Chapter Four
Patterson raised the radio to report, having tailed the Skipper and Mrs. Crane from their house. "I've got them. The Skipper doesn't look so good. He tried to make a call at a telephone booth, but she's got him back in the car now… Whoa! Did you see that, Ski?"
"Patterson, report!" Admiral Nelson ordered impatiently, refocusing the rating on his duty.
"She just slammed the car door on his leg, and it didn't look like an accident to me, Sir," Pat reported. "Should we intercept?" he asked hopefully, and thinking inwardly that the Skipper really looked in a bad way.
"Negative, keep your distance and in no way, expose your position. Captain Crane has worked hard to get us to this point, let's not undo his work," Harry admonished.
"Aye Sir, we've got them in sight and we won't let the Skipper down."
Pat signed off as he and Ski exchanged worried glances.
"Man, Pat," Ski lamented with a scowl, while putting the car into gear, "She doesn't deserve to wear the last name 'Crane', I can tell you that now."
"Yeah," Pat agreed wholeheartedly. "They're on the move, Ski, let's not lose them."
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Lee moved too quickly, his broken leg protesting profusely at the sudden movement as he tried to sit up. Whatever was happening inside was intensifying and Lauren still hadn't given him any clue as to what she wanted from him. He could hear her in the other room and wondered if he should try and move this along. He tried to stand, but ended up hopping to the dresser to steady himself, knowing his movements were sure to bring her in to investigate. It was a calculated risk, but right now he was all for pushing her to get to the point of these last three months of pretending to be a loving wife, while simultaneously attempting to derail his recovery and poisoning him in the process.
"Lee! What are you doing out of bed?" Lauren asked from the doorway. "Here Darling, let me help you to back to the bed."
He allowed her to help him over to the bed, but resisted lying down, choosing to sit on the side of the bed instead.
"Lauren, why did you bring me here?" he asked, studying her eyes and attempting to decipher the odd expression staring back at him.
"Dr. Jamieson said you needed rest, Dearest; don't you remember?" she asked, attempting to guide him back into a lying position on the bed.
"Cut the crap, Lauren," he issued harshly in the hopes of dropping the pretenses. "Jamieson would have never allowed me leave Med Bay in this condition."
"No Darling, you just don't remember. You must have had another episode. I told you that you weren't ready, and now look what happened."
"I didn't have another episode," he countered, wrapping his arms around his mid-section to curb the ongoing discomfort. "What do you want from me?" he challenged angrily.
"To get better, Dearest," she replied, trying unsuccessfully once again to lower him to the bed, as he shrugged off her hands.
Just as he hoped, her eyes turned from the loving expression of earlier to something clearly darker and decidedly dangerous. Suddenly, she pushed him harshly backwards, invoking a cry of unchecked pain as she maneuvered him back to the bed in the horizontal position she was seeking all along. Perspiration formed in large drops, joining the loud grunt at the unexpected movement to his untreated leg, all of which adding to the distress of the poison still ravaging his mid-section. He had no choice but to lie back and ride out the waves of misery, as Lauren's voice turned soft once again.
"There Darling, now you just rest. I'll take good care of you, I promise," she said closing the door behind her.
Lee heard a distinctive, familiar sound and forced his eyes to focus on the doorknob, realizing that it had just been locked from the outside.
As she walked away, he heard another voice on the other side of the door.
"When are you going to turn him over to me?" a second woman asked.
"He's still not well," Lauren replied.
"You've had him long enough. It's my turn…" the woman said, their voices fading as they walked further away from the bedroom.
Lee closed his eyes wearily to their disturbing conversation, as he briefly considered whether the interrogator had just arrived on the scene.
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Kowalski and Patterson had followed as closely as they dared, but had to hang back when she took a side road heading onto a dirt road. They would have to give her a little distance or risk being seen on the dark, windy road.
"This is Patterson."
"This is Nelson, go ahead."
"We're turning off at Sander's Corner, Sir," Patterson reported, there was a short pause and a rustle of paper in the distance before Admiral Nelson replied.
"I don't see it on the map."
"No Sir, it's a pretty obscure road. We'll have to give her some room so she doesn't spot our headlights behind her."
"Very well, just don't lose them. We're still waiting on the toxicology report and you two are Captain Crane's last line of defense."
"Aye Sir."
They signed off as Ski expelled a loud dramatic breath. "Man, oh man, Pat. I've got a bad feeling about this," he noted as the small dirt road winded into a dense forest.
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Chip paced the floor at the Institute Med Bay where Jamie and an ONI specialist were working on Lee's blood sample in the lab. He was anxious for Lee's sake; even knowing that the northern California community was over four hours away by car, and that FS-1 would be able to cross the distance in an hour. Unfortunately, they were stuck here until Jamie identified the substance in Lee's blood.
"I don't like this, Admiral," he complained as he paced. "Patterson already told us that Lee didn't look well, it sounds like to me she's already upped the ante."
"I agree, but we've got to give Lee time to find out what she's after. He's given up three months of his life, not including the two months before the marriage to get us here. If we move in too soon, it may all be for nothing."
