Part 16 The Eye of The Storm.
"An explosion," Steve repeated Amanda's words slowly, not that he hadn't expected more tragedy, the fact that Amanda hadn't returned the previous evening had alerted him that there was something else wrong, but he had existed for most of the previous day in an emotional bubble that contained only himself and his father. It was as if the rest of the world hadn't existed, and now, it seemed strange to be told of things that had happened in it. Strange to realise that things had continued outside the world of his hospital room, but of course they had, and reconciling that fact with his own perceptions gave everything a surreal quality.
She turned to meet Steve's gaze nodding, "It seems Jesse realised that it could be a trap and tried to warn them but he was too late to save anyone but Nathan."
Both men reacted to that
"Jesse was there?" from Steve.
"Was he hurt?" from Mark
Amanda realised the mistake in her narration slightly before the men reacted, she had meant to break the news about Jesse's injuries to them a little more gently, but Steve had asked about Nathan's arrest of Bilson, and she had launched into a description of what had happened, tiredness making her answer without thinking.
When Jesse had finally been taken to the OR, the previous evening, she had come to check on Steve and Mark but they had both been sleeping, Mark succumbing to the lingering effects of the tranquilising drugs he had been given, Steve reacting to the physical and emotional strain he had put his system under, and there was nothing that would have possessed her to disturb them, all explanations could wait until morning. So she reassured herself that her three friends were all comfortable and out of any immediate danger and then attempted to get some sleep herself, although that had been easier said than done.
She sighed and rubbed her stiff neck and shoulder as she began to fill them in on the rest of the story as it had been told to her by Nathan, finishing with a detailed breakdown of Jesse's injuries and the treatment he had received. "When I got the page to say that he had been brought in," she looked directly at Steve. "I didn't want to worry you," she turned to Mark. "And you were still asleep, I didn't get chance to come back up until much later. He. . . " She hesitated before continuing, "he needed me."
Mark nodded his understanding, although she hadn't voiced her concerns about Jesse's emotional state, all of them had seen the damage that was being done with each successive incident.
"Of course I needn't have described all that to you, I could have just let you read chapter 11" Amanda allowed an uncharacteristic bitterness into her tone.
"The killer has added another chapter?" Steve asked, shifting slightly.
"Yes," Amanda opened the folded sheets of printout in her hand, "Apart from the odd small alteration in the earlier parts, this is the first section that has been substantially written by her."
"So she's broken the pattern?" Steve asked
Amanda nodded, "In more ways than one, it wasn't posted until late last night, long after the explosion happened. . . "
"And all of the other chapters have been posted a few minutes before the cliffhanger events occurred," Steve completed.
Amanda nodded again. "Which makes the police think that the explosion wasn't supposed to go off then."
"Why not?"
"Well according to forensics, it looks like Bilson mistakenly blew himself up in trying to set a trap for the police, it seems like he was right on top of the bomb when it went off, and if things didn't go as planned. . . ."
. . . It would explain the delay in posting the chapter, it would have needed a rewrite." Mark put his hand out, "Could I see those?" he asked, indicating the sheets in Amanda's hand. She moved to pass them across. "How accurate are the descriptions," he asked.
"According to Nathan, she must have been nearby and watched the whole thing happen, her account includes too many details for her to have made it up and. . ." Amanda hesitated again, "Jesse thinks he saw her."
Again there was an immediate reaction from both men.
"How sure was he?" From Mark
"How did he know it was her?" From Steve.
"Well he isn't real sure about anything, and, given the state of shock he was in at the time, I'm not sure how reliable anything he says is," she swallowed, "at one point he was convinced that we had all been killed," she paused to allow them to absorb the statement. "But. . ." she continued, and again there was a slight hesitancy as she decided how to word her next comment. "He seems fairly convinced that the killer followed him into the alley, and that it was Chloe Marsden."
There was silence in the room as father and son considered the possible implications of the statement.
"He may just have thought he saw her." Steve suggested, "my mentioning her must have brought back memories of that whole incident, and, like you say, he was fairly dazed."
Mark nodded. "Possibly, but there's also the possibility that he did really see her." He looked back at Amanda. "Has there been an autopsy on Bilson yet?"
Amanda shook her head. "They barely managed to scrape up enough pieces of the body to make it worthwhile, as I said, he was right on top of the bomb when it blew and it took out half a block. At the moment he's being identified by a ring he always wore," she looked at Steve, "He had it on when you arrested him. They've brought what they've got to my lab I'm going to go see what I can do when I've finished here."
Both Mark and Steve allowed a slight grimace at the thought, dealing with bodies was never pleasant but in these circumstances it was a particularly gruesome task.
"I should also be getting the autopsy report on Chloe Marsden, maybe that will help answer some questions."
"Like whether I'm seeing things or not."
None of the three people in the room had time to school their shocked expressions as they turned to see Jesse at the door. He pretended not to notice as he moved his attention to the crutches he was using to keep the weight off his injured leg, he moved into the room and headed for the chair that sat opposite the beds in one corner.
"Jess. . . " Mark began.
"Yes I know," Jesse interrupted. "I shouldn't be out of bed." He turned and lowered himself gingerly into the chair, keeping his injured leg straight.
"Then why are you?" Mark asked reasonably.
