“How long has this been going on?”
“Probably a week or so now.”
Lilly scanned through the nurses’ notes concerning the patient’s medical history.
“You were recently diagnosed with lung cancer. Have you started treatment?”
“No, I’m refusing treatment. My husband died of cancer. He was so sick with the chemo that he couldn’t even enjoy life anymore. I’ve decided to let nature take its course.”
“Were you diagnosed here at this hospital? I don’t have your old medical record.”
“No, at Blue Ridge.”
Lilly set the chart down and looked up. “Why not go back there?”
“Are you a woman of faith?”
“No, not really.”
“Then this is going to be hard for me to explain.” Caroline adjusted the afghan, pulling it up a few inches.
“Just do your best. I’m sure it won’t be the strangest thing I’ve heard,” Lilly prompted.
“I’m not so sure about that because I’m finding it pretty strange myself. I feel I should be upfront with you. I’ve already seen another doctor about these headaches.”
“So you’re here for a second opinion? There’s nothing wrong with that,” Lilly assured.
“No, I believe what he told me. He said I have a tumor in my brain, something that started with an
m
…”
“Metastasis?”
“Yes, that’s what he said. Something was now growing in my brain that was first in my lungs.”
“Okay.”
“He showed me the scans and everything.”
Lilly waited, letting the silence spur the woman on.
“I’m all right with my decision to not seek treatment. I’ve lived a full life.”
“Sixty-five is not that old. Treatment could prolong your life.”
“For what purpose? My husband is gone. Someone said to me that if you’re a Christian, living on earth is the closest you’ll ever come to being in hell. I want to be in heaven.”
“So, if I can’t change your mind about treatment, what’s the point of your visit?”
“I’ve had some pause about the death thing. Some doubts about what I’ve believed my whole life. I want to be sure that there is a God.”
“I can’t help you with that, but I’d be happy to call a chaplain for you to discuss these issues.”
“I don’t need a minister. I need you to listen. I’ve been praying that God would use me in a mighty way before my death, so that I could see him working and know that he is real. I’ve been praying for a mission.”
“What sort of mission?”
“Anything. It’s probably been the first time in my life I was open to doing whatever. I started having dreams about the time of Christ’s birth.”
“That doesn’t seem unusual. We are getting close to Christmas.”
“That’s what I thought. Christmas is one of my favorite holidays, and you know they begin advertising the minute Halloween is over, so that’s what I thought, too. I’m just looking forward to Christmas.”
“There must have been something else, then.”
“I started to dream about hospitals.”
“That seems a little trickier.”
“I’d been in a lot of hospitals so I didn’t think much of it, but then I kept hearing a voice in my head, even though it sounded like my voice, telling me to go to Sage. Here. Sage Medical Center.”
“And what were you supposed to do once you got here?”
“I was supposed to share the story of the Virgin Mary with the doctor I would see.”
“I know the story.”
“I mean in a different way. I was supposed to share that Mary was at first afraid when she saw the angel Gabriel.”
“An angel named Gabriel? Could it be Gabe?” Lilly asked, her throat thickening with anxiety.
“Maybe today … strange how the Lord works. Anyway, I’m supposed to tell you to not be afraid, that your baby will save you. This will help you understand how Christ saved the world.”
“But, Caroline, I’m not pregnant.”
“That’s another thing I’m supposed to tell you. Take a pregnancy test today.”
“But I know I’m not pregnant,” Lilly pressed as a nervous chuckle followed.
“Dr. Reeves, I don’t mean to be rude, but have you looked at yourself? I mean, you’re a thin woman, and you look a little swollen in the midsection.” The woman pointed at Lilly. She smoothed her clothes and looked down. “He said to make sure you understood.”
“I understand, but I don’t see the need.”
“You haven’t told me your first name, have you?”
“No .”
“If your name is Lilly—then this message is definitely for you.”
Lilly glanced down at her hospital identification tag. Her first name was not listed.
The day dragged slowly after that.
Each second a minute.
Each minute an hour.
Lilly contemplated a way to verify Caroline’s news at work. Should she steal a pregnancy test? Maybe send a specimen to the lab under a patient’s name? The fear of getting caught prevented her from pursuing either of these options.
After her shift, Lilly cleaned out three stores of home pregnancy tests. The small fortune she’d spent was not the prominent thought in her mind. Foremost was trepidation. Was it possible to be in such denial that you couldn’t even see physical changes that were obvious to everyone else? Upon coming home, she took her purchases and went to the bathroom. After she peed into a drinking cup, she pulled out one of the tests and watched as it soaked up the liquid. Setting it aside, she drew the hottest bath she could tolerate. Undressed, she eased herself into the water. Lilly soaped up her hands and smoothed them over her abdomen, pushing and feeling for masses. Her belly was swollen and there was a palpable density. As she pressed, she could feel the fluttering that had annoyed her earlier in the day. It was the same sensation she’d chalked up to nerves over her missed medical diagnosis that almost cost a patient his life.
If I’m not pregnant, then there is another serious issue I’m going to have to address.
