangle took shape. “Marisa is Laura Chase.”
Tristan turned to her, an edge of panic in his expression. Michelle just laughed. “Give the lawyer a prize.”
“They’ve been lying to you,” Julia said to Tristan, trying to find a way to turn the two against each other. It might be her only hope to find a way out of here alive.
“Cami is Shannon’s sister,” Tristan said, his confidence waning.
Julia said, “I can positively identify this girl as Michelle O’Dell. I spoke to her parents, got her photograph. It’s in my purse. Go look.”
Tristan didn’t move.
Julia continued. “She was friends with Shannon Chase. She also dated Jason Ridge before he raped Shannon. I’m sorry the system failed Shannon, I really am, but why do you care, Tristan? What’s in it for you?”
Tristan wasn’t paying attention to Julia. He was still staring at Michelle. “Laura isn’t your mother? Why’d she bring you in?”
“You saw how reckless she was when she tried to kill Garrett two years ago. She was a disaster. I convinced her she needed my help. You’re the one who assumed I was Shannon’s sister. We just let you keep thinking that. Camilla died when she was a baby, before Shannon was born.”
“Then why?” Tristan asked the same question Julia was thinking. The bonds of friendship didn’t go so deep as to kill, did they?
Michelle didn’t answer his question. Instead, she turned to Tristan, hand on her hip. “Go ahead, tell her all about your master plan to restore truth, justice, and the American way.”
Tristan shook his head. “You never understood. Faye was the only one who saw the aesthetic beauty in my plan. Revenge means little if you don’t use the wicked against themselves. Garrett deserved a fate worse than hanging. In destroying his reputation, his image, his own ego, I found justice for my mother. Everyone else was part of the game, the chessboard. It was balanced.”
He looked at Julia as if pleading with her to understand his reasoning. “Laura and I met outside of Garrett’s office. She was go
ing to kill him. I stopped her. Each kill led back to Garrett. I never expected you to go as far back as Jason Ridge.”
“If I hadn’t,” Julia agreed, “we wouldn’t have figured it out so quickly. But everything’s public record. You just have to know where to look.”
“Let’s go,” Michelle said, motioning toward Tristan with her gun. “Go help her up. We’ll drive across the border and if anyone tries to interfere, we have a hostage.”
“Why did you stop here?” Julia needed to buy more time. She couldn’t get in a car with them.
“I had to get money,” Michelle said as if the question was stupid. “You fucked up my timeline, I hadn’t planned on leaving until tomorrow.” She glared at Tristan. “What are you waiting for?”
He stared at Michelle with an intensity that scared Julia. “Why did you help Laura? If you weren’t Shannon’s sister, what hold did she have over you?”
“She had no hold over me,” Michelle snapped. “You’re wasting time.”
“There was no reason for you to get involved. You told me a long time ago that you couldn’t save Shannon in time. What did that mean?”
Michelle let out a long, exasperated sigh.
“Look, Tristan, it was just a game. It was never supposed to go that far. Jason broke up with me to date my best friend. And she went out with him! I couldn’t believe it. The traitor. She slept with him, was all goo-goo-eyed. If she only knew how down and dirty he could be, but she was so fucking romantic about everything.”
“He raped her,” Julia said before she realized she’d spoken.
“Funny what a little mixing of Rohypnol and Ketamine will do to a man. I thought they were just used on women,” Michelle said thoughtfully. “Anyway, I screwed it up, okay? I just wanted Shannon to see how rough Jason really liked it. I didn’t think he’d hurt her, and I didn’t think she’d go all batty and tell everyone he raped her. I figured she’d dump him and he’d come willingly back to me. And I certainly didn’t think she’d go off and kill herself! Who does something that stupid? Only whack jobs like Faye.”