Jesse considered his answer for a moment. Although he had been told that Steve and Mark were both all right and he knew that Amanda had spent time with him in the ER, he still could not shake the overwhelming feelings of loss from the previous day. Lying in bed the insecurities had simply grown to the point that he could not lie there any longer, he had to see them, had to hear their voices. He looked up at the concerned faces of the people he had come to regard as family and knew that he could not put his emotions into words, not without falling apart. So he had to cover, he shrugged, only half forcing the grin that accompanied his comments. "What can I say, doctors make lousy patients." There was a slight pause before he changed the topic back to the one they had been discussing. "So what do you guys think, did I see her or am I going a little crazy here?"
If anyone was surprised by the directness of the question, they did not show it. "Hey you've always been a little crazy," Steve returned the grin, "So how would we tell?"
Jesse truly appreciated the lightness of the comment it was just what he needed, his own grin widened a little.
"Besides," Steve continued becoming a little more serious, "at this stage I don't think we can rule anything out, there are just too many coincidences. Like you say, maybe the autopsy report will help clear things up."
"Well, I guess that's my cue to go pick it up," Amanda said standing. "I'll let you all know as soon as I have anything."
Steve and Jesse watched her leave but Mark's attention was focussed on the young doctor. He waited until Jesse turned to face him before putting on his best mock authoritative tone. "I'm assuming Dr. Taylor knows nothing about you being up and around."
"Nothing," Jesse admitted
"You know as Chief of Internal Medicine, I'd really like to know how you managed to get hold of those crutches without your doctor knowing about it." It was a good act but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his intent, as he knew it would.
Jesse played up to it. "I'm afraid I cannot reveal my sources, I cannot betray any part of the hospital escape committee," he stated, attempting to be earnest, as a grin still escaped, "but you should be grateful for that since your son is the president."
"Hey," Steve feigned indignation, "I thought you weren't going to betray any part of the committee."
"Oops!"
Mark couldn't help it he laughed. "You do realise that you'll end up with a reputation as a difficult patient?"
"That's OK I've got a long way to go before I rival Steve's."
"Hey," this time Steve's indignation wasn't entirely fake, as he rose to the bait. "I am not difficult I. . ."
"Not difficult. . ." Jesse echoed, interrupting. "Let's see there was that time that you walked out with second degree burns and a concussion."
"That was because. . ."
"And then the time you walked out of here having been hit by a car. If I remember you had fractured ribs. . ." Mark continued.
Steve turned to look at his father "But you know that was when. . ."
"And I remember repairing your knee once only to have you trying to stand on it a few hours later. . ."
Steve turned back to Jesse, "But I'd just witnessed. . ."
"Not that you don't always think you have a good excuse," Mark picked up, "Like when you left AMA with gunshot. . "
"OK, OK," Steve held his hand up in defeat. "Maybe a little difficult." He thought for a moment, "How did this get on to me anyway, I thought we were discussing Jesse being. . ."
"Then there's the way your first question is always 'when can I get out of here?'" Jesse continued, ignoring Steve's protests. "Doesn't really give us doctor's the feeling of being needed."
". . or appreciated." Mark agreed.
Steve looked from Jesse to his father and back again, he sighed as they both finally turned to look at him. "I wonder if I could start that tunnel out of here," he grumbled good naturedly, picking up the spoon from his breakfast tray and pretending to assess it's potential as a digging implement.
Mark and Jesse both laughed again, and in the shared laughter something much deeper, slipped into place, a connection that would help them deal with the pain and the fear and the guilt and anything else that was thrown at them.
They spent the next half hour not discussing what had happened, not discussing their feelings, their reactions, their injuries or their pain. In fact they avoided the case and anything associated with it, they merely reminisced about good times they had had together. It was the nearest thing you could get to a wake without anyone dying, but it was what they all needed, Jesse in particular, if they were going to deal with their emotions.
It was Mark who finally pulled the conversation full circle, Jesse hadn't said anything for a few minutes and it was clear from his demeanor that his thoughts had turned back to his current predicament. "You know you could be right, Jess, it could have been her."
Jesse looked up and gave a half smile, wondering, not for the first time if Mark could actually read his mind, he'd only just turned his thoughts back to what he had seen, or thought he had seen, the previous day. "I know I was pretty out of it, but the more I think about it the more sure I am that it was really her." He picked absently at a loose piece of cotton on his sleeve. "If I was hallucinating from my past, then she would have looked the same as when I last saw her, three years ago, but she didn't, her hair was blonde and much shorter and her skin had a deeper tan, but it was still her, I knew it was her."
"What did she do?" Mark asked.
Jesse's eyes defocused as he concentrated on the memory, he looked at a point on the floor between the two beds. "She followed me into the alley, I backed away and fell and. . ." He looked up sharply. "She laughed at me." There was a mixture of confusion and fear in his expression, "She had a gun, she pointed it at me and. . ." There was another pause as he clearly searched his memory for more, finally he shook his head, "I guess I must have blacked out, the next thing I remember is someone else being there."
Mark and Steve exchanged concerned glances, if Jesse's memory was accurate then it was clear that Chloe Marsden had had the perfect opportunity to finish what she had started, which meant that they had come closer than either of them had thought to losing their friend.