Chip stopped his pacing and sighed helplessly. "I know, Sir, but he hasn't got a safety net out there, and if Ski and Pat lose that car, he'll be on his own."
Harry heaved a weary breath, before pursing his bottom lip in determination. "Then we'd better pray that they don't lose Lauren Crane in the woods; but until then, we're staying put," he replied resolutely, before softening. "I have a feeling Lee is going to need the answer to the toxicology report… and maybe even an antidote," he answered honestly, with his own concern visible in his expressive blue eyes.
Chip nodded both his understanding and acceptance of Harry's words, but resumed his pacing, the Admiral's last statement having offered no comfort whatsoever.
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Lee turned carefully onto his back, wincing at the change in position to his leg in an attempt to assess his surroundings. There was only one window in the small but functional bedroom, but even from where he lay he could see that the winter shutters were still closed. He had no doubt they were latched from the outside, but still a possibility should he need an escape route. A sudden spike of pain from his leg reminded him that running was impossible at this point, so unless she actually left the cabin it was unlikely that he'd be able to break through the shutters quietly for a clean getaway.
Escaping wasn't his first priority however, as he still hadn't discovered what she wanted yet. The second female voice he heard earlier insinuated that Lauren was working with someone else, which made him wonder why she went to the trouble of marrying her victims instead of just luring them to the interrogator once she had them interested. She was obviously very patient, since her other marriages lasted six months to a year before the unfortunate husbands were deemed unnecessary. He also knew that her M.O. for each husband had been different; Rod had been vulnerable with his physical injuries, but she had made a move on him even before they had concocted the phony accident for his PTSD cover story; and her other two husbands didn't seem to have a known vulnerability for her to exploit. Furthermore, none of the three prior deaths had been similar; an auto accident; a case of food poisoning while her husband had been deployed elsewhere, and indeed, Rod's death had been the only one to have raised a red flag up to this point.
The creaks of the wooden floors preceded a set of footsteps outside his door interrupting his thoughts, as Lee readied himself for what he hoped would be the answers to his questions. He turned back to his side; still nursing heavy cramps from whatever she had spiked his wine with. He heard a key unlocking the door and watched as Lauren entered the room carrying a tray with, presumably, his dinner.
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Ski and Pat came to a stop, eying the fork in the road and desperately looking for signs that a car had recently passed.
"Which way?" Patterson asked.
"I don't know, Pat. I just don't know," he replied with a shake of his head. He opened the car door and got out, moving to the front of the car and looking for a cloud of dust in either direction, anything that might clue them which fork to take. They had had to hang back too far to avoid detection from their headlights and had simply lost the trail in the dark.
Pat joined him, carrying the portable radio with him. "What do you think?"
"Call the Admiral and tell him we lost them at a fork. We'll take the left fork first and if we don't find them, we'll retrace back here and take the right fork," he answered reluctantly.
Pat sighed, remembering how bad the Skipper looked at the gas station. This was a call he wished he didn't have to make.
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Chip's pacing stopped abruptly at the sound of the radio crackling to life, turning sharply upon hearing Patterson's voice. His hopes, however, were dashed at the rating's news.
"We lost him, Sir. We had to hang back to avoid detection and we lost them at a fork in the road. We're taking the left fork first, if we don't find them we'll double back and take the right fork," he reported.
"Very well," Harry replied, his face taunt with concern. "Explore the left fork completely, I'll send reinforcements to take the right fork."
"Aye Sir," Pat replied, signing off, his relief apparent that back up was on the way.
Harry signed off and turned to Chip, who was dressed in civvies, primed for action and waiting for orders. He had no intention of sitting this one out, and fortunately, the Admiral agreed.
"Chip, take FS-1 to the closest landing strip. I'll contact the authorities and have someone meet you there," Harry said, pointing to a small regional airport just off the highway and not too far from the turnoff that Kowalski had reported over an hour ago.
"Aye Sir, what about the toxicology report?"
Harry raised a hand to stave off his further concern, "Don't worry about that, I'll have ONI send a Helo. If it turns out we need a fast ride, we'll get there."
"Aye Sir, I'm on it," Chip said, heading for the door and running out of Med Bay toward the underground sub pen.
Harry pursed his bottom lip, then reached for the phone to get ONI busy on keeping Lee Crane from becoming deceased husband number four.
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Lauren placed the tray on the dresser and turned toward Lee with the familiar smile she had used often in their three months of marriage.
"I brought you some soup, Darling," she said as if she hadn't drugged him, broke his leg, and took him to heaven knows where in some twisted plot he had yet to discover.
"Why? Do I need to be drugged again? Because the wine is already doing a damn good job," he replied darkly; she had already pulled the plug on their farce of a marriage, and as far as he was concerned, she could drop the pretense and get on with what she wanted.
"Why Darling, I don't know what you mean," she said with a hint of hurt in her eyes that he could possibly insinuate such things about her.
"Why don't we just cut the crap, and you tell me why you brought me here?"
"Lee, I would never hurt you!" she urged with tears swelling in her eyes as her "confession" came pouring out. "It was Lisa, she always does this whenever I find someone special!" she cried.
