Babble: Apparently my last chapter didn't go over very well. Hopefully you will like this one a little more and leave me a note.
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Her Greatest Mistake
Blood
Chapter 16
~P.C.P.D.~
"This doesn't make any sense." Taggert flipped through the pages of the report again. "It just doesn't make sense."
"What doesn't?" Garcia looked curiously up from his own reading.
"From what Emily Quartermaine told us Elizabeth was planning on confronting Lucky," Taggert began slowly.
"Right."
"She finished her shift and left Kelly's. The next place we can positively I.D. her is near the Harborview at around 3:00, but after that nothing."
"What are you getting at?" Garcia asked.
"According to this autopsy report, she had a partially undigested meal in her stomach. A meal consisting of," he scanned the report again. "A chicken sandwich, coleslaw, and some dessert."
Garcia pulled hard at his neck trying to work the kinks out. "Not really seeing the importance of this."
"When did she eat? Where did she eat? If she was planning on confronting the person who had been abusing her, how could she eat?" Taggert asked. "It just doesn't make sense."
Garcia frowned in puzzlement, Taggert was right that was odd. His expression cleared when he realized something. "She might have eaten something at the hospital."
"The hospital?" It was Taggert's turn to look puzzled and he turned to study the section of the chalkboard that outlined Elizabeth's confirmed movements the day she died. "When was she at the hospital?"
"I don't know if she was, at least not for sure, I'm still looking," Garcia admitted. "But the Harborview is near GH."
"Why would she go to the hospital?"
Belatedly Garcia realized that he'd neglected to pass on a key piece of information to his partner. "I found out last night that Lucky has been seeing Kevin Collins. I was thinking that maybe Elizabeth went to see him to get his opinion on how to confront Lucky."
"Dr. Collins was treating Lucky?" Taggert asked icily.
"Yes."
"For what?" He demanded.
"Collins wouldn't tell me. He gave me the usual spiel about doctor/patient confidentiality," Garcia explained and watched his partner's expression turn even colder.
"Are you telling me he knew that Lucky was out of control and he didn't report it?" Taggert asked shortly.
"I didn't say that," Garcia corrected him quickly. "I told you I don't know why Collins was treating him."
"What does your gut say?" Taggert pressed.
Garcia thought back to the guilty expression that Kevin had been wearing the night before. He also recalled the way the doctor had flinched when Bobbie went off on him, but didn't try to defend himself. "He knew something."
"That sonofabitch," Taggert snapped.
"Who is a sonofabitch?" Mac asked.
"Your friend, Dr. Collins. He knew Lucky was out of control and didn't do a damn thing about it," Taggert all but snarled the words.
"Kevin knew?" Mac repeated in disbelief and took a seat at a nearby desk. "I don't believe that."
"He was treating Lucky, so he knew something," Garcia explained. "Unfortunately for us the only way we'll find out what he knew is if we get a subpoena."
"Yet another way the red tape of society will slow us down," Taggert groused. "Some days I miss the eye for an eye brand of justice of the old west."
"Vigilantism is never a good alternative," Mac reminded him. "You know how many innocent people were killed in mob justice?"
"Yeah well at least things got done back then," Taggert shot back.
Mac was about to retort, but when he saw Garcia's shake of the head he reluctantly changed tracks. "I know Kevin, I'm sure he'll help if he can." He defended his best friend automatically, yet he couldn't help but remember Kevin's own battles with violent demons and how that had turned out.
"I wouldn't bet on it."
"I doubt Kevin thought Lucky was capable of this. If he had any idea that Lucky was violent, Kevin would have come forward, ethics or not," Mac contended.
Garcia nodded in partial agreement. "I can see what you mean about not believing that Lucky could be capable of something like this. I can't help but remember the cocky but in control kid who used to come in here with Elizabeth. When she came in and reported her rape, he sat next to her the whole time. He let her speak, but I could tell that he was her rock that day." He tried to shake the memory away, that boy didn't seem to exist anymore, he needed to remember that. "It's hard for me to believe what he turned into just a few years later."
"I used to warn her about Morgan," Taggert chimed in and for once the derision that was normally in his voice when discussing Jason Morgan was absent. "I don't know how many times I told her that if she kept hanging around him she'd end up hurt, maybe even dead."
"You had a legitimate point Marcus." Mac reminded him. Taggert's words triggered his own memories of similar frustrating conversations he'd had with Robin over the very same man.
"I know," Taggert nodded. "But at least if she had been with Morgan it would have been a quick, clean kill. It would have probably even been relatively painless, a stray bullet, or a bomb then nothingness, but with Lucky," he shuddered. "Lucky tortured her for god knows how long before he finally killed her. Tell me which way would you like to die, quick or a little bit every day?"
Neither man seemed willing to answer his question. Both were uncomfortable with the all too accurate picture that Taggert was painting in their minds.
"It seems unreal how much Lucky changed since his return," Mac murmured finally to fill the silence.
