“You’re delusional, Susan. Which is no surprise, given your condition.” He shouted over his shoulder. “Can I get some help?”
I laughed. “Whatever. You’re not real, anyway.”
He kept on shouting. “Get a stretcher! Start the IV! She’s dehydrated and starved, with a serious case of exposure.”
“You shouldn’t be looking,” I said, giggling a little. “I’m naked.”
“Not anymore.” He spread his coat over me. It felt warm and scratchy. “We’ll get you to a hospital.”
“No, you won’t. I’m just dreaming you. But it’s a good dream. Nice of you to come.”
“I didn’t come alone.”
A moment later, I saw Darcy rush forward, hovering behind Patrick. “Susan!”
Good grief, who let
him
into this hallucination? “Darce.” I tried to wiggle my fingers but couldn’t. “Nice to see you too.”
His face was weird, eyes wide and kinetic, as if he were being pulled a thousand directions at once. Just as well that he was a stoic sort who wasn’t comfortable with human contact, because-
“Ooof!”
Darcy threw himself on top of me, squeezing me in his arms. “Susan! Susan!”
Well, I couldn’t dream this, could I? “Darcy?” I said weakly.
He was screaming and crying all at once. The volume made me wince, another element I couldn’t be dreaming. “I told them it was a dam. I told them it was a dam.”
“All right, son, please move aside. Let us get her into the ambulance.”
I could tell he didn’t want to let go. Funny thing was, I didn’t really want him to let go. But they pried him away and hoisted me onto a stretcher. Darcy insisted on riding in the ambulance with me. I could tell Patrick didn’t like the idea, but he didn’t want to take the time to argue about it.
It was a pleasant little ride to the hospital, my friends all around me. I slept a little, listened a little, maybe both at the same time. It was nice. Darcy held my hand the whole way.
25
She’s alive! She’s really alive and I knew she would be except I didn’t know but I hoped and she is she’s alive alive and we found her and I guess Jesus does save because I prayed and I prayed and there she was she’s all beat up and she lost her clothes but she’s alive and I’m so happy I was so sad and scared but she’s alive and she let me hold her hand in the big car on the way to the hospital.
Her hand felt nice.
The next time I opened my eyes-at least, the next time I opened my eyes and remembered it-I felt much better. Which was not to say I felt good-I was feeble and tired and had trouble speaking. I felt like hell, like I still had one foot in the grave. But definitely better than before.
“It’s because they’ve been force-feeding you,” Lisa explained. “Through the tubes.”
I made a purring sound. “Must be yummy stuff. Could I get some to take home with me?”
“You don’t want it.” She was sitting beside my hospital bed, her arm snaking through the steel bars and resting on mine. “May be good for you, but it makes your skin cold as ice. You’ll never get a date.”
“Might be better for everyone.” Rachel was also there-really, truly there. I don’t know how she’d managed to slip away from her keepers, but I was grateful they’d allowed it. “Help me out, Rache-have I given you a hug yet?”
“Yes, but here’s another.” She leaned across the bed and gave me a squeeze I could feel through the sheets. God, but that was good. What had I done to merit this attention, this warming affection? It reminded me how pathetically I’d abused their friendship, lying, hiding, them trying their best to help me while I acted as if my only friend was that revolting bottle. I didn’t deserve them. “I love you, Susan.”
Damn it if I didn’t start to cry. Must be the medication. The tears just welled up in my eyes and there wasn’t a thing I could do to stop them. I choked, couldn’t speak. I was going to start earning this friendship, this affection. I had to do better, for them if not for me.
“Love you, too,” I snuffled, wiping water from my eyes. “So this is real, right?”
Rachel and Lisa exchanged a look. “As far as we know.”
“And you’re real. This is actually happening.”
“Are we delving into existentialism here?” Lisa asked. “Because if so, I need to go home and reread my Kierkegaard. Then I’m sure we could have a very deep and profound metaphysical conversation.”
