“I cook too.”
“Touch me.”
Paul’s fingertips traced warm flesh from her neck to her lips.
“Like this?”
“No,” Grace placed his hand beneath the covers, “like this.”
CHAPTER 26
HOSPITAL MONITOR
J ess pulled into a drive. He killed the engine and jumped out of the pick-up. He noticed lights bouncing down the dirt road.
Not a good sign, he thought. He felt confident José was suckin’ the worm from the dregs of a tequila bottle right now. What about the other guy, Willie? Did he betray him? Fuckin’ José! Did Willie follow him? Did he tell someone? What did it matter now? Jess hurried to unlock the cage. The woman moaned.
“Who the fuck are you!” Jess’s blood turned cold. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. The urge to kill took a front seat to reason. The scared eyes staring at him from the cage were not Grace’s. “Muther fuck!” He should’ve known! No wonder it felt like he was hoisting a cow! The woman in the cage was ten years older and twenty pounds heavier. “Fuck!” Her whimpers grew louder. The lights drew near.
“I see.” Okay. “This isn’t working for me.” All right. “Okay.” Think. Jess felt his crotch grow warm and wet. Fuck! He grabbed his gear from the truck. Time to get out of Dodge, he told himself. Disappear. You lost buddy. Vamoose! The lights blinded him. Go! Now! He turned and ran.
***
Three men emerged from a Jeep. Clicking sounds of automatic weapons preparing for battle echoed in the night.
The woman screamed when the man in charge approached the cage. “Ma’am? I’m Skip Malone. This here is Jason Frey and Mike Majruski. We’re here to help.” The men broke the lock, released the woman, and put her in the Jeep. “A helicopter is on its way. There will be a medic on board to address your needs.”
Skip walked toward the house. He knew Jess wasn’t inside. He dialed Paul. The message machine picked up. “Hey, good buddy, the sun is shining. The rooster flew the coop. Later.”
When Skip entered, his eyes adjusted to the dark; still, he secured night-vision goggles in front of his eyes. He studied each room before going in. “Clear,” he announced to the men following behind. They opened closet doors, checked under beds, and knocked on walls looking for secret panels. The last room they entered made Skip cringe. Black-out curtains covered the windows. Two posts were anchored in the center of the room from floor to ceiling. “Something tells me our boy wasn’t looking for a lap-dance,” he said, examining manacles bolted to each pole. He placed one iron cuff in the palm of his hand. The weight alone would cause extreme discomfort. Skip had witnessed the results of being shackled. Not a pretty site. Depending on the temperature in the room and the amount of struggling going on, it wouldn’t take long for sores to develop on wrists and ankles. Within a day or two the metal would devour the raw flesh. A low whistle escaped his lips. Inside each manacle was a strip of fresh emery cloth. “Mutha-fucker,” he whispered to himself, imagining layers of Grace’s skin removed by the gritty sanding material.
Against the wall, a table housed neat rows of razor blades, carving tools, and Betadine. A bullwhip lay coiled beside folded silk scarves. Sweat from a can of Pepsi formed a wet ring on the wooden surface. Next to the soda can stood a fresh bottle of muriatic acid and an assortment of cacti, their needles sharp and deadly. “You’re one sick fuck,” Skip said. The sound of coyotes yipping in the night gave him a chill. A bag of kibble leaned against the table leg.
Jess could see the men slinking around the house. They would never find him. Coyotes howled in the night. Jess felt tempted to howl along. Insanity ate at his brain. He challenged anything that got in his way. Night owls screeched, yet they flew by, fearing the energy coming from the madman hiding in the bushes. Camouflage thermal sheeting covered his body. The most sophisticated infrared equipment would find him hard to track. From above, he resembled a sand drift. On the ground, one would need to be within a few feet to discover his disguise, and even then…
Chopper blades whooshed overhead. Jess could see lights skim the landscape. He lay still, curled in a twisted fetal position. I’m just a little bump, he giggled to himself. The chopper didn’t linger long. Jess registered an inkling of disappointment. The possibility of getting caught: half the fun. Before dawn, he would be gone, without Grace. “The day will come,” he whispered, “the day will come.”