"Damn," Jesse let the uncharacteristic curse slip from his lips as another strong memory connected in his head.
"Jess?" Mark asked his concern increasing.
Jesse looked up, suddenly more animated. "I need to see those personnel files again." He moved to retrieve his crutches. "I think they were still in your office. . ."
"Jesse, sit down, you're in no condition to be running around the hospital," Steve said, pressing the call button, "Tell us what you need and someone will get it for you."
Jesse paused in the process of reaching for the second crutch and grinned up at his friend. "I suppose we're half way there with making you into a better patient, I mean we've got you to the point where you can give good advice." He dropped the first crutch down again, pausing for effect. "Now if we could only get you to follow it."
"You know Jess, if I could spare one of these pillows I'd throw it at you."
The next few minutes was spent persuading the nurse who answered Steve's call first to accept that Jesse was there to stay and no amount of persuasion would get him back to his room, even if that meant signing himself out, and then explaining what it was they needed her to retrieve. Whilst they were waiting for her to return they took the opportunity to read through the sheets of chapter 11, that Amanda had left with them.
Jesse was the last to complete the read, "Well that takes away any doubt in my mind that the killer was there," he said lowering the last sheet. "If I had written it myself the description would have been the same, a little less flowery, although she's made a good attempt at copying my style, but all of the details are accurate." If it had been unnerving having the killer staging the events that he had written, it was equally strange having events he had lived through written by someone else and posted as part of his story.
The nurse interrupted any further comment returning with the requested files, she placed them on a table by Jesse, who thanked her and immediately picked up the first one to check. He quickly discarded it and moved on to the next.
"What are you looking for? Maybe we can help." Mark offered.
Jesse answered without looking up from his task. "I don't know exactly." He dropped another file to the floor. "It's something about one of the photographs. I. . . ." He broke off from what he was saying and stared at the picture in the file he was holding, unclipping it from the attached paperwork he lifted it for a closer perusal. He let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a gasp and followed it with a soft curse. "I can't believe I didn't see it before. . ."
It was all Steve could do to restrain himself in the bed, but he knew that it would still take considerable effort, not to mention pain, just to stand, let alone make it across the room to Jesse's position. Mark had no injuries apart from aches and bruising to hamper him. He was across and by Jesse's side staring over his shoulder at the photograph.
Steve allowed them only a moment before his impatience got the better of him. "What is it?"
Jesse passed the photograph to Mark, who moved to take it to his son.
"When I was looking for Chloe in these pictures yesterday, I was looking for someone who looked like she did the last time I saw her. Long dark hair, brown eyes, but now I know that she's changed her appearance."
"But even with a different hair colour you still would have recognised her in a photograph." Steve reached up to accept the picture from his father, his concentration for the moment still on Jesse.
"Yes, but what if we're not looking for a picture of Chloe Marsden, just someone who strongly resembles her, or at least the new improved blonde version of her. Nobody really checks these photographs too closely, they rely on other vetting procedures."
Steve finally looked down at the photograph which he now held in his hand. He studied it closely. "It's not her but it could certainly pass for her," he admitted, he could now see why Jesse was getting excited, this could be the break they'd been looking for. "So who is it and where has she been working?" He asked, handing the photograph back to Mark.
"Oh you're going to love this," Jesse said, "Her name's Laura Miles and for the last six months she's been working in community general's hospital security. Specifically she's been in charge of monitoring the hospitals banks of CCTV monitors."
"Damn," it was Steve's turn to swear. It would certainly explain how she'd been able to watch them and monitor their movements without risking being spotted herself. "So where was she before coming here?"
Jesse quickly checked back through the file. "She was working for the correctional services corporation in Arizona ."
"And how much would you like to bet that they run the Broadbent institute, where Chloe Marsden was being held?" Mark asked.
"No bet from me," Steve said, "of course we're still making one important assumption here."
"That Chloe Marsden is still alive," Jesse supplied.
"I think it's about time I give Amanda a call," Mark said, picking up the phone. "See if she has anything for us."
"And I'll see if I can get a background check on Ms Laura Miles," Steve agreed, calling for the police guard on the door to relay his request.
Thirty minutes later they had been joined by Amanda and Nathan, and an irate Dr. Taylor had agreed to do the rest of his rounds first, before returning to check on his 'most difficult patients.' They had secured his agreement by all agreeing to cooperate fully when he returned.
"OK, according to the report," Amanda, opened up the file on her lap, "Chloe committed suicide in a very unusual way. She is supposed to have doused herself in paint thinner, smuggled out of an art class and set it alight. The body was extremely badly burned, she was identified from dental records and, since she was alone in her room after lock up, there was no real investigation."
"Laura Miles, resigned from her position as a security officer on the same day that the 'suicide' occurred," Nathan filled in. "It seems she was involved in a long running dispute with one of the hospital porters and no one was really surprised to see her go. No prizes for guessing the name of the porter."
"Paul Bilson," Jesse stated.
"One and the same," Nathan nodded, "He resigned a week later, probably waited around just long enough not to arouse suspicion and then left."
"So I did see her then?" Instinct and logic told Jesse that the question was redundant, he now knew the answer, but he still needed confirmation from the others.
