Author's note:- Ok here is what I think will be the penultimate part- hope
you like it. Judith
Part 17 'Come Into My Lair Said The Spider To The Fly'
Mark stood, shaking his head, "It's no good Jess. . ." He would have continued but Jesse interrupted.
"I know it's not up to the standard of the earlier stuff," the dejection was clear in Jesse's tone. "I tried to get the wording right but. . ." he trailed off not sure how to express his own insecurities about what he had written.
It took Mark a moment to review what he had said and interpret Jesse's response. "No, Jess," he shook his head again, suddenly reminded of his young friend's fragile emotional state. "It's very well written, it's just that. . ." He looked down at the computer in his hands. "It's not what I meant you to write. . . We can't use. ." It was his turn to find choosing his words difficult. "You just can't do it."
"What?" Steve asked, frustrated, it was the second time that he felt out of the loop because he was not mobile enough to get out of bed to look at something for himself. He pointed to the computer Mark had been reading from. "What's wrong with it?"
Mark obligingly stood and handed Steve the computer. "You'd better read it for yourself."
Steve was aware of two pairs of eyes watching him and waiting, as he found his way to the beginning of the chapter and began to read. It was the middle of the fourth side when he jerked his head up to look at his young friend. "No Jess, you can't."
Mark had known Steve's response would be the same as his own. "I never meant for you to write anything that would involve placing yourself in danger."
Steve wasn't so subtle. "You'll have to rewrite that part," he stated firmly. "Use some other reason to get her to the park that doesn't involve you, it's too dangerous."
Jesse shook his head. "She's crazy, but she's not that crazy," he switched his attention between father and son, reading the concern from each as he tried to outline his reasoning. "If we are going to get her to walk into a trap then she has to have a powerful enough incentive." He paused for a moment. "The bait has to be right or there's no chance that she'll go for it."
"Not when you're the bait." Steve's tone spoke of exasperation. "If that is the only way then we'll find some other method of catching her."
"Steve's right," Mark agreed, "There must be another way of doing this."
"Before anyone else gets hurt?" Jesse asked, "because she needs to be stopped quickly, before she has the chance to take any more lives." He paused to allow them to consider the question, before adding quietly, "I don't think there is any choice here, I think this is our best shot and we've got to take it."
Mark and Steve looked at each other, their expressions clearly conveying that, however much they didn't like it, they had to agree with the reasoning.
Steve still wasn't happy, part of the relationship, the friendship they shared, had always cast him in the role of big brother, and as such he had a fiercely protective streak which was going into overdrive now. Jesse had been through so much in the last few days and Steve wanted more than anything just to lock him out of harms way. "Then let me do it. Put Detective Steve Slade at the meeting in the park and she can come after me."
Jesse shook his head and smiled at his friend, it was good to have people so close that they would volunteer to put themselves in danger in order to protect you. "She wouldn't go for it, her grudge is with me remember? Besides, Dr. Taylor only removed your chest drain this morning and that knife wound is too severe for you to be up and around yet."
"You're injured too," Steve countered.
"The wound on my leg is healing nicely and, as a doctor, I can tell you it will heal all the quicker if I start to put some weight on it. Besides, I can always use crutches. I'm a past master on those. In fact if they ever put crutch racing into the Olympics I'd be a prime candidate for team America." The last comment was meant to restore a little levity into the conversation, but neither Mark nor Steve showed any amusement, the topic of discussion was too serious.
"Then at least relocate the meeting to somewhere where there will be more people around." Mark suggested. "That area of the park will be virtually empty around that time of the afternoon."
Jesse turned to Mark. "I know, that's why I chose it, Chloe has already shown that she doesn't care how many people she has to hurt to get at me. I can't risk any innocent bystanders getting caught up in this." He met Mark's gaze steadily. "Look, I've examined this from every angle and I know all of the risks I'll be taking and I'm not too happy about them myself. If I could come up with a better plan then I would, but we need to act soon." He looked appealingly at each of his friends in turn. "It's been nearly two days since she posted the last part and we have no idea what she may do next."
Once again Steve and Mark exchanged glances that conveyed both their frustration and acceptance. Steve sighed. "You'll need to call Nathan and Captain Newman," he said resignedly, "We'll need his approval to get this up and running."
Mark nodded, a part of him regretting having come up with the idea, whilst another part of him acknowledged the need to end this. "I'll go make the calls."
--
The huge gray white preponderance of concrete blocks sat forlornly on the edge of Southside park. Graffiti adorned it's once gleaming white walls, sharp edges had been chipped away to reveal jagged gray beneath, as time and weather had taken their toll. The once proud architectural work of art, donated in a civic ceremony to the people of Los Angeles in a blaze of publicity, had long since been forgotten. Instead of being a focus for people to admire, it had become a carbuncle to be avoided, making this section of the park a no go area even in daylight. Only the poor, the homeless, the drugtakers had any use for it now, as a shelter from the wind, a place to hide from prying eyes in the many narrow gaps between the blocks. It had finally been scheduled for demolition and the notices proclaiming its fate only added to the air of lost hope that surrounded it.
Jesse had chosen it because he knew that there were many places where backup could be concealed, without the risk of being spotted, the maze of narrow passages was perfect. Police had been positioned there out of sight, and at all of the entrances to the park from the moment his new chapter had been posted at around three o'clock. He had been quite specific about the time of the meeting, 5pm, but they had taken no chances at being spotted taking up their positions.
Jesse had only been there for twenty minutes, he had taken a cab alone from the hospital, just in case she was still watching him, and had arrived at ten to five. Walking from the nearest entrance had been the most dangerous time, the time it was most difficult to cover him, and the slow pace he had had to take because of his heavy limp had made that time seem to drag out to forever. Everyone had breathed a huge sigh of relief when he had made it to the sculpture without incident. He now stood leaning against the middle block, using it to take the weight off his injured leg. He looked at his watch for the fiftieth time and drew in a sharp breath as he realised that she was now at least ten minutes late. "I don't think she's coming," he said, loudly enough for the wire he was wearing to pick up.
