Author's note:- well you know what they say about the best laid plans.just
as I get through all my exam marking and I actually have time to write
properly again, my laptop packs up with half of this chapter stored in it's
now inaccessible memory grrrh arrgh. Anyway, eventually it was retrieved! I
apologise for the delay, but this time it was not my fault, honest!!
Hope you enjoy it- Judith
Part 6 Jumping at Shadows
Amanda was inwardly fuming but her upbringing meant that she was too polite to show it, given that the person whose company she was in was in no way to blame for her state of mind. "I'm sure Mark and Steve will be here soon," she said for what must have been the fifth time. She looked up at the clock her expression briefly betraying her inner anger as she realised that it had been half an hour since she met Mark Griegson in personnel, almost an hour since she had left Mark's office. She quickly returned the smile, however, as she realised that Griegson was looking back in her direction.
It was clear that he was becoming a little frustrated himself, he had come back in as a personal favour to Dr. Sloan, on the understanding that the information he needed was urgent, and yet his colleague was nowhere to be seen.
"So how many matches do we have now?" Amanda asked in an attempt at distraction
"Well half a dozen that match perfectly," Griegson replied, looking at the files in front of him. "Another twenty five, who have the wrong eye colour or don't quite fit the age range." He looked her directly in the eye, determined to find out exactly why the information was needed. Up to now Amanda had been somewhat vague and he had allowed it, figuring that Mark would fill in the details, but it was half an hour since she had paged him and Amanda's assurances that he would 'be here soon' were wearing a little thin. "You say that these nurses are in danger of attack but you still haven't told me who from or why you are being so specific about their appearance." He stated.
Amanda glanced down at the list in front of her, breaking eye contact as she tried to decide how she could evade the question this time. It wasn't that she couldn't answer it, she just wasn't sure how much information she should give, and had been relying on Mark to make that decision, but then she had also been expecting Mark to join them almost immediately.
Where was he and why hadn't he sent Steve or Jesse down if he couldn't make it in person?
She made a decision and looked back up, standing at the same time. "I'll go and see if I can find Dr. Sloan," she said, beginning to move towards the door. "He'll be able to tell you more." She kept her eyes on Griegson, who looked as though he was about to protest at her chosen course of action. "I'll find out what's delayed him," she added quickly. "If you could keep compiling the information." She opened the door, flashing him her most charming smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can," and before he had time to reply she was through and closing the door behind her.
She took a deep breath as she tried to order her thoughts, the smile vanishing, as once again she felt the frustration of not knowing where the others were and why they hadn't joined her, determinedly she set off for Mark's office.
She had barely taken a few steps when she collided with Steve coming the opposite way. She hadn't really been looking where she was going, too wrapped up in her anger and frustration, she began to apologise before she looked up.
"I'm sorry M... Steve!" Her voice dropped to a frustrated stage whisper. "Where have you been I've been trying to keep Griegson happy for the last half hour.. I've paged you and Mark twice each and." Her voice trailed off as she took in Steve's pale, concerned expression, her anger dissolving as she realised that something had happened. She had known Steve too long not to recognise the signs. "Steve? What's wrong?" She asked, her tone changing completely.
Steve met Amanda's concerned gaze, "It's Jesse," he answered, "the killer lured him down to one of the trauma rooms and attacked him."
"Oh God, is he hurt?" Amanda asked, a knot tightening in her stomach.
"Not too badly, seven stitches and a possible concussion. He took a nasty blow to the head. Dad's just getting him settled in a room. He's keeping him in overnight for observation."
"How.. Why." Amanda began to ask. The last time she had seen Jesse he had been safely in Mark's office and that had been less than an hour ago. Concern and confusion were mixed with a slight irrational guilt that she had been feeling anger towards her friends at the very time that Jesse was being attacked.
"Look, I'll fill in the details later, but for now we really need to get these nurses protected. According to Jesse's story the nurse's body is found at the end of chapter 3 and the killer is already using things that don't happen until chapter 4."
Amanda's eyes widened at the implications of what Steve was saying as she pushed her other questions aside. "So you think we may already be too late?"
Steve nodded grimly. "It's possible."
"Then let's get back to it." Amanda turned to head back into the personnel office.
--
Jesse started at the noise of the door opening, and turned to look at who had entered. He visibly relaxed as he realised that it was just Mark and chastised himself for being so jumpy. There was now a guard on his door with strict instructions on who could enter. Besides if the killer kept to the story then he was safe for the time being, it was others who could still be in danger.
Mark noticed the reaction but did not acknowledge it. Instead he forced an upbeat tone. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that your X-rays and scans were clear. It looks like you may have escaped without even a concussion."
Normally Mark would have expected a flip comment in reply, some reference to how much it still hurt even if it wasn't that serious in medical terms. Instead he just received a slight nod and a forced attempt at a smile in reply to his own.
"Of course I'll still have to keep you in overnight, just to be sure." Mark picked up the chart and checked it, making a note about medication.
Again a nod in reply.
"So how are you feeling?" Mark asked before realising that the question was far too open ended for his young friend to deal with at the moment. He narrowed it down to the concrete, the physical. "Much pain?"
Jesse sighed, "It's not too bad as long as I lie still," he said, "It only really hurts if I move around."
"Well you know the answer to that then."
Jesse repeated the minimal nod. "Don't move around."
"Excellent recommendation doctor," Mark said, putting the chart back in place. "Lying still and getting some rest is exactly what you need right now."
Jesse looked down at the cover, Mark was right he needed rest, and nothing would feel better than lying back and going to sleep, but for the last half hour, as his thinking became clearer, he had been able to consider nothing apart from capturing the maniac that was stalking him before anyone else got hurt, and he could not do that lying on his back.
"But Mark I need to .." Jesse started to sit up, wincing slightly as the pounding in his head grew.