Everyone nodded. "There's not much doubt that it is her Jess," Mark stated recognising the need for the affirmation.
"Laura Miles was due on shift this morning but she called in Sick," Nathan said, flicking the page in his notebook. "I've put out an APB with both the picture of her and of Chloe Marsden and I've sent officers out to her address." He paused for a moment, allowing a flash of memory to pass. "Along with the bomb squad this time, although if Bilson is dead that shouldn't be necessary, but after yesterday we're taking no chances."
"If. . ." Steve picked up.
"There wasn't enough of the body retrieved from Bilson's apartment to give a positive ID," Amanda answered. "All I can tell you is that the body was male and he had the same blood group as Bilson."
"Then they both could still be out there." Jesse stated.
"And still probably one step ahead of us." Mark tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. They now knew who was doing this but he doubted that that would help them to catch her.
--
Afternoon passed to early evening with little progress except to confirm, by interviews with her coworkers and comparison of the photographs of the two women, that Chloe Marsden had indeed assumed the identity of Laura Miles. There was no one at the apartment, and all indications were that she hadn't been back there since the day before the attacks began.
There was however, one interesting but disturbing find, copies of hundreds of hours of security tapes of Jesse taken from the ER and around the hospital, logged and catalogued. There were detailed itineraries of his day and of who he met and the patients he treated, everything that had been caught on camera seemed to be there. For Nathan, it gave a whole new dimension to the idea of stalking someone, and he knew it would be a while before he could ignore the proliferation of CCTV cameras, that he knew filmed him wherever he went, in the same oblivious fashion that he had done up to that point. The concept of 'Big Brother' had merely been something he'd had to write about for a book report in high school, but for the first time he recognised that the technology was now there and in the wrong hands that concept could become a reality.
Steve, despite his best efforts to avoid it, spent most of the afternoon asleep, still weakened from the knife wound and the associated blood loss, the events of the morning had exhausted him. In the meantime Mark had been discharged, apart from some residual bruising from the explosion, he was fine, the drugs seemed to have cleared his system and being up and around was the best thing for him. Jesse had been transferred into Mark's recently vacated bed, ostensibly to reduce the number of police guards needed, but realistically Dr. Taylor knew that he would find his way back into the room anyway, even if his bed was officially somewhere else, and he saw no reason to try to swim against the tide. At least this way he could hopefully keep track of the pair of them.
Mark came back into the room just as they were finishing dinner. "Hi dad," Steve said, trying to hide his relief at his father's presence. After what had happened it was going to take a while to shake the uneasiness he felt whenever his father wasn't physically in the room. He knew it was an over reaction, knew that Nathan had detailed someone to stay close to Mark at all times until Chloe was caught, but still the niggling fear was there.
"Hi, how are you feeling?" Mark asked, keeping his own concerns controlled.
"Well enough to eat his own dinner and most of mine," Jesse stated.
"Hey, you didn't want it," Steve said defensively
Jesse merely shook his head. "No one in their right mind would."
Steve wasn't listening to the jibe, he was too busy studying his father's expression. "I recognise that look," he said with a hint of accusation. "What have you got?"
Mark smiled, he was obviously becoming predictable. "Well it's a long shot but I think I have an idea as to how we can set Miss Marsden up."
Steve glanced across at Jesse before looking back. "We're listening."
"Well you remember last time we caught her because she repeated her pattern." Both men nodded grimly at the memory of what they had had to do. "Well I'm banking on the fact that her psychology hasn't changed too much, she didn't see the set up last time because she was following her own delusional view of reality. This time her view of reality is linked to Jesse's story, so strongly that she has to 'fix' things when they don't fit into what the story says." He looked at his son. "You noticed that when you worked out how to find me. So far she's either had to change the story around, or make things happen so that everything fits with what has been posted."
"So, how does that help us?" Jesse asked.
"Well what if you were to write a new chapter, one which would involve her going somewhere specific. Somewhere we could be waiting for her. If you posted it and then we blocked her access to the account so that she couldn't change it, it might force her out into the open."
"But surely she wouldn't go for such an obvious set up," Steve stated.
"I said it was a long shot, but I had a chat with Dr. Carter this afternoon and she seems to think that there is a chance of it working, remember Chloe doesn't see reality like the rest of us, she's already taken a number of irrational risks. Besides, there's no real risk on our part, if it doesn't work we haven't lost anything." Mark looked to Jesse. "So what do you think? Are you up to writing another chapter?"
Jesse thought for a moment, he hadn't really considered writing since the whole nightmare began. Now that he did, part of him wanted to scream that he would never write again, that he couldn't even contemplate it after what had happened, but he could see the logic of Mark's suggestion. He looked up, his emotions still warring over the decision. "I'll try," he said quietly.
--
Jesse stared at the screen on the borrowed laptop, he had made it as far as typing 'Chapter 12.' That had been a couple of hours ago and still the rest of the screen was blank. He looked over at Steve's sleeping form and lamented the fact that he no longer had the excuse of talking to his friend as a distraction from the fact that he did not know what to write. The frustrating part was that he knew what he wanted to say, knew what he wanted to happen, he just couldn't get the wording right in his head to even make a start. He let out a deep sigh and stared once again at the blank screen. This must be what they meant by 'writer's block.'
