CHAPTER 1—EXITING HEAVEN, ENTERING HELL
If one were to have been standing in the living room of the Donovan's apartment, that person would have witnessed quite a scene. The door opened from the outside in with a resounding bang. If they were lucky, they wouldn't have to buy a new door in the morning. However, they weren't necessarily concerned about the door. It was probably fortieth on their list of priorities at that moment. They entered the darkened apartment with every single body part entwined. It was unclear how they even managed to get the door unlocked and open. He spun her around, walking her in backwards, and she hoped she wouldn't trip over something and fall on her ass. At heated times such as these, she was unforgivably clumsy. Wouldn't that be a lovely scene, she thought as his insistent mouth refused to free hers. Of course, she wasn't exactly fighting him away. Finally making it inside the apartment, he kicked the door closed. Another bang issued forth. I suppose the door will make it, she thought. After seemingly trying to suck the life out of her, he broke the kiss. They gazed at each other almost comically, breathing heavily, as if they had ran for ten miles at a breakneck pace instead of sharing a passionate kiss.
She released her hold on his body long enough to glance at her wristwatch. "I don't know why we're still doing this. The honeymoon officially ended exactly two hours ago."
He smiled a little and glanced at his own watch. "As I see it, Mrs. Donovan, it's not over until the sun rises."
"Well, Mr. Donovan, don't you have to get up in the morning?"
A wicked grin touched his lips. "I'm already up," he said and lowered his head to nuzzle her throat.
"You sleazy, sleazy man," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly. He had yet to see her eyes rolled in the back of her head, and she didn't want him to; he might think she was possessed. "Be serious, baby, just for one second. I know you have that ability."
He chuckled low in his throat. "Perhaps I do, but only at work. At home, it all goes to hell. You should know that by now."
She slipped easily out of his embrace and stepped back. His gaze never faltered. Like a spoiled little boy, he stuck his lip out and pretended to pout. She laughed and turned away from him. She could not look at that unless she wanted to giggle herself silly. She turned toward him and saw that he had kneeled before the door. He was carefully picking up several pieces of mail that had been slid into the slot and had landed on the floor. Some of the envelopes were crumpled looking where they had trampled them.
His back turned to her, Loralei crossed her arms in front of her chest and gazed at him. They needed to talk, but instead of speaking, she found herself daydreaming. They had lived together an additional eight months before finally setting a wedding date. She had needed time to clean up her affairs with her former place of employment. Of course, she had resigned months ago, but there were several things left undone, including the Black Heart and her sensational trial. Since she had been a 'victim' she was required to testify against the woman. In some wicked twist of fate, the Black Heart was tried in Illinois. She had apparently asked for it due to the state's stance on capital punishment. The trial was a horrid experience, one that Loralei would not wish on her worse enemy. It was then, and only then, that she had learned the Black Heart's real name: Carly Butler. Day after day, Loralei was forced to sit in a courtroom with the evil woman while 'Carly' sat and stared at both she and her fiancé as if she could eat them alive. She wasn't pleased that Loralei had made it, that she had lived despite the serious injuries her body had sustained. The black widow figured that Donovan had saved her life, and she hated them both equally.
Neither Loralei nor Donovan were surprised that Black Heart's [Loralei could never think of the woman as a harmless 'Carly'] attorney wanted to plead that she was not guilty by reason of insanity. He spun a tall tale about the horrible abuse 'Carly' had suffered at the hands of her biological parents and the terrifying treatment she received from each dead husband. According to the defense, 'Carly' was merely another 'victim,' and that she had had enough and simply 'broke.' It was utter bullshit. Everyone in the courtroom knew it, including the defendant. It was difficult for Loralei to sit through the madness, but she refused to leave, regardless of Donovan's pleas that she not attend. She insisted on being there when the woman went down.
After thousands of dollars, several hours of testimony, and fifteen different psychological evaluations, the defense had deemed 'Carly' insane. To Loralei's horror, the Court agreed with them. The Black Heart had eluded capital punishment. It was the sentence she wanted, the one she likely deserved, but her slick lawyer had sweet-talked the entire jury. The evil woman was committed to a state mental institution for the rest of her life. The sentence made Loralei nervous. She had nightmares about the Black Heart escaping and coming back to exact her revenge. She wasn't afraid to die [hell, she had died once], but she was afraid of losing Donovan. The not-so-insane killer not only wanted Loralei dead, but she also wanted Donovan dead and to have his head on a stick [literally]. Loralei knew this, could read it in the woman's eyes. The thought of anything happening to her husband-to-be was unfathomable.
Loralei wasn't the only person less than thrilled with Black Heart's sentence. Donovan was utterly disgusted. His worries were similar to Loralei's, but his concern centered on her. He had lost her once, and would be hell-bent to ever allow her to slip away from him again. He didn't like the idea that the cunning black widow was going to a mental hospital. Those types of places weren't exactly easy to escape, but they weren't as secure as a death row cell in a super max prison. The evil part of his brain came alive again, and for a very brief moment, he was tempted to jump her and wrap his hands around her giraffe-like neck.