"I know what you mean. Originally I was happy to find out Lucky was alive, but now, after all this." Garcia shook his head and barely stopped himself from saying that it would've been better if Lucky had died in the fire.
"Speaking of Lucky being alive. I've had the mistake with his fingerprints fixed, so now all computer records, including NCIC are updated to reflect that Lucky Spencer is not only alive, but he is to be considered armed, and dangerous, and wanted in the connection with 4 murders," Mac informed them. "Those records should have been changed when Lucky was returned thanks to Helena, but as usual someone fell asleep at the wheel, and now the department is paying for it again." He was getting real tired of the perpetual egg on the face the PCPD seemed to wear.
Garcia wisely kept his comments to himself. There was no sense in pissing off his boss, if he could help it.
"Helena," Taggert muttered under his breath.
"What about her?" Mac asked.
"What if Lucky went to see Helena?" Taggert asked.
"Why would he do that?"
"Think about all the changes in Lucky. They all coincide with his return from the dead. And who brought Lucky back from the dead? Helena, a woman who never does anything unless, there is something in it for her. We already know she did something to Lucky once before, who is to say she ever stopped?" Taggert reasoned aloud.
"You mean the supposed brainwashing claim that Luke made against her?" Mac asked scornfully.
Responding to both the words and the tone Taggert faced his boss coldly. "You'd rather believe that Lucky just woke up one day and decided he'd like to torture and kill people? You'd rather the evilness be in his blood?"
Mac shook his head at the blunt question.
"Helena's a cold piece of work, I'll admit that. I wouldn't put anything past her. Especially not after what happened with Katherine Belle," Garcia tried to head off a confrontation between his friends.
"Are you saying you think Lucky started killing because Helena told him too?" Mac asked.
"I didn't say that." Taggert felt like he was working a giant jigsaw puzzle. All he had to do was make this one piece fit and the whole thing would come together. "Helena may not have told him to kill, but there is still a chance that she does have some influence over him. Maybe he went to see her, because he felt he had too. Hell she may even be helping him or controlling him like Luke accused her of."
"You're assuming that there is enough Lucky to control," Mac pointed out.
"Maybe there isn't, at least not anymore, but would that stop her from trying, or from Lucky from going to her?" Taggert asked. "It's a scenario that we haven't developed yet, I just think we need to check her out."
"When I was growing up a neighbor of mine had a dog. It was some kind of mutt, no one knew the breed, we only knew he was big and mean. The owner used to beat the dog to keep him that way, he kept him chained all the time, barely fed the animal. It was trained to be an attack dog," Garcia began his story simply. "I tried to free it once. I unchained it and tried to get it to run away, but even when I threw a rock at it, the damn dog still refused to go. The dog was loyal to the owner that damn near beat him to death everyday."
The memory was going to leave a bitter taste in his mouth, he knew it, but felt compelled to go on anyway. "In spite of the abuse the dog received, he loved his master, or at least was loyal to him. But sooner or later, every thing changes. One day the dog just snapped, and turned on the owner. The dog took off half of the guy's face before it was finally shot down," Garcia finished with a grimace.
Disgusted by the imagery Mac shuddered as well.
Taggert leaned forward in his chair, an almost eager expression on his face. "You think Lucky has turned on his master?"
"I don't know," shrugging Garcia got to his feet. "I just agree with you that Helena is a lead we need to check out."
Liking the lead more and more, and once again full of purpose Taggert got to his feet and headed for the door. Just outside the swinging gate he stopped and turned to his partner. "You know what they do to rabid dogs don't you?" Taggert continued on with a hint of glee in his otherwise dead eyes. "They put them down."
~Quartermaine's~
"Lucky what are you doing here?" Reginald finally found his voice.
Lucky focused on the man but didn't really see him, instead he saw a bruised and battered Elizabeth, she seemed to be accusing him. "It wasn't me."
Knowing that he needed to play along with Lucky in order to buy time, and very aware of the knife in the boy's hand, Reginald nodded. "I believe you."
"You do?" Lucky blinked away the mental image of Elizabeth and advanced on Reginald.
It took everything he had not to turn tail and run, but Reginald held his position as Lucky advanced. There was a chance that Lila had returned, and as long as there was a chance he knew he couldn't let Lucky past him. There were so many people in the house, so many potential victims, for the madness he saw in Lucky's eyes, that even though he wasn't normally a brave person, Reginald felt he had to protect them.
He was now in the position of protecting Edward Quartermaine, he never thought he'd see that day. Of course if Edward were hurt, Lila would be hurt as well and he didn't want that, still it was a strange position to be in. If only he could get the knife away from lucky. If he could do that then he could run for help. His focus dropped to the knife and was dismayed to find it still firmly clutched in the boy's hand.
"I see their faces in my mind and I just don't understand why," Lucky was saying. "They look like they're afraid of me and I don't know why. I'd never hurt anyone. But Emily and Elizabeth, especially Elizabeth looks so scared, I'd never hurt them," his voice got weaker until he was whispering. "But sometimes I think I did."
