Stacey smiled again. Who'd have believed it, she thought. Michael Myers's heart softened at last in the most unexpected way. So much so he's letting her touch his ears? Though I have no doubt he'd kill anyone he considered a threat to Danielle so is still a killer. "Ok," she said quietly after a moment. "So I just need to tell you some little tweaks we've made to your phone this time. Just as before, you'll need to call someone to get your number, we can do that on my work phone in a minute if you like. Dr Stark has dramatically increased security, so only a handful of guards can access your file in her cabinet now."
"Dr Stark told me that."
"Good," Stacey said. She continued. "So we have implemented two measures from the DV hub should you need them which we of course hope you don't. You remember the old speed dial on older phones?"
Danielle nodded, grinning a little. "Showing my age, but yes."
Stacey laughed. "Don't worry, mine too. So here's the score. If you press and hold eight on your phone, it'll call us. Now eight is the non-emergency line, so someone will answer your call. That's for if you have any updates, however small, nothing's too trivial for us ok? IE you think you heard Adam's voice in the street, you got a text or call from him though now that won't happen, etc. You get my point, call if you need us for anything. Now if you hold and press the number nine, that is our emergency line. Your phone will vibrate once to signal to you the call has gone through, but you won't hear anything. This is in case you're unsafe, or with your abuser and you can't talk. One of our operators will be listening and another will have contacted police who will be sent immediately to your location. We track you using GPS. Before you ask Danielle, that even works in here and is not restricted here either. If you need us, we're there. Ok? Got that?"
"So basically," Danielle said slowly. "Eight is not urgent, nine is emergency. I just press and hold them for a second?"
"Correct. Both will vibrate to show they've gone through. If you feel in any danger at all, use us. You're on the high risk register."
"I know. Heard that so many times…" She took a breath. Stacey squeezed her shoulder; Myers moved his head so Danielle felt his ears move in her hands. Danielle managed a weak smile at both of them. "Thank you," she said through the lump in her throat. "Stacey, Michael. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"It's what we're here for," Stacey squeezed her shoulder again. "As for Mr. Myers I think it's called caring." She smiled at the killer. "Dr Stark said to tell you Danielle she'll be down to see you in just a few minutes ok? Do you have any questions?"
"What if I dial accidentally?" In my pocket or something"
"Won't happen because you have to hold the button down for a second, so it's almost impossible to do. Needless to say if you were to call nine and it wasn't urgent more than once, the first time you'd get called and warned, second you'd be asked to come in and be warned face to face, third it would be a written warning and fourth you'd lose the facility. Of course we know you wouldn't do that; I just have to tell you."
"Of course I wouldn't. Someone could be being raped or murdered while I was messing around. if I ever was to do that, which I never would. Don't worry, it really annoys me when people do that with nine one one, so you wouldn't catch me even dreaming of doing it."
Stacey chuckled, squeezing her shoulder again. "I know. Anything else?"
"No, thanks," Danielle said. Stacey stood up, touched Danielle's shoulder likely then turned and left, the cell door closing behind her.
The Shape lay beside Danielle, holding her tightly in his arms. She was fast asleep at last, having finally been persuaded by Dr Stark to take a sleeping pill. He however was wide awake. His mind racing. He was Michael Myers, the masked, silent killer. Yet, there was something about the woman lying next to him which he couldn't stop thinking about. What had she done to him? If he was honest with himself, it'd started the very first time he'd seen her. When he'd touched her arm as she approached him. Chained to his block or not, he could've just turned round and strangled her to death before the guards stood a chance if he'd wanted to. But he hadn't. Was it because he'd realised she was vulnerable in not being able to see, hence fight him? Or was it that he had detected how vulnerable she was mentally as well as physically?
It hadn't ended there. He hadn't let it end there. No. Instead, he'd taken her hand the next time, guided her to her cell even, before he'd finally lane with and held her. That had all been before he'd first tried to, then had killed Jefferson. All because he'd sexually assaulted Danielle Hayward. Why had he cared so much? It wasn't his business. Yet, he'd acted before he'd even realised how he felt for her.
He hadn't taken advantage of her sexually. He could've done, yet he hadn't. She was too scarred for that right now and not ready. But again, why did he care? He could've had his pleasure from her way before this. Even before he'd known what Adam had done to her, before he'd seen Danielle in court. He recalled the rage he'd felt, the desire to kill Adam for what he'd done.
He suspected he even took a little comfort for want of a better word that he still could kill anyone. He still felt that murderous rage and wouldn't hesitate to act on it. But Ryan… He was different somehow. When the Shape had almost grabbed his throat, he'd apologised to him when the guard had returned. That wasn't him at all!
