Face Off (28 page)

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Suzanne was slipping and sliding, trying to make her way back up the hill to radio for help. She saw a figure running toward her, but couldn't make out who it was until he was almost up to her. “Harry! Oh, thank God! It's Jim. He's had a heart attack!”

“I brought an ambulance, just in case we needed one for Amy.” Harry turned around and yelled up the hill. “Down here, boys! Bring a stretcher!” He looked quizzically at Suzanne.

Suzanne nodded. “She's alive.”

“Make that two!” he yelled.

Chapter Twenty-seven

“She's going to be fine,” the doctor announced as he came out to the waiting area where Suzanne, Jessie, and Harry were waiting. “Of course she's malnourished, dehydrated, and has lost a great deal of weight. But we have an IV going; she has eaten a little soup; and she is responding nicely.” He smiled over at Jessie. “She said she wants to sleep for just a little while, then maybe the two of you could call your mom and dad.”

“How is Jim doing?” Harry asked.

“I think he'll be all right, too. His heart attack was brought on by overexertion, and his doctor doesn't think the heart, itself, was damaged too much. You'll be able to see him before long.” He chuckled. “I guess he has quite a family. They have taken over the halls outside of the recovery room, and his doctor told me a little gray-haired woman named Ruth informed him that if he let anything happen to her husband, she would personally get his revolver and shoot him!”

“Yeah, that sounds like Ruth.” Harry extended his hand. “Thanks, Doctor. We appreciate your keeping us informed about everything.” He looked down at his wrinkled, but dry, clothing. “And we also thank your staff for drying all of our clothes. We looked, and felt, like drowned rats when we first got here, tonight.”

The doctor smiled, giving a little salute. “No problem. You had all been through enough for one night. We didn't want you getting sick on top of everything else.”

The three sat back down. “I have another shocker for you, Suzanne,” Harry said. “I've been waiting until we heard how Amy and Jim were before springing it on you.”

Suzanne turned to him, puzzled. “What's that?”

“We found your mother.”

“You what? Oh, my God! Is this true?”

Harry laughed. “Yes, it's true. Her name is Jean Cole, and she still lives in Oklahoma near the farm she thought had claimed your life.”

Jessie jumped up out of her chair. “Hey, wait a minute! I have an aunt named Jean Cole who lives in Oklahoma! She's my mom's sister. But her husband and little girl were killed in a fire about twenty years ago.”

“Oh, my God.” Suzanne spoke slowly as the true significance of Jessie's words hit her. “We're related, sweetie! Your mother and my mother are sisters. No wonder you sought me out to help you. Psychically, you were drawn to me because of the relationship between the two of us, and probably also because you knew I had some kind of connection to Clark—because of Roy Cole.”

“So
that's
why I could always read your mind, huh?” Jessie grinned.

Suzanne nodded. “And that explains why I was able to follow you tonight, even though my own psychic powers do not normally respond except when I am actually in contact with a person.”

Jessie sat down on the arm of Suzanne's chair and gave her a hug. “I was wondering how I was ever going to get along without you for the rest of my life. Now I won't have to. And just think! I'm going to be around for years and years to keep nagging you to stop smoking.”

Suzanne pretended to swoon. “How will I ever stand it?”

Jessie shrugged. “Take it from me, it would be easier to quit smoking. I can be rather irritating when I put my mind to it. I don't have this red hair for nothing, you know.”

Suzanne laughed. “Don't I know! Okay, I'll try. Just for you.” A peculiar look crossed Suzanne's face. “Wait a minute. Tell me, your aunt Jean—my mother—wouldn't happen to have hair about the color of yours, would she?”

Jessie nodded. “She sure does. Actually, there are about three of us with red hair in the family.”

All at once it dawned on Suzanne that Harry must have already figured out she and Jessie were related. She reached over and took his hand. “So when did you figure all of this out?”

“Truthfully, I didn't figure it out at all. There was no reason for me to think the two of you were related. But when I talked to your mother, I told her you were helping a young girl from Pueblo, Colorado, find her missing sister. And of course she immediately knew it had to be Jessie. The whole family had been concerned about Amy's disappearance. She filled in the gaps for me.”