The dismay Reginald was feeling quickly turned into horror when Lucky shifted the knife until the blade was next to his thigh. Reginald watched in fascinated horror as Lucky twisted the blade into his thigh. The tip of the blade embedded itself in Lucky's thigh until a deep rich shade of red began to bloom on his pants. Even as Lucky began to twist the knife, his expression never changed from the mask of confusion. It seemed as if Lucky wasn't even aware of what he was doing.
Feeling nauseated at the sight of Lucky's actions Reginald swallowed hard. This was not a good sign.
"I remember wrapping Elizabeth up in her blanket," his free hand rubbed at his throbbing temples. "Why would I do that? It isn't cold, it's hot. But I wrapped her anyway, and I put it around her head. Why would I put it around her head?" The images his fractured mind was receiving were jumbled and out of sequence. It was difficult for him to hold on to a cohesive thought.
As difficult as it was for him to think, to process things, there were still some things he knew he needed to do. Lucky knew he needed the knife in his hand. So as much as he wanted to let the knife go, he knew he couldn't. Another thing he knew was that something had happened to him, and Elizabeth. But he wasn't sure if he was to blame for it. The Quartermaine's seemed to think so, but they also thought he'd hurt Emily so they had to be lying. He needed some honest answers and he needed them now.
"Are you feeling okay?" Reginald asked solicitously. "You're not looking to well. I think I should get one of the doctor's Quartermaine up here to check you out," he took a step back.
"No," Lucky hissed angrily. "I don't need any doctors. I just need answers." The thought of a doctor scared him so deeply that the throbbing in his head increased.
"What do you want to…" Reginald faltered when Lucky removed the knife from his thigh swallowing nervously he went on. "What do you want to know?"
"What have you done with Elizabeth? You're hiding her from me, why are you doing that?" Lucky's tenuous grasp with reality was slipping and he was sliding back into the madness that was centered on a need to find Elizabeth. He knew if he could find her, then everything would be okay.
"I don't know where Elizabeth is." Reginald stalled and took another step back. Either his imagination was working overtime, or the knife in the boy's hand grew in size as Lucky moved closer.
"You're lying," Lucky yelled.
Reginald was relieved to hear the yell. Someone had to have heard that. It was only a matter of time before someone came to check on him. Or maybe even Dr. Quartermaine would come looking for the bag he was supposed to be retrieving. He just needed to stall. "I'm not lying Lucky I haven't seen Elizabeth."
"You haven't?" Lucky drooped in disappointment. "I've been looking everywhere I can for her. I just know I have to meet her, and I can almost remember where," his eyes grew glassy again. "Sometimes I can hear her voice. But by the time I get to her, she's gone. Why does she run away from me?"
"Maybe she's afraid of you." Reginald answered without thinking.
Lucky closed the distance between them in two quick steps and angrily brought the knife to Reginald's face. "Why do you say that? She's not afraid of me. She knows I'd never hurt her. I saved her. I always save her and I always will. I saved her from Tom, she knows that."
Unnerved by the look in those dead blue eyes staring at him, Reginald barely heard the words, he was too busy trying to undo his blunder. "I just meant," he trailed off when Lucky pressed the tip of the knife against his chin. "Look at yourself Lucky," he managed finally. "You look like hell. You probably spooked her."
Lucky's face was a picture of confusion as he processed Reginald's words, finally he stepped back from the terrified butler and looked down at his bloody and damaged clothes. Reginald was right, he did look bad. Elizabeth would be afraid for him if she saw him like this.
Seeing Lucky's nod Reginald couldn't help but feel relieved, he'd managed to dodge another bullet. "I bet if you get cleaned up the next time you hear Elizabeth, she will still be there when you get there."
"You think so?" Lucky asked eagerly.
"Definitely," he worked up a smile and blotted at the spot of blood on his chin. "Why don't you use Emily's shower to get cleaned up? AJ left some of his clothes here, and you're close enough in size I'm sure they'll fit you."
Lucky brought a shaky hand to his hair and pulled it down when he found it matted with blood. "Maybe I should shower."
Nodding, Reginald gestured to the door behind Lucky. The sooner Lucky went inside the sooner he could get help.
Lucky took two steps towards the bathroom before faltering. A feeling, that was almost buried, flickered to life, and that instinct was warning him that he shouldn't trust Reginald. The voices that had been haunting him began to wake in his mind again and he unconsciously tightened his grip on the knife and turned around.
Not liking the expression on Lucky's face Reginald couldn't help but step back. "You don't want to keep Elizabeth waiting do you?"
Cocking his head Lucky studied the man with a cold eye. "I won't keep her waiting and I will find her. You won't be able to hide her from me forever Helena."
Reginald blanched, things had just gone from bad to worse. Where the hell was everybody? The house was packed, so why wasn't anyone checking on him?