Mark was sitting in the control truck by the nearest gate and indicated to the officer sitting next to him that he'd like to reply. "Give it a chance, Jess. She may only just have read the story. We have to give it time." He understood the frustration that Jesse was feeling and empathised. Each second that ticked past without an appearance from Chloe took them that much nearer to failure. He tried to keep his own frustration out of his tone.
Jesse looked up at the fading afternoon sunlight, incongruous with both his mood and the wretched sculpture behind him. He did his best to keep a reign on his anxiety, but as time passed he could not help but confront the prospect of coming face to face with his tormentor, both past and present. Old nightmares had returned to haunt him, they mixed flawlessly with the new ones and broke through his careful control. Each time someone appeared in the distance his heart leapt into his throat and his stomach dived into his abdomen stretching out his insides. As the figures got closer and he realised that it was not her, the anxiety turned to disappointment, his insides contorted to a different yet equally uncomfortable position and he was left to draw in a deep breath and start the whole process again.
He knew that he was well protected, and had to fight the temptation to look toward the concealed positions of the officers behind him. Similarly it was difficult to resist the temptation to search the treeline for the hidden cameras that he knew had been placed there, even though he knew that they would be too small to see. He sighed again and checked his watch 5.15pm. He shifted his position to relieve the pressure from the bruising on his back whilst still trying to keep the weight off his injured leg. He tried not to wince as he did not entirely succeed.
"Hang in there Jess," Mark said into his headset, trying to be as encouraging as possible as he watched his friend on the bank of screens in front of him. "If it's going to happen at all it will happen soon."
--
Steve was trying to control his own brand of frustration as he leaned back onto his pillows and tried desperately not to feel helpless. His strength was returning a little at a time but it was not keeping pace with his restlessness. The fact that he knew that Jesse was walking into a potentially dangerous situation, and he could do nothing but lie there and wait for news, was not helping his mood. He flicked the TV off, even if there had been something he wanted to watch, he would not have the necessary concentration, so he wasn't even sure why he'd bothered flicking through the channels.
Nurse Michael Collins stopped at the door to get his ID checked. He was having a difficult time maintaining his cheery facade, when all he wanted to do was crawl into a dark space and cry. His girlfriend had been murdered, he'd managed to get himself involved in an assault and been arrested, and everywhere he looked there were police or security to remind him. He had considered not coming in to work but there were an equal number of reminders at home, Ellen had virtually moved in with him and he had been preparing to propose to her. At least at work he had things to occupy his mind and keep him from descending into total melancholy.
Despite his mood he did his best to force a smile as he breezed into the patient's room. "OK so whose lucky turn is it to go to physio. . ." the rest of the question trailed off as he met the slightly surprised gaze of Lieutenant Steve Sloan. "Oh!" he exclaimed, bewildered. Not quite sure what to do as he once again faced the officer who had arrested him, the man whose friend he had attacked. He was ashamed of his behaviour towards Dr. Travis, the unfocussed anger about what had happened had made him behave irrationally and he had been goaded by Bilson into taking part, but he knew that it was still no excuse. His face flushed. "I'm sorry," he said hesitantly. "They didn't tell me it was you. Just to collect the patient in room 317 and take him to physiotherapy." He paused, clearly flustered. "I can get someone else to take you if you'd like."
Steve considered for a moment, he hadn't expected to be going to physiotherapy, Dr. Taylor hadn't mentioned anything about it, on the other hand it would occupy the time and anything that increased his ability to move around at the moment would be a blessing. "No, it's OK," he said, beginning to adjust his position, "You can take me."
He had no qualms about going with Collins. Everything in the man's background check had been clear and Collins had come across as genuinely remorseful about his part in the attack on Jesse. He was clearly grief stricken by the loss of the woman he loved, and, although he did not approve, Steve could at least understand his motives for threatening Jesse. He was also fairly sure that Collins wold have tried to stop it from going too far.
The police guard accompanied them to the elevator and they stepped in. In the back corner a doctor stood discussing a patient's chart with a nurse, his back was to them and all they could see of the nurse was the edge of her uniform, not that any of the three of them gave them a second glance as the elevator doors closed.
--
Jesse didn't want to admit it but he was getting tired, the tension of waiting had drained what little reserves of strength that he had. His leg was also starting to throb with a constant ache and focussing his mind away from the pain was becoming increasingly difficult. "Trust me to set up a meet at a place with no seats," he muttered into the wire, not expecting a response. He checked his watch. It was now 6 p.m. "She's not coming is she?"
There was a delay of about a minute before Mark replied. "I've just been talking to Captain Newman, he thinks we should call it off for today, but he's given the go ahead for us to try one more time tomorrow. After all we don't even know if she's read it yet."
Jesse sighed, a combination of dejection and tiredness colouring his voice as he replied. "OK I'll make my way back to the gate," he said, pushing himself away from the wall and beginning the slow shuffle along the path.
Mark watched his friend, injury notwithstanding, Jesse walked like a man three times his age, the stoop of his shoulders, the slow deliberate pace, all spoke of the despondency that had been clear in his tone. He tried to think of something encouraging to say but his own mood precluded it. It had always been a long shot, but even so, he had been sure that Chloe would try something.
The buzz of activity around him reminded him that she still might as the team of officers in the park began the task of covering Jesse's movement until he was safely in the taxi. He was just as vulnerable now as he had been on the way in, and everyone had moved to full alert as they watched and waited.
Once again there was a collective sigh of relief as the officer driving the cab confirmed that Jesse had been safely picked up. Newman gave the order for everyone to remain in position for another half hour before dispersing, just in case they were being watched. Then, anticipating Mark's request, he detailed an officer to drive him back to the hospital.