“I think I'll call her and talk to her right now,” Suzanne said.

“No. She has already left Oklahoma. She was determined to be here tomorrow. She caught a flight to Wichita on a private jet, then she found a small airline that flies into K.C. early in the morning. She will be here tomorrow.” He turned to Jessie. “And so will your parents. Their flight arrives tomorrow afternoon.”

“They are going to be so proud of you, Jessie,” Suzanne said. “And so am I. You kept your head through it all—even when Clark had you!”

“That place was so horrible. I kept getting all these flashes of the girls he had killed.”

“Yes, me, too. There was so much evil surrounding him, that it came to me as long, dark, monstrous fingers, grabbing at me, trying to squeeze out my breath—my soul. When Clark's van started toward the farmhouse, I saw that same evil trying to grab at you from the darkness. It was terrifying for me to watch and be unable to help you.”

“You helped me fine. That big jerk was just ready to cut off my head when he heard the siren! And I wasn't near as brave as you give me credit for. I knew you and Jim were only minutes in back of us. I'm just sorry we didn't find the little girl. I wonder what Clark did with her?”

An astonished look crossed Suzanne's face. “That's it! That was what I was trying to remember at the police station earlier tonight. There
was
no little girl. That was
me
in your vision. I knew there was something I was missing, because that child looked so familiar to me. That's it, of course! You were seeing
me
in the vision where Clark was killing.”

“I don't understand. Why?”

“Because the land where Clark did his killing belonged to the man I thought was my father, Roy Cole. I guess, psychically, you knew I held the key. It had something to do with a horror from my childhood—someone I witnessed doing evil many, many times.”

“Yes, I see. And this time the evil was coming not only from him, but from his friend, as well. And my dream about a little girl being thrown from a car down a long hill, that was because I remembered about Roy Cole threatening to leave you by the side of the road.” Jessie giggled. “Let's see now.
My
subconscious knew
your
subconscious knew something that you didn't know, right?”

Suzanne laughed. “You
do
have a way with words, my little cuz! Whenever I learn to decipher them, we'll be in business.”

“Oh, I almost forgot, Suzanne,” Harry said. “I have a pile of faxes for you at the station.”

“For me? Who could possibly be faxing me anything?”

“Every time we ran a check on you, everyone wanted to know how you were. You received a fax from a Detective Botello, in Omaha, saying how much they all missed you. You received a fax from the
Omaha World Herald
showing newspaper clippings supporting the work you did in trying to bring Baxter Underwood to justice.”

“I thought they all hated me for what I did.”

“Nope. Not even close. I spoke with the editor and he told me their paper had received over three thousand letters defending you.”

“I am totally stunned,” Suzanne said.

“I told you that reporter sounded nice,” Jessie said. “Maybe now you'll give up trying to be a hermit.”

Suzanne looked at Harry and smiled. “Oh, I think I've already given that up, sweetie.”

The group heard the elevator door open, and turned to see Jim being wheeled out on his way to the intensive care unit. He saw them and gave a small wave, asking the orderlies to give him a minute.

“Just one minute, no more,” a sizable orderly instructed in a tone which indicated there was no room for argument.

Harry patted Jim awkwardly on the arm. “Hey, bud, you gave us quite a scare!”

Jim's voice was weak as he answered. “I told you I had no intention of getting shot, not with two months to go. I just never expected a heart attack.”

“The doctor told us you were going to be fine,” Suzanne said.

Jim motioned for Jessie to come closer. “How is Amy? Is she going to be all right?”

Jessie beamed. “Thanks to you.”

Jim looked pleased as he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep again.

“That's it, folks,” the orderly said. “We have to get him into his room.”

“Will you two be all right if I leave you for awhile?” Harry said as he walked Suzanne and Jessie back to the waiting area, his arm around Suzanne's shoulders. “I have another matter I have to clear up tonight.”