"Do you think I don't realize what it is you've done to me Helena?" Lucky demanded of the mocking woman. "You tried to turn me into a monster. Your voice keeps telling me to hurt Elizabeth, to hurt everyone."
"Ignore that voice Lucky," Reginald cried out in desperation. "Just put it on mute and ignore it."
Lucky rubbed his temples and nodded vaguely. The mocking Helena had vanished and in her place was the dying Helena. Fascination had him focusing on the knife in his hand. He could remember what it had felt like to stab the old woman. It was a feeling he liked. Horrified at the thought Lucky gagged.
Reginald risked a glance at the wide open door a few feet away. He could make it, he used to run track in school.
"I didn't enjoy it," Lucky whimpered. "I didn't want too, I don't want to." The whispers in his mind grew again and along with the whispers came images of blood and violence. He didn't understand why a part of him enjoyed the violence. He didn't like pain, he didn't like fighting, he was a good boy, so why were these images haunting him? Why did he have all of those people's blood on his hands.
Reginald had a feeling that whatever Lucky didn't want to do, he didn't want Lucky to do it either, so he kept quiet and shifted closer to Emily's night table and the vase that was on it. The vase was expensive, but he thought breaking it on Lucky's head would be well worth the expense.
"Elizabeth." Lucky cried out suddenly, startling Reginald who froze in place. "Where did she go? She was just here."
"She probably didn't want to see you like this. You haven't cleaned up yet."
Frowning Lucky looked down at his clothes. "You're right I need to clean up." The words triggered a memory.
"Look at what you made me do Elizabeth." Lucky complained to the woman who was moaning in pain at his feet. "I didn't want to do this. Do you know how hard it's going to be to clean this up?"
Elizabeth whimpered and that triggered another feeling of anger inside of him. Reaching down he tangled his hand in her hair and yanked hard pulling her to her knees. "All you had to do was keep your promise Elizabeth. If you would have done that we wouldn't be here right now."
"Lucky stop it," she gasped out through her tears.
His anger passing almost as quickly as it had come Lucky eased his grip in her hair and squatted beside her. "It's okay Elizabeth," he brought her head to his shoulder and began to pet her hair. "I'm sorry you were hurt Elizabeth. But everything is fine now."
"I'm sorry I hurt you Elizabeth," Lucky whispered tears streaming down his face.
Taking advantage of the lost look on Lucky's face Reginald picked up the vase. Shifting his grip he kept it hidden behind his back and stepped closer to Lucky. "You don't want to hurt anyone else do you Lucky?"
"No," Lucky sobbed. "No more."
"No more Lucky," Emily begged, curling into a ball as the blows kept coming.
"It's all your fault." Lucky yelled and kicked again.
"I'm sorry Emily," Lucky whispered. The vague memory of promising to bring her ribs crossed his mind and his already sickened stomach turned.
At the mention of her name Reginald stalled. The cool head he'd been operating with began to cloud in anger. Lucky had hurt Emily. Next to Lila, Reginald loved her the most. He took another step and prepared to swing while Lucky was still lost.
"Reginald where the devil are you?" A blustering Edward Quartermaine appeared in the doorway.
Lucky reacted instantly, awareness shot in his eyes and he shifted instinctively. The result was disastrous. Instead of the vase coming down on Lucky's head it broke on his shoulder instead.
Wounded, angry, afraid, and confused Lucky lashed out just like an animal would. He feinted at Reginald with the knife and Reginald immediately jumped back, then Lucky headed for the door where Edward seemed to be frozen in place.
Reacting without thought Reginald caught Lucky from behind yanking the boy around. "Run!" He screamed at Edward before concentrating on the fight of his life. The strength Lucky had, he soon discovered, wasn't natural. It was a strength based on madness and it didn't take him long to realize that even though he was larger than the boy he was going to lose.
Reginald reared back when Lucky made a desperate lunge with the knife. The blade swept the black vest he always wore sending some buttons flying. Caught off-guard Reginald staggered back on his butt, he tried to get to his feet but Lucky kept up the attack.
Flailing wildly with his feet Reginald tried to keep the boy away. His hand came down on a piece of broken glass and he gripped the jagged piece in his hand. Lucky yelled and jumped towards him. Reginald automatically brought his hands up in self-defense. Lucky howled in pain when the glass embedded in his arm. Reacting madly he lashed out with the knife catching Reginald in the side.
Feeling the blade pierce his side, the adrenaline he'd been using to fight Lucky fled, and Reginald fell back on the ground with a moan, his hands moving to his side, and the knife that was jutting out there. His vision grayed immediately, it was hard for him to breathe, and he knew in that instant that he was going to die.
~Yacht~
Andreas couldn't help but feel stunned. The gun being pointed at him didn't seem real to him, somehow. He'd spent most of his life living in a perpetual state of fear, waiting for Helena to kill him. He'd always known that Helena would kill him one day. Knowing she was dying had caused him to relax his guard. So to suddenly be faced with his own death after all, was shocking and unbelievable to him. "W-why?"
