Chapter 8

Present

It was bad how Charlie suffered from the drug. Delinda spent all her time with him contrary to Strickler's order to keep away from the prisoner. Charlie's condition deteriorated visibly.

"You damned asshole!" Delinda yelled. "It looks like you gave him an overdose."

"Oh really?" was Strickler's laconic answer. "Why are you so sure about that, Madam Doctor?"

"I don't need to be a doctor to see it," she hissed. "He's still on it. Look at him – he's going to die. "

"And we'll do what, in your opinion?" Xavier asked. "We can hardly take him to a hospital."

"He stays where he is. I think he's a fighter. We don't have to worry about him." Strickler seemed bored.

"And if not? Adrian didn't mention a single word about killing Charles Eppes."

Strickler smiled and said coldly, "Sometimes shit happens."

Delinda slapped his face.

"If Adrian wasn't so obsessed with you, gorgeous, you would already be rotting someplace together with this Eppes."

Xavier chewed nervously on his fingernails. It was extremely dangerous to provoke Strickler. The last one who tried it had disappeared without trace.

"What time is it?" asked Strickler.

Xavier startled as if struck by a whip. "Shortly before nine."

"We have to return to downtown, to take care of the last preparations," Strickler said, staring into Delinda's eyes and stroking his forefinger over her cheek. "Don't you dare fool around with our hostage. I would deeply regret having to disfigure such a pretty face."

She took two steps back and spat on the ground in front of him. He only response was to wave at Xavier to follow him upstairs. Fortunately he left the keys to Charlie's prison on the table. With shaky fingers Delinda unlocked the steel door and turned on the light. Charlie lay curled up on the bed. She sat down next to him, feeling the cold sweat on his arm where she touched it. Charlie had at least stopped trembling. She touched his neck, checking for a pulse. She could hardly feel it.

What should she do? How could Adrian get involved with someone like Strickler? The man was pure evil. He didn't have any scruples and would do anything for the right price. Adrian used Strickler for those tasks which were beneath him, not wanting to get his hands dirty.

Delinda paced nervously. It was impossible to contact Adrian and ask for advice. For the first time in a long time being she was completely on her own. If she helped Charlie, she would not only incur Strickler's anger but Adrian also would not be overjoyed with her cheating on him. As though hypnotized, she stared at the helpless bundle of man in front of her. Suddenly, right in front of her, Charlie turned into Michael.

He reached out to her. "Delinda… please help me. Please," he begged desperately. "I need you. I'm not ready to die. Please Delinda, I'm so scared and the pain is awful."

"Michael!" she sobbed as the illusion ended.

Charlie extended his hand towards her. "You must help me." He began to hyperventilate.

Determined, she wiped away the tears with the back of her hand, then sat down again on the bed. "Don't be afraid, Charlie. I'm here. But you must help me too, do you hear me?"

Delinda was frightened by her own courage. She tenderly ran her fingers through his dark curls and was reminded again of her brother. She carefully dragged Charlie to his feet. His knees threatened to buckle but with Delinda supporting him Charlie managed to stand. He slowly put one foot in front of the other. His vision blurred as energy seeped out of his body, making him feel as though he were about to faint.

Delinda felt his strength fading. "Charlie Eppes don't you give up now. Stay with me," she said encouragingly.

He stumbled.

"Come on, we've almost made it!"

He struggled along until they reached the stairs. Delinda took his left hand and pushed it against the banister.

He lifted his head.

The stairs seemed endless. "You can't be serious?!" Charlie muttered, shaking his head. Not a good idea, all things considered. Everything started to spin as though a hurricane raged inside him.

"God, I'm feeling really sick," he mumbled and threw up.

A black curtain fell in front of his eyes and Delinda's voice seemed to come from quite far away. "Stay with me Charlie, do you hear me? Stay with me."

But he didn't want to listen. The only thing he wanted to do was to lie down and sleep. Delinda pulled and tugged at him in vain.

"Charlie! Stop letting giving up," a voice commanded. It wasn't Delinda's.

Somebody came towards him through the darkness. The shape was blurry but he knew the voice.

"Kindly get your ass up there."

"Don? How ...?"

"I'm not really here but somebody has to make you get a move on. The girl risks her life for you, the least you can do is try to help."

"But I'm so tired Don, I ..."

"Blah, blah, blah – spare me. Get on with it." Don's face faded.

Delinda moved into his field of vision as she wiped his mouth with a cloth.

"We can do it Charlie, you and me."

He closed his eyes briefly to signal she got through to him. Walking up the stairs felt like climbing Mount Everest without extra oxygen. More than once his knees gave way but Delinda somehow managed to get him outside and into the passenger seat of her car. Then she slid behind the steering wheel. Where was the nearest hospital? Never mind, she'd find one. She turned the key but the car didn't start.