Mark had expected the protest and put his hand on to Jesse's shoulder to stay the young man's movement. "What you need to do is get some rest. Steve, Amanda and I will handle things until morning."
"But.."
Mark gave his best stern look. "Rest."
Jesse relaxed back on to the pillows admitting defeat, even if he wanted to argue with his mentor, the pounding in his head coupled with an overwhelming fatigue prevented further protest. "I'll try."
Mark softened his expression, "Good, I'll be back to check on you later."
--
Amanda put the phone down and stretched her aching muscles. She turned to look at Steve and waited for him to finish. The door opened behind her and she turned sharply to check who had entered. As Jesse, the entire situation had her a little jumpy and she had to take a conscious effort to calm herself as she turned to see that it was just Mark returning.
"OK that's the extra security sorted out on every floor and all of the nurses who are currently on duty warned of the danger." Mark announced as Steve finished his conversation and hit the disconnect on his phone.
Steve looked up. "And there are officers watching the three nurses who live alone and don't have anyone they can stay with."
Amanda looked down at the list in front of her. Every name had notes next to it bar one. "Well that's everyone on the list except one. I've tried nurse Johnson several times. I can't get her at home and her cell phone is turned off."
Steve looked at his watch it was after ten. "She should be home by now her shift finished at eight."
The three friends exchanged concerned glances.
Mark looked at his son. "Can you get someone over there?"
Steve had turned the sheet round and was checking Nurse Johnson's address. "She doesn't live far from here I'll go myself."
"Then I'll come with you," Mark said, "Once we've checked on her we can stop home and freshen up." He did not add that once there he was intending on ensuring that Steve get at least a couple of hours rest. None of them would be able to rest easily until this was over, but hanging around the hospital and exhausting themselves would not help to find out who was doing this. The lines of strain were already showing on his son's face, and Mark had the feeling that it was going to get worse before it got better.
Steve looked at his father. He had planned on coming straight back to the hospital once he had checked on the young nurse. He had already arranged that the case files, on cases that Jesse had helped on, be brought out to the hospital so that he could go through them, not really wanting to leave whilst he knew that the killer was probably still there, but studying the lines of strain on his father's face, he decided that getting his father home to get a couple of hours rest probably wasn't a bad idea. There was a good man on Jesse's door and several officers around the hospital to back up the extra security. He nodded, standing. "OK I've got some files to pick up from your office.."
"Then I'll make a last check on Jesse before we go."
"OK I'll pick you up by the front entrance," Steve said, making a move towards the door.
Amanda picked up the phone again. "I'll keep trying her number."
Steve nodded back at her. "Call my cell if you get through"
Amanda nodded as Steve disappeared through the door.
--
Steve walked across the near empty parking lot, his footfalls echoing hollowly off the concrete pillars and roof. The only other sound that came to his ears was the slightly rapid beating of his own heart. He stopped abruptly, sure that he had heard someone behind him, but when he turned there was no one there.
He stood and scanned his surroundings just to be sure, but there was nothing. He sighed heavily and turned back to continue the walk to his truck but had barely taken a dozen steps before he stopped again. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, a loose knot tightening in his gut. He turned sharply, sure this time that there would be someone, some sort of movement but again there was nothing, stillness, no sound but his own breathing.
He shook his head this time, dismissing his own paranoia, suddenly acutely aware of the piece of paper folded neatly in his pocket as though it would burn a hole there. They would catch whoever was doing this before that became a problem, he reassured himself, starting once more for his truck, but quickening his step a little. The sooner he was out of here the better.
He turned the next corner and caught the reassuring sight of his truck, glancing around once more as he approached, every muscle tensed, but he was still alone, the lot was empty, if only he could shake that feeling of being watched.
He moved up to the side and balanced the files he was holding in one arm whilst he reached for the keys.
That was when he caught the movement from the corner of his eye
It startled him, heightened senses causing an instant reaction as adrenaline flooded his system, The files flew into the air, he ignored them as he instinctively retrieved his gun from his belt clip and aimed at whoever or whatever threatened him.
"Dad," he said in an exasperated tone, lowering the weapon that was pointed at his equally startled father. He took a deep calming breath to try to counteract the thundering of his heart "I've told you not to sneak up on me like that, one of these days I might pull the trigger."
Mark did not believe that for a moment but he understood the sentiment. "I'm sorry Steve, I was just tying my shoelace," he said, explaining why Steve hadn't seen him on his approach. He bent to help pick up some of the files that were now scattered across the concrete floor. "Jess was asleep, so I decided to save us a little time by taking a shortcut and meeting you here instead of by the entrance."
Steve had holstered his weapon and bent to pick up his share of the files and their scattered contents. They would need a good sort out but that could wait until later. "How did you know I'd be here."
"Well for the last year or so, you've always parked in this section, since there's almost always a space no matter how busy we are."
Steve considered his father's answer. It was true, this area of the lot was difficult to get to and involved turning back on yourself, so only regular visitors, or those who stumbled across it when the place was busy, used it, and Steve had started to park here on a regular basis about a year ago, not that he'd ever consciously acknowledged the habit, but unsurprisingly, his father had. "And if I hadn't been here?" He asked.
"Then I would have made my way to the entrance as arranged," Mark replied, smiling. "It really wouldn't have been much of a detour, two, three minutes at most."
Steve gratefully accepted the pile of files from his father as both men straightened back to standing. A new thought had crossed his mind and a crease of concern furrowed his brow. It was clear that the killer had been watching them all, possibly for sometime and if his father had noticed his regular parking space. Once again he could feel the paper in his pocket as though it were radiating heat. His consciousness of its presence, of what it said, heightening his senses to it, but once again he dismissed it. Well, not quite, he would have to try parking elsewhere, for a while at least.