She sat and watched as the bubbles leeched back into the water. Reaching for the stick, she brought it closer and saw two distinct pink lines that confirmed what her patient had insisted was true.
She was pregnant. Already three months along.
Lilly dropped the test onto the floor and fell back into the water, the force caused the soapy fluid to spill up over the side of the white porcelain. Crossing her arms over her chest, she began to weep, the thoughts in her mind colliding like clouds during a violent thunderstorm.
How is this possible?
Intellectually, she knew the chances of fertilization and implantation coinciding with the few days of the month she was susceptible to pregnancy were minute at best. Plus, she had agreed to take emergency prophylaxis.
How is it possible to love and hate something in the same breath?
Not only was this her attacker’s child, it was her own. It contained her genetic makeup. What she carried from her mother was in this child as well. How could she destroy something that was part of her and her heritage? The child didn’t have a say about how it had been conceived; how could she have final say in whether it lived or died? She’d seen in her work that abortion wasn’t the end. Initially, there was joy wrought from relief that the situation that burdened the woman to make a choice for abortion was resolved. But then, months after, they were often haunted by their choice. The loss of that child was suffered each waking day. But was that less horrifying then looking into the eyes of your child and seeing glimpses of the man who had brought them into existence without your consent in a violent, demeaning way?
Can I love this baby unconditionally?
If not, could she act as if she loved this child without it picking up on her disgust at its presence? Children were highly sensitive to the emotions of those around them. They knew instinctively when they weren’t loved. Was it fair to wait to find out which of those it would be?
Can I handle carrying this child and giving it away?
The facts in evidence were clear. Emotionally, the attack was the inciting event of her rapid downfall. Her unraveling may have been a long time in coming, the steps to the cliff marked by the tragedies in her life. But the rape was a catalyst, hurrying her along the last vestiges of the trail and shoving her over the cliff. She had turned and grabbed hold to the rocky, crumbling edge with one hand, but the depression and anxiety and her methods of dealing with them slowly peeled off those fingers. Which pain was more tolerable? Killing the child and being plagued by the loss of an innocent life, or giving it away, then wondering if each child she met were her child? What if the life it was given up to was worse than the one she would have provided?
Lilly pulled herself from the tub. Without drying off, she looked at herself in the mirror, the water dripped from her body, each pore cried the tears of her pain. She reached for the glass of red wine she’d brought with her. Pulling it to her lips, she paused, the smell of the liquor heavy in her nostrils. She breathed it in, seeing her pain and anguish clear, the shroud of denial stripped from her as she stood bare. Letting the stem slide through her hand, she grasped the goblet and slammed it into the mirror.
December 6
N
ATHAN CHECKED HIS
appearance. Brett was at his desk, finishing up several phone calls before the task-force meeting set to begin in one hour. Prior to this, however, they had another call that had Nathan’s OCD in overdrive.
The FBI was here.
Nathan hated to have his work scrutinized by other agencies. Particularly one he had parted ways with in the past. And the reason for his departure was the lead slot on his list of unforgivables. It wasn’t that he thought his work couldn’t measure up—just that he felt they viewed his work as inferior before they even examined it. The minutest detail that he might have left untouched, that usually had no bearing on the case, would be the one thing they would hang him up by his toes for. Like a rookie who’d forgotten to Mirandize an arrestee. They acted as if all of his specialized training leaked from his head when he joined the local police.
Only a few people were privy to the fact Nathan had worked for the FBI. Even Brett didn’t know about his service in that sect.
“Nathan, you’ve got to stop fidgeting. You’re driving me nuts,” Brett called, leafing through several folders on his desk.
“Don’t mess those up.” Nathan paced to his desk, grabbing the pile away from Brett’s hands.
“You’ve got to chill out. That last call was the desk sergeant. Seems our savior cometh.”
“Not funny.”
“Let’s head upstairs to the conference room.”
Waiting outside the door was a towering man who looked ill fitted in the suit he was wearing. His hair was bleach blond and his eyes were pale green; a deep tan made these two physical attributes pop from his head. Brett elbowed Nathan in the rib cage as they neared the room.
“Where’d they find this guy, Miami Beach?”
Nathan glowered and closed the distance, offering his hand.
“I’m Detective Nathan Long, head of the task force.”
“Joshua Reynolds, FBI Behavioral Science Unit,” he replied, his handshake firm.
Brett followed suit, making introductions.
They entered the conference room and took seats at one end of the large table.
Joshua opened a folder of his own notes then, folding his hands, settled back into his chair.
“The two of you have a very nasty character on your hands.”
“Tell me something we don’t know,” Brett said.
“I read through your preliminary report. It was quite thorough, but there is still a lot of ground to cover.”
“The task force has been working this case hard over the last three months. Thus far, we’ve assigned one detective to each victim in the series. We developed an in-depth questionnaire for each of them to see where they cross each other’s paths, as well as the suspect’s. We’re still sifting through those and finishing up the more detailed interviews.”
“I’ve read through what you sent, and I think I have some thoughts. I’d like to sit in on your meeting. It will help me develop a more accurate profile. Mind if I participate in the group?”