“Please don’t.” I squeezed Rachel’s arms. “Did I mention that you look great?” Very fresh-faced and healthy-the picture of an all-American teenage girl. She was wearing a little makeup, which she’d never done before. But I had to admit it looked good on her. She was dressed well, too, in a skirt and some kind of fancy pastel T-shirt. The jeans I was accustomed to seeing her in didn’t show off her legs, which were truly excellent legs. And it appeared that Mrs. Shepherd, unlike myself, knew the current location of her ironing board.
Rachel laughed, obviously pleased. “I think it’s the basketball. I’ve been getting lots of exercise.”
“Heard you were quite the defensive player.”
“Yeah, I do the pick. I mean, they give me that because I can’t shoot. But maybe next year…”
“I have no doubt.” I gave her another squeeze. “You can do anything you want to do. You know that. Why don’t we get together, soon as the warden releases me. Maybe even this weekend.”
She winced. “This weekend?”
“Uh-oh. Big game?”
“Actually… it’s the science fair.”
“You’re in the science fair?”
“Yes!” she said, bubbling with enthusiasm. “I made this cool automated mini-cyclotron thing that demonstrates the principle of torque. Do you know what torque is?”
“Will you think less of me if I say no?”
“ ’Course not.”
“No.”
“Well, then. You need to come see my exhibit.”
“Engineering… that’s Mr. Shepherd’s field, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, before he retired. He’s been a big help. I mean, it’s my work. But he was able to, you know, give me some assistance…”
That I couldn’t have given you in a million years.
There was a knock on the door. Patrick poked his head in.
“Come on,” I said. “We’re having a party.”
He did, and Chief O’Bannon came in behind him-with Darcy. Darcy hung back and didn’t say a word. But he seemed pleased to see me. And I was pleased to see them.
And then I remembered the pictures, which Patrick and the Chief had seen-I could tell just by looking at them. And I wished I could crawl into a coffin and close the lid behind me.
Patrick gently laid his hand on my shoulder.
“Are you feeling any stronger?” he asked.
There were times when I wished I didn’t have this empathic gift. “Oh, God, you want to talk business, don’t you?”
He squirmed slightly. “If you’re up to it.”
Lisa jumped to her feet. “If you guys are going to start talking serial killer, I’m out of here.” She looked at Rachel. “Give you a ride home?”
Rachel nodded. I waved at Lisa on her way out. “Call me tonight.”
“Okay. It’ll be late. I’ve got a date.”
Of course she did. “Don’t kiss anything I wouldn’t.”
“That-” She stopped, made an erasing gesture with her hands. “Too easy.”
After they were gone, Patrick began his subtle probing. Apparently he had been chosen as point man. Darcy and the chief sat quietly behind him.
“I know no one has specifically asked you about what happened yet,” he said.
“True.”
“And I’m sure it’s the last thing in the world you want to talk about.”
“True.”
“But the doctors say you may be here for weeks, and we just can’t wait that long. What can you tell us about him?”
“He was very weird, Patrick. Babbling. I think our theories about multiple personalities must be right. He was talking to a voice I couldn’t hear, acting as if it were controlling him.”
He pondered a moment. “We’ve neither seen nor heard any trace of him since you were kidnapped. There’ve been no more killings or abductions. No letters or phone calls or packages.” He smiled a little. “We were wondering if maybe you’d killed the bastard.”
“I wish.”
Patrick grew quiet. I knew what was on his mind. “Susan… we’ve seen the pictures.”
“I know,” I said quietly.
“The media got them, too. But to their credit, they haven’t run them, not in the papers or TV. But they have… talked about them.”
I closed my eyes. I felt even more naked, more exposed. More raped. But what did I expect? Deference from the media? Right, and a Corvette for Christmas.
“Does Rachel know?”
“She hasn’t seen the pictures, but… she must’ve heard or read something.”
And the custody judge who already thinks I’m unfit, too, no doubt.
I looked across the room at Darcy. Had he seen those lovely glamour shots? Would he understand them if he did? Impossible to know. But when I peered into those expressionless eyes, I was sure I saw something. If not a total comprehension of how I had been compromised, then at least a knowledge that I had been hurt. And a sorrow. For me.
“I want to assure you,” O’Bannon said firmly, “that this will not in any way affect your consulting relationship with the LVPD. As soon as you’re released, if you want to continue working, we want you.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
“Although I think it might be best if we took you off this case.”