Mark noticed the sudden increase in tension in his son, "Something wrong?"
The question dragged Steve back from his musings and he caught the concern in his father's tone. "No, just hadn't realised I'd gotten that predictable." He forced a smile, turning to open the truck. "Come on, we should get moving."
Mark moved round to the passenger door. That wasn't it, there was something Steve wasn't telling him. He looked across as he climbed in next to his son, but decided not to push it. Steve would tell him when he was ready.
--
Jesse opened his eyes and looked groggily around the dimly lit room. It was dark outside so it must be night but he wasn't sure of the time. He tried in vain to focus on the clock on the far wall, but the combination of slightly blurred vision and poor light made him quickly give up as the ever present headache increased. Even the slight tilt he had given to look across the room seemed to act like a volume control on the pain. He rested his head back on the pillows and waited for his eyes to adjust to the low level lighting.
He considered his situation, frustrated that he could not get up and do something, but he knew better than most the effects of a blow to the head. Still, there was nothing to stop him thinking, apart maybe from the slight increase in throbbing in his temples.
He went back over the events of the day, trying to block out the emotional pain that returned with the memories, instead he needed to put things together and work out who was doing this to him, before anyone else got hurt or killed. With difficulty, he pushed the guilt and anger to the back of his mind. Mark and Steve had both been right, he must know the person responsible. Whoever it was hated him, with a level of vehemence he found it almost impossible to understand. They were also very clever and very calculating. They had been watching him, patiently, waiting to act, taking the opportunity to cause as much pain as possible.
He began to dredge back through his memories, going through the people he'd met both in and out of the hospital, trying to put name and form to the hatred.
He'd met enough people capable of murder in his time helping Mark and Steve out, and had encountered his share of anger and frustration from relatives when he hadn't managed to save their loved ones, not that it was the norm, most people understood that medicine had it's limits, but there had been some who had questioned why, who had accused him of not doing all that he could, but all of them, as far as he was aware, had eventually been satisfied, and no one that he had helped Steve put away stood out. Besides this was definitely aimed at him, and Steve or Mark would be a much more logical target of revenge for the people he had helped convict of murder.
He sighed and wondered if he could manage to move far enough to get himself a drink without his headache reaching unmanageable levels, or if he would have to call a nurse. He turned his head cautiously to look at the side table. That was when he caught sight of the flowers.
A gasp escaped from him as he recognised the arrangement, half a dozen red roses. Without thinking about it he stood and made his way to the cupboard on which they stood. Not even noticing the shakiness in his legs, his mind for the moment ignoring the pain, his focus entirely on the card attached to the flowers. He pulled it off and shaky fingers tore it open, already knowing the words that would be neatly printed inside.
'This is only the beginning,' the card read.
Words that had seemed so appropriate when he had written them, when a fictional character was supposed to be reading them. Words that were designed to send a chill down a fictional spine and simultaneously excite the reader, promising of dangers to come. Words that now returned to taunt him.
This had spilled over into the real world, into his world. These words now only promised more heartache and pain, as the killer repeated every detail, every nuance of his story. More people would be killed and injured, more people would become victims of his writing. Suddenly the guilt anger and frustration built into an uncharacteristic rage and he swept his arm across the cupboard, knocking the vase of flowers clean across the room into the opposite wall. His earlier question repeated. Why would someone do this to him?
The police guard was through the door in an instant, his hand resting on his weapon, startled by the noise of smashing glass in the quiet night air. He quickly scanned the room for danger and saw no one but Jesse. He watched as the young doctor's legs began to buckle and moved over to help support him back to the bed.
Jesse's system finally had to acknowledge its own residual weakness. Nausea and dizziness from the sudden violent movement, from being asked to stand without being given the time to adjust, caused him to first waver and then begin to fall. An almost overwhelming emotional onslaught accompanying the physical weakness as repressed emotions broke through his control. By the time the guard had supported him back to the bed his breathing was shallow and too rapid and he was shaking.
"Dr Travis," the young officer spoke as he helped Jesse to sit down. "Dr Travis, are you all right?"
Jesse did not hear him, did not acknowledge anything now beyond his own thoughts and the card he clutched in his hand, all of the emotions he had felt earlier in Mark's office had been reawakened. Only now he could add the promise of more misery to come, and still all he had was questions.
A nurse arrived at the room in response to the call button the guard had pressed. She picked up the room phone and called back to the nurses' station. "Could you find out if Dr. Sloan or Dr. Bentley are still in the building and get them to come to room 312." She said quickly before hanging up and moving over to relieve the police guard, who gratefully returned to his position on the door.
--
Steve pulled up outside the apartment block where nurse Johnson lived and unfastened his seatbelt. He looked across at his father about to ask if he intended to come up with him when Mark's cell phone rang.
"You go up, I'll follow when I've taken this," Mark said as he retrieved his phone from his pocket.
Steve nodded and climbed out of the vehicle as he heard his father begin to answer the call.
As he made his way up the stairs, his thoughts turned to what he might find and he quickened his pace, hoping fervently that there was some logical explanation as to why the young nurse could not be contacted, other than the one they were all afraid of.
Arriving at the apartment door he quickly checked the number against the one he had scrawled on a piece of paper before leaving the personnel office. It was the right apartment and the lights were on inside, a hopefully encouraging sign. At first he just pressed the buzzer, when there was no reply he tried knocking. Still no reply. He pressed the buzzer and simultaneously knocked loudly. "Miss Johnson, this is Lieutenant Sloan from the police department. Could you open the door please," he shouted loudly, not wishing to alarm her unduly but needing to get her attention. Still nothing.
The fact that the lights were on inside the apartment moved from being a good to a bad sign. She was unlikely to have gone to work and left the lights on and if she had been home since work, would she have left the lights on and gone out? It seemed doubtful.
