Chapter Fourteen:
Angel stared down at Buffy's sleeping form knowing she was going to be pissed when she woke. He couldn't stay in her apartment; he had to work, just as she did. He leaned down, brushing her bangs off of her forehead and let his lips linger gently against her skin for an instant. "I love you, Buffy."
She mumbled something in her sleep, turning her face up to his, her eyes fluttering before exhaustion pulled her back down. She cuddled into the comforter, reaching out in her sleep and gathering the pillow he'd used against her. He smiled as she buried her face in it and with one more gentle kiss, this time on her bare shoulder he turned to leave the apartment.
His car was in the lot where he'd left it and he hopped in, knowing he should stop at home and change. Instead, he decided to use the lockers at work, he kept extra clothes there, and he could always wear scrubs if need be.
But what waited for him at the hospital? Would there be scores of reporters like in all the cop dramas he'd ever seen. Could they have gotten his name from "an inside source" at the police station? Would he even have a job when he got there?
Pulling into the doctors' lot, he breathed a sigh of relief. There didn't seem to be any unusual activity around the hospital. There was the usual hubbub of noise and sirens, a helicopter sat on the lawn, one of the life flights, it rotors still. A steady stream of traffic ran both in and out of the hospital. Just like every other day. Then why did he feel like something was going to happen?
Stopping at security to report his missing badge and to get a new one took only a few minutes. From there, he headed down to the doctors' lounge and locker rooms, determined to get cleaned up before he started work.
The shower felt fantastic, helping to rid the last of his fatigue. He wrapped a towel around his waist, shaking his dark head to help dry his hair before leaving the shower to head to his locker. On the other side of a short wall were two women who didn't see him as he walked by, too engrossed in their conversation to notice.
"Did you see the paper this morning?"
"Yeah, that pervert got another one. When are the cops going to do something about it?"
"I don't know what you're worried about, you're a brunette. He only goes after fair haired women."
"Yeah, but honey, unless you plan to lose a hundred or so pounds, I don't think you got much to worry about either. This pervert's got a type."
"And I don't want to be it, so I'll stay the way I am, thank you very much."
Angel drew the towel from around his stomach and shook his head. It was all anyone was talking about. It would probably be all he heard about today. And if they ever found out his hospital badge was found folded into the last victim's clothes, he shook his head again, not wanting to even think of the mayhem that would cause.
He dressed in scrubs, throwing on the other pair of shoes he kept in his locker as just in cases. He couldn't count all of the kids and adults he'd had that had vomited on his shoes, or his clothes, so he kept a change of each here. Throwing on his lab coat, he pinned his badge securely on the collar, throwing his stethoscope around his neck and brushing his still damp hair back from his face, he went to start his day.
The Emergency Room wasn't too crowded when he got there, a couple of kids with ear infections, one older man who came in with chest pains, they had him in the glass room where they could keep an eye on him. Another bed in the same room contained a woman with a kidney stone whose blood pressure had skyrocketed with the pain. She was being admitted, but they were waiting on a room.
Angel stopped at the desk, picking up the list of charts and flicking through it. He made small talk with the nurse that was there, a night shift nurse who was covering for day shift, she was yawning her way through the stack of files that needed checking.
He heard the ambulance, the wild scream of its siren, before he saw it backing into the bay. Dropping the list back on the desk he hurried to the doors, reaching them just as the ambulance driver threw the vehicle into park and jumped out to help unload their charge.
"What we got?" Angel called, hitting the button that held the doors open.
"Twenty four year old woman, attacked, raped and beaten, then sliced open with a knife. She's bad, doc." The first ambulance attendant looked down on the small woman on the gurney, glad that she'd passed out. When they'd gotten to the scene, she'd been awake, her mouth opened, her eyes glazed as she tried to scream. But whatever monster that had done this had taken care of that, crushing her voice box so that all that would escape were whimpers. "She's got a broken leg, ribs, and we think her voice box was crushed, but those are minor compared to what he did with the knife."
"What did he do?" Angel asked, even as he ran along beside the gurney directing them into a curtained area.
"You have to see it, doc," the EMT said. "You just have to see it."
They lifted the girl from the gurney easily between the four of them, as the other nurses started to stream into the room to help. Her clothes were already mostly gone, bare shreds of fabric hanging from around her wrists, the waistband of her red skirt still around her waist, the fabric under it gone. Her body was a mass of bruises, ugly black marks that were welted and swollen, especially around her throat. There was a perfect imprint of a hand print there.
"We had to intubate. She wasn't breathing when we got there."
But the worst of it was across her stomach under the bloody gauze and thick pad they'd wrapped there. Angel lifted it gently, grateful to see that the bleeding had almost stopped. Cutting through the pad, he heard one of the nurse's gasp and he stood there, his heart in his throat, his mind frozen. Across her stomach, etched into her flesh by the blade of a knife in the hand of a killer was a single word. A name. Buffy.
"Who found her?" he asked hoarsely.
"I don't know, there was a cop with her when we got there. He was plain clothes but we didn't ask for identification or anything. We were anxious to get her back here."
"A cop?"
Buffy woke slowly, her mind still fuzzy from lack of sleep. Her hand slid out along the smooth line of her sheet, searching for Angel's large, warm body. She could take another hour, she decided. Another hour in bed with him would get her ready for the day ahead. But a frown marred her countenance as her hand felt nothing but bed.