***
Fran formed the word water between her lips and pushed. The word flew from her mouth into the room loud and strong. She pressed her lips together and pushed again. A nurse passing by caught the vibration. She stopped, retraced her steps, and peeked in the doorway.
“Mrs. Simms? Did you say something?”
“Water.”
Within minutes, another nurse appeared to assess Fran’s progress.
Fran reported her head felt light and fizzy. Her vital signs showed a slight drop in blood pressure, and her pulse seemed to be returning to normal.
“A message for my daughter,” Fran said. Her pulse quickened, but when she opened her mouth to speak, she drew a blank. “Never mind. It’ll come to me. Best not to force it.”
The perky, brunette nurse stepped forward. “Grace is in isolation. She’s going to be so pleased when I tell her you’re awake!” “Why there?” Fran’s brow knit tightly.
“Staph infection. Go figure,” the brunette said, rolling her eyes. “She’s fine. Has a prince for a boyfriend. Geez! Handsome.
Attentive.”
“Boyfriend?” Fran gnawed her bottom lip. Her thoughts drifted. The din of voices became a blur. “Boyfriend,” she repeated. Why did she want to take a bite out of that word? Why did it feel dangerous and worrisome? “Boyfriend.” The word landed in her lap this time with a thud. Too heavy to pick up. She watched it grow in her lap until it seemed to take over the bed. Red eyes. Fangs. Mean.
Cruel. Boyfriend. Deadly. “Jess!” she cried.
“Please, Mrs. Simms, calm down. You’ve been through an ordeal. You must stay calm.” The nurse hurried to inject something into Fran’s IV. “Do you know where you are, Mrs. Simms?”
Fran turned her head toward the nurse. “My daughter! Boyfriend! She’s in danger!”
“Mr. Fortier is with her right now,” the brunette nurse confessed.
“Thank God, it’s not Jess.”
“What do you remember?” A man stepped forward. “Detective Spiderelli, Ma’am. I’m a friend of Grace’s, from Sacramento.”
“Sacramento? Are we in Sacramento?”
“No, Mrs. Simms. We’re at St. Joseph’s Hospital.”
“Oh.” Fran’s attention fluttered around the room. She began to laugh. “If my head didn’t hurt so much, I would ask you to turn up the music. Roger hates when the music is too loud, but I love it!” Her focus zeroed in on Detective Spiderelli. “Let’s dance!” Suddenly, her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body stiffened.”
“Nurse!” Spiderelli shouted. “She’s having a seizure. Get a doctor in here!”
Nurses pushed the detective aside. One slipped a tongue depressor between Fran’s lips. Another checked her pupils. The brunette backed away from the scene.
Soon the room was swarming with personnel, all experts in their field. The neurologist parted the wake down the center.
“What’s going on?’
“Complex partial. She drifted earlier. Showed signs of fear. Kept repeating, ‘Boyfriend.’ Her lip— See? Looks like she’s been chewing.”
“Let’s try 150 milligrams of Lamictal. I’ve ordered a series of MRIs. Let’s keep on top of the swelling. Page me with the changes.” The doctor scanned Fran’s chart before his departure. “Close tabs, ladies. Mrs. Simms here is an icon to this hospital. I want to know if she farts sideways.”
“Will do, doctor.”
And as if a button were pushed, Fran came to life. “I’d like to see my daughter now.”
***
The buzzer and flashing red light gave Grace and Paul t
he heads up. The brunette nurse was back. “Think she’ll mind if my hands aren’t in my pockets?” Paul removed his hand from Grace’s chest. Aware his own heart had synchronized with hers.
“She’ll probably think you’re up to no good, Mr. Fortier,” Grace replied, her smile cunning.
“And the fact that you placed my hand under the covers will have no bearing on the situation, will it? The nurse will assume I can’t be trusted alone with a beautiful young lady.” “And rightly so,” she teased.
“Well then, if I am to be accused of wrong-doing,” he said, “I must play the part!” He slipped his hand back under the covers and caressed her breast.”