Steve was just trying to figure out where he needed to place a kick to try to break the lock and gain access, he had given up shoulder charging doors long ago, too many bruises, when he heard a noise from the other side, the definite sound of a chain being removed and then the door opened.
He smiled in relief as he realised that it was the young nurse and she looked to be in one piece, from what he could see of her, and that was a fair amount since she was only wearing a towel, two if you counted the one wrapped around her head.
"What's all that noise? What's the emergency," she said as she pulled the door open. "Oh," she paused as she recognised Steve, "it's you," she blushed slightly. "Lieutenant Sloan," she stepped back opening the door, "please come in." She backed into the room and he followed leaving the door slightly ajar for his father.
"I'm really, really sorry for what happened earlier with the food trolley." She turned as she spoke so that she had her back to him as he followed her into the centre of a fairly compact living room. She stopped abruptly so that he almost walked into the back of her and turned. "That isn't why you're here is it? You aren't going to arrest me are you? I mean it was an accident and I did apologise and."
"No," Steve interrupted the rapid flow of words. "I'm not here to arrest you. I'm here.." But he got no further with his explanation as she interrupted him, beginning the stream again.
"Oh that's good, so why are you here? I know I told you that my shift finished at eight but I never expected.. And how did you get my address, have you been abusing some of that police power of yours or did you just ask around? I know that you know everyone at the hospital.."
"Miss Johnson." Steve tried a polite interruption but it had no effect.
"Although I'm not sure that many of the other staff know exactly where I live because I haven't worked there long and it is difficult to make new friends. I'm Sharon by the way and you're Steve aren't you. You don't mind me calling you Steve, do you? Anyway I'm glad you're here." Her brow creased in concentration, finally realising that Steve hadn't answered any of her questions, not that she'd given him opportunity to. "Why are you here?"
Steve was beginning to understand why the young woman was so accident prone, she didn't give herself time to think before launching from one idea to another. She made Jesse seem almost sedate. "Well," Steve began, "We have reason to believe that you may be in some."
She held up her hand and looked towards the door, "Did you hear that? It sounds like there's someone outside. Oh my, the door's still open I'll just." She began to move forward but tripped on the edge of the rug and fell forward.
Instinctively Steve reached out to break her fall but missed on one side only succeeding in grabbing the towel which began to come away in his grip. His other arm had a little more success as she grabbed it. With her other outstretched hand she reached out and caught hold of his shirt, tugging hard in her attempt not to fall completely. Steve felt the towel drop, still clutching it with his right hand as the buttons popped off all the way down. Sharon Johnson finally managing to stop her descent as she steadied herself in his outstretched arms.
A cough from the doorway made them both turn to see Mark staring open mouthed at them.
Steve and the young woman looked at each other, Steve only briefly looking down before rapidly averting his gaze as he realised the towel was the only thing the young woman had been wearing. He reddened and tried to help her back to her feet without actually looking at her before turning guiltily to face his father, looking for all the world like a teenager caught out in his first kiss. "Dad I.er.. I .. can explain," he stuttered hesitantly realising what it must look like.
Sharon Johnson stood and hastily pulled the towel from Steve's hand, covering herself with it. "Dr. Sloan I didn't know you were with your son. I was just.. when I.. If you'll excuse me I'll just get dressed," and she hurried from the room.
Over the years Mark had caught Steve in quite a few compromising positions, but never one that looked quite as bad as this. He was sure that there was a rational explanation to finding his son with a beautiful naked woman in his arms, especially knowing how accident prone said young nurse was, but he couldn't resist the temptation to rib his son about this. Especially since Steve had a very characteristic flustered expression on his face.
"You know Steve I always thought you were a little slow when it came to making the move on women you liked," he began to move across the room, his eyes following the direction Sharon had left. "I guess I'll have to revise that opinion." He turned to face his son, a mischievous twinkle clearly in his eyes.
"Dad I." Steve began, preparing to explain himself, but one look at his father's expression let him know that he had just become the butt of yet more humour. Worse his father would be telling this story for weeks. He groaned, hadn't he had enough for one day.
"I mean you could have at least taken the poor girl on a date first," Mark continued grinning.
Steve tried to restore some of his dignity by pulling his shirt together but it was hopeless, all of the buttons had been pulled off. "She tripped on the rug," he explained. "I was just trying to break her fall."
"Of course you were son," Mark looked down at his son's open shirt, which resisted all efforts to close it, he patted him on the arm. "Of course you were."
Steve's expression turned to one of long sufferance, knowing that his dad would not forget this in a hurry. This just wasn't his day. "Who was the call from," he asked, attempting to change the subject.
Mark's expression became more serious as he detailed the call from Amanda about Jesse and the latest 'gift' from the killer.
When Sharon Johnson returned from the bedroom, he quickly explained the situation to her, and for her own safety, once she'd informed them that she had no one to stay with, he had invited her back to the beach house, to stay in the guest room.
Mark couldn't help but smirk when his son had as usual, badly worded the invitation for her to spend the night, and had to quickly revise it before she got the wrong, or judging by the way the young woman looked at his son, possibly in her mind the right, idea. He shook his head as he wondered once again why a man who had that effect on women was still unmarried, before his thoughts returned to the more serious matters at hand.
--
The ringing of two phones simultaneously, shattered the quiet of the beach house The shrill beep of Steve's cell contrasted sharply with the deeper, more mellow tones of the house phone. Mark stumbled across his bedroom to pick up the extension.
Steve lifted his head from the table and rubbed his eyes. He had fallen asleep on top of the files and now every muscle in his body ached in protest. He retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket and answered gruffly "Sloan here."
He was just hitting the disconnect when Mark emerged from the bedroom, holding the house phone. "That was the computer section, looking for you. They suggest that we check out the website because someone just posted a chapter to Jesse's story."