"Who the hell is Lisa?" he asked harshly, but having to swallow down a groan as the heated emotions exasperated his condition.
"She always does this to me," she repeated in a whimper, turning her back on Lee and facing the mirror on the dresser.
Lee watched the mirror as Lauren's facial expression changed from hurt and crying to something decidedly different. Her countenance took on a harsher tone as the lines on her face deepened, almost changing her appearance.
"Lauren's always so melodramatic," she said mockingly, using her reflection to make eye contact with Lee, and speaking in a much huskier voice filled with little respect. She turned and leaned against the dresser, folding her arms in front of her and taking a stance he'd never seen Lauren use in their three months of marriage.
"What do you mean, Lauren?" he asked, not missing the fact that her entire disposition had changed and that she had referred to herself in the third person.
"Come on, Lee," she taunted, shifting her weight to the other foot and heaving an irritated sigh. "I know you're smarter than that." He didn't respond, so she scoffed and continued. "I'm Lisa, oh you met me before, when you caught me in your arms while Rod was on the patio barbequing. What a rush!" she commented with a twisted smile at the memory. "You felt it," she added seductively. "I picked you, then I gave you over to Lauren, she's better at all that vulnerability and tears; you men fall for it every time."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Lauren," he said, rising up to his elbow.
"Stop calling me that! Lauren is weak. She falls for every one of you men, she even thinks she loves you," she scoffed with a disbelieving shake of her head.
The more Lee moved, the more uncomfortable he became; whatever she had given him hadn't seemed to let up, and with the sedative wearing off, he had found he was more uncomfortable than ever.
"Lauren…"
"Lisa!" she countered.
"Okay, Lisa," he said backing off at her explosive irritation. "I want to talk to Lauren," he demanded, blinking with the pain and trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the woman before him was purporting to have a split personality.
She rolled her eyes then called over her shoulder, as if calling to the other room.
"Lauren!"
Instantly, her hands dropped from their defiant pose folded across her chest, down to her sides as her shoulders rounded slightly. Simultaneously, her face dropped its hardness and took on the soft lines of the woman he had come to know these last three months.
"Lee," she replied, reaching a hand for him, but keeping her distance. "I didn't want to do it, but Lauren made me. She always makes me do these things. Please help me, Lee," she cried pitifully.
"I need a doctor. Help me, Lauren," he said, rising slowly despite his illness and pulling back a grimace when moving his injured leg, "and I promise to get you the help you need," he added sincerely, reaching out to her, their fingers nearly touching when her countenance took a swift change and Lisa reappeared; her hardened expression contorting her face with a hateful scowl.
"Not so fast, Lee," she warned, suddenly reaching for the tray behind her and pulling a gun from underneath a cloth napkin.
Lee stopped in his tracks, balancing on his good leg and raising his hands at the sight of the .38 Special, a quick firing weapon with no safety.
"Sit down, Lee," she ordered.
Lee complied; lowering himself carefully and still in shock over the bizarre revelation of her multiple personalities.
"What do you want from me, Lisa?" he asked bluntly. "Why did you poison me?"
"Oh, you'll find out soon, enough," she replied, stepping back and reaching for the door handle behind her. Her hand faltered for the handle, as Lee calculated whether he could reach her in time with his bum leg. "Don't even think about it, Lee," she advised, pointing the gun menacingly while planting her hand firmly on the handle and pulling the door open. "Lauren likes to nurse injured men, so believe me, she wouldn't mind one bit if I put a bullet in your shoulder," she warned, smiling deviously as she closed the door behind her.
Lee watched her intently as she slowly pulled the door closed with the gun trained on him the entire time. She left the meal tray behind, but he had no intention of eating or drinking anything she gave him, and instead stood, limping gingerly toward the window. He opened it slowly, trying to avoid a sliding sound as he raised the window. Once opened, he tested the shutters; as he suspected, they were latched from the outside. He hobbled to the door and turned the handle, but the lock was solid, before checking out the meal tray to look for any utensil he might be able to use. He was disappointed however, to find only a flimsy plastic spoon; it would seem that Lisa had thought of everything. He moved on to the dresser drawers, finding they were completely empty and headed back to the bed wearily. He was forced to lie down once again, disappointed that his foraging for anything useful had come up empty.
He cradled his stomach just as a moan escaped, wondering when Lisa would tip her hand of what she wanted from him and just how it related to Lauren's other three husbands. The last thought made him cringe at the idea of thinking of her in terms of two different people. Lisa had insinuated that Lauren loved him; he knew he had thought it was sincere many times, and he had to wonder if that's why Lauren didn't want him to get well, that it was perhaps the only way she knew to keep Lisa from moving on with her plans.
He groaned again, realizing that whatever she spiked him with was now taking a meaner turn. His stomach cramped harder and thinking was getting difficult, but he had to consider at this point, that there was no national security issue here at all… just a woman with a multiple personality disorder who, for some reason, targeted military men. He'd hold out a little longer, but if Lisa didn't appear to have any agenda regarding military information, then he would need to incapacitate her until his backup arrived.