"Oh no… don't do this to me!" she yelled, beating her palm against the steering wheel. Worried, she glanced at Charlie. He didn't move. She tried repeatedly to start the engine, muttering, "Come on… come on…"

Two headlights appeared in the distance. Delinda closed her eyes and prayed. The lights grew closer and Delinda held her breath. Shortly before the car drew level with hers, the engine started.

"Thank you!" she whispered to the heavens.

She passed the other car, glancing in the rearview mirror as it went by. As the car gained speed Delinda hoped it wasn't too late for Charlie. She already knew what she was going tell them at the hospital and planned to disappear before the police showed up asking unpleasant questions. As far as Strickler and Adrian went she was still undecided but she felt sure she'd come up with something. The journey to the hospital seemed endless.

Delinda caressed Charlie's cheek. "We're almost there, do you hear me? We're almost there."

Relief washed over her as she pulled up in front of the emergency doors.

10 days before

"What the hell where you thinking, Special Agent Eppes?" Director Vasquez's voice boomed loudly in the conference room of the LA FBI Field Office. The director was Theodore's uncle.

"Novak is moving heaven and earth to suspend you. He told you specifically not to investigate Craven's case any further."

"But I ..."

"Which part of 'he's not going to obtain a list of new inquiries didn't you get, Eppes?!" the feisty man spat. "And then this unfortunate discovery of my nephew. Typical beginner's luck." He could barely conceal his pride even though it was the wrong time for it. "Craven's defense attorneys will ignite a bonfire. They'll call him 'legally insane'. The accident and resulting injuries will be the reason for his 'antisocial' behaviour. They're confident they'll convince the jury to find Craven not guilty by reason of insanity. He'll end up in a nuthouse with medical treatment instead of on death row. I don't have to explain to you what that means," the director snapped.

"No Sir," Don retorted. "Are we done?"

The director cast a doubtful look at him. "Is that all you have to say? Why in the world did you think it was a good idea to inform Craven about Novak's decision? Who are you… his errand boy?"

Don took a deep breath. It was hard for him to stay in control and not just walk out.

"If you get another urge to pay a visit to Craven you call me first. Better yet would be for you to let it be from here on out. Got me?"

Don nodded.

The director turned his back on him and looked through the tinted glass windows. Down on the street people scurried about like ants. It was an impressive view.

"I still want to point out, Sir, that it's totally possible there's another serial killer running around Los Angeles," Don said stubbornly.

Vasquez turned, his face twisted in a grimace. "I've read your last report, Eppes. And I also know you're in contact with Lt. Walker in LAPD and that both of you are looking closely at the latest murders. However you didn't find a lead – did you?"

"No Sir." It was hard for Don to admit.

"Therefore, Eppes, cut down on Craven's case. I think there are enough other cases you and your team can take care of. My nephew is proud to work with you. It would be a pity if I had to suspend you." The conversation was over.

Don went back to his office.

"And ... what did he say?" Megan asked immediately.

"Forget it," he answered, annoyed. "What's up? Anything interesting?"

Colby shrugged. "Nothing. It seems the bad guys are on vacation. There's a small package on your desk, anonymous. The bomb squad checked it – it's clean."

Don went over to his desk. The package was roughly the size of a toaster and wrapped up prettily with a red ribbon. He opened it, thinking perhaps it was from Ivy. The woman was full of surprises. He remembered his last visit very well: candlelight dinner for two in her apartment, hot sex afterward, this time in bed and not the kitchen table. He'd licked the dessert from her naked body tenderly.

The smile froze on his face as he opened the 'present' and a terrible smell assaulted his nostrils.

"Holy shit," he yelped and threw the package on the desk.

Megan hurried to his side and stared, speechless. Colby, David and Theodore were also curious and looked inside. Theodore immediately regretted his decision as the smell prompted a wave of nausea.

"What the fuck is that?" was Colby's first reaction.

Megan composed herself and began to examine the contents. Somebody had sent a bloody heart to Don. Due to the high temperatures it had already started to decompose. "Look," she said. She went over to her desk and got out a pair of latex gloves.

"You're not going to ..." Don said, aghast.

"Don't worry. I'll leave it where it is but there's some kind of message for you."

She revealed a bloody envelope and took a letter out of it with sticky fingers. "'Home is where the heart is'," she read aloud. "'How much of your family's life lies in your heart, Eppes?' No signature."

Don didn't need one; he knew for sure who had sent the message. Welcome to Craven's sick world, he thought.