Steve stood his face a mask, "I'm afraid that will have to wait until we've been back to the hospital." He met his father's gaze. "They just found another body."
TO BE CONTINUED...
Part 6 Jumping at Shadows
Amanda was inwardly fuming but her upbringing meant that she was too polite to show it, given that the person whose company she was in was in no way to blame for her state of mind. "I'm sure Mark and Steve will be here soon," she said for what must have been the fifth time. She looked up at the clock her expression briefly betraying her inner anger as she realised that it had been half an hour since she met Mark Griegson in personnel, almost an hour since she had left Mark's office. She quickly returned the smile, however, as she realised that Griegson was looking back in her direction.
It was clear that he was becoming a little frustrated himself, he had come back in as a personal favour to Dr. Sloan, on the understanding that the information he needed was urgent, and yet his colleague was nowhere to be seen.
"So how many matches do we have now?" Amanda asked in an attempt at distraction
"Well half a dozen that match perfectly," Griegson replied, looking at the files in front of him. "Another twenty five, who have the wrong eye colour or don't quite fit the age range." He looked her directly in the eye, determined to find out exactly why the information was needed. Up to now Amanda had been somewhat vague and he had allowed it, figuring that Mark would fill in the details, but it was half an hour since she had paged him and Amanda's assurances that he would 'be here soon' were wearing a little thin. "You say that these nurses are in danger of attack but you still haven't told me who from or why you are being so specific about their appearance." He stated.
Amanda glanced down at the list in front of her, breaking eye contact as she tried to decide how she could evade the question this time. It wasn't that she couldn't answer it, she just wasn't sure how much information she should give, and had been relying on Mark to make that decision, but then she had also been expecting Mark to join them almost immediately.
Where was he and why hadn't he sent Steve or Jesse down if he couldn't make it in person?
She made a decision and looked back up, standing at the same time. "I'll go and see if I can find Dr. Sloan," she said, beginning to move towards the door. "He'll be able to tell you more." She kept her eyes on Griegson, who looked as though he was about to protest at her chosen course of action. "I'll find out what's delayed him," she added quickly. "If you could keep compiling the information." She opened the door, flashing him her most charming smile. "I'll be back as soon as I can," and before he had time to reply she was through and closing the door behind her.
She took a deep breath as she tried to order her thoughts, the smile vanishing, as once again she felt the frustration of not knowing where the others were and why they hadn't joined her, determinedly she set off for Mark's office.
She had barely taken a few steps when she collided with Steve coming the opposite way. She hadn't really been looking where she was going, too wrapped up in her anger and frustration, she began to apologise before she looked up.
"I'm sorry M... Steve!" Her voice dropped to a frustrated stage whisper. "Where have you been I've been trying to keep Griegson happy for the last half hour.. I've paged you and Mark twice each and." Her voice trailed off as she took in Steve's pale, concerned expression, her anger dissolving as she realised that something had happened. She had known Steve too long not to recognise the signs. "Steve? What's wrong?" She asked, her tone changing completely.
Steve met Amanda's concerned gaze, "It's Jesse," he answered, "the killer lured him down to one of the trauma rooms and attacked him."
"Oh God, is he hurt?" Amanda asked, a knot tightening in her stomach.
"Not too badly, seven stitches and a possible concussion. He took a nasty blow to the head. Dad's just getting him settled in a room. He's keeping him in overnight for observation."
"How.. Why." Amanda began to ask. The last time she had seen Jesse he had been safely in Mark's office and that had been less than an hour ago. Concern and confusion were mixed with a slight irrational guilt that she had been feeling anger towards her friends at the very time that Jesse was being attacked.
"Look, I'll fill in the details later, but for now we really need to get these nurses protected. According to Jesse's story the nurse's body is found at the end of chapter 3 and the killer is already using things that don't happen until chapter 4."
Amanda's eyes widened at the implications of what Steve was saying as she pushed her other questions aside. "So you think we may already be too late?"
Steve nodded grimly. "It's possible."
"Then let's get back to it." Amanda turned to head back into the personnel office.
--
Jesse started at the noise of the door opening, and turned to look at who had entered. He visibly relaxed as he realised that it was just Mark and chastised himself for being so jumpy. There was now a guard on his door with strict instructions on who could enter. Besides if the killer kept to the story then he was safe for the time being, it was others who could still be in danger.
Mark noticed the reaction but did not acknowledge it. Instead he forced an upbeat tone. "Well, you'll be pleased to know that your X-rays and scans were clear. It looks like you may have escaped without even a concussion."
Normally Mark would have expected a flip comment in reply, some reference to how much it still hurt even if it wasn't that serious in medical terms. Instead he just received a slight nod and a forced attempt at a smile in reply to his own.
"Of course I'll still have to keep you in overnight, just to be sure." Mark picked up the chart and checked it, making a note about medication.
Again a nod in reply.
"So how are you feeling?" Mark asked before realising that the question was far too open ended for his young friend to deal with at the moment. He narrowed it down to the concrete, the physical. "Much pain?"
Jesse sighed, "It's not too bad as long as I lie still," he said, "It only really hurts if I move around."
"Well you know the answer to that then."
Jesse repeated the minimal nod. "Don't move around."
"Excellent recommendation doctor," Mark said, putting the chart back in place. "Lying still and getting some rest is exactly what you need right now."
Jesse looked down at the cover, Mark was right he needed rest, and nothing would feel better than lying back and going to sleep, but for the last half hour, as his thinking became clearer, he had been able to consider nothing apart from capturing the maniac that was stalking him before anyone else got hurt, and he could not do that lying on his back.
"But Mark I need to .." Jesse started to sit up, wincing slightly as the pounding in his head grew.
Mark had expected the protest and put his hand on to Jesse's shoulder to stay the young man's movement. "What you need to do is get some rest. Steve, Amanda and I will handle things until morning."