It was Danielle Hayward. What had she done to him? The Shape tightened his arms around her. Finally, when that guard Baker had successfully been bribed by someone as yet unknown to give Adam Danielle's number. This time he'd been united with Stark and the others. He was furious and the guard had to die. The Shape suspected that if he hadn't done it, one of the guards may have. He couldn't deny it, all be it he'd given up trying. Danielle Hayward had changed him in a way he still didn't fully understand yet. He could no longer brush them off. He knew it.
He lent forward and softly stroked her hair. Her mouth moved in a sleepy smile as he did so and The Shape felt his heart contract. This was a new feeling and had never happened before, it made him hold her tighter to him. But the biggest realisations he cared for her as far as he was concerned, were he was preparing to speak to her. He hadn't used his voice in thirty-five years. Yet, Danielle needed it more than anyone else, hell deserved it more than anyone else. He would, The Shape decided there and then. Soon. He was letting her touch his damn ears! Even moving his head specifically so she could. Whenever she wanted to boot. If anyone else even tried, they'd be dead, end of story. He'd be whistling next…
The way he had to know she was ok all the time, cared about and was kind to her, protective…
The simple truth of all this was, he didn't recognise himself fully as the Michael Myers he'd been since six anymore. A blind young woman named Danielle Hayward was bringing back the Michael Myers his parents had lost when he'd killed Judith. He still felt indifference when he thought of his deceased sister, but Danielle Hayward was teaching him one simple lesson he couldn't escape from, even if he tried. Michael Myers, The Shape, was still a man.
Derek Chancer lowered the iPod and removed the earphones, trying to calm himself. This was bad. He didn't need anyone else to tell him that. He knew all about DV codes, (or at least he did since last night when he'd opened the iPod to find a huge document on the subject waiting for him,) but how to crack them was another matter. They were supposed to be almost impossible to crack, that was the first thing the document all at least a hundred pages of it had advised him. Plus how was he supposed to do it locked up in here? He couldn't see a way round it. Now he'd just heard that DV Advisor Stacey tell Danielle her number had yet again been changed and she now had some sort of alarm she could use to protect herself. This was getting more and more difficult.
It wasn't just that either. If John Baker could be found out so quickly and… Disposed of, Chancer didn't fancy the mortality rate. He hadn't seen anything that'd happened mere hours before, but he'd heard more than he wanted to all be it several cells away. Michael Myers had killed Baker, Chancer knew it. Then there was the fact Stark had now greatly increased security on her file cabinet. There was no way any of the guards she'd listed would help him, they loved Hayward.
But then he found himself going back to his mother's mantra. Could, should, would. This time, it was could which was shouting loudest. Crack a DV code? Not likely. Should, that was also a not likely. Not fucking likely actually. He knew how dangerous it could be if it went wrong for more than one reason and that wasn't even taking in to account the danger he could be putting himself in. He was only working against Michael Myers now. Why had he had to go and care for Danielle Hayward? Chancer knew he could hardly phone his employer and say sorry, there's just no way I can do this, without having thoroughly conducted his research first. So how best to begin.
The DV Advisor. That was it. He could pretend he'd been domestically abused by a woman and that was why he'd started killing them. Although, he mused. He wouldn't have much pretending to do. The woman who'd stolen his father from him and his mother had done enough fucking damage. Maybe he should pretend she was violent/ A female Adam Dawson? He smirked at that thought. Then slowly start asking about DV codes? But he wouldn't ask to talk to Stacey. He knew there were male DV Advisors at Smith's Grove, approach one of them. He wouldn't talk to a woman anyway. He'd kill and rape her first.
Ok. So a male DV Advisor was his best option. Pretend he was also a victim of DV. But remember to say nothing about Danielle's own case, or it would immediately be clear he'd heard things he shouldn't have done via the iPod. He needed to make up a case. Picking up the pencil and a piece of paper, he started to write his fictional abuse by a fictional woman. He'd throw it down the toilet when he was done and after he had all the facts completely memorised, so no one would, or could, to use his mother's wise words again, detect it was pure fiction he was telling them.
"Come in Samuel," the man in the crisp suit and tie said from behind his desk at precisely nine AM the next morning. His shoes gleaming with polish. Loomis inwardly sighed. He hated being called Samuel and this man had the right to do it purely because he was his damn boss. Quietly he entered the office and sat opposite the polished mahogany desk. He felt a stab of anger. This guy was about to give him orders, when he had no clue how Smith's Grove worked on the ground as he was never there. He sat up here in his ivory tower and issued instructions, without any idea what so ever of what actually went on. Money. That was his middle name. Loomis privately strongly disliked him, not an emotion he often felt. It was close to hate actually.
