Hidden Shadows (The Shadow Series Book 1) (29 page)

Shock and terror left Jenna gaping, speechless, barley able to stand.

Revulsion had her turning from Taryn, staring into the bitter eyes of a murderer. A murderer with a slightly lazy left eye, a subtle underbite, a disturbing, manic stare. A murderer who, now that she looked—no, now that she
saw—
brought a sting of recognition that had bile churning in her gut.

“You’re not Molly,” Jenna breathed in shocked awe.

The wild-eyed woman brought her hands together, applauded in spite of gripping the blood-coated knife. “Bravo, Doctor. Recognizing your old patients, I’m impressed. I never knew you cared.”

“Desiree . . .”

“Desiree, Molly, does it matter?” She stepped over Taryn, smiling, moved closer as Jenna backed up. “It's amazing what a good weight loss plan, hair dye, and colored contacts can do, don’t you agree? A little nip, tuck here and there,” she swayed the knife around her face, laughed, "but who’s counting?”

All at once, she sprang, pinned Jenna against the wall, one arm wrapped around her throat, the other, centering the knife directly over Jenna’s heart.

“What matters is that I’m here, and I’m paying you back. Taking what’s rightfully mine, and leaving you with
nothing
.”

She punctuated her words with a push on the knife, had Jenna crying out, “Please, Desiree, please.”

And just as abruptly as she’d pounced, she relaxed, smiled gleefully. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to kill you . . . yet. I can’t let you go without telling you all of the planning that’s gone into this. Without you admitting you’re getting just what you deserve. Oh,” she stared away, above and beyond Jenna to some place that made her calm and happy, “and your children. You’ll want to know about them, of course. Where they’ll be when you’re gone.”

Jenna took her moment. Darted around Desiree, headed for the hefty bookshelf steps away. If she could get to it, push it . . . .

But Desiree lunged, grabbed, sank the knife into Jenna’s forearm.

Jenna screamed in agony and stumbled, ramming into the massive shelving herself. Books toppled, jarred candles, ceramics and photos in sharp-cornered frames tumbled down, battered and shattered as they came.

Jenna’s vision grayed as something banged hard into her temple. Her legs shook, gave way and she dropped to her knees.

Before she could regroup, regain her feet, Desiree was on her, laughing, gripping the fresh wound in her arm.

She hauled Jenna to her feet, shook her violently. “Hey! Hey? Can you hear me? Are you listening?”

Jenna’s arm screamed with pain, her head near to bursting at the throbbing punches inside, but she remained stone-faced, refused to look into the hate-filled eyes.

Slowly, Desiree explored Jenna’s face, moved the knife to her forehead and spread it around her skin as if buttering bread. Jenna noted as it moved by her eye that fresh blood now mingled with Taryn’s drying red. A shiver moved up her spine, expressed itself in the tiniest quiver of her shoulders.

And Desiree caught it, reveled in it, smiled wide. “You are here. You’re with me. I didn’t figure you'd go without a fight.” She threw her arm out, pointed to Jenna’s favorite chair. “Sit."

Jenna obeyed, walked on legs of jelly to a spot that ordinarily brought peace, comfort. It felt stiff and constricted as she sat slowly, careful to elude the sharp blade close to her brow.

Quickly, Desiree circled to the back of the chair, placed the knife at Jenna’s throat, just as she had earlier with Taryn.

A debilitating fear seized Jenna as she pictured her body as the second today in a murky pool of blood. She held her breath, squeezed her eyes tight, praying these were not her last moments on earth. Her precious babies. They needed her.

“Before you die, Jenna Gregor, do you have any questions?”

Jenna snapped her eyes open. Desiree was giving her the chance to talk? A chance . . . a chance.

She shut her eyes again, this time deliberately, watched her favorite moments whir by at a hummingbird’s pace, let her life’s treasured memories engulf her, strengthen her, spur her to action.

Now’s the time. Use your head. Push back the pain. Think. THINK. She’s in charge . . . use that to your advantage.

Popping her eyes open, Jenna shifted ever so slightly to better press her wound against the chair’s sturdy arm. It wouldn’t be fatal if she could stop the bleeding, or at least slow it considerably.