"An explosion," Steve repeated Amanda's words slowly, not that he hadn't expected more tragedy, the fact that Amanda hadn't returned the previous evening had alerted him that there was something else wrong, but he had existed for most of the previous day in an emotional bubble that contained only himself and his father. It was as if the rest of the world hadn't existed, and now, it seemed strange to be told of things that had happened in it. Strange to realise that things had continued outside the world of his hospital room, but of course they had, and reconciling that fact with his own perceptions gave everything a surreal quality.
She turned to meet Steve's gaze nodding, "It seems Jesse realised that it could be a trap and tried to warn them but he was too late to save anyone but Nathan."
Both men reacted to that
"Jesse was there?" from Steve.
"Was he hurt?" from Mark
Amanda realised the mistake in her narration slightly before the men reacted, she had meant to break the news about Jesse's injuries to them a little more gently, but Steve had asked about Nathan's arrest of Bilson, and she had launched into a description of what had happened, tiredness making her answer without thinking.
When Jesse had finally been taken to the OR, the previous evening, she had come to check on Steve and Mark but they had both been sleeping, Mark succumbing to the lingering effects of the tranquilising drugs he had been given, Steve reacting to the physical and emotional strain he had put his system under, and there was nothing that would have possessed her to disturb them, all explanations could wait until morning. So she reassured herself that her three friends were all comfortable and out of any immediate danger and then attempted to get some sleep herself, although that had been easier said than done.
She sighed and rubbed her stiff neck and shoulder as she began to fill them in on the rest of the story as it had been told to her by Nathan, finishing with a detailed breakdown of Jesse's injuries and the treatment he had received. "When I got the page to say that he had been brought in," she looked directly at Steve. "I didn't want to worry you," she turned to Mark. "And you were still asleep, I didn't get chance to come back up until much later. He. . . " She hesitated before continuing, "he needed me."
Mark nodded his understanding, although she hadn't voiced her concerns about Jesse's emotional state, all of them had seen the damage that was being done with each successive incident.
"Of course I needn't have described all that to you, I could have just let you read chapter 11" Amanda allowed an uncharacteristic bitterness into her tone.
"The killer has added another chapter?" Steve asked, shifting slightly.
"Yes," Amanda opened the folded sheets of printout in her hand, "Apart from the odd small alteration in the earlier parts, this is the first section that has been substantially written by her."
"So she's broken the pattern?" Steve asked
Amanda nodded, "In more ways than one, it wasn't posted until late last night, long after the explosion happened. . . "
"And all of the other chapters have been posted a few minutes before the cliffhanger events occurred," Steve completed.
Amanda nodded again. "Which makes the police think that the explosion wasn't supposed to go off then."
"Why not?"
"Well according to forensics, it looks like Bilson mistakenly blew himself up in trying to set a trap for the police, it seems like he was right on top of the bomb when it went off, and if things didn't go as planned. . . ."
. . . It would explain the delay in posting the chapter, it would have needed a rewrite." Mark put his hand out, "Could I see those?" he asked, indicating the sheets in Amanda's hand. She moved to pass them across. "How accurate are the descriptions," he asked.
"According to Nathan, she must have been nearby and watched the whole thing happen, her account includes too many details for her to have made it up and. . ." Amanda hesitated again, "Jesse thinks he saw her."
Again there was an immediate reaction from both men.
"How sure was he?" From Mark
"How did he know it was her?" From Steve.
"Well he isn't real sure about anything, and, given the state of shock he was in at the time, I'm not sure how reliable anything he says is," she swallowed, "at one point he was convinced that we had all been killed," she paused to allow them to absorb the statement. "But. . ." she continued, and again there was a slight hesitancy as she decided how to word her next comment. "He seems fairly convinced that the killer followed him into the alley, and that it was Chloe Marsden."
There was silence in the room as father and son considered the possible implications of the statement.
"He may just have thought he saw her." Steve suggested, "my mentioning her must have brought back memories of that whole incident, and, like you say, he was fairly dazed."
Mark nodded. "Possibly, but there's also the possibility that he did really see her." He looked back at Amanda. "Has there been an autopsy on Bilson yet?"
Amanda shook her head. "They barely managed to scrape up enough pieces of the body to make it worthwhile, as I said, he was right on top of the bomb when it blew and it took out half a block. At the moment he's being identified by a ring he always wore," she looked at Steve, "He had it on when you arrested him. They've brought what they've got to my lab I'm going to go see what I can do when I've finished here."
Both Mark and Steve allowed a slight grimace at the thought, dealing with bodies was never pleasant but in these circumstances it was a particularly gruesome task.
"I should also be getting the autopsy report on Chloe Marsden, maybe that will help answer some questions."
"Like whether I'm seeing things or not."
None of the three people in the room had time to school their shocked expressions as they turned to see Jesse at the door. He pretended not to notice as he moved his attention to the crutches he was using to keep the weight off his injured leg, he moved into the room and headed for the chair that sat opposite the beds in one corner.
"Jess. . . " Mark began.
"Yes I know," Jesse interrupted. "I shouldn't be out of bed." He turned and lowered himself gingerly into the chair, keeping his injured leg straight.
"Then why are you?" Mark asked reasonably.