Nathan pivoted his chair side to side. “Not at all. We’re all here to help each other out and get this guy off the street.”
“I’m glad you feel we can work together. I’d like to review some of my findings.”
“Please share,” Brett said. Nathan cranked his chair, knocking Brett’s with a distinctive thud.
“I think he’s our most rare kind of rapist … à la Ted Bundy.” Joshua leafed through several pages before stopping. “I would characterize him as an anger-excitation rapist. Very charming. Quite intelligent. He learns from his mistakes.”
“He doesn’t seem to make any.” Brett pivoted toward Joshua. “That’s our problem.”
“They all make mistakes. That’s how we catch them.”
“Then tell me what his are,” Brett continued.
“Just because they’re not clear, doesn’t mean there aren’t any. He’s likely well practiced. This probably isn’t his only victim series.”
“He didn’t pop up in CODIS,” Nathan said.
“The Combined DNA Identification System has its value, but it likely won’t solve your case.”
“Why not? He seems to love leaving his DNA,” Brett said.
“That’s exactly why. For some reason, he’s unconcerned with leaving semen behind, so it doesn’t surprise me that his DNA profile isn’t in the database. It’s as I said: his IQ is high. He knows we won’t catch him with that evidence. The question is why. And until we know that, we’ll have to come up with a different angle. The victims will be a good place to start. Was there any match between the Campbell baby and the perpetrator?”
Brett shifted in his seat. Nathan cleared his throat. “That evidence is no longer available.”
“What happened?”
“The van transporting the evidence was involved in an accident. It was incinerated.”
Joshua clicked his tongue between his teeth. “That’s very unfortunate. May I approach your link chart?”
“Be my guest,” Nathan offered, beginning to stand.
“No, no … please sit. I might ramble.” Joshua picked up his folder from the table. “I take it these tacks on the map represent each of your victims’ homes.”
Brett nodded in affirmation. “These were the places they were attacked.”
“Love the little numbers on each one. Clever.”
Nathan wasn’t sure the tone was a compliment.
“I’d like to place another series of pins. One representing where each of the victims worked.” Joshua picked up the first pin and scanned the map. “The one thing about all of these women is their character. All are strong, fiercely independent women. Victim number one is an auto mechanic—clearly a male-dominated field.”
He inserted the first marker in place.
“Torrence, who seemed to have the most contact with the perpetrator, was studying engineering.”
Marker two made it onto the board.
“Victim three, Heather Allen, was a competitive body builder. I’m going to pin her workplace and her gym.”
Joshua paused as he placed these two pins. “I haven’t quite identified how Jacqueline would fit. She’s a kindergarten teacher. But you must have some dominance raising four kids as a single mother.”
“She was widowed,” Nathan volunteered.
“Ah, interesting. And obviously, Lilly is not meek. She’s a martial arts expert, weapons owner, and accomplished ER physician.”
Joshua stopped his work and stepped to the side. “All these women represent his mother.” Nathan’s heart rate increased as he began to see a pattern emerging.
“It always goes back to the cradle.” Brett smirked. “You’re here to tell us something we can’t figure out on our own.”
“Unfortunately, our deepest wounds come from childhood. I’m not treating you as inferiors. A lot of our knowledge will overlap.”
“Let me stop you right there.” Brett held up a single hand while the other gripped the arm of his chair. “How long have you been with this unit?”
“One year.”
“How many cases?” Brett fired the question without pausing.
“With BSU, this is my first field assignment. But surely you know what an accomplished agent you have to be to even get where I am.”
“Joshua. Forgive me, but this is all part of Introduction to Rapist 101. Obviously, we will find that his mother is a domineering woman and treated him horrendously in some manner. He’s likely married because all these creeps need a wife to look legit. Can you give us something that maybe we’re not thinking of?” Brett asked, hands folded, index fingers tapping with expectation.
“This will be preliminary.”
“Of course. We won’t hold you to the fire if it doesn’t pan out,” Nathan said.
“I will,” Brett replied, slamming his feet onto the tabletop.
Nathan studied the newly placed locations. He stood from his chair and shoved Brett’s feet off the conference room table as he moved to the link chart. In the center of the pins was a blue circle with a white capital “H.”
“He works at SMC.” Nathan’s fingers slid over the tops of the cool plastic push pins. “This is home base.”
Joshua faced the board. “We know Lilly and Torrence had crossings at SMC. Lilly is employed there, and Torrence was a patient in the ER and was also being followed at that facility for her pregnancy. Your perp selects his victims from his work and play environments. He stalks them for long periods. He must do this in order to copy their keys and learn when it is best to attack. Your victims are widely scattered all around the city in nearly a sixty-mile radius. However, when I add these new points, you can see each of the victims falls, at some point, within a ten-mile radius of one institution.”
Nathan turned to face Joshua. “He’s a doctor.”
Joshua’s face was solemn. “Well respected and liked. Each of your victims already knows him by name, but the disguise he wears keeps them from realizing it.”