--
The first indication Steve had that anything was wrong were the simultaneous grunts of pain from the side and behind him. He turned just in time to see the officer go down and caught Collin's descent to the floor behind him in his peripheral vision. It happened so quickly he barely had time to process what was happening. "What the. . .?" The half formed question left his lips as he looked up at the doctor who was still standing, except it wasn't a doctor, it was Paul Bilson, blond, darker skin, the wrong eye colour, but it was him. Steve didn't have time to react further as the blood soaked knife was dropped to the floor to be replaced by a gun in Bilson's hand. A hand came from behind and ripped out his IV line causing a shooting pain up his arm. He tried to turn to see who his other assailant was but his movement was still restricted by his injury. Not that he couldn't make an informed guess.
"Assume the position," Bilson said, gesturing with his gun before starting to manhandle Steve out of the wheelchair when he wasn't quick enough.
Steve felt the gun pressing into his ribs and so did his best to comply, as his mind desperately tried to keep up with the shocking turn of events. He could hear groaning from one of the fallen men and knew that they were both hurt, but there was nothing he could do. He lifted his arms as high as he could, resting them against the wall, his feet slightly apart. He could feel Bilson's hot breath on his neck as he moved in closer, the gun still pressing into his ribs.
"So how does it feel cop," Bilson said, his voice dripping with contempt, as he moved to speak only a few inches from Steve's ear "The tables are turned now. Tell me how you like being pushed around, having a gun pointed at you." The gun was shoved sharply into Steve's ribs.
"What do you and your girlfriend want, Bilson?" Steve ground the question out through clenched teeth. Anger and fear fought for control as he tried to reign in his emotions so that he did not do something that would get him killed.
"Well that's a simple enough question," Bilson replied, "at the moment, we want you." He handed the gun to Chloe. "Cover him."
Steve turned his head and got his first glimpse of Chloe Marsden in three years. He would have been equally shocked by her change of appearance if he had not already heard Jesse's description and seen the photographs of the woman she had replaced.
He did not have long to study her before Bilson grabbed both his arms and pulled them roughly behind him. He knew that if his system had not already been flooded with drugs from the recently removed IV, he would probably have passed out from the pain. As it was, it was enough to drag his focus from everything as he drew in a sharp breath. He felt the cuffs lock around his wrist and winced again when they were pressed closed too tightly. He was then turned to face the door and he realised for the first time that the elevator had been stopped, as Bilson reached across and hit the button to resume its ascent.
The police guard groaned as Chloe stepped over him and Steve's anger flared. "Why did you hurt them there was no need.. ."
He didn't get any further as Bilson landed a blow to his abdomen, and he doubled over. Bilson grabbed his hair and pulled his head back to meet his gaze. "Why don't you follow the advice you gave me, and use your right to remain silent."
Chloe stepped forward and ran her hand down Bilson's cheek. "Oh come now I'm sure we can satisfy the good Lieutenant's curiosity. You see," she turned to look at Steve, "whilst the medical staff are busy saving their lives." She pointed to the men on the floor. "It will give us time to escape."
--
The patrol car carrying Mark pulled into the hospital lot coming to a stop on the no parking drop off in front of the double doors. Mark was surprised to see Jesse waiting for him with Nathan, he had expected the young doctor to be resting somewhere, the wait in the park had taken so much out of him. Curiosity piqued, he could barely wait for the patrol car to pull up before he climbed out, his first thought was that there had been some sort of break in the case. He hoped that it was good news, after all they had been through they needed some, but that hope died before he pushed himself to his full height. There was something about the atmosphere, a pervading almost tangible air of distress, that would have alerted him that something was wrong even if he had not seen Jesse and Nathan's expressions. They both held concern, so something was clearly wrong, but there was more, there was sympathy, sympathy for him, and that could mean only one thing. . .
Mark looked Jesse in the eye, tears forming in his own as he tried to ask the question that he did not want to ask, sure that he did not want to know the answer. There was a slight hesitation and then the words poured out. "What's happened Jess? Is it Steve? Is he all right? Is he alive?"
Several more patrol cars drew into sight and Mark was aware of the flashing lights on the edge of his vision, some part of his mind acknowledged the hum of engines and screech of tyres, both further reinforced the now almost panicked response as he waited for Jesse to answer. What in reality was only a couple of seconds seemed to stretch into hours as Mark tried desperately to prepare himself for that answer.
"She's taken him," Jesse stated, knowing there was no way to soften the blow.
Mark stared at him, he let out a long slow breath, his shoulders sagging in relief, he had been so sure that Jesse was going to tell him that Steve was dead, that any alternative was a relief. "When?" He managed to ask.
"About half an hour ago," Nathan replied, stepping forward. "I'm sorry Mark, she took advantage of the fact that we had pulled a lot of the officers off so they could cover the park."
Mark nodded slowly, the whole operation in the park was part of his idea, he cursed himself, he had clearly underestimated her, and as a result she now had Steve. "How?" He asked, quietly.
"She called through a request for him to be taken to physiotherapy. When they got on the elevator, the nurse and the guard with him were stabbed. They're both still in surgery, it took a while before anyone noticed Steve should have been with them."
Mark nodded again. His third question was not so easy to answer. "Why?"
Neither man could come up with any sort of reply, not that Mark expected them to, like so much of this case, on the surface it did not seem to make any sense. He let out another sigh and turned to leave. He needed to be alone to try to get some sort of reign on his emotions. He paused briefly, manners not allowing him to just walk away. "I'll be in my office," he said, quietly
--
Jesse sat alone in the doctor's lounge, the hospital was half empty and eerily quiet. The publicity surrounding the killings had resulted in patients who were able transferring to other hospitals or going home early, new admissions were virtually non-existent, leaving Community General in crisis.
He stared at the mug of coffee that he held, it was his third cup in the last hour and drinking it probably wouldn't do him any good. He had only made it because fixing it had given him something to do. He didn't notice that he wasn't alone until he heard the tentative voice.
"Dr. Travis?"
He looked up to see nurse Johnson and forced a weary smile.
"I. . .erm . . I . . ." She began hesitantly. "I just took a very strange call and I'm not sure who I'm supposed to tell, but they asked me to give you a message and so I thought. . .but maybe I should tell the detective or one of the officers because it might. . ."
"What was the message?" Jesse interrupted, putting just enough authority into his voice to get the flustered young woman to answer.