"Why not?" Jason countered.
"I didn't do anything to you," Andreas began desperately. "I didn't do anything."
"You let her die," Jason said simply.
"Who?" He asked in confusion. "Helena? You let her die too."
"Not Helena," Jason explained coldly. "Elizabeth, you let Lucky kill her."
"I didn't let him kill her. I didn't know he was going to kill her, no one did. Helena was mad that he had killed her."
The words stilled Jason. "Why?"
"She didn't expect Lucky to break so soon. She still had plans for him." Hoping to keep Jason focused on that Andreas began babbling. "Helena got really mad when she heard what happened. She ordered me to find and kill Lucky when she heard he attacked Nikolas."
Jason grimaced at the name. He didn't care about Nikolas. He cared about what had been done to Elizabeth. What Helena and her flunky had allowed to happen. His hand tightened on the gun.
"I felt bad for her, I really did. I didn't like what Lucky was doing to her, or the fact Helena encouraged it."
"She told him to hit her?" Jason asked roughly.
"No Helena only suggested things. Lucky was so confused he doesn't know which end is up. She's controlled him ever since she brought him back. He's never been free of her, he just never knew it. Every time he hurt Elizabeth, she gained more control over him, and another part of Lucky Spencer died. When he killed Elizabeth, the person Lucky Spencer used to be died, forever," Andreas explained.
The words seemed to kill what mercy Jason had left and he leveled the gun at Andreas' head.
"Don't please," Andreas did something he hadn't done since he was 5 years old, he begged. "I didn't have a choice but to do what Helena wanted. Look at the wall behind you."
Not taking his eyes off the man Jason shook his head.
"Look." Desperate Andreas moved past Jason to a decorative sheath that was hung on the wall. Without thinking twice, he pulled the paper thin, ivory handled blade from the sheath. "Do you see this?"
Moving quickly Jason took the weapon away from Andreas.
"Helena used this when she slit my brother's throat. She made me keep it on my wall as a reminder of what would happen if I ever disobeyed her," he explained bitterly. My first lesson on her cruelty came when I was 10 and she killed my parents, because my father had the nerve to turn her job offer down. She took my brother, me, and my little sister in, to show her generosity, but it was nothing more than showing her control."
"Why didn't you kill her? You had to have the opportunity."
"I wanted too. You have no idea how much I wanted to," his voice grew sad. "I haven't seen my sister in 5 years. I don't even know if she's still alive. But if I tried to kill her and failed, Helena would kill her. She used her to control me, don't you understand? If it had just been me, I would have killed her years ago, but I don't know where my sister is."
"It sounds like he had a good reason to follow orders," Johnny commented from the doorway where he'd been listening. "Don't you think that's a better reason than just following orders because of money? It seems to me that he's suffered enough."
"He knew what Lucky was doing to Elizabeth and he didn't help her." Jason kept the gun trained on Andreas.
"Elizabeth didn't help herself," Johnny shot back bluntly and as a result found the gun pointed at him.
"Are you saying she asked for this?" Jason demanded of his friend.
"No of course not," Johnny answered quickly and calmly. Knowing he had to diffuse the situation quickly warred with his need to make Jason hear him. "Until the night she died, Elizabeth never asked for help."
"Are you forgetting about the 18 times she tried to call me?" Jason asked coldly.
Shifting uncomfortably and still staring down the barrel of the gun Johnny shook his head. "The point is she didn't try to get help from anyone else. You can't force someone to get help Jason."
"But he didn't even offer her any help," Jason retorted, shifting the gun back on Andreas.
"If Helena was controlling you by holding Emily, what would have done?" Johnny asked.
"I would have killed her," he answered simply. He knew the only way to truly stop a person was to kill them. If you didn't stop the threat immediately it would only grow. As hard as it would have been for him, he would have killed Helena and took the chance on finding Emily.
"Not everybody is as strong as you Jason," Johnny gestured to Andreas. "He obviously wasn't."
The smell of blood and death was working its way down the hall, coloring the taste of everything in the opulent room. It was only a matter of time before the police showed up. Even the PCPD would eventually realize that the Cassadine yacht was a reasonable place to look for Lucky. Johnny was disgusted that it had taken him so many hours to figure that point out himself. His relief over finally finding Jason would be short lived if the cops found them here with Helena's body. Andreas was on his own.
"Look kill him or don't kill him. Just make up your mind, because were running out of time," Johnny said finally checking his watch. "It's up to you."
Andreas paled at the words and the hammer of the gun being cocked.
~Quartermaine's~
"Lucky," Edward Quartermaine bellowed sharply freezing Lucky in his tracks.
The sharp sound of his name broke through the veil of anger and Lucky sat back on his haunches in confusion.
"Get off of him this instant." Edward phrased the order as if he were ordering the boy to get his feet off the coffee table.
Obeying the tone automatically Lucky got to his feet, leaving the knife in Reginald's side.