Jesse considered his answer for a moment. Although he had been told that Steve and Mark were both all right and he knew that Amanda had spent time with him in the ER, he still could not shake the overwhelming feelings of loss from the previous day. Lying in bed the insecurities had simply grown to the point that he could not lie there any longer, he had to see them, had to hear their voices. He looked up at the concerned faces of the people he had come to regard as family and knew that he could not put his emotions into words, not without falling apart. So he had to cover, he shrugged, only half forcing the grin that accompanied his comments. "What can I say, doctors make lousy patients." There was a slight pause before he changed the topic back to the one they had been discussing. "So what do you guys think, did I see her or am I going a little crazy here?"
If anyone was surprised by the directness of the question, they did not show it. "Hey you've always been a little crazy," Steve returned the grin, "So how would we tell?"
Jesse truly appreciated the lightness of the comment it was just what he needed, his own grin widened a little.
"Besides," Steve continued becoming a little more serious, "at this stage I don't think we can rule anything out, there are just too many coincidences. Like you say, maybe the autopsy report will help clear things up."
"Well, I guess that's my cue to go pick it up," Amanda said standing. "I'll let you all know as soon as I have anything."
Steve and Jesse watched her leave but Mark's attention was focussed on the young doctor. He waited until Jesse turned to face him before putting on his best mock authoritative tone. "I'm assuming Dr. Taylor knows nothing about you being up and around."
"Nothing," Jesse admitted
"You know as Chief of Internal Medicine, I'd really like to know how you managed to get hold of those crutches without your doctor knowing about it." It was a good act but the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his intent, as he knew it would.
Jesse played up to it. "I'm afraid I cannot reveal my sources, I cannot betray any part of the hospital escape committee," he stated, attempting to be earnest, as a grin still escaped, "but you should be grateful for that since your son is the president."
"Hey," Steve feigned indignation, "I thought you weren't going to betray any part of the committee."
"Oops!"
Mark couldn't help it he laughed. "You do realise that you'll end up with a reputation as a difficult patient?"
"That's OK I've got a long way to go before I rival Steve's."
"Hey," this time Steve's indignation wasn't entirely fake, as he rose to the bait. "I am not difficult I. . ."
"Not difficult. . ." Jesse echoed, interrupting. "Let's see there was that time that you walked out with second degree burns and a concussion."
"That was because. . ."
"And then the time you walked out of here having been hit by a car. If I remember you had fractured ribs. . ." Mark continued.
Steve turned to look at his father "But you know that was when. . ."
"And I remember repairing your knee once only to have you trying to stand on it a few hours later. . ."
Steve turned back to Jesse, "But I'd just witnessed. . ."
"Not that you don't always think you have a good excuse," Mark picked up, "Like when you left AMA with gunshot. . "
"OK, OK," Steve held his hand up in defeat. "Maybe a little difficult." He thought for a moment, "How did this get on to me anyway, I thought we were discussing Jesse being. . ."
"Then there's the way your first question is always 'when can I get out of here?'" Jesse continued, ignoring Steve's protests. "Doesn't really give us doctor's the feeling of being needed."
". . or appreciated." Mark agreed.
Steve looked from Jesse to his father and back again, he sighed as they both finally turned to look at him. "I wonder if I could start that tunnel out of here," he grumbled good naturedly, picking up the spoon from his breakfast tray and pretending to assess it's potential as a digging implement.
Mark and Jesse both laughed again, and in the shared laughter something much deeper, slipped into place, a connection that would help them deal with the pain and the fear and the guilt and anything else that was thrown at them.
They spent the next half hour not discussing what had happened, not discussing their feelings, their reactions, their injuries or their pain. In fact they avoided the case and anything associated with it, they merely reminisced about good times they had had together. It was the nearest thing you could get to a wake without anyone dying, but it was what they all needed, Jesse in particular, if they were going to deal with their emotions.
It was Mark who finally pulled the conversation full circle, Jesse hadn't said anything for a few minutes and it was clear from his demeanor that his thoughts had turned back to his current predicament. "You know you could be right, Jess, it could have been her."
Jesse looked up and gave a half smile, wondering, not for the first time if Mark could actually read his mind, he'd only just turned his thoughts back to what he had seen, or thought he had seen, the previous day. "I know I was pretty out of it, but the more I think about it the more sure I am that it was really her." He picked absently at a loose piece of cotton on his sleeve. "If I was hallucinating from my past, then she would have looked the same as when I last saw her, three years ago, but she didn't, her hair was blonde and much shorter and her skin had a deeper tan, but it was still her, I knew it was her."
"What did she do?" Mark asked.
Jesse's eyes defocused as he concentrated on the memory, he looked at a point on the floor between the two beds. "She followed me into the alley, I backed away and fell and. . ." He looked up sharply. "She laughed at me." There was a mixture of confusion and fear in his expression, "She had a gun, she pointed it at me and. . ." There was another pause as he clearly searched his memory for more, finally he shook his head, "I guess I must have blacked out, the next thing I remember is someone else being there."
Mark and Steve exchanged concerned glances, if Jesse's memory was accurate then it was clear that Chloe Marsden had had the perfect opportunity to finish what she had started, which meant that they had come closer than either of them had thought to losing their friend.