"She said, 'ask Dr. Travis if he's had any good reviews lately.'"
Jesse waited for a moment before asking, "that was it?"
"Yes, she said that and hung up." Nurse Johnson stared at him. "Should I tell the police? I mean, maybe its connected to the killings."
"No," Jesse said, slightly distracted as he considered the message. He looked up and met the young nurse's gaze. "Thanks I'll let them know about it. You get back to work."
She smiled at him, grateful to be absolved of the responsibility of taking further action and turned to leave, only to almost trip over one of the chairs. Jesse automatically stood to help her, wondering, not for the first time, how someone so clumsy coped with life, but she merely turned and gave him another slightly embarrassed smile before leaving. Jesse watched her go, allowing his thoughts to drift back to the message. He briefly considered telling someone about it but decided he needed to check it out himself first.
It took him only a few minutes to find a computer and log himself on to the internet, a couple of minutes more to login to his e-mail account. There were a lot of reviews in his inbox, he hadn't checked it since the first murder, but he knew that the message would relate to one of the most recent. He opened the last one and read it, dismissing it when it just complimented him on an interesting plot twist. He moved on to the next.
Anon. Liked the idea of getting Dr. Carter to confront his Nemesis in the park, although if I were writing it, I would have set it at night instead of during the day. The atmosphere by the sculpture would be so much more interesting at 5 a.m. I also would have had the murderer do something to ensure that the Dr. comes alone, without telling anyone. For example taking someone hostage and threatening to kill them if he doesn't. Hope you understand my point.- C
Jesse read the message twice before making his decision, not that it was difficult, the message made it clear that he had no choice, one way or another this was going to end. He shut the computer down staring at the blank screen for several minutes.
--
Getting out of the hospital had been tricky, first he'd had to get past the policeman who was assigned to protect him. He'd managed that by slipping out of his room when the officer had gone to the men's room. Then there had been the task of getting to the park. He couldn't take a cab, there was too much of a risk that he would be seen getting into it. His own car was conspicuously parked by one of the entrances. That left Steve's truck, he knew where Steve kept his spare key in a magnetic holder under the rear wheel arch. He also knew that Steve would be annoyed with him for borrowing it without permission, but he would deal with that if it ever came up, hoping perversely that it would because if Steve was angry with him, that would mean they were both alive.
He hadn't considered that driving might be difficult with his injured leg until he tried it and he found himself having to operate the brake with the wrong foot. Aside from the discomfort however, the drive passed without incident. He checked his watch as he pulled into a parking space, 4.45 a.m., he had a few minutes to prepare, he climbed out of the truck and popped the trunk.
He paused by the gates of the park for the briefest of moments to consider what he was doing. Maybe he should have told someone?
He dismissed the thought, he couldn't, they would have tried to stop him, and he couldn't take that risk, not even with Mark, especially not with Mark, it would have put him into an impossible position. No, this was a decision that he had had to take, a situation that he had to face alone, from the moment all of this had begun it now seemed that it had been inevitable. With that rationalisation he felt a strange calm settle over him. Intellectually he knew that he should feel the same fear, even terror that he had on his previous visit, more perhaps, earlier he had had twenty police officers whose sole job was to protect him, and now it was dark and he was alone. Earlier there had only been a chance that Chloe would show up and he would have to face her, now it was a certainty, and yet he had control, the fear was there but was tempered by determination. He took a deep breath and began to walk down the darkened path.
He stopped in the same position he had earlier in the day and looked once again at his watch, it was exactly 5.00 a.m. the first gray wisps of dawn were starting to filter above the horizon.
"Right on time."
The softly spoken words shocked Jesse as Chloe stepped out of the gap between the blocks less than five feet from him.
He tried to hide his reaction and only partially succeeded as he turned to face her. In the growing light, he could just make out the gun that was pointing at his chest.
"I'm here alone," he stated, keeping his tone even. He raised his hands to waist height keeping his palms open facing down, unthreatening. "So you can let my friend go."
"Oh, how sweet," Chloe smiled, "the good doctor, concerned for his friends, concerned for his patients, concerned for everyone." The smile disappeared, "Where was that concern for your lover, where was that concern when they dragged me away and locked me in a padded room."
The response was almost automatic. "Chloe we were never. . ." The denial died on his lips as he saw her tense in response, her grip tightening on the gun.
"You said you loved me," She said softly, bitterly.
Jesse did not bother with the denial this time. "Where's Steve?" He asked.
"Your friend is in good hands."
"You said you wouldn't kill him if I came."
Chloe stepped forward, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, handing it to him as she moved to slowly circle him. "Do you remember this?"
He slowly unfolded the sheet, it was a drawing of a hero slaying a dragon, the hero had his face, he remembered being flattered the first time he had seen it, there weren't that many people who had ever considered him a hero. Now it made his blood run cold.
"We could have been so good together," the words were warm, soft, whispered into his ear from behind. Then the gun pressed into his side. "Until you betrayed me, lied about me." The softness replaced with a hissing venom. "And they stole my life from me."
"I only wanted to help you," Jesse tried to placate the growing anger, remembering the mercurial changes of emotional state. "I never meant to hurt. . ."
Chloe wasn't listening she backed away as Jesse now turned to face her. "No, I needed you, I thought you were special, I needed you to protect me and you betrayed me." She paused and shook her head slightly. "Well I don't need anyone anymore, I don't need anyone to fight my battles for me. I can fight my own." She raised the gun, gripping it with both hands.
Jesse stepped back too, the light now strong enough to make out the madness in her eyes. "Please," he said, "You don't want to do this. I. . ."
"I've been waiting three years to do this," she stated her voice suddenly calm. She pulled the trigger.
Jesse felt the impact, a soft thud, a moment before his chest exploded in pain, in the same instant his world faded out, his knees folded and he crumpled to the ground, nerveless fingers losing their grip on the drawing, as the wind caught it and lifted it slightly. Then it too began a slow descent, landing a few feet away, the image landing face up, seeming to parody the fallen hero lying next to it.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .
Part 17 'Come Into My Lair Said The Spider To The Fly'
Mark stood, shaking his head, "It's no good Jess. . ." He would have continued but Jesse interrupted.
"I know it's not up to the standard of the earlier stuff," the dejection was clear in Jesse's tone. "I tried to get the wording right but. . ." he trailed off not sure how to express his own insecurities about what he had written.
It took Mark a moment to review what he had said and interpret Jesse's response. "No, Jess," he shook his head again, suddenly reminded of his young friend's fragile emotional state. "It's very well written, it's just that. . ." He looked down at the computer in his hands. "It's not what I meant you to write. . . We can't use. ." It was his turn to find choosing his words difficult. "You just can't do it."
"What?" Steve asked, frustrated, it was the second time that he felt out of the loop because he was not mobile enough to get out of bed to look at something for himself. He pointed to the computer Mark had been reading from. "What's wrong with it?"
Mark obligingly stood and handed Steve the computer. "You'd better read it for yourself."
Steve was aware of two pairs of eyes watching him and waiting, as he found his way to the beginning of the chapter and began to read. It was the middle of the fourth side when he jerked his head up to look at his young friend. "No Jess, you can't."
Mark had known Steve's response would be the same as his own. "I never meant for you to write anything that would involve placing yourself in danger."
Steve wasn't so subtle. "You'll have to rewrite that part," he stated firmly. "Use some other reason to get her to the park that doesn't involve you, it's too dangerous."
Jesse shook his head. "She's crazy, but she's not that crazy," he switched his attention between father and son, reading the concern from each as he tried to outline his reasoning. "If we are going to get her to walk into a trap then she has to have a powerful enough incentive." He paused for a moment. "The bait has to be right or there's no chance that she'll go for it."
"Not when you're the bait." Steve's tone spoke of exasperation. "If that is the only way then we'll find some other method of catching her."
"Steve's right," Mark agreed, "There must be another way of doing this."
"Before anyone else gets hurt?" Jesse asked, "because she needs to be stopped quickly, before she has the chance to take any more lives." He paused to allow them to consider the question, before adding quietly, "I don't think there is any choice here, I think this is our best shot and we've got to take it."
Mark and Steve looked at each other, their expressions clearly conveying that, however much they didn't like it, they had to agree with the reasoning.
Steve still wasn't happy, part of the relationship, the friendship they shared, had always cast him in the role of big brother, and as such he had a fiercely protective streak which was going into overdrive now. Jesse had been through so much in the last few days and Steve wanted more than anything just to lock him out of harms way. "Then let me do it. Put Detective Steve Slade at the meeting in the park and she can come after me."
Jesse shook his head and smiled at his friend, it was good to have people so close that they would volunteer to put themselves in danger in order to protect you. "She wouldn't go for it, her grudge is with me remember? Besides, Dr. Taylor only removed your chest drain this morning and that knife wound is too severe for you to be up and around yet."
"You're injured too," Steve countered.
"The wound on my leg is healing nicely and, as a doctor, I can tell you it will heal all the quicker if I start to put some weight on it. Besides, I can always use crutches. I'm a past master on those. In fact if they ever put crutch racing into the Olympics I'd be a prime candidate for team America." The last comment was meant to restore a little levity into the conversation, but neither Mark nor Steve showed any amusement, the topic of discussion was too serious.
"Then at least relocate the meeting to somewhere where there will be more people around." Mark suggested. "That area of the park will be virtually empty around that time of the afternoon."
Jesse turned to Mark. "I know, that's why I chose it, Chloe has already shown that she doesn't care how many people she has to hurt to get at me. I can't risk any innocent bystanders getting caught up in this." He met Mark's gaze steadily. "Look, I've examined this from every angle and I know all of the risks I'll be taking and I'm not too happy about them myself. If I could come up with a better plan then I would, but we need to act soon." He looked appealingly at each of his friends in turn. "It's been nearly two days since she posted the last part and we have no idea what she may do next."
Once again Steve and Mark exchanged glances that conveyed both their frustration and acceptance. Steve sighed. "You'll need to call Nathan and Captain Newman," he said resignedly, "We'll need his approval to get this up and running."
Mark nodded, a part of him regretting having come up with the idea, whilst another part of him acknowledged the need to end this. "I'll go make the calls."
--
The huge gray white preponderance of concrete blocks sat forlornly on the edge of Southside park. Graffiti adorned it's once gleaming white walls, sharp edges had been chipped away to reveal jagged gray beneath, as time and weather had taken their toll. The once proud architectural work of art, donated in a civic ceremony to the people of Los Angeles in a blaze of publicity, had long since been forgotten. Instead of being a focus for people to admire, it had become a carbuncle to be avoided, making this section of the park a no go area even in daylight. Only the poor, the homeless, the drugtakers had any use for it now, as a shelter from the wind, a place to hide from prying eyes in the many narrow gaps between the blocks. It had finally been scheduled for demolition and the notices proclaiming its fate only added to the air of lost hope that surrounded it.
Jesse had chosen it because he knew that there were many places where backup could be concealed, without the risk of being spotted, the maze of narrow passages was perfect. Police had been positioned there out of sight, and at all of the entrances to the park from the moment his new chapter had been posted at around three o'clock. He had been quite specific about the time of the meeting, 5pm, but they had taken no chances at being spotted taking up their positions.
Jesse had only been there for twenty minutes, he had taken a cab alone from the hospital, just in case she was still watching him, and had arrived at ten to five. Walking from the nearest entrance had been the most dangerous time, the time it was most difficult to cover him, and the slow pace he had had to take because of his heavy limp had made that time seem to drag out to forever. Everyone had breathed a huge sigh of relief when he had made it to the sculpture without incident. He now stood leaning against the middle block, using it to take the weight off his injured leg. He looked at his watch for the fiftieth time and drew in a sharp breath as he realised that she was now at least ten minutes late. "I don't think she's coming," he said, loudly enough for the wire he was wearing to pick up.