This was Barry Andrews. A money driven, selfish and heartless son of a bitch as far as Loomis was concerned. The doctors privately thought his initials should stand for bastard alert. None of them liked him at all. Whatever Andrews had to say to him, Loomis knew it wouldn't be good news. It never was.
"So Samuel. We have received information that Michael Myers has committed no fewer than two kills in the past month. This isn't good enough. What are your guards doing to restrain and control the cold blooded killer?"
Again, Loomis felt his anger growing. This was exactly what he'd been talking about. The suited idiot didn't have a clue. He knew nothing of Danielle, Chancer, any of it. Loomis sure as hell wasn't going to tell him. Damn ambulance. He knew they had to report it and didn't blame them, but to this guy? The one who didn't give a damn about anything but money and order?
"Don't bother replying," his boss said before Loomis could even think of how to frame one. "The fact is this isn't good enough. You clearly don't have the correct or well enough trained security guards to take the proper care and precautions with him. I am ordering him to be transferred to a maximum security facility next week. I'm sorry Samuel, I know you and he have worked together for years, but these two kills leave me no other choice. It would appear your equipment is also faulty, as your cameras were facing the wrong way at the time of both kills. What? Are they broken? That's not good enough either. You get good money from me for security; defective equipment simply isn't good enough."
Loomis bit his tongue. God there was so much he could say. Actually, he imagined himself saying. The masked killer has found and fallen in love. His kills were to protect the woman he loves oh and she's totally blind by the way, because the perpetrators had put her in unspeakable danger or were point blank cruel and sexually inappropriate towards a totally blind person! Actually Sir, we were on Mr. Myers's side! The guards turned off the cameras so you slimy little fucker wouldn't know the truth Sir. He had to look away. He was furious now. Transferring Michael Myers would do much more harm than good, he knew it. Again, his boss didn't have a clue. Loomis didn't think he'd entered the hospital in the last three years. Maybe more. Not a God Damn clue.
"I will be arranging a secure bus to pick him up," his boss continued. "We will be taking him to Glass Hill. I assume you know it?"
Loomis felt a shiver of dread. Glass Hill is the pit of hell, he thought. They'd lock Myers up until the end of his days, no contact, nothing. This would very probably finish Danielle Hayward off, possibly driving her towards another suicide attempt. Loomis knew he had to think and fast. But to stop this transfer, he'd had to cross so many lines of ethics he'd probably have to arrest himself at the end of it. But he, like everyone else had come to care for Danielle Hayward and she'd melted Michael Myers's damn heart! That in itself made her worthy of credit. But sadly Loomis could say none of this to the immaculately and expensively suited moron across the desk from him. However there were people he could say it to, people who could help him with a plan which could very easily land him in prison. So be it, he thought as he left the office. You'll have to catch me and prove it first. Heading back in to the ward, Loomis went straight to his office. He had to think. This transfer wouldn't happen if he had anything to do with it.
Six hours later.
Derek Chancer had got no sleep the night before. He'd seen and heard everything. Panic began to set in when he saw Baker's body being zipped in to a body bag. He hadn't actually seen him die, but he didn't have to. He knew how it'd happened. Michael Myers had killed him. He knew. In which case, it would only be a matter of time before he was after Chancer. Chancer was actually sure Myers knew already. His confidence he could do this was deserting him fast. It was all very well making up a fictitious DV story, even that wasn't working. There were too many holes in it and with every day that passed, this was getting more and more dangerous. He'd seen a male DV advisor two hours ago and started telling his imaginary story, but even to his ears it didn't sound convincing, believable. The truth was he simply hated women. The problem was it showed. He was fast losing faith he could make it convincing enough to fool the advisor.
Then there was the question of how he'd get around to the subject of DV codes without being suspicious. It wasn't like he could ask for a number change because he didn't even have a damn phone! Way too suspicious. Stark and Loomis already suspected someone was watching Danielle and if he moved too fast he'd just prove it. But if he didn't… He'd received another message on the iPod just half an hour before, which was when he'd really and truly started to panic.
OUR CLIENT WANTS HER NEW NUMBER A SECOND TIME. TRY AGAIN!
Nope. He'd have to swallow his pride. Picking up the iPod, he entered the password, his hands were shaking. He needed help and now. The heat was really coming down, just as he'd feared it would.