“You touched me!” she cried, her insulted look playful.
“I hope you liked it because I intend to touch you a lot.”
“I do like it, and I may just let you.” The whooshing sound of the door halted their banter.
“Great news, Miss Simms!” the brunette nurse announced.
“Your mother is awake.”
“You’re kidding! When?”
“Twenty minutes or so ago. She had a little seizure, but that’s to be expected. They’re keeping a close watch on her. Wow, this has been quite the day. Oh, and, by the way, Cindy, the nurse who is working the desk, said to keep your hands in your pockets, Mr. Fortier. The girls can’t work back there if they’re watching you two on the monitor.”
Grace’s face flushed. “Monitor?” She grinned at Paul. “Of course.”
“Oops, I forgot about the monitor.” He sucked air through his teeth. “Sorry, sweetheart. Looks like you’re going to have to behave yourself from now on.”
Grace threw a pillow at his head. “You knew!”
He feigned the look of an angel. “I’m sure no one thinks any less of you, Grace.”
Grace looked for something else to throw but stopped. “I’m telling my mother on you.” Mirth morphed into concern.
Paul gathered her into his arms. “I’ll take you to see her as soon as we get the go-ahead from the doctor.” He drew her closer. “All the more reason to get well now.”
CHAPTER 27
OFFICE COMMOTION
P aul left the room to let the nurse perform her routine check on Grace. He deposited his protective wear in the bin and moseyed to the end of the hall. As he dug for pocket change to buy a soda, he listened to the message from Skip. “The sun is shining.” His finger pressed the button to connect him with his ol’ buddy.
“Skip! Got your call. What happened?”
“Dude! This fucker’s a maniac! A regular Ed Geins!”
“Who?”
“That dude who tortured women in the ’50s…”
“Speak to me.”
“He was gone when we got here. Must’ve spooked him. Found his truck in the drive. The engine was still warm. There was a cage in the back of the pick-up with a woman inside.” Skip’s voice crackled on the other end of the line. “Looks like pretty boy made a little mistake!”
Paul sighed. “Grace won’t be safe until we have that bastard behind bars.”
Skip looked out at the vast desert.
“We’ll find him, buddy. Don’t you worry.”
Paul sensed uncertainty in Skip’s voice. “Who’s with you?”
“Frey and Majruski. You know Frey. The guy’s a human hound, and Majruski, he’s one of the best snipers around. Skinny Al and Willie are out scouring the landscape in the chopper. Hell,
Willie knows this terrain like his dick. No worries. I’m in it for the long haul, man. I plan to drink this fucker’s blood.”
“Keep me posted. Grace’s mom is out of a coma. She may have some leads. I’ll be taking Grace back to Sac by the end of the week. I expect him to be caged by then.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“And Skip, don’t kill ’im. I want him to suffer.”
“Damn, Fortier. You turnin’ into your ol’ buddy Skip?”
Paul scrubbed two days of stubble with his palm. “Nah. You’d show him mercy.
***
After two weeks of bed rest, the day arrived. Grace unlocked the door to her office. Windsong filled her nostrils with familiarity.
“Grace! You’re back!” Sal rushed to greet her, wrapping her in a warm hug.
“Feels like I’ve been gone forever.”
“Seems longer than my married life. Here, cookies. Buns baked them especially for you. Calories. Remember those? You need a few.”
“How are the boys?”
“They’re great. John’s great. Sneaky’s great. How are you? Does your hip still hurt?”
“Only when I laugh.” A nervous titter broke loose. Grace winced.
“Sit. Can I bring you coffee?”
“Sal, I’m not here for a visit. I’m here to work.”
“That’s right, this is your office!” Sal busted a cheesy smile, and then returned to being subdued. “Arlene is due at eleven. Tiny at twelve. Lenny at three.”
“That’s more like it.”
Sal’s eyes met Grace’s, pinning them with serious intent. “Did they find him yet? Did they find Jess?”
“No, not yet. He’s probably on the some beach in Cabo, sipping margaritas with a former miss something or another.”