"But.."
Mark gave his best stern look. "Rest."
Jesse relaxed back on to the pillows admitting defeat, even if he wanted to argue with his mentor, the pounding in his head coupled with an overwhelming fatigue prevented further protest. "I'll try."
Mark softened his expression, "Good, I'll be back to check on you later."
--
Amanda put the phone down and stretched her aching muscles. She turned to look at Steve and waited for him to finish. The door opened behind her and she turned sharply to check who had entered. As Jesse, the entire situation had her a little jumpy and she had to take a conscious effort to calm herself as she turned to see that it was just Mark returning.
"OK that's the extra security sorted out on every floor and all of the nurses who are currently on duty warned of the danger." Mark announced as Steve finished his conversation and hit the disconnect on his phone.
Steve looked up. "And there are officers watching the three nurses who live alone and don't have anyone they can stay with."
Amanda looked down at the list in front of her. Every name had notes next to it bar one. "Well that's everyone on the list except one. I've tried nurse Johnson several times. I can't get her at home and her cell phone is turned off."
Steve looked at his watch it was after ten. "She should be home by now her shift finished at eight."
The three friends exchanged concerned glances.
Mark looked at his son. "Can you get someone over there?"
Steve had turned the sheet round and was checking Nurse Johnson's address. "She doesn't live far from here I'll go myself."
"Then I'll come with you," Mark said, "Once we've checked on her we can stop home and freshen up." He did not add that once there he was intending on ensuring that Steve get at least a couple of hours rest. None of them would be able to rest easily until this was over, but hanging around the hospital and exhausting themselves would not help to find out who was doing this. The lines of strain were already showing on his son's face, and Mark had the feeling that it was going to get worse before it got better.
Steve looked at his father. He had planned on coming straight back to the hospital once he had checked on the young nurse. He had already arranged that the case files, on cases that Jesse had helped on, be brought out to the hospital so that he could go through them, not really wanting to leave whilst he knew that the killer was probably still there, but studying the lines of strain on his father's face, he decided that getting his father home to get a couple of hours rest probably wasn't a bad idea. There was a good man on Jesse's door and several officers around the hospital to back up the extra security. He nodded, standing. "OK I've got some files to pick up from your office.."
"Then I'll make a last check on Jesse before we go."
"OK I'll pick you up by the front entrance," Steve said, making a move towards the door.
Amanda picked up the phone again. "I'll keep trying her number."
Steve nodded back at her. "Call my cell if you get through"
Amanda nodded as Steve disappeared through the door.
--
Steve walked across the near empty parking lot, his footfalls echoing hollowly off the concrete pillars and roof. The only other sound that came to his ears was the slightly rapid beating of his own heart. He stopped abruptly, sure that he had heard someone behind him, but when he turned there was no one there.
He stood and scanned his surroundings just to be sure, but there was nothing. He sighed heavily and turned back to continue the walk to his truck but had barely taken a dozen steps before he stopped again. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end, a loose knot tightening in his gut. He turned sharply, sure this time that there would be someone, some sort of movement but again there was nothing, stillness, no sound but his own breathing.
He shook his head this time, dismissing his own paranoia, suddenly acutely aware of the piece of paper folded neatly in his pocket as though it would burn a hole there. They would catch whoever was doing this before that became a problem, he reassured himself, starting once more for his truck, but quickening his step a little. The sooner he was out of here the better.
He turned the next corner and caught the reassuring sight of his truck, glancing around once more as he approached, every muscle tensed, but he was still alone, the lot was empty, if only he could shake that feeling of being watched.
He moved up to the side and balanced the files he was holding in one arm whilst he reached for the keys.
That was when he caught the movement from the corner of his eye
It startled him, heightened senses causing an instant reaction as adrenaline flooded his system, The files flew into the air, he ignored them as he instinctively retrieved his gun from his belt clip and aimed at whoever or whatever threatened him.
"Dad," he said in an exasperated tone, lowering the weapon that was pointed at his equally startled father. He took a deep calming breath to try to counteract the thundering of his heart "I've told you not to sneak up on me like that, one of these days I might pull the trigger."
Mark did not believe that for a moment but he understood the sentiment. "I'm sorry Steve, I was just tying my shoelace," he said, explaining why Steve hadn't seen him on his approach. He bent to help pick up some of the files that were now scattered across the concrete floor. "Jess was asleep, so I decided to save us a little time by taking a shortcut and meeting you here instead of by the entrance."
Steve had holstered his weapon and bent to pick up his share of the files and their scattered contents. They would need a good sort out but that could wait until later. "How did you know I'd be here."
"Well for the last year or so, you've always parked in this section, since there's almost always a space no matter how busy we are."
Steve considered his father's answer. It was true, this area of the lot was difficult to get to and involved turning back on yourself, so only regular visitors, or those who stumbled across it when the place was busy, used it, and Steve had started to park here on a regular basis about a year ago, not that he'd ever consciously acknowledged the habit, but unsurprisingly, his father had. "And if I hadn't been here?" He asked.
"Then I would have made my way to the entrance as arranged," Mark replied, smiling. "It really wouldn't have been much of a detour, two, three minutes at most."
Steve gratefully accepted the pile of files from his father as both men straightened back to standing. A new thought had crossed his mind and a crease of concern furrowed his brow. It was clear that the killer had been watching them all, possibly for sometime and if his father had noticed his regular parking space. Once again he could feel the paper in his pocket as though it were radiating heat. His consciousness of its presence, of what it said, heightening his senses to it, but once again he dismissed it. Well, not quite, he would have to try parking elsewhere, for a while at least.
Mark noticed the sudden increase in tension in his son, "Something wrong?"
The question dragged Steve back from his musings and he caught the concern in his father's tone. "No, just hadn't realised I'd gotten that predictable." He forced a smile, turning to open the truck. "Come on, we should get moving."