"Damn," Jesse let the uncharacteristic curse slip from his lips as another strong memory connected in his head.
"Jess?" Mark asked his concern increasing.
Jesse looked up, suddenly more animated. "I need to see those personnel files again." He moved to retrieve his crutches. "I think they were still in your office. . ."
"Jesse, sit down, you're in no condition to be running around the hospital," Steve said, pressing the call button, "Tell us what you need and someone will get it for you."
Jesse paused in the process of reaching for the second crutch and grinned up at his friend. "I suppose we're half way there with making you into a better patient, I mean we've got you to the point where you can give good advice." He dropped the first crutch down again, pausing for effect. "Now if we could only get you to follow it."
"You know Jess, if I could spare one of these pillows I'd throw it at you."
The next few minutes was spent persuading the nurse who answered Steve's call first to accept that Jesse was there to stay and no amount of persuasion would get him back to his room, even if that meant signing himself out, and then explaining what it was they needed her to retrieve. Whilst they were waiting for her to return they took the opportunity to read through the sheets of chapter 11, that Amanda had left with them.
Jesse was the last to complete the read, "Well that takes away any doubt in my mind that the killer was there," he said lowering the last sheet. "If I had written it myself the description would have been the same, a little less flowery, although she's made a good attempt at copying my style, but all of the details are accurate." If it had been unnerving having the killer staging the events that he had written, it was equally strange having events he had lived through written by someone else and posted as part of his story.
The nurse interrupted any further comment returning with the requested files, she placed them on a table by Jesse, who thanked her and immediately picked up the first one to check. He quickly discarded it and moved on to the next.
"What are you looking for? Maybe we can help." Mark offered.
Jesse answered without looking up from his task. "I don't know exactly." He dropped another file to the floor. "It's something about one of the photographs. I. . . ." He broke off from what he was saying and stared at the picture in the file he was holding, unclipping it from the attached paperwork he lifted it for a closer perusal. He let out a sound halfway between a sigh and a gasp and followed it with a soft curse. "I can't believe I didn't see it before. . ."
It was all Steve could do to restrain himself in the bed, but he knew that it would still take considerable effort, not to mention pain, just to stand, let alone make it across the room to Jesse's position. Mark had no injuries apart from aches and bruising to hamper him. He was across and by Jesse's side staring over his shoulder at the photograph.
Steve allowed them only a moment before his impatience got the better of him. "What is it?"
Jesse passed the photograph to Mark, who moved to take it to his son.
"When I was looking for Chloe in these pictures yesterday, I was looking for someone who looked like she did the last time I saw her. Long dark hair, brown eyes, but now I know that she's changed her appearance."
"But even with a different hair colour you still would have recognised her in a photograph." Steve reached up to accept the picture from his father, his concentration for the moment still on Jesse.
"Yes, but what if we're not looking for a picture of Chloe Marsden, just someone who strongly resembles her, or at least the new improved blonde version of her. Nobody really checks these photographs too closely, they rely on other vetting procedures."
Steve finally looked down at the photograph which he now held in his hand. He studied it closely. "It's not her but it could certainly pass for her," he admitted, he could now see why Jesse was getting excited, this could be the break they'd been looking for. "So who is it and where has she been working?" He asked, handing the photograph back to Mark.
"Oh you're going to love this," Jesse said, "Her name's Laura Miles and for the last six months she's been working in community general's hospital security. Specifically she's been in charge of monitoring the hospitals banks of CCTV monitors."
"Damn," it was Steve's turn to swear. It would certainly explain how she'd been able to watch them and monitor their movements without risking being spotted herself. "So where was she before coming here?"
Jesse quickly checked back through the file. "She was working for the correctional services corporation in Arizona ."
"And how much would you like to bet that they run the Broadbent institute, where Chloe Marsden was being held?" Mark asked.
"No bet from me," Steve said, "of course we're still making one important assumption here."
"That Chloe Marsden is still alive," Jesse supplied.
"I think it's about time I give Amanda a call," Mark said, picking up the phone. "See if she has anything for us."
"And I'll see if I can get a background check on Ms Laura Miles," Steve agreed, calling for the police guard on the door to relay his request.
Thirty minutes later they had been joined by Amanda and Nathan, and an irate Dr. Taylor had agreed to do the rest of his rounds first, before returning to check on his 'most difficult patients.' They had secured his agreement by all agreeing to cooperate fully when he returned.
"OK, according to the report," Amanda, opened up the file on her lap, "Chloe committed suicide in a very unusual way. She is supposed to have doused herself in paint thinner, smuggled out of an art class and set it alight. The body was extremely badly burned, she was identified from dental records and, since she was alone in her room after lock up, there was no real investigation."
"Laura Miles, resigned from her position as a security officer on the same day that the 'suicide' occurred," Nathan filled in. "It seems she was involved in a long running dispute with one of the hospital porters and no one was really surprised to see her go. No prizes for guessing the name of the porter."
"Paul Bilson," Jesse stated.
"One and the same," Nathan nodded, "He resigned a week later, probably waited around just long enough not to arouse suspicion and then left."
"So I did see her then?" Instinct and logic told Jesse that the question was redundant, he now knew the answer, but he still needed confirmation from the others.
