Deadly Descent (21 page)

Chapter Forty-Three

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe.

“Someone tried to kill her on the way into work this morning. They’ve Life-Watched her to Denver.”

I swayed, braced myself against the desk.

“It’s my fault,” I moaned. “All my fault. They thought she was me. How could I have let her take my place? What happened? How bad is it?”

Again, there was that terrible hesitation. “It’s very bad.”

“Is she going to die?” My heart exploded with pain.

“She’s no longer in immediate danger,” he said quickly.

“What then? What? Her hands? They haven’t hurt her hands, have they?” Josie would never, never be able to stand being unable to play music. It would kill her.

“No, it’s not her hands,” Keith said softly.

“Her face?” Bizarre crimes filled my mind. Josie would just hate being scarred, disfigured.

“No, not her face, Lottie.” If it were possible to hear someone swallow over the phone, I was hearing it now.

“What, then?”

“It’s her mind, sweetheart. They fractured her skull. They left her for dead. She’s in a coma, and there’s a good chance…”

Finishing for him, “that they ruined her wonderful, wonderful mind. A chance they’ve destroyed her!”

“Yes. That’s about it. The doctors aren’t sure how this will go.”

I blinked back tears. “I’m coming home right away.”

“I don’t want you driving in this state of mind,” he said.

I glanced at the secretary hovering anxiously in the doorway. “No point in that anyway. I’ll catch a plane to Denver.”

“Great. I’ll meet you there. Harold Sider went with Josie’s medical flight.”

“I need to get Josie’s car back to her apartment.”

“Don’t worry about that. Harold Sider will find someone to help.”

“I’ll leave the keys here at the front desk. This place closes early. They need to be here by four-thirty. I’ll take a cab to the airport from here. My room is on an American Express card. It’s still open. Please ask whoever gets her car to check out for me and collect my things.”

Only Josie, my Josie, would have recognized the rage behind the icy calmness of my voice. If Keith lived with me for a thousand years, he would never be able to hear it.

“Okay,” he said, his voice relieved at my sensible efficiency. We hung up.

“My sister has been in an accident,” I explained to the secretary. “Is it all right if I leave some car keys here and use your phone to call a cab?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

I made my call, went back to the reading room, put the film in proper order, and placed it in the reshelving rack.

I picked up my still open laptop and carried it to the front desk.

“I need to ask you a very special favor.”

The secretary vibrated with helpfulness.

“Do you have a hotspot I might use? One for your employees perhaps? My laptop has a wireless card, and I need to send an email. But I really don’t have time to go back to my hotel.”

“Of course,” she said quickly. “But there’s no need. You’re welcome to use one of our staff computers, you know.”

“Thank you, but I want all mail records recorded on mine.” No one would ever see this message but me and AngelChild.

She led me into a private research room and tactfully closed the door behind her.

Only then, did I loosen my deadly self-control.

I stared at my white hands as I loaded Outlook and typed in her AOL address. The blue veins looked like earthworms trapped in ice. I would have a few minutes before my taxi arrived.

The moment I typed the words, I knew they were true. Josie had always been frightened by the cold ruthlessness of my anger. She says it will get me into trouble some day.

Blinded by tears at the possibility I wouldn’t be saying “Josie says” ever again, I began to type words so foul, so evil, I would not have thought I was capable of such filth. I hoped they scalded her to death.

I sent the message, put the laptop in my briefcase, and went downstairs to wait for my taxi.

***

Keith met me at Denver International Airport. He had aged ten years in the last two days. Wordlessly we clung together.

“How is she?” I asked.

“The same,” he said. We hardly spoke on the drive from DIA to University Hospital.

***

I gasped, then closed my eyes when I saw the network of tubes snaking from her body. I forced myself to see what the monster had done. Josie, the most intensely alive of any person I knew, now looked like a plastic contraption. My chest tightened with pain. I walked over and squeezed her hand.

“You’re going to be fine,” I said fiercely. “Just fine.”

It was all my fault. It should have been me lying there. I spun around, and fled sobbing from the room. Keith followed me to the intensive care lounge.

We spent the night there, dozing in recliners, taking turns at Josie’s bedside. I did not want her to be alone. Die alone. By the next morning, there was no change.

Dawn was cheerless. Yellowed light like old gauze streaked with bloodstains. Keith returned from the cafeteria with coffee, handed me a cup.