When the circus ended on the last day of the trial, Loralei and Donovan returned home. On the ride back, she hadn't said much; she hadn't felt like it. She thought that if she opened her mouth, she might scream herself into a mental institution. He hadn't tried to talk to her about it; he didn't want to push. She would open up when she was ready, but there was no way he would leave her alone. She needed him, it was clear to him; she had said as much with her eyes. However, the shock was quite evident, and he hoped that she would be okay. He hated seeing her so distraught.
Loralei didn't let go until she entered the apartment and had the door closed behind her. In a fascinated sort of awe mixed with shock, he stood back as she raised her head to the ceiling and let out a long, anguished wail. He had never heard anything like it in his life. The Black Heart's sentence was just as much of a punishment to Loralei as it was to the widow. Loralei had sacrificed her career, had nearly lost her life to bring in the witch, but she had walked away with a bullshit sentence. It was wrong, so wrong.
Donovan did the only thing he could. He went to her and held her unyielding body in his arms until the typhoon passed. It took a very long time for her to let it go. She heard his whispers of 'it's over, it's done,' but it seemed as if it would never be over. Loralei's anger wasn't totally self-centered. She had seen the family members of the murdered men. She couldn't take the tears or the grief-stricken expressions on their faces. She hoped to never attend another trial like that again in her life. When the shock and anger began to dissipate, she collapsed into her fiancé's embrace and allowed him to comfort her. This was one more hurdle she would have to jump. Donovan's words were simple, but sage: 'don't let her win.' After that day, she put the Black Heart to bed forever. She had a life to lead and a wedding to plan. She could not allow the crazed maniac known as 'Carly Butler' to ruin her happiness. Loralei owed more debt to Donovan than she could ever repay in nine lifetimes.
"Loralei? Are you okay?"
The soft words spoken by her husband brought her out of her coma-like daze. "Yeah, babe. I'm fine. I was daydreaming, I suppose." She fixed her eyes on the stack of mail in his hand. "Damn, how can so much shit pile up in two weeks?"
She reached for the stack, but he held it back and set it aside. "It will keep until tomorrow."
He started toward her, to take her back into his arms, but she stepped aside. "Screw that, Frank. I'm expecting a letter."
He stood back and watched her with a small grin framing his lips. After leaving the FBI several months ago, she decided she wanted to go back to school and [define irony] earn a Ph.D. in [what else] Criminal Justice. She applied and was accepted at several area colleges, but the one university she wanted more than all others had yet to send her a letter of acceptance. During their two-week honeymoon, she had literally driven him nuts fretting about the mail. She reminded him of a junkie in need of a fix. He watched as she thumbed through each letter meticulously, touching each one. The next to the last letter was the one she had been waiting for. She dropped the rest of the mail.
He gazed at her with a lifted eyebrow. "So?"
"I'm afraid to look at it," she said nervously. It was ridiculous of course. She had waited so long to receive the letter, but now that she held it in her hands, she was afraid to open it. If it were a rejection, she'd probably bang her head against the wall.
"Give me the damn thing," he said with amused annoyance. He snatched the letter out of her hands and tore open the envelope.
Loralei watched as he skimmed over the letter. Damn him. She couldn't read his expression. Like Cody, she sometimes wondered if he might be part machine. I suppose I'll eventually find out if that's true, she thought. "Don't just stand there. Tell me."
He looked up at her with a stiff poker face. "You're in if you want it."
"Oh my God," she spat. "Are you joking?"
"Have you ever known me to joke?" She squealed happily and threw her body into his arms, nearly knocking him down. "Damn," he grunted, "if I had known you were going to try to kill me, I would have let you open your own letter."
During her crushing hug, he found his eyes wondering to the pile of mail she had discarded. He focused his eyes on an oddly colored envelope. He wasn't sure why it had caught his attention. Perhaps it was due to the gaudy bright pink envelope. He hadn't noticed it earlier when he picked up the stack of letters and bills. When she released him, he approached the scattered mail and went straight to the neon pink distraction. He glanced down at it and noticed that it had no return address, but the postmark deemed it local. The handwriting was shaky, as if the writer had been trying to mask his/her true style. The letters were in all caps and the envelope was addressed to 'Frankie and Lori Donovan.'
Loralei stood back and watched Donovan curiously, wondering if he had, perhaps, lost his mind. "Frank, what is it?"
He picked up the envelope and studied it carefully. It was bizarre and a bit…unsettling. Of course, a part of him wanted to believe it was some type of gag card sent from the team [which could very well be the case], but another part of him doubted it. It was gaudy, yes, but mockingly so. It wasn't anything remotely close to a good-natured tease. He tore into the envelope and pulled out an equally gaudy greeting card. A cartoon figure of a man stood amongst dozens of multi-colored balloons. The cartoon fellow was grinning largely, grotesquely. Above the hideous figure was one single word: Congratulations! He almost didn't open it. For some odd reason, he was expecting something even more hideous than the outside of the card. He opened it anyway. Written across the length of the card in large block lettering was: Look for me. I'll be seeing you soon.