Edward was surprised with the boys easy acquiescence but didn't let it show. "I want you to … to," he faltered. What should he do with the boy?"
The hesitation was enough to break the control he had over Lucky. Blinking hard Lucky focused on his surroundings again. Someone's moan caught his attention and he focused on the floor. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw Reginald. Why was Reginald on the floor? They'd been talking, the answer came to him in horrified realization when he recognized the knife in Reginald's side as the one he had been carrying in his hand.
"Edward what is all the yelling about?" A tired looking Monica appeared in the doorway behind her father-in-law.
"Dr. Quartermaine," Lucky managed her name. "I didn't mean it."
Confused Monica's gaze dropped to Reginald when he moaned. "God Lucky what did you do?"
Lucky looked down at the blood on his hands. He always had blood on his hands now. Keening in horror and desperation Lucky charged for the window, he was out of it and on the tree before Monica and Edward even took a step. Monica headed directly for Reginald, her voice raised as she yelled for assistance.
Edward moved toward the window and shut it firmly, making sure to lock it. He surveyed the ground hoping to see Lucky's body sprawled at the base because he'd fallen in his haste. But Lucky wasn't there. A flash of color caught his eyes and he focused on it just in time to see Lucky disappear into the woods that bordered the tennis courts and lake.
"Skye get my bag. AJ you better check the house and make sure no one else is hurt." Monica kept the orders coming as she checked Reginald's pulse.
The redhead flew away from the doorway, AJ was only a step behind her. Alan appeared in the door and quickly moved to his wife's side, pausing long enough to pull a quilt off of it before taking position on Reginald's other side. "What can I do?"
Monica gestured to the knife and the brief spotting of blood that was darkening Reginald's vest. "What do you think?"
Alan hadn't been a surgeon in years but he was still a doctor, and he knew the lack of blood on the surface wasn't a good sign. "Is he bleeding out the back?"
"We need to roll him," Monica declared. "On my count, one, two, three." On three they rolled Reginald on his side and the butler let out a scream of pain before dropping into unconsciousness again. "There's no blood pooling back here," she nodded and they eased Reginald back down. "Sorry Reginald," she patted his hand softly.
"Here Monica." An out of breath Skye set a bag next to her. "I called for an ambulance."
"Good," Monica rummaged in the bag. "Call the police as well, tell them Lucky Spencer just left here."
"Lucky did this?" Alan gasped in horror. His eyes took in the blood in his daughter's rooms. A room that he'd wanted Emily home in. If he'd had his way it would be Emily lying here before him, and not Reginald. The thought of that paralyzed him.
"Focus Alan," Monica ordered. "I think we should leave the knife in. The lack of blood tells me the knife punctured some vital organs, if we try to remove it," she shook her head. "We can't risk anymore damage. Do you agree?" She focused on him when he didn't respond. "Alan do you agree?" She repeated sharply.
Shaking himself out of his daze Alan nodded. "I'll check on mother."
Before Monica could stop him Alan was up and out of the room. Her mind was wrenched into the past. The memory of a dark, snowy night outside of Luke's when Alan had been frozen, while Nikolas had struggled to breathe in front of him. Jason had ended up saving Nikolas while Alan had hid. Later on she'd found out Alan had been high and that's why he hadn't stepped up. But now she wasn't so sure. It seemed if Alan knew the victim he froze up, and that wasn't good for a doctor.
Reginald's moan and sudden movement signaled his wakefulness and Monica ignored her concerns over her husband and focused on her patient. "Edward I need your help."
"Of course," Edward obediently moved closer. The sight of Reginald moaning in pain soon proved to be too much. "Can't you give him anything for the pain?"
"I don't have anything strong enough, and before we do a full workup, it's too dangerous to give him anything," Monica answered briskly. "I need you to help me hold him down, he shouldn't move."
"Can't you at least take the knife out?" Edward asked.
"If I take it out here, he'll bleed to death before the ambulance arrives," she explained shortly then saw the concern in the aged eyes watching her. "I know it hurt's him, but leaving it in could save his life."
Edward nodded and pressed down on Reginald's shoulders when he began to roll again. When Reginald settled, Edward acted on instinct and clasped one of Reginald's hands between his. "You're going to be fine young man. Monica won't let anything happen to you."
Reginald blinked trying to clear the pain from his mind, but it was impossible. "I'm dying right?" He managed when he saw the ghastly smile Edward was giving him.
"No you're not dying," Edward answered sharply. "Your father, Jennings, would be most disappointed in you if you left only after a few years of employ."
"Eight years," Reginald corrected automatically before coughing. "Lucky?"
"He's gone," Monica reassured him.
"Grandmother's not here." A frantic AJ announced from the door.
"What?" Edward immediately lost all color.
"She," Reginald gripped his hand getting Edward's attention. "She's running an errand with Archer."
"Reginald I need you to stay awake for me," Monica ordered when Reginald's eyes began to close and his pulse started to slow. "Reginald."