“She may be in this shape for a very long time, Lottie,” he said in the corridor outside her room. “We have to face facts.”

“Tosca,” I said. “Who’s taking care of Tosca?”

“I took her to the vet’s,” he said, glancing at me sharply, as he cautiously sipped from the Styrofoam cup.

“Please, honey,” I whispered. “Please. I don’t want to talk about it. Not yet, not now. Let’s talk about the Chiefs, the election, the stock market. Anything else. Not her. Not now.”

“Okay,” he said. “We are going to talk about food, though. When did you eat last?”

I looked at him blankly.

“Just what I thought. I’m going down to the cafeteria right now and bring you back something. Even a sweet roll would be better than nothing.”

“All right.” I stepped back into Josie’s room and resumed my vigil.

My cell rang. It was Sam. I brought him up to date on Josie’s condition.

“Everyone thinks it’s you, Lottie. The media assumed that right off the bat. There were good reasons for us not to correct that impression. You’re safer this way. If AngelChild knows you’re out running around, she might be tempted to try again.”

I started to tell him she
did
know it was Josie, not me, she had nearly killed, through the email I sent from Topeka. Without understanding why, I didn’t want Sam to know that just then. I could always call him back after I’d had a chance to think. He told me again how sorry he was my sister had been hurt. I thanked him and hung up.

Glancing at Josie, her beautiful face swathed in bandages, a part of my soul started to rise like deadly swamp gas.

I understood then why I had withheld information from Sam. I wanted it to be between me and AngelChild, and no one else.

I intended to kill her.

Chapter Forty-Four

AngelChild knew it was Josie lying there. There would be a message waiting for me on the computer back at my office.

For an instant, I was swept with shame at my shrewdness, my cunning, and I yearned for the check Josie had always provided. But I was dealing with a mind so savage we all seemed helpless before its murderous brilliance. Like moths, we kept flying into the flames and dying. Someone had to put an end to her.

When Keith brought my roll and orange juice, I surprised him by eating it all.

“I’ve been thinking,” I said, “I don’t want Josie to be alone, but you’re right about the length of time this might involve.” Relieved that I was starting to plan, to cope, he squeezed my shoulder in approval. “Why don’t I take the Suburban home and get some clothes, and make some arrangements for Tosca. She has to be miserable at the vet. Margaret loves dogs. I’ll bet she’ll keep her. When I get back, you can go on home and I’ll be prepared to stay.”

“Good idea, honey. Your Tahoe was totaled, of course. You’ll need to pick out a new one while you’re here in Denver.”

“Okay.” Then ashamed, I closed my eyes. Murder on my mind. Cold-blooded murder, and he was that easily duped. But then, only Josie would know.

I blazed home like a wild fire, watching for cops, but passing everyone in sight when I could. I drove straight to the courthouse. There was no moon, but as I hurried toward the door, sporadic gusts of wind buffeted the leaves on cottonwood trees and they glistened and swayed in the starlight. I went straight to my office.

The tell-tale beep was waiting for me the moment I booted up.

“You have new mail,” stated the mechanical announcement.

AngelChild had typed:

I checked the date on the message. It had been sent late last night. After Josie had been taken to Denver. After I had sent my message twenty-four hours ago.

Ignoring what Josie had said about losing her for good, I typed:

Words immediately filled the screen:

I had to find her. I typed:

Tell me who you are,
I thought desperately. I had to know. I waited for three hours. There was no reply. Profoundly exhausted, chilled at the thought there might not ever be another message, I switched off my computer and drove home.

***

The phone jarred me awake, calling me from a nervous bug-infested dream.

“Hello,” I mumbled. “Keith! Has there been any change? Has something happened?”

“No,” he said quickly. “Not that.”

“What time is it?”

“Eleven o’clock.”

“In the morning?” I groaned. Given the time I had spent in bed, I should have felt rested. Instead, I felt as though I had been clubbed.

“Josie’s breathing easier. Her color is a little better. She’s not out of her coma, but something’s better, I can see it in the doctors’ faces.”

I closed my eyes, gave thanks.

“Margaret Atkinson called to ask how you were doing. She said everything was fine at the office except every time they tried to use the computer, the email announcement kept breaking in.”

“None of the volunteers can get into my email without the password.”