"Frank? What is it," Loralei demanded as she approached him.
She took hold of his arm and moved his body aside. It wasn't an easy task. He didn't want her to see this, to wrack her nerves after she had been so happy and worry-free for the last eight months. Of course, there was truly no way he could shield her from it. If she didn't see it now, she'd eventually take it from him. As she stood beside him, he slid the card and envelope toward her, but held it in his hands as if afraid it would burn her fingers. She gazed down at the card and eye-watering envelope. She shared the same thoughts as her husband: gaudy and hideous. Was it a joke? It had to be a joke. There was no other explanation.
"The team," she asked hopefully.
He was amazed at how easily she could read him, to get into his mind without trying. "I don't think so," he said. "They have the capacity to send a gag gift of some sort, but this is…"
"Hideous," she said, completing his thought.
He nodded. "Yes," he replied. "Hideous."
"You don't think…"
It was Donovan's turn to read her mind. He shook his head firmly. "Of course not, Loralei. How would she have access? We've moved since the trial. She wouldn't know." He had suspected Black Heart immediately as well, but he didn't want this particular ghost to haunt Loralei for rest of her life. "It's not her."
"Stop protecting me, Donovan," she said stubbornly. "Isn't this worth a phone call? If you don't check into it, I will."
He glanced at her. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her jaw was clenched tightly. He was more than familiar with the stance. He couldn't count the number of times he had seen it. Despite his fear, despite his own suspicions, he realized that they both needed to put the widow to rest. "Oh, I know you will," he said with a grin. "Seriously, Loralei, we need to stop jumping at these shadows. I'll ask about the card tomorrow. If I don't find the culprits there, I'll follow up with a phone call." He put his arm around her waist and pulled her close. "This is some type of silly prank. I have dozens of enemies, not just her."
She sighed heavily and her body relaxed a bit. She molded her body into his, thankful for his closeness, comfort, and warmth. "Throw it out, Frank, okay? If you don't want to do that, just get it out of my sight." Loralei released her hold on his body and stepped away. "I suddenly feel the need to bathe. That card is crawling with filth."
He turned to watch her as she entered the bedroom. He didn't throw away the card, he couldn't. He was afraid that this would be the first clue of many to come, and he wasn't even sure he could face another round with the Black Heart. He took the card and stuffed it and its envelope into the pocket of a jacket hanging from its hook on a nearby door. His hunch was well worth investigating.
Donovan made his way toward the bedroom. Loralei had just finished undressing. At the sight of her, a sweet, sweet ache gripped the pit of his stomach and spread growing warmth all over his body. He wasn't sure if she would manage to get her bath tonight or not. Maybe she'll have it later, he thought as he approached her. He took hold of her upper arms very gently and pulled her body close against his. As his parted lips met hers, he couldn't stop thanking the higher powers for sparing her life. He couldn't live without her, not now, not ever. He pushed thoughts of the card and the Black Heart out of his mind. If he didn't, Loralei was sure to pick up on it. Within moments, she was helping him strip out of his clothing. He made love to her gently, but hungrily, hoping that the demons would stay away, at least for one more night.
* * *
In her tiny room with very weak light, she sat at her little desk, humming contently. Her mind was fuzzy and clouded, and she wasn't sure anymore how she managed to get Frankie's address. Oh well, like it mattered anyway. By now, he and his little wifey had probably received her card. At least, she hoped they had. She wondered how long it would take him to remember her, to figure out that it was she who was the master of the game. She didn't want him to forget her; he needed to remember. If he didn't, what good was the game at all? It had been many years since she nearly ran him down, but surely he would remember. Wouldn't he? Wouldn't he? How could he forget her? How could he forget what he had meant to her? It wasn't fair, nothing was. This woman had the life that she should have had; she would bear the children that should be hers. No. It wouldn't happen. It would never happen. She would make sure of that. She would take good care of them both. She would make them both pay for stealing the life that was rightfully hers.
* * *
In another tiny room in the very same hospital, another woman was restless. She paced her room like the caged animal that she was, occasionally stopping to glance out her barred window. She smiled a little when she thought of the bitch and her bastard. They were stupid. They were all stupid. She wasn't insane, she had a mission, a seek and destroy mission. She had lingered in the 'hospital' longer than she wanted. Security here was tight and hectic, because the 'patients' were nuts. There was one woman two 'rooms' [the 'hospital' would never call the rooms cells] down who sat at her desk all day mooning and fawning over bridal magazines. She'd sit and rock for hours, mumbling incoherently. She had no idea how she had ended up at such a fucked up booby hatch. Her attorney [the fuck] had set this up for her, had helped her elude the death penalty. Perhaps she could target him as well. She wanted out, and by God, she would find a way.