Mark was sitting in the control truck by the nearest gate and indicated to the officer sitting next to him that he'd like to reply. "Give it a chance, Jess. She may only just have read the story. We have to give it time." He understood the frustration that Jesse was feeling and empathised. Each second that ticked past without an appearance from Chloe took them that much nearer to failure. He tried to keep his own frustration out of his tone.
Jesse looked up at the fading afternoon sunlight, incongruous with both his mood and the wretched sculpture behind him. He did his best to keep a reign on his anxiety, but as time passed he could not help but confront the prospect of coming face to face with his tormentor, both past and present. Old nightmares had returned to haunt him, they mixed flawlessly with the new ones and broke through his careful control. Each time someone appeared in the distance his heart leapt into his throat and his stomach dived into his abdomen stretching out his insides. As the figures got closer and he realised that it was not her, the anxiety turned to disappointment, his insides contorted to a different yet equally uncomfortable position and he was left to draw in a deep breath and start the whole process again.
He knew that he was well protected, and had to fight the temptation to look toward the concealed positions of the officers behind him. Similarly it was difficult to resist the temptation to search the treeline for the hidden cameras that he knew had been placed there, even though he knew that they would be too small to see. He sighed again and checked his watch 5.15pm. He shifted his position to relieve the pressure from the bruising on his back whilst still trying to keep the weight off his injured leg. He tried not to wince as he did not entirely succeed.
"Hang in there Jess," Mark said into his headset, trying to be as encouraging as possible as he watched his friend on the bank of screens in front of him. "If it's going to happen at all it will happen soon."
--
Steve was trying to control his own brand of frustration as he leaned back onto his pillows and tried desperately not to feel helpless. His strength was returning a little at a time but it was not keeping pace with his restlessness. The fact that he knew that Jesse was walking into a potentially dangerous situation, and he could do nothing but lie there and wait for news, was not helping his mood. He flicked the TV off, even if there had been something he wanted to watch, he would not have the necessary concentration, so he wasn't even sure why he'd bothered flicking through the channels.
Nurse Michael Collins stopped at the door to get his ID checked. He was having a difficult time maintaining his cheery facade, when all he wanted to do was crawl into a dark space and cry. His girlfriend had been murdered, he'd managed to get himself involved in an assault and been arrested, and everywhere he looked there were police or security to remind him. He had considered not coming in to work but there were an equal number of reminders at home, Ellen had virtually moved in with him and he had been preparing to propose to her. At least at work he had things to occupy his mind and keep him from descending into total melancholy.
Despite his mood he did his best to force a smile as he breezed into the patient's room. "OK so whose lucky turn is it to go to physio. . ." the rest of the question trailed off as he met the slightly surprised gaze of Lieutenant Steve Sloan. "Oh!" he exclaimed, bewildered. Not quite sure what to do as he once again faced the officer who had arrested him, the man whose friend he had attacked. He was ashamed of his behaviour towards Dr. Travis, the unfocussed anger about what had happened had made him behave irrationally and he had been goaded by Bilson into taking part, but he knew that it was still no excuse. His face flushed. "I'm sorry," he said hesitantly. "They didn't tell me it was you. Just to collect the patient in room 317 and take him to physiotherapy." He paused, clearly flustered. "I can get someone else to take you if you'd like."
Steve considered for a moment, he hadn't expected to be going to physiotherapy, Dr. Taylor hadn't mentioned anything about it, on the other hand it would occupy the time and anything that increased his ability to move around at the moment would be a blessing. "No, it's OK," he said, beginning to adjust his position, "You can take me."
He had no qualms about going with Collins. Everything in the man's background check had been clear and Collins had come across as genuinely remorseful about his part in the attack on Jesse. He was clearly grief stricken by the loss of the woman he loved, and, although he did not approve, Steve could at least understand his motives for threatening Jesse. He was also fairly sure that Collins wold have tried to stop it from going too far.
The police guard accompanied them to the elevator and they stepped in. In the back corner a doctor stood discussing a patient's chart with a nurse, his back was to them and all they could see of the nurse was the edge of her uniform, not that any of the three of them gave them a second glance as the elevator doors closed.
--
Jesse didn't want to admit it but he was getting tired, the tension of waiting had drained what little reserves of strength that he had. His leg was also starting to throb with a constant ache and focussing his mind away from the pain was becoming increasingly difficult. "Trust me to set up a meet at a place with no seats," he muttered into the wire, not expecting a response. He checked his watch. It was now 6 p.m. "She's not coming is she?"
There was a delay of about a minute before Mark replied. "I've just been talking to Captain Newman, he thinks we should call it off for today, but he's given the go ahead for us to try one more time tomorrow. After all we don't even know if she's read it yet."
Jesse sighed, a combination of dejection and tiredness colouring his voice as he replied. "OK I'll make my way back to the gate," he said, pushing himself away from the wall and beginning the slow shuffle along the path.
Mark watched his friend, injury notwithstanding, Jesse walked like a man three times his age, the stoop of his shoulders, the slow deliberate pace, all spoke of the despondency that had been clear in his tone. He tried to think of something encouraging to say but his own mood precluded it. It had always been a long shot, but even so, he had been sure that Chloe would try something.
The buzz of activity around him reminded him that she still might as the team of officers in the park began the task of covering Jesse's movement until he was safely in the taxi. He was just as vulnerable now as he had been on the way in, and everyone had moved to full alert as they watched and waited.
Once again there was a collective sigh of relief as the officer driving the cab confirmed that Jesse had been safely picked up. Newman gave the order for everyone to remain in position for another half hour before dispersing, just in case they were being watched. Then, anticipating Mark's request, he detailed an officer to drive him back to the hospital.