Speaking as calmly as her nerves allowed, she began to play the game. “You said planning, Desiree. Has everything been you? The car, the photo, the damage to my home . . . Leigh?”

“Hmmm, yes, Leigh was an unfortunate mistake. A sacrifice for the cause. Like Taryn.”

“And what’s the cause?”

“Don’t get smart with me,” Desiree growled, forcing the knife so firmly into Jenna’s skin that she acutely felt each serrated point on the lengthy blade. “I’ve got the knife, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. I remember you, too, Desiree. Where have you been all these years?”

“See that’s a good question, a smart one. One you don’t know the answer to.” Desiree sounded pleased, as if an old friend had asked her to recount a long-lost memory. Her tone was wistful, playful almost as she recounted the lost years. “As you’re aware, my most recent work has been in service to your every need. Three years of my life at your beck and call are not my proudest moments, but they brought me here, so . . .”

Jenna sensed Desiree’s posture stiffen, felt the tension and spurt of annoyance in a quick prick to her neck with the tip of the blade.

She winced but made no sound.

“Before that, I was looking for you. Didn’t take too long. I’m clever. Much more than you think. Started in Memphis at your old office, asked a few questions, followed a few leads, hit the jackpot here. And wasn’t it perfect you were just hitting it big, opening up that new wing, needing a right hand man to do all your dirty bidding.”

“Yes, perfect. You’ve been so helpful in your time at Hearts and Hands.”

“Oh, don’t mock me!” Desiree swung around, bent, brought her face within inches of Jenna. "You have no idea what I can do. What I’m capable of. What I have done because of you. You made me like this. You did this to me.”

“How, Desiree?” Jenna pled softly, truly feeling the grief. “How did I do this? I never meant to."

“I SAW THE NEWS.”

Jenna blinked, tried to hold back the tears that threatened from the sheer trauma of having someone scream in her face, not to mention the bloody knife toying at the corner of her mouth.

“Wait, wait . . .” Desiree’s tone changed now, became a whole new voice as she pushed at her damp hair, shoved the normally smooth bob with persistent swipes. “First things first. She must know. She must know what she has made you do.”

Jenna’s breath shook in horror as Desiree’s eyes clicked back to hers, as the voice migrated back to its former character.

“Before my eyes were opened, before I knew what I had to do, I had my sweet Tommy, and we wanted life, made life. We went to Florida after, to try and repair things. Try and repair me. But I was broken. I needed my baby.”

Jenna tried to focus, tried to recall long-forgotten memories. She pulled Tommy to the front of her mind, Desiree’s deep affection for him. “Where’s Tommy now?”

“Dead. I killed him. Had to. He found out what I was trying to do.” Desiree stood now, began circling the chair restlessly, keeping the hand that held the knife her stationary center. “He accused me. Told me I was crazy. But it was so easy. So easy for me to get an insignificant job near the nurseries, watch for the filthy ones who didn’t want theirs. But he figured it out, was going to tell on me, ruin our plans.” She swore, then whimpered, almost childlike. “I couldn’t let him ruin the plan. His head popped open like a watermelon when I smashed it on the corner of a big green dumpster.”

Jenna’s mind worked fast, puzzle pieces clicking into place, voices racing, memories jogging, and she could all but hear the news reports from years ago. A Florida hospital worker suspected of attempted newborn kidnapping disappeared, linked to several other similar occurrences in the area. Vick had even held a meeting, cautioned the staff to be especially alert with new mothers and infants.

As Desiree prowled around her, Jenna exhaled, “That was you? In Florida, trying to take a newborn?”

Desiree jerked down, pulled the ottoman under her so she sat face to face with Jenna. “What? You think you’re the only smart one? The only one who can lie, manipulate, keep things secret?”

She leaned forward now, pressed the knife into Jenna’s cheek, hard, harder. It pierced the tender skin; tears couldn’t be held back now.

“I got caught one day, knew it was over. That plan. Then I saw it, the news. The story that explained everything, the showed me what I had to do. A drug that made babies die. Sweet, little new babies in their mommy’s tummies." Desiree’s whole being stiffened with hatred, rage and she leveled a look of pure evil into Jenna’s eyes. “
You
gave me that drug. YOU took my babies.”