Everyone nodded. "There's not much doubt that it is her Jess," Mark stated recognising the need for the affirmation.
"Laura Miles was due on shift this morning but she called in Sick," Nathan said, flicking the page in his notebook. "I've put out an APB with both the picture of her and of Chloe Marsden and I've sent officers out to her address." He paused for a moment, allowing a flash of memory to pass. "Along with the bomb squad this time, although if Bilson is dead that shouldn't be necessary, but after yesterday we're taking no chances."
"If. . ." Steve picked up.
"There wasn't enough of the body retrieved from Bilson's apartment to give a positive ID," Amanda answered. "All I can tell you is that the body was male and he had the same blood group as Bilson."
"Then they both could still be out there." Jesse stated.
"And still probably one step ahead of us." Mark tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. They now knew who was doing this but he doubted that that would help them to catch her.
--
Afternoon passed to early evening with little progress except to confirm, by interviews with her coworkers and comparison of the photographs of the two women, that Chloe Marsden had indeed assumed the identity of Laura Miles. There was no one at the apartment, and all indications were that she hadn't been back there since the day before the attacks began.
There was however, one interesting but disturbing find, copies of hundreds of hours of security tapes of Jesse taken from the ER and around the hospital, logged and catalogued. There were detailed itineraries of his day and of who he met and the patients he treated, everything that had been caught on camera seemed to be there. For Nathan, it gave a whole new dimension to the idea of stalking someone, and he knew it would be a while before he could ignore the proliferation of CCTV cameras, that he knew filmed him wherever he went, in the same oblivious fashion that he had done up to that point. The concept of 'Big Brother' had merely been something he'd had to write about for a book report in high school, but for the first time he recognised that the technology was now there and in the wrong hands that concept could become a reality.
Steve, despite his best efforts to avoid it, spent most of the afternoon asleep, still weakened from the knife wound and the associated blood loss, the events of the morning had exhausted him. In the meantime Mark had been discharged, apart from some residual bruising from the explosion, he was fine, the drugs seemed to have cleared his system and being up and around was the best thing for him. Jesse had been transferred into Mark's recently vacated bed, ostensibly to reduce the number of police guards needed, but realistically Dr. Taylor knew that he would find his way back into the room anyway, even if his bed was officially somewhere else, and he saw no reason to try to swim against the tide. At least this way he could hopefully keep track of the pair of them.
Mark came back into the room just as they were finishing dinner. "Hi dad," Steve said, trying to hide his relief at his father's presence. After what had happened it was going to take a while to shake the uneasiness he felt whenever his father wasn't physically in the room. He knew it was an over reaction, knew that Nathan had detailed someone to stay close to Mark at all times until Chloe was caught, but still the niggling fear was there.
"Hi, how are you feeling?" Mark asked, keeping his own concerns controlled.
"Well enough to eat his own dinner and most of mine," Jesse stated.
"Hey, you didn't want it," Steve said defensively
Jesse merely shook his head. "No one in their right mind would."
Steve wasn't listening to the jibe, he was too busy studying his father's expression. "I recognise that look," he said with a hint of accusation. "What have you got?"
Mark smiled, he was obviously becoming predictable. "Well it's a long shot but I think I have an idea as to how we can set Miss Marsden up."
Steve glanced across at Jesse before looking back. "We're listening."
"Well you remember last time we caught her because she repeated her pattern." Both men nodded grimly at the memory of what they had had to do. "Well I'm banking on the fact that her psychology hasn't changed too much, she didn't see the set up last time because she was following her own delusional view of reality. This time her view of reality is linked to Jesse's story, so strongly that she has to 'fix' things when they don't fit into what the story says." He looked at his son. "You noticed that when you worked out how to find me. So far she's either had to change the story around, or make things happen so that everything fits with what has been posted."
"So, how does that help us?" Jesse asked.
"Well what if you were to write a new chapter, one which would involve her going somewhere specific. Somewhere we could be waiting for her. If you posted it and then we blocked her access to the account so that she couldn't change it, it might force her out into the open."
"But surely she wouldn't go for such an obvious set up," Steve stated.
"I said it was a long shot, but I had a chat with Dr. Carter this afternoon and she seems to think that there is a chance of it working, remember Chloe doesn't see reality like the rest of us, she's already taken a number of irrational risks. Besides, there's no real risk on our part, if it doesn't work we haven't lost anything." Mark looked to Jesse. "So what do you think? Are you up to writing another chapter?"
Jesse thought for a moment, he hadn't really considered writing since the whole nightmare began. Now that he did, part of him wanted to scream that he would never write again, that he couldn't even contemplate it after what had happened, but he could see the logic of Mark's suggestion. He looked up, his emotions still warring over the decision. "I'll try," he said quietly.
--
Jesse stared at the screen on the borrowed laptop, he had made it as far as typing 'Chapter 12.' That had been a couple of hours ago and still the rest of the screen was blank. He looked over at Steve's sleeping form and lamented the fact that he no longer had the excuse of talking to his friend as a distraction from the fact that he did not know what to write. The frustrating part was that he knew what he wanted to say, knew what he wanted to happen, he just couldn't get the wording right in his head to even make a start. He let out a deep sigh and stared once again at the blank screen. This must be what they meant by 'writer's block.'