--
The first indication Steve had that anything was wrong were the simultaneous grunts of pain from the side and behind him. He turned just in time to see the officer go down and caught Collin's descent to the floor behind him in his peripheral vision. It happened so quickly he barely had time to process what was happening. "What the. . .?" The half formed question left his lips as he looked up at the doctor who was still standing, except it wasn't a doctor, it was Paul Bilson, blond, darker skin, the wrong eye colour, but it was him. Steve didn't have time to react further as the blood soaked knife was dropped to the floor to be replaced by a gun in Bilson's hand. A hand came from behind and ripped out his IV line causing a shooting pain up his arm. He tried to turn to see who his other assailant was but his movement was still restricted by his injury. Not that he couldn't make an informed guess.
"Assume the position," Bilson said, gesturing with his gun before starting to manhandle Steve out of the wheelchair when he wasn't quick enough.
Steve felt the gun pressing into his ribs and so did his best to comply, as his mind desperately tried to keep up with the shocking turn of events. He could hear groaning from one of the fallen men and knew that they were both hurt, but there was nothing he could do. He lifted his arms as high as he could, resting them against the wall, his feet slightly apart. He could feel Bilson's hot breath on his neck as he moved in closer, the gun still pressing into his ribs.
"So how does it feel cop," Bilson said, his voice dripping with contempt, as he moved to speak only a few inches from Steve's ear "The tables are turned now. Tell me how you like being pushed around, having a gun pointed at you." The gun was shoved sharply into Steve's ribs.
"What do you and your girlfriend want, Bilson?" Steve ground the question out through clenched teeth. Anger and fear fought for control as he tried to reign in his emotions so that he did not do something that would get him killed.
"Well that's a simple enough question," Bilson replied, "at the moment, we want you." He handed the gun to Chloe. "Cover him."
Steve turned his head and got his first glimpse of Chloe Marsden in three years. He would have been equally shocked by her change of appearance if he had not already heard Jesse's description and seen the photographs of the woman she had replaced.
He did not have long to study her before Bilson grabbed both his arms and pulled them roughly behind him. He knew that if his system had not already been flooded with drugs from the recently removed IV, he would probably have passed out from the pain. As it was, it was enough to drag his focus from everything as he drew in a sharp breath. He felt the cuffs lock around his wrist and winced again when they were pressed closed too tightly. He was then turned to face the door and he realised for the first time that the elevator had been stopped, as Bilson reached across and hit the button to resume its ascent.
The police guard groaned as Chloe stepped over him and Steve's anger flared. "Why did you hurt them there was no need.. ."
He didn't get any further as Bilson landed a blow to his abdomen, and he doubled over. Bilson grabbed his hair and pulled his head back to meet his gaze. "Why don't you follow the advice you gave me, and use your right to remain silent."
Chloe stepped forward and ran her hand down Bilson's cheek. "Oh come now I'm sure we can satisfy the good Lieutenant's curiosity. You see," she turned to look at Steve, "whilst the medical staff are busy saving their lives." She pointed to the men on the floor. "It will give us time to escape."
--
The patrol car carrying Mark pulled into the hospital lot coming to a stop on the no parking drop off in front of the double doors. Mark was surprised to see Jesse waiting for him with Nathan, he had expected the young doctor to be resting somewhere, the wait in the park had taken so much out of him. Curiosity piqued, he could barely wait for the patrol car to pull up before he climbed out, his first thought was that there had been some sort of break in the case. He hoped that it was good news, after all they had been through they needed some, but that hope died before he pushed himself to his full height. There was something about the atmosphere, a pervading almost tangible air of distress, that would have alerted him that something was wrong even if he had not seen Jesse and Nathan's expressions. They both held concern, so something was clearly wrong, but there was more, there was sympathy, sympathy for him, and that could mean only one thing. . .
Mark looked Jesse in the eye, tears forming in his own as he tried to ask the question that he did not want to ask, sure that he did not want to know the answer. There was a slight hesitation and then the words poured out. "What's happened Jess? Is it Steve? Is he all right? Is he alive?"
Several more patrol cars drew into sight and Mark was aware of the flashing lights on the edge of his vision, some part of his mind acknowledged the hum of engines and screech of tyres, both further reinforced the now almost panicked response as he waited for Jesse to answer. What in reality was only a couple of seconds seemed to stretch into hours as Mark tried desperately to prepare himself for that answer.
"She's taken him," Jesse stated, knowing there was no way to soften the blow.
Mark stared at him, he let out a long slow breath, his shoulders sagging in relief, he had been so sure that Jesse was going to tell him that Steve was dead, that any alternative was a relief. "When?" He managed to ask.
"About half an hour ago," Nathan replied, stepping forward. "I'm sorry Mark, she took advantage of the fact that we had pulled a lot of the officers off so they could cover the park."
Mark nodded slowly, the whole operation in the park was part of his idea, he cursed himself, he had clearly underestimated her, and as a result she now had Steve. "How?" He asked, quietly.
"She called through a request for him to be taken to physiotherapy. When they got on the elevator, the nurse and the guard with him were stabbed. They're both still in surgery, it took a while before anyone noticed Steve should have been with them."
Mark nodded again. His third question was not so easy to answer. "Why?"
Neither man could come up with any sort of reply, not that Mark expected them to, like so much of this case, on the surface it did not seem to make any sense. He let out another sigh and turned to leave. He needed to be alone to try to get some sort of reign on his emotions. He paused briefly, manners not allowing him to just walk away. "I'll be in my office," he said, quietly
--
Jesse sat alone in the doctor's lounge, the hospital was half empty and eerily quiet. The publicity surrounding the killings had resulted in patients who were able transferring to other hospitals or going home early, new admissions were virtually non-existent, leaving Community General in crisis.
He stared at the mug of coffee that he held, it was his third cup in the last hour and drinking it probably wouldn't do him any good. He had only made it because fixing it had given him something to do. He didn't notice that he wasn't alone until he heard the tentative voice.
"Dr. Travis?"
He looked up to see nurse Johnson and forced a weary smile.
"I. . .erm . . I . . ." She began hesitantly. "I just took a very strange call and I'm not sure who I'm supposed to tell, but they asked me to give you a message and so I thought. . .but maybe I should tell the detective or one of the officers because it might. . ."
"What was the message?" Jesse interrupted, putting just enough authority into his voice to get the flustered young woman to answer.