She sprung up, taking Jenna with her by the collar of her shirt. Enraged, she howled like a wild animal. “Why did you do that? Why?”

She shook Jenna repeatedly, sliced at her chest and neck with no rhyme or reason, just lash after lash of anger, of retribution.

Jenna began to weep. Fear so severe, nerves so shot, pain so strong, grief so heavy.

Her dread had come to life, her past manifested before her. What she had always feared but never known, had occurred.

Or maybe it hadn’t.

Maybe it had been nature. Or nothing except the fantasy of a desperate woman. Either way, Desiree needed someone to blame. And she’d picked Jenna.

“I’m sorry, Desiree,” Jenna screamed through the chaos. “I’m sorry.”

Desiree’s hand stilled, the knife stopped its frenzy. “You’re sorry?”

Jenna nodded, tried to shut out all the red she saw, all the red she knew flowed from her veins. “Truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never, never meant to hurt your child.” And she meant it.

Desiree’s breath puffed out raggedly, stirred the pools of spit stuck to her lips. “It’s okay, it's okay,” she mumbled, running a hand over her face, scrubbing at her brow.

A shrill ring pierced the silence, startled both of them. For a mere second, Desiree looked toward the sound, and Jenna had an advantage.

She took it. And sprinted toward the kitchen where her house phone pealed (God bless the telemarketers for once) and her cell phone waited.

Desiree was quick, though, and grabbed at the extra material of Jenna’s shirt, making Jenna’s leg go from flying to running through thick, sinking sand.

But she pressed on, made it around the bar without the flailing knife hitting its mark.

An incessant sizzling caught her attention before she located her phone. The boiling spaghetti water puffed and bubbled, running over the large pot in waves.

She somehow slugged her way to the stove, pulling Desiree behind her like a broken wheel, reached for the handles, and turning, heaved the scalding water in Desiree’s direction.

A scream like a wild, caged animal erupted. Desiree twisted, howled, wailed. And still, she held fast to her knife. But she let go of Jenna.

Free, Jenna raced for the entryway, the door to life, but hands clawed at her and she stumbled as the wickedly sharp weapon plowed into her calf.

In agony, Jenna found herself pinned, rolled over, straddled by a perversely laughing Desiree.

She drove the knife into Jenna’s bleeding forearm, and Jenna’s world titled, faded in and out.

“Look at me!”

Jenna heard the scream, but she could barely fight away the black that threatened to take her in, barely focus on breathing.

Desiree clamped her hands around Jenna’s face, forced it forward and vaguely, Jenna noted with some pride the water had met its mark; Desiree’s skin had begun to turn an ugly, angry shade of pink, marred with smears of red. "Now why’d you have to go and do that?” she slurred, saliva dripping from her open mouth. “I wasn’t finished yet.”

Jenna knew she should keep Desiree talking, knew the more she talked, the more time Jenna had, the more time it gave Ben to come back. But she couldn’t seem to gather the strength. The dizziness made her weak, and though Desiree was small, the weight on her chest felt crushing, suffocating.

“I’m going to kill you now,” Desiree spoke sluggishly, her speech mangled from burned lips. "I hate you. You ruined me, I’ve ruined you. Everything has been me. The horrible men, the awful set-ups? Me, me, me. Anybody can be spruced up, made presentable, even the drunks at bars and thugs just outta jail. All they need is a little incentive.” She laughed loudly, twisted the knife in Jenna’s arm until Jenna moaned. “The best though, that’s been Keith and Susan."

The words drifted in and out of Jenna’s ears, some registering, some overtaken by pain. And still, she managed to find shock at this admission. “How?” she whispered.

“Susan and I were old pals. I asked her for a favor. It was icing on the cake when he fell for her, left you. I really outdid myself there.”

Slowly, she licked her lips, traced the knife tip around one of Jenna’s eyes, then the other. She leaned down, close, closer until her scorched face touched Jenna’s. She moved an inch, whispered in Jenna’s ear, “You deserve nothing. You took from me. Today, I will take what’s yours. You go, and I become a mother. Jacy and Dawson . . .
mine
."