Mark moved round to the passenger door. That wasn't it, there was something Steve wasn't telling him. He looked across as he climbed in next to his son, but decided not to push it. Steve would tell him when he was ready.
--
Jesse opened his eyes and looked groggily around the dimly lit room. It was dark outside so it must be night but he wasn't sure of the time. He tried in vain to focus on the clock on the far wall, but the combination of slightly blurred vision and poor light made him quickly give up as the ever present headache increased. Even the slight tilt he had given to look across the room seemed to act like a volume control on the pain. He rested his head back on the pillows and waited for his eyes to adjust to the low level lighting.
He considered his situation, frustrated that he could not get up and do something, but he knew better than most the effects of a blow to the head. Still, there was nothing to stop him thinking, apart maybe from the slight increase in throbbing in his temples.
He went back over the events of the day, trying to block out the emotional pain that returned with the memories, instead he needed to put things together and work out who was doing this to him, before anyone else got hurt or killed. With difficulty, he pushed the guilt and anger to the back of his mind. Mark and Steve had both been right, he must know the person responsible. Whoever it was hated him, with a level of vehemence he found it almost impossible to understand. They were also very clever and very calculating. They had been watching him, patiently, waiting to act, taking the opportunity to cause as much pain as possible.
He began to dredge back through his memories, going through the people he'd met both in and out of the hospital, trying to put name and form to the hatred.
He'd met enough people capable of murder in his time helping Mark and Steve out, and had encountered his share of anger and frustration from relatives when he hadn't managed to save their loved ones, not that it was the norm, most people understood that medicine had it's limits, but there had been some who had questioned why, who had accused him of not doing all that he could, but all of them, as far as he was aware, had eventually been satisfied, and no one that he had helped Steve put away stood out. Besides this was definitely aimed at him, and Steve or Mark would be a much more logical target of revenge for the people he had helped convict of murder.
He sighed and wondered if he could manage to move far enough to get himself a drink without his headache reaching unmanageable levels, or if he would have to call a nurse. He turned his head cautiously to look at the side table. That was when he caught sight of the flowers.
A gasp escaped from him as he recognised the arrangement, half a dozen red roses. Without thinking about it he stood and made his way to the cupboard on which they stood. Not even noticing the shakiness in his legs, his mind for the moment ignoring the pain, his focus entirely on the card attached to the flowers. He pulled it off and shaky fingers tore it open, already knowing the words that would be neatly printed inside.
'This is only the beginning,' the card read.
Words that had seemed so appropriate when he had written them, when a fictional character was supposed to be reading them. Words that were designed to send a chill down a fictional spine and simultaneously excite the reader, promising of dangers to come. Words that now returned to taunt him.
This had spilled over into the real world, into his world. These words now only promised more heartache and pain, as the killer repeated every detail, every nuance of his story. More people would be killed and injured, more people would become victims of his writing. Suddenly the guilt anger and frustration built into an uncharacteristic rage and he swept his arm across the cupboard, knocking the vase of flowers clean across the room into the opposite wall. His earlier question repeated. Why would someone do this to him?
The police guard was through the door in an instant, his hand resting on his weapon, startled by the noise of smashing glass in the quiet night air. He quickly scanned the room for danger and saw no one but Jesse. He watched as the young doctor's legs began to buckle and moved over to help support him back to the bed.
Jesse's system finally had to acknowledge its own residual weakness. Nausea and dizziness from the sudden violent movement, from being asked to stand without being given the time to adjust, caused him to first waver and then begin to fall. An almost overwhelming emotional onslaught accompanying the physical weakness as repressed emotions broke through his control. By the time the guard had supported him back to the bed his breathing was shallow and too rapid and he was shaking.
"Dr Travis," the young officer spoke as he helped Jesse to sit down. "Dr Travis, are you all right?"
Jesse did not hear him, did not acknowledge anything now beyond his own thoughts and the card he clutched in his hand, all of the emotions he had felt earlier in Mark's office had been reawakened. Only now he could add the promise of more misery to come, and still all he had was questions.
A nurse arrived at the room in response to the call button the guard had pressed. She picked up the room phone and called back to the nurses' station. "Could you find out if Dr. Sloan or Dr. Bentley are still in the building and get them to come to room 312." She said quickly before hanging up and moving over to relieve the police guard, who gratefully returned to his position on the door.
--
Steve pulled up outside the apartment block where nurse Johnson lived and unfastened his seatbelt. He looked across at his father about to ask if he intended to come up with him when Mark's cell phone rang.
"You go up, I'll follow when I've taken this," Mark said as he retrieved his phone from his pocket.
Steve nodded and climbed out of the vehicle as he heard his father begin to answer the call.
As he made his way up the stairs, his thoughts turned to what he might find and he quickened his pace, hoping fervently that there was some logical explanation as to why the young nurse could not be contacted, other than the one they were all afraid of.
Arriving at the apartment door he quickly checked the number against the one he had scrawled on a piece of paper before leaving the personnel office. It was the right apartment and the lights were on inside, a hopefully encouraging sign. At first he just pressed the buzzer, when there was no reply he tried knocking. Still no reply. He pressed the buzzer and simultaneously knocked loudly. "Miss Johnson, this is Lieutenant Sloan from the police department. Could you open the door please," he shouted loudly, not wishing to alarm her unduly but needing to get her attention. Still nothing.
The fact that the lights were on inside the apartment moved from being a good to a bad sign. She was unlikely to have gone to work and left the lights on and if she had been home since work, would she have left the lights on and gone out? It seemed doubtful.
Steve was just trying to figure out where he needed to place a kick to try to break the lock and gain access, he had given up shoulder charging doors long ago, too many bruises, when he heard a noise from the other side, the definite sound of a chain being removed and then the door opened.