"Now you listen to me Reginald," Edward snapped. "You will open your eyes and do everything Monica tells you to do. You will be just fine as long as you do that."
Reginald's eyes drifted open. "Don't tell me you care."
"Of course I don't care." The cantankerous old man retorted with a tear in his eye and tightened his hold on the hand. "If you die Lila will never forgive me. She'll find some reason to blame me and her door will never be open to me again."
Reginald managed a weak smile. "The truth at last," he muttered before passing out.
~Penthouse~
Carly felt like she was going insane. The quietness of the penthouse was eerily similar to a tomb, and she didn't like that comparison. It was a sad day when she realized she'd take Michael's loud and teary histrionics over the quietness of the dark rooms. Michael had not been pleased to be told he was stuck inside the penthouse yet again. The day was beautiful and he'd already been upset that he'd missed the fireworks the night before.
So his screams and tears had echoed in the penthouse for several long and frustrating minutes, until she'd been happy that he'd fallen asleep. But here she was less than an hour later, and she'd prefer his screams to the quiet.
Growing up in South Florida Carly had developed an intense hatred of any temperature over 80 degrees much less 95 and humid. But she buried that disdain and moved out on the balcony. Even sweltering heat was a welcome change. Shading her eyes against the sun her gaze drifted down from the horizon. Somewhere in the city there was a killer on the loose.
She couldn't help but flinch at the blunt realization that the killer in question was her relative. It was true that her and Lucky had never been close, but he was still her blood. Was it bad blood? Did bad blood make Lucky snap the way he had? Was that it or was there more? She wanted to believe it was the latter. She hated to think that blood could be blamed.
Shivering in spite of the heat, she rubbed her bare shoulders. If blood could in fact be blamed for how people turned out what did that mean for her and her son? She was the product of a hooker and her john. Bobbie had turned her life around, but the john was still a nameless and faceless entity. Was Bobbie's change enough to counter the bad blood?
Lucky had an unorthodox childhood, but he had been, raised by two parents, who were devoted to him. He'd had all that opportunity and yet he'd still turned into a monster. What if there was a monster lurking inside of everyone just waiting to emerge? The old argument of nature verses nurture that she vaguely recalled from health class came to her. Were people programmed at birth by genetics, or did the environment they were raised in shape them?
"Christ," Carly turned and stalked back in the penthouse. She was going to go insane if she didn't distract herself in some way. Emily was asleep, Zander was next door taking a shower, Michael was asleep, Leticia was shopping, all she had for entertainment was herself. Picking up a magazine she flipped through it searching for a distraction.
The Quartermaine's could hardly be considered good blood either. They were blue blood, but that didn't mean anything. There were a lot of vipers in that family tree. And since AJ was Michael's father it meant he had Quartermaine blood rolling through him as well.
"This is not helping," Carly grumbled when she realized what she was doing.
A knock sounded on the door and Carly leapt off the couch, heading for the door, she didn't care if it was a Jehovah Witness she was inviting them in, whether Sonny liked it or not. Yanking the door open Carly's expression turned to one of confusion. "Lila?"
"Carly," the older woman beamed. "I know it's an awful day but may I come in for a minute?"
"Of course," Carly stepped back to let the chauffer wheel Lila in. Searching the hall briefly she closed the door after the chauffer stepped out. "Did you finally ditch Reginald?"
"No," Lila answered sharply, knowing full well that Carly and Reginald didn't get along she let it drop. "How is Emily?"
"She's resting right now." Carly joined Lila by the couch. "I think rest is the best thing for her so I don't think we should wake her."
"I know she's not ready to see me, I was just asking about her," Lila knew what Carly was trying not to say.
"Okay," Carly settled on the couch then abruptly shot to her feet again. "Would you like something to drink? I think we have some tea," she frowned, Sonny would be mad if she searched his cabinets for it.
"No Carly, please sit," Lila ordered softly. "Why are you so nervous?"
"I don't know," she ran a hand through her tangled blonde hair. "Guilt maybe."
"Because of Elizabeth?" Lila asked wisely.
"Yeah," Carly slumped back on the couch. "It's hard for me to believe that Lucky killed her and threw her in the river. It's hard to believe that Lucky killed her at all. I didn't know what was going on with Elizabeth. But I've been sitting here all morning thinking about the signs that were there, the signs I should have picked up on, even though I rarely saw Elizabeth. They were there and I missed them."
"You aren't the only one who missed the signs."
"I know but I'm the one who will be blamed," she pulled her hands, that had been scrubbing at her eyes, down and glanced sheepishly at Lila. "Didn't take me too long to make this all about me did it?"
"Why would you be blamed?" Lila ignored the words. She knew Carly, this was just the way she thought, it didn't mean she didn't care.
"Elizabeth called here the night she died looking for Sonny and I didn't put her through." The thought of lying to make herself look better never even occurred to her. Lila knew her and loved her warts and all, she never had to hide who she really was with Lila. "Also a week or so earlier she came here with a letter for Sonny, I made sure he didn't see it."