“No way in hell.”
Silence.
“Look, I wasn’t drinking. I don’t care what it looked like in those pictures. I wasn’t drinking.” At that time.
“Susan-”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t drink!”
Patrick grinned, damn him. “I know.”
“You-do?”
“Blood test. Your blood alcohol was a big fat zero. If you’d been drinking, we’d have found a trace, even after all the time you spent out in the desert. He used his drug on you.”
Thank God I managed to resist Edgar’s little bottle of temptation. “So I can stay on the case, right?”
I could see O’Bannon wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t going to argue with me. While I was stretched out in a hospital bed with an IV in my arm, I had the upper hand. Momentarily.
Darcy was the one who broke the silence. “Why didn’t they bring you ice cream? When you’re in the hospital, they’re supposed to bring you ice cream.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “As soon as I get loose of this joint, Darcy, you and I are going on a custard binge. We need to make up for all those potential Very Excellent Days I missed.”
“Is there anything more you can tell us?” Patrick asked. “Did you see his face?”
“Yes. And as it turns out, I’ve seen him before. But he was disguised. He’s smart, Patrick. Smarter than we ever realized.”
“I think that has become abundantly clear. It’s just unfortunate that you were drugged. I wish to God we knew where he took you.”
I drew in my breath, wriggled up against my pillow. I had to seem strong for this. “I know where he took me.”
“What?”
I let the memories trickle in, unwanted as they were. The rushing of water, even when I was flat on my back on his table. We were near the dam, even then. And I saw enough of the interior to make a pretty good guess about the exterior. “Approximately. I can find it, anyway. But I want to go with you.”
“Susan-he could still be there.”
“No. He’s smart, remember? He’s gone somewhere else.”
“But you can’t be sure-”
“Oh, yes,” I said, hoping my resolve was evident. “I can be sure. But we still might find something of interest. Now how fast can you get me out of here?”
“Susan, the doctors say-”
“I don’t care. We have to act fast. And no, I can’t give you directions. I have to go.”
“Susan, you’ve been through a horrible ordeal.”
My eyes narrowed. “And I want to make sure Edgar never has a chance to do that to anyone else. Ever.”
The doctors pitched a fit, but I lied through my teeth and told them I felt fine, and eventually the need to track down this maniac won out over medical prudence. They gave me some pills to help with the pain and a few hours later I was in a car with Patrick trolling around the dam, searching for something I recognized. I knew I could find it. And I did.
“This is it,” I said.
I was certain I was right, even though I’d never seen it from the outside. It was a small cabin, a shack, really, stuck in some of the scrubbiest country you could imagine, not far from the Hoover Dam. The spindly trees and faint vegetation weren’t enough to make anyone forget we were in the desert. The joint was probably intended as a weekend retreat for boat or fish fans. “Let’s go.”
“We need a warrant,” Patrick cautioned.
“You’re a fed. Don’t you carry them around in your back pocket?”
“No. But I can send a fax via my cell phone. And my address book has the numbers of a lot of judges.”
Well, that wasn’t too shabby. Granger put a phalanx of officers around the perimeter, and we waited.
An hour later we were inside.
The ground level was perfectly ordinary. Tacky furniture, no food, a dinky television. But I knew there had to be more. It didn’t take me long to find the basement door. It was locked, not that it mattered.
The light switch didn’t appear to work, so we had to resort to those cool pencil-thin flashlights like you see cops use on television. It was dark and dank, stereotypically basement-like. There was no wind, but I felt a chill just the same. I usually got my impressions from people, not places, but this little dungeon had a palpable ambiance. It was terrifying, threatening, oppressive. Insane.
“Maybe you should stay upstairs,” Patrick whispered to me.
No. In truth, I still felt weak, nauseous, barely able to stand, but I wasn’t going to let them shut me out. I inched forward, shining my light ahead. The more I saw of this room, the more I recognized. The warped wooden walls. The high window, probably the only source of exterior light-and the passageway for the sound waves that brought me back here. The table. His goddamn table with the restraining straps. And there was a stench. A putrid, almost unbearable stench.