He smiled in relief as he realised that it was the young nurse and she looked to be in one piece, from what he could see of her, and that was a fair amount since she was only wearing a towel, two if you counted the one wrapped around her head.
"What's all that noise? What's the emergency," she said as she pulled the door open. "Oh," she paused as she recognised Steve, "it's you," she blushed slightly. "Lieutenant Sloan," she stepped back opening the door, "please come in." She backed into the room and he followed leaving the door slightly ajar for his father.
"I'm really, really sorry for what happened earlier with the food trolley." She turned as she spoke so that she had her back to him as he followed her into the centre of a fairly compact living room. She stopped abruptly so that he almost walked into the back of her and turned. "That isn't why you're here is it? You aren't going to arrest me are you? I mean it was an accident and I did apologise and."
"No," Steve interrupted the rapid flow of words. "I'm not here to arrest you. I'm here.." But he got no further with his explanation as she interrupted him, beginning the stream again.
"Oh that's good, so why are you here? I know I told you that my shift finished at eight but I never expected.. And how did you get my address, have you been abusing some of that police power of yours or did you just ask around? I know that you know everyone at the hospital.."
"Miss Johnson." Steve tried a polite interruption but it had no effect.
"Although I'm not sure that many of the other staff know exactly where I live because I haven't worked there long and it is difficult to make new friends. I'm Sharon by the way and you're Steve aren't you. You don't mind me calling you Steve, do you? Anyway I'm glad you're here." Her brow creased in concentration, finally realising that Steve hadn't answered any of her questions, not that she'd given him opportunity to. "Why are you here?"
Steve was beginning to understand why the young woman was so accident prone, she didn't give herself time to think before launching from one idea to another. She made Jesse seem almost sedate. "Well," Steve began, "We have reason to believe that you may be in some."
She held up her hand and looked towards the door, "Did you hear that? It sounds like there's someone outside. Oh my, the door's still open I'll just." She began to move forward but tripped on the edge of the rug and fell forward.
Instinctively Steve reached out to break her fall but missed on one side only succeeding in grabbing the towel which began to come away in his grip. His other arm had a little more success as she grabbed it. With her other outstretched hand she reached out and caught hold of his shirt, tugging hard in her attempt not to fall completely. Steve felt the towel drop, still clutching it with his right hand as the buttons popped off all the way down. Sharon Johnson finally managing to stop her descent as she steadied herself in his outstretched arms.
A cough from the doorway made them both turn to see Mark staring open mouthed at them.
Steve and the young woman looked at each other, Steve only briefly looking down before rapidly averting his gaze as he realised the towel was the only thing the young woman had been wearing. He reddened and tried to help her back to her feet without actually looking at her before turning guiltily to face his father, looking for all the world like a teenager caught out in his first kiss. "Dad I.er.. I .. can explain," he stuttered hesitantly realising what it must look like.
Sharon Johnson stood and hastily pulled the towel from Steve's hand, covering herself with it. "Dr. Sloan I didn't know you were with your son. I was just.. when I.. If you'll excuse me I'll just get dressed," and she hurried from the room.
Over the years Mark had caught Steve in quite a few compromising positions, but never one that looked quite as bad as this. He was sure that there was a rational explanation to finding his son with a beautiful naked woman in his arms, especially knowing how accident prone said young nurse was, but he couldn't resist the temptation to rib his son about this. Especially since Steve had a very characteristic flustered expression on his face.
"You know Steve I always thought you were a little slow when it came to making the move on women you liked," he began to move across the room, his eyes following the direction Sharon had left. "I guess I'll have to revise that opinion." He turned to face his son, a mischievous twinkle clearly in his eyes.
"Dad I." Steve began, preparing to explain himself, but one look at his father's expression let him know that he had just become the butt of yet more humour. Worse his father would be telling this story for weeks. He groaned, hadn't he had enough for one day.
"I mean you could have at least taken the poor girl on a date first," Mark continued grinning.
Steve tried to restore some of his dignity by pulling his shirt together but it was hopeless, all of the buttons had been pulled off. "She tripped on the rug," he explained. "I was just trying to break her fall."
"Of course you were son," Mark looked down at his son's open shirt, which resisted all efforts to close it, he patted him on the arm. "Of course you were."
Steve's expression turned to one of long sufferance, knowing that his dad would not forget this in a hurry. This just wasn't his day. "Who was the call from," he asked, attempting to change the subject.
Mark's expression became more serious as he detailed the call from Amanda about Jesse and the latest 'gift' from the killer.
When Sharon Johnson returned from the bedroom, he quickly explained the situation to her, and for her own safety, once she'd informed them that she had no one to stay with, he had invited her back to the beach house, to stay in the guest room.
Mark couldn't help but smirk when his son had as usual, badly worded the invitation for her to spend the night, and had to quickly revise it before she got the wrong, or judging by the way the young woman looked at his son, possibly in her mind the right, idea. He shook his head as he wondered once again why a man who had that effect on women was still unmarried, before his thoughts returned to the more serious matters at hand.
--
The ringing of two phones simultaneously, shattered the quiet of the beach house The shrill beep of Steve's cell contrasted sharply with the deeper, more mellow tones of the house phone. Mark stumbled across his bedroom to pick up the extension.
Steve lifted his head from the table and rubbed his eyes. He had fallen asleep on top of the files and now every muscle in his body ached in protest. He retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket and answered gruffly "Sloan here."
He was just hitting the disconnect when Mark emerged from the bedroom, holding the house phone. "That was the computer section, looking for you. They suggest that we check out the website because someone just posted a chapter to Jesse's story."
Steve stood his face a mask, "I'm afraid that will have to wait until we've been back to the hospital." He met his father's gaze. "They just found another body."
TO BE CONTINUED...