“No jokes. I’m worried.”
“I’m not.” Grace counted the beats. One, two, three.
On cue, Sal caught her lie. “Your nose is growing.”
“Paul will take care of me. Detective Spiderelli is on the case. I don’t know what else I can do. I have to believe that I am going to be fine. You have to believe I am going to be fine. If you don’t, I won’t be.”
Sal wagged her finger. “I’ve had a talk with French Fry. He knows—”
“He’s a prince.” Grace made her way into the small kitchenette behind the front counter. “Coffee? I missed coffee. They
strain a few beans at St. Jo’s and call it coffee.”
“How’s your mom?”
“Better and better. The anti-seizure medicine is working. Her MRI indicated the swelling is down sixty-eight percent. She may pull off a full recovery.” “Thank God.”
“Yeah, good ol’ God.” Grace smiled weakly.
“Back to business. Now that we’ve caught up, I have some things to share.”
“What is it?” Grace’s turn to worry. “You have that tone.”
“I’m a little leery to tell you this, one because it’s an observation, and, two, I know you dislike me meddling in patient stuff.”
Grace stiffened. “Let’s have it.”
“Arlene Pratt has been showing up here unannounced. She says she wants to see you.”
“And?”
“Well, Tiny Burton was here one day, and he followed her out the door.”
“Maybe it was a coincidence,” Grace said, stacking her mail.
“Perhaps they just left at the same time.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Sal’s tone, defensive. “He stared at her for the longest time. Then…she looked at him. She was scared like he was going to hurt her. She ran out of here, and Tiny followed. I tried to stop them both, but when I got to the street…gone.”
“Huh. They’re coming in today, right?”
“I booked them back to back today. I wanted you to be here just in case.”
“Good plan. I’ll be in my office. Call me when the coffee’s done.”
“Will do. And Grace? Good to have you back. Really.”
“Thanks. Good to be back.” This time her smile was warm and sincere.
Grace closed the door behind her. She drew in a deep breath,
let it out, and sat down in her red chair. “Nothing will ever be the same,” she told herself. She stroked the soft leather arms of the chair, reliving the highlights of what had transpired in the last year. She stood to face her reflection in the window. The woman looking back was different, older. Wiser? Hope so. She thought of Jess, Garret, and now Paul. She had been blind when it came to Jess. She had also been naïve when it came t
o Garret. And now? Paul had a quiet strength that reigned when needed and rescinded when space prevailed. He was kind and generous. He melted her butter. But what did she really know about him? Not enough. She put her heart back on the shelf and removed Tiny’s file from the drawer.
A light knock on the door pried her from her thoughts.
“Yes?”
“I brought your coffee.”
Dr. Meltz? Grace opened the door.
“Gotta few minutes for an old man?”
“You? Old? Never! Come on in. I was just ruminating about my male acquisitions.”
“And?”
“I think I have a winner. Not completely sure.”
“Nor should you be! It would spoil the fun!”
“How are Willa and the baby?”
“Both are great, thanks to you.” Dr. Meltz took a seat, inviting Grace to join him.
“How’s your mom?”
“Better every day.”
“I want you to know that I plan to be here for you both. I meant what I said about being family.” His eyes misted. “You girls are my world. I couldn’t be prouder. And I know when Lu-Lu gets better and Willa has more time to digest the last few weeks, things are going to be good between you two. You’re sisters. Blood. There can never be anything tainted. You both deserve happiness.”
“Okay. And what do you get out of it?”
“More grandkids? Grand nieces and nephews, I hope!” Grace chuckled at the prospects.
“So, what do I like about this Frenchman?” Dr. Meltz asked, clasping his hands over his round belly.
“He’s pretty darn special. That’s what scares me.”
“You know how to spot the red flags. I have complete confidence in you.”
“I’m still not ready. Getting there, but not ready yet.”
“That’s a healthy statement. Still having the dreams?”
“No, I haven’t had one in a while.”
“Your soul has purged the poison.”
“That poison is still walking free somewhere,” Grace said.
“That’s not the poison I’m referring to.”
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