"You said yourself that you didn't know what was happening with Elizabeth," Lila reminded her without any form of censure.
"No I didn't know Lucky was beating her. That he planned on killing her that night and throwing her body in the river," Carly admitted with a sigh.
Carly's words penetrated and Emily sank limply on the stairs. What little hope she'd managed to hold onto fled taking her strength with it. Jason had been wrong. Elizabeth was dead. She covered her mouth in horror when she realized that she must have seen Lucky kill her just like she'd thought. She had never wanted to be wrong, so badly in her life. It was true there was no part of Lucky left anymore, all he was, was a walking shell.
Feeling sick to her stomach, she got to her feet and moved slowly up the stairs. Her movements were stiff, robotic like, but neither woman in the living room saw her go.
"You're not the only one who feels guilty. Who thinks that if only they'd done more, than all of this might be changed," Lila admitted softly. "You're not the only one questioning things."
"What do you have to feel guilty about?" Carly asked and her attention was caught by something the older woman was clutching in her hands. "What do you have?"
"This is why I'm here. It's also why I feel guilty." Lila looked down on the book she'd agonized over for five days now. "You weren't the only one Elizabeth paid a visit too. You weren't the only one who did nothing to help her."
~Yacht~
"You do realize that we don't have a warrant right?" Garcia asked when Taggert headed up the steep stairs that led to the entry of the yacht.
"Yes." Taggert crossed the small plank step and moved on the yacht.
"Good, I wasn't sure if you were aware of that," Garcia continued his commentary even as he followed Taggert down the deck.
Taggert opened a door that led to the salon and reached for his gun when a smell hit him. "Looks like we got probable cause."
"Yes it does." Garcia automatically reached for his radio, but Taggert took it out of his hand. "We need to call this in Marcus."
"We will, later on." Taggert turned the radio off and tucked it in his pockets before firming his grip on the gun and heading down the darkened and narrow hall.
Sighing loudly Garcia pulled out his gun and followed his partner. He couldn't help but hope that Lucky was gone, if not there was a good chance Taggert would try to kill him, and he wasn't sure if he would try to stop Taggert or not. It wasn't a dilemma he'd ever wanted to face, but it was a good chance he was about too.
Habit and training had Taggert doing a cursory check of each of the darkened rooms as he moved down the hall. But his focus was on the double doors that were ajar at the end of the hall. He knew the doors led to the master suite, and judging from the odor, it was also where he'd find the trouble. With each step he took the heavy smell of death and blood grew.
Taggert said a prayer to a god he was no longer talking too, that he'd find Lucky in the dark room. He hoped Lucky was the live person in the room. He wanted to be the one to kill Lucky. It didn't matter that if he killed Lucky in cold blood he would be considered a murderer just like the boy was. The only thing in his heart, in his mind, was an unquenched thirst for vengeance. Lucky, had killed his sister and for that he deserved to die.
It seemed that the primal blood that made up men, could only be cloaked in civilization for so long. Sometimes, sooner or later, the bonds that society placed on men, were ripped away, leaving only the primal beast. Most people never lost the bindings, but sometimes something so heinous happened and the civilized was lost. Sometimes the primal way was best, vengeance and violence was best, and his blood was screaming for retribution.
All of these thoughts flashed through his mind in a blink of an eye, and soon he found himself next to the door of the stateroom. He waited a second for Garcia to draw near before pushing the door open and entering the dark room. The sight that greeted him was not what he wanted to see. "It looks like the rabid dog beat us here," he remarked sourly.
Garcia nodded and moved closer to the deathbed of Helena Cassadine. If he hadn't seen the blood crusting on her, her fixed open stare, the odor was a definite indicator of death. Moving past the bed he began a visual search of the otherwise empty room.
Taggert worked hard on staving off his anger. He'd been too late and Lucky Spencer had slipped through his fingers yet again. He needed to keep in control here, if he gave into the rage he was feeling too soon, he'd never find Spencer, and he intended on finding the boy.
His attention was caught by a faint noise and he took a step back the way he came and listened hard. Taggert was rewarded when he heard the sound again. It seemed there was someone else on the yacht. Smiling in the dark he reached for his gun. Maybe Lucky was still here. He turned to alert Garcia, just in time to see his partner disappear into the bathroom. Taking that as a sign, Taggert moved out into the hall on his own.
There was a chance that Garcia might try to interfere with his plans for Lucky. He wasn't sure what he would do if Garcia did interfere. It was better he went on his own. Moving down the hall quietly he turned a corner and saw light spilling out from a door midway down the hall.
Another muffled sound reached his ear, and he picked up his pace. He paused by the door and brought up a mental picture of how Gia had looked in death. Picturing her still, yet still beautiful face, hardened his resolve. He cocked the hammer of the gun, and preparing to end it once and for all, he stepped into the doorway, gun first.