“Sure, Harry,” Suzanne answered. “Jessie needs to go spend some time with Amy, and even though it's late, I thought I would call the hospital in Michigan and leave word for Sister Mary Elizabeth that I'm okay. I want her to know that she absolutely did the right thing not giving me back to Roy Cole, all those years ago. According to what you told me, that must be heavy on her mind.”

Harry leaned over and planted a soft kiss on Suzanne's cheek. “Okay, see you later, then.”

Chapter Twenty-eight

The door was slightly ajar. Harry pushed it open and walked into the sterile environment of the autopsy room. Stanley Davis was standing beside the naked body of an elderly, gray-haired woman. He seemed to be combing her hair.

Harry walked over. “Stanley? Isn't it a little late to be starting an autopsy?”

The diminutive medical examiner jumped, startled at Harry's voice. “I'm sorry. I didn't hear you come in.” He looked over at the door. “How
did
you get in? I usually make certain the doors are locked when I'm in here alone.”

Harry shrugged. “No. It was open. But you haven't answered my question. What are you doing here this late at night?” He nodded toward the autopsy table. “Surely this wasn't an emergency.”

Stanley removed his surgical gloves, laying them on a gurney. His smile was easy, relaxed. “No. No emergency, Harry. I was just keeping busy until your boys got here with Clark. I heard what happened and wanted to make certain I was the one here to do the autopsy.” Stanley offered a weak smile. “After all, I've been the one on this case since the beginning. Didn't want some upstart finishing it!”

“It's over, Stanley,” Harry spoke quietly.

Stanley looked at him and nodded. “Yes. I suppose we'll all sleep a little better tonight, won't we?”

Harry shook his head. “That isn't what I meant, and I think you know it.”

“Oh,” was all Stanley uttered. Then, “How did you find out?”

“A lot of little things that didn't add up; no DNA match, the body parts, the investigation being slightly
off
right from the beginning. But the clincher was your wife.”

“My wife?” Stanley looked puzzled.

“Yes. You told us your wife did all of the transcribing of your notes and therefore if there was a leak, it could not possibly be coming from your end.”

“And?”

“And, as part of a routine investigation of all people who had any dealing with this case, Detective Langston tried to call on your wife.”

“Oh,” Stanley said, as he pulled a metal stool over and sat down.

Harry pulled a chair over next to the ME, turning it around backward, propping his arms on the back. “Funny thing. Even though your hospital records show a wife listed, your neighbors told Langston they had never, ever seen a woman around. Nor could we find any evidence of a marriage. Why is that, Stanley?”

“Do you really think I would take the chance of ending up like my father? Blasted away because I tried to save my little boys?” Stanley asked the question in a reasonable voice. “Come on, Harry. I'm smarter than that.”

Harry looked at Stanley's blue eyes, shining bright with madness. He knew those eyes from another face. “You're Leonard, aren't you? He was your brother, wasn't he? Randal Clark was your brother.”

Stanley didn't deny the words. Instead he nodded slowly. “Yes. And a finer brother could not be found anywhere. He did everything for me. He would step in and take the torture that would have been mine. He always turned her wrath on himself, to spare me.” He looked at Harry knowingly. “She was crazy, of course. A board-certified lunatic. She had sex with probably every man she ever met, but she came across as such an angel, I'm certain they all thought they were the only one.”

“What happened to your mother?”

“Randal killed her.” Stanley spoke in an even voice. “I sat at the kitchen table and watched the whole thing. He made her dress up like the whore that she was, then he hacked her body into a dozen pieces.” Stanley wiped a hand across his eyes. “I can still remember her face and her voice, pleading—pleading for Randal to stop, pleading with me to run for help.
Run, Leonard! Momma loves you, baby! Don't let him do this! Go, baby! Go for help.
Sometimes I can still hear her voice ringing in my ears. But I stayed right where I was on the chair. I didn't move an inch.”

“How did he get away with it? What did he do with her body?”

“He buried it, piece by piece, across Idaho. Then he said I needed a fresh start, in case anyone ever discovered what he had done. In a few months he had enough money saved to send me back east to school. He gave me a new name, forged a school record from a high school in Indiana which he had read about burning down, then told everyone in town I had died on a trip back to see our mother, and the rest, as they say, is history.”