"Angel?" she called, sitting up and holding the blanket to her breast. The apartment was almost eerily silent, the lack of noise bothering her. "Dammit, he went to work," she muttered. She got up from the bed, stretching her tiny frame to it's fullest before walking nude to her bathroom. She had a good mind to go down to the hospital and drag his ass back, maybe put him under house arrest until this thing was over.
In the bathroom, she relieved her bladder before hopping into the shower and turning it on so the water pelted into her flesh in a hard stinging rain, waking her the rest of the way. Then she softened the spray, washing and shampooing her hair. Reaching out for her towel, her fingers groped along the wall, not finding it.
"Looking for this?" a male voice said from outside the curtain.
Buffy's shriek was more from being startled than from fear, for she knew that voice. "Riley, what the fuck are you doing here?" she asked, snatching the towel from his fingers. She wrapped it around her, shaking her head like a wet dog would and then stepping out onto her bathmat. "How do you keep getting in here?" she asked angrily.
"Okay, listen, I know you are pissed about this morning. And you have every right to be. But I'm here for a reason. We found another one this morning, Buffy. Another girl who looks sort of like you. But this one is still alive. She's on her way to the hospital."
"She's still alive? He didn't kill her?" Buffy shook her head slowly. "That's sloppy and definitely not like our suspect."
"Where's McKenna?" he asked.
"He went to work," she said, trying to keep the anger out of her tone. "But if he was here with me and there was another attack, that proves he didn't do it, doesn't it," she said, her tone daring Riley to argue with her.
"What time did he leave?"
"I don't know exactly," she grudgingly answered. "I was asleep."
"Then I need to go down there and ask him," Riley answered, turning to leave.
Buffy grabbed his arm, using every bit of strength she had to hang on. "I'm going with you."
"The captain took you off the case, Buffy. And for a very good reason, considering you're sleeping with the main suspect."
"But if he was with me during the attack, he isn't the main suspect anymore. That means I'm back on the case." Buffy dug her fingers into his arm. "Please, Ri. Don't make me beg here to do my job. I have a huge stake in this case, who better to work it?"
Riley closed his eyes, exhaling a huge sigh. "Get dressed, I'll probably have to turn in my badge over this, but I can't deny you."
She turned to go into her room, turning back at the last moment. "Thank you. You've always been my best friend as well as my partner. I need you to know that."
Riley looked up, a wry smile twisting his lips. He nodded, waiting until she left the room before he sat on the lid of the toilet. "But it's not enough, is it. Not enough for me, or for you. Dammit, why couldn't you love me?" he asked, his voice nothing more than a mutter.
It took her no time to get dressed and she grabbed her gun, slipping the holster over her shoulder and feeling better with its familiar weight under her arm. At the last second, she grabbed her ankle wrap, slipping her back up pistol into it and velcroing it closed. Then she put on her half boots, found a jacket and called to her partner.
He walked into her room, amazed at her beauty even with dark shadows bruising the flesh under her eyes, no make up and her hair still wet.
"Let's go," she said, grabbing the keys to her car.
"I've got mine downstairs," he said.
He saw her hesitate and wanted to curse. But he knew if he lost his temper, she'd leave and go on her own. "Come on, Buf, I promise to keep my hands off, okay? I know when I've lost."
"Okay," she said, but there was a note of uncertainty that struck a sharp blow to his heart.
They headed down and piled into his car. He surprised her by keeping to the speed limit and not trying to kill her like he did every other time they rode when he drove. They reached the hospital and Buffy opened her car door, stopping when she saw Riley just sitting there.
"The press is here," he nodded toward the vans that were lined up in the parking lot.
"We need units down here for crowd control," she said, watching as he reached for the radio he kept in his car. He called it in, finally opening his door, almost as if he were afraid to go into the building.
"What's wrong with you? Come on, dammit, Riley. We've got a potential witness there who could give us information in finding this pervert and you're sitting on your ass here."
"Yeah, uh, yeah, let's go," he said, finally getting out of the car and following her into the hospital.
The first person she saw was Angel, the front of the protective gown he'd put on before working on the girl was stained with her blood. He was on the phone, his hair wild as if he'd been pulling on it. When he saw her, his eyes widened and he dropped the phone back on its cradle, walking over to her. He leaned down and kissed her, just a quick kiss but it left an impression. "I've been calling your place for the last ten minutes. I was scared to death that something happened to you."
"I'm fine. Riley came and got me. He says this guy left a victim alive?"
"Barely. Her heart's still beating but she's lost a lot of blood. There were some internal injuries due to the beating he gave her, broken bones and he strangled her, her voice box is damaged. I don't know if it's permanent or if she'll regain use when the swelling goes down." He pushed his hand through his hair, looking down and seeing the paper gown he still wore, he reached up and pulled it off, the ties ripping apart easily. "That's not the worst of it, though. He ... he carved your name across her abdomen, Buffy."
"He what?" she asked, aghast at the thought, not only of what the girl suffered but how their perpetrator was now making this so incredibly personal.
"He used a very sharp instrument, most likely a scalpel of some kind."
"Do we have any identification on her yet?" Riley asked.
"Yeah, her driver's license was in her hand. At least I think it's her. It's kind of hard to tell right now with all the swelling." He went back to the desk and picked up a file, flipping open the metal cover and peering at the first page. "Nina Ash. I gave the license to the man you sent. He's in there with her now, standing guard as you requested."
Riley stiffened, his eyes going to Buffy's. "I didn't request a guard for her." He reached under his jacket, pulling out his pistol and flipping off the safety. "Where is she, doctor?"