“I called Harold Sider, and he thinks it may be a real breakthrough. ”

I shot up in bed. “In what way?”

“Harold thinks AngelChild knows it’s not you here in the hospital. If so, how does she know?”

Because I told her
, I thought.
That’s how she knows.

“He’s worried sick about you. So am I. The big change is that she’s emailing in the middle of the day. He says we can’t give Margaret the password to your program because she would be privy to information that could compromise the prosecution’s case later on. He doesn’t want to risk having evidence thrown out. If we send Sam in to read your email, everyone in the courthouse will want to know what’s up.”

“Sam’s not very good with computers anyway. Wouldn’t do us one whit of good to send him over if there’s a situation beyond email.”

“Surely you know this isn’t my idea,” Keith said bitterly, “but Harold and Sam have talked, and they want you to walk into the courthouse, bold as brass, and put an end to the charade and retrieve those messages. Everyone will know it’s Josie that was hurt, not you. Honey, I’m scared to death this will force her hand.”

“I don’t care,” I said. “I don’t care who knows. She’s sending mail in the middle of the day. She’s breaking down. It’s okay, Keith. Let’s get this whole mess over with. The sooner, the better.”

“Harold and I have made arrangements with a private security company for your protection. Carlton County doesn’t have the resources to safeguard an egg. Two of his friends will be at the courthouse around five-thirty this evening. After you retrieve what you can from that bitch, wait for them there. They’ll drive you back to Denver. I don’t want you on the road by yourself.”

***

A ghost drifting through the walls couldn’t have caused more commotion in the courthouse when I walked through the front door.

Inez Wilson grabbed my hand at once. “Lottie, I don’t understand.”

“The press got it all wrong. It was my sister, Josie, who was hurt,” I said. Employees popped their heads out of their offices, and I gave the same explanation over and over again.

Margaret Atkinson started with fright when I walked in. Even after I told her about me, about Josie, she had trouble accepting it. People kept coming to the door, buzzing about like gnats. The story of the killer accosting the wrong sister made the rounds in no time. Finally, I told Margaret I needed computer time and would close up myself.

“You shouldn’t have to work under these circumstances,” she said.

I managed a weak smile. “I’m not. I’m just grabbing a few things up before I head back to Denver. I’ll close up, and you can go ahead with the volunteers you have scheduled for tomorrow.” It took another fifteen minutes to ease her out the door.

I hung up a do-not-disturb sign, entered my password, and clicked on the message from AngelChild:

I stared at the words. Read them over and over.
My son.
Judy had said it was Fiona. Said she had proof. I clenched my fist, twisted it against my mouth and howled silently. The St. Johns. This was about the St. Johns and Hadleys.
Why wouldn’t we believe Judy? Why couldn’t that waif of a girl make us understand?

She typed:

My hands shook as I typed:

I had my hard evidence. My confession.

Just then I got a call from Keith.

“She’s taken a turn for the worse, honey. The doctors want you to be here. Your security escort will be there in two hours. Are you packed? Can you leave from the courthouse?”

“Yes,” I said woodenly. I turned off my computer and walked over to the wall safe and took out my gun. I studied the smooth blue steel of the barrel, the cross-hatching on the polished wooden handle. Gunmetal was always cold, even in a warm room.

Two hours. It would be easy to kill Fiona and get back to the courthouse in two hours. With luck, I would be on my way to Denver by the time the body was discovered. No one would suspect me. I could be with Josie, knowing the woman who had hurt her was dead. She would not hurt anyone again. I would be at peace.

Every fiber in my body revolted. My mind could plan, anticipate, but my soul was horrified at how easily I could think like a killer. Just a week ago, I would have sworn no circumstances could reduce me to such a state. Just a week ago, I would have given this information to Sam Abbott at once. I put the gun in my purse, and winced at the weight. The deadly burden.

My sister was dying.

Then anger gave way to grief. I shuddered at how close I had come to losing control. I took a deep breath, reached for that part of myself that would make Josie proud.

For Josie’s sake, I would not kill this woman like a gunslinger in a two-bit Western.

For Josie’s sake, I would not spend time in prison.

For Josie’s sake, I would go through all the proper channels.

But I knew who AngelChild was. Before I turned the printouts over to Sam and Harold Sider, I was going to pay Fiona Hadley a visit.

She would not be facing Lottie Albright, officer of the law, but a sister with a broken heart.