"She said, 'ask Dr. Travis if he's had any good reviews lately.'"
Jesse waited for a moment before asking, "that was it?"
"Yes, she said that and hung up." Nurse Johnson stared at him. "Should I tell the police? I mean, maybe its connected to the killings."
"No," Jesse said, slightly distracted as he considered the message. He looked up and met the young nurse's gaze. "Thanks I'll let them know about it. You get back to work."
She smiled at him, grateful to be absolved of the responsibility of taking further action and turned to leave, only to almost trip over one of the chairs. Jesse automatically stood to help her, wondering, not for the first time, how someone so clumsy coped with life, but she merely turned and gave him another slightly embarrassed smile before leaving. Jesse watched her go, allowing his thoughts to drift back to the message. He briefly considered telling someone about it but decided he needed to check it out himself first.
It took him only a few minutes to find a computer and log himself on to the internet, a couple of minutes more to login to his e-mail account. There were a lot of reviews in his inbox, he hadn't checked it since the first murder, but he knew that the message would relate to one of the most recent. He opened the last one and read it, dismissing it when it just complimented him on an interesting plot twist. He moved on to the next.
Anon. Liked the idea of getting Dr. Carter to confront his Nemesis in the park, although if I were writing it, I would have set it at night instead of during the day. The atmosphere by the sculpture would be so much more interesting at 5 a.m. I also would have had the murderer do something to ensure that the Dr. comes alone, without telling anyone. For example taking someone hostage and threatening to kill them if he doesn't. Hope you understand my point.- C
Jesse read the message twice before making his decision, not that it was difficult, the message made it clear that he had no choice, one way or another this was going to end. He shut the computer down staring at the blank screen for several minutes.
--
Getting out of the hospital had been tricky, first he'd had to get past the policeman who was assigned to protect him. He'd managed that by slipping out of his room when the officer had gone to the men's room. Then there had been the task of getting to the park. He couldn't take a cab, there was too much of a risk that he would be seen getting into it. His own car was conspicuously parked by one of the entrances. That left Steve's truck, he knew where Steve kept his spare key in a magnetic holder under the rear wheel arch. He also knew that Steve would be annoyed with him for borrowing it without permission, but he would deal with that if it ever came up, hoping perversely that it would because if Steve was angry with him, that would mean they were both alive.
He hadn't considered that driving might be difficult with his injured leg until he tried it and he found himself having to operate the brake with the wrong foot. Aside from the discomfort however, the drive passed without incident. He checked his watch as he pulled into a parking space, 4.45 a.m., he had a few minutes to prepare, he climbed out of the truck and popped the trunk.
He paused by the gates of the park for the briefest of moments to consider what he was doing. Maybe he should have told someone?
He dismissed the thought, he couldn't, they would have tried to stop him, and he couldn't take that risk, not even with Mark, especially not with Mark, it would have put him into an impossible position. No, this was a decision that he had had to take, a situation that he had to face alone, from the moment all of this had begun it now seemed that it had been inevitable. With that rationalisation he felt a strange calm settle over him. Intellectually he knew that he should feel the same fear, even terror that he had on his previous visit, more perhaps, earlier he had had twenty police officers whose sole job was to protect him, and now it was dark and he was alone. Earlier there had only been a chance that Chloe would show up and he would have to face her, now it was a certainty, and yet he had control, the fear was there but was tempered by determination. He took a deep breath and began to walk down the darkened path.
He stopped in the same position he had earlier in the day and looked once again at his watch, it was exactly 5.00 a.m. the first gray wisps of dawn were starting to filter above the horizon.
"Right on time."
The softly spoken words shocked Jesse as Chloe stepped out of the gap between the blocks less than five feet from him.
He tried to hide his reaction and only partially succeeded as he turned to face her. In the growing light, he could just make out the gun that was pointing at his chest.
"I'm here alone," he stated, keeping his tone even. He raised his hands to waist height keeping his palms open facing down, unthreatening. "So you can let my friend go."
"Oh, how sweet," Chloe smiled, "the good doctor, concerned for his friends, concerned for his patients, concerned for everyone." The smile disappeared, "Where was that concern for your lover, where was that concern when they dragged me away and locked me in a padded room."
The response was almost automatic. "Chloe we were never. . ." The denial died on his lips as he saw her tense in response, her grip tightening on the gun.
"You said you loved me," She said softly, bitterly.
Jesse did not bother with the denial this time. "Where's Steve?" He asked.
"Your friend is in good hands."
"You said you wouldn't kill him if I came."
Chloe stepped forward, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket, handing it to him as she moved to slowly circle him. "Do you remember this?"
He slowly unfolded the sheet, it was a drawing of a hero slaying a dragon, the hero had his face, he remembered being flattered the first time he had seen it, there weren't that many people who had ever considered him a hero. Now it made his blood run cold.
"We could have been so good together," the words were warm, soft, whispered into his ear from behind. Then the gun pressed into his side. "Until you betrayed me, lied about me." The softness replaced with a hissing venom. "And they stole my life from me."
"I only wanted to help you," Jesse tried to placate the growing anger, remembering the mercurial changes of emotional state. "I never meant to hurt. . ."
Chloe wasn't listening she backed away as Jesse now turned to face her. "No, I needed you, I thought you were special, I needed you to protect me and you betrayed me." She paused and shook her head slightly. "Well I don't need anyone anymore, I don't need anyone to fight my battles for me. I can fight my own." She raised the gun, gripping it with both hands.
Jesse stepped back too, the light now strong enough to make out the madness in her eyes. "Please," he said, "You don't want to do this. I. . ."
"I've been waiting three years to do this," she stated her voice suddenly calm. She pulled the trigger.
Jesse felt the impact, a soft thud, a moment before his chest exploded in pain, in the same instant his world faded out, his knees folded and he crumpled to the ground, nerveless fingers losing their grip on the drawing, as the wind caught it and lifted it slightly. Then it too began a slow descent, landing a few feet away, the image landing face up, seeming to parody the fallen hero lying next to it.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .