Read Hide My Thoughts: A Romantic Suspense Thriller Book (Hide Me Series 2) Online
Authors: Lisa Ladew
Hide My Thoughts: A Romantic Suspense Thriller Book (Hide Me Series 2) (9 page)
West kept one eye on Katerina as he tried to eavesdrop on the heated argument between Detective Gagne and Blaise. She was sitting on the dark curb, in the glow from a street light, stroking Nina, but otherwise looking distant and sad, like a little girl who had lost a pet. He was seriously worried about her. He didn’t know how much more she could take. She couldn’t take one more dead body, that was for sure. And if he were arrested? Where would she go, what would she do? She would probably stay with Jordan, but West didn’t know if she would be safe there. The police had kept her gun for evidence after she shot Frank Phillips, so she didn’t even have any protection. Suddenly he wished Nina were a big snarling Doberman.
They’d been there for hours while the investigation was started and the body removed from the house. They’d both been questioned several times, and each time West had expected the officer to tell him to put his hands behind his back. It was dark now, and had to be approaching 9 p.m.
Blaise broke away from his conversation with Gagne and came straight to West. West realized that, deep in thought, he had missed the last five minutes of their exchange.
“You’re free to go, but you better leave quickly. Gagne’s super pissed and if he can find a way to detain you, he’ll do it.”
“He thinks I killed her then?” West asked.
Blaise shook his head. “No, I don’t think he does, but he’s a pretty strict by-the-book man, and the book says you probably should be detained, at least for twenty-four hours. Although the book doesn’t know anything about the killer you’ve got on your ass because of your relationship with Katerina.”
Blaise shot a bitter glance at Gagne, who was on the phone, his face showing irritation and his mouth moving a mile a minute. “I went over his head, and called Assistant Chief Foley. I explained to him that if you are arrested, that leaves Katerina alone and that may be what this guy wants. So he put out the official word that you are to be released - just don’t leave town. Gagne’s talking to the other assistant chief now, trying to get me thrown off this case.”
West winced, guilt hitting him in the chest. “Sorry, B, I didn’t mean to mess with your job.”
“Don’t be sorry, just get out of here quickly, and take care of Katerina.”
West nodded and gave Blaise a quick, but heartfelt hug. His friend always came through for him. Blaise hugged him back briefly then pushed him towards Katerina.
West stepped on the curb next to Katerina, and knelt. “We should take Nina back to Mrs. Lowell and get out of here.”
Katerina looked up at him, her eyes drowning in sorrow. “West, Nina is sick.”
***
“I’m going to get some fresh air, okay?” Katerina told West.
West nodded distractedly. He was writing a check to the emergency veterinarian’s office for five hundred eighty-six dollars, the cost of the examination, the medication Nina needed and room and board for her for three days.
Katerina stepped outside the door and looked up into the starlit sky. The moon shone yellow above her and she turned her face to it, smiling slightly. Nina was going to be okay. The vet had diagnosed her with feline leukemia and wanted to keep her for a few days for medication administration.
Katerina had known as soon as she held Nina that she was sick, but she wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong. Talking to a cat’s cells was different than talking to a person’s, but they had still responded to her touch. Eventually, she figured out that they were saying they needed help. They’d done everything they could and they couldn’t get rid of the virus. So she’d told West, and they had brought Nina here. The vet had said it was a fairly new infection, and Nina had a great chance of living a long and healthy life, as long as they started her on the medication quickly.
West pushed out the door and came to stand next to Katerina. He reached out his hand and twined his fingers in hers. “Thank God she’s going to be OK,” he said, his voice soft and sad. “I got her after Stephanie died, so the house wouldn’t seem so empty. I’m not ready to give her up. Thank you.”
His voice broke and Katerina turned to him, concerned. He buried his face in her shoulder and she hugged him tight, trying to give him the comfort she’d so often received from him.
West lifted his face and looked at the moon with her. “What now? Hotel?”
“No!” Katerina cried and her vehemence startled her. “We have to
do
something, West. We can’t just sit around and wait for the next dead body to show up.”
“Okay, do what?”
“What if we go to the hospital, and pay Frank Phillips a visit. I could touch him. I could ask him who is doing all of this.” Katerina felt excitement spread through her as she said the words. She lowered her voice and whispered, “We could sneak in.”
She had learned an awful lot about the information she could get from touching someone over the last couple of days, and she was confident that she could get an answer from him, whether he wanted to give it or not.
West looked thoughtful. “We could wear our uniforms …”
Katerina seized upon the potential plan. “Yes! Ooh, good idea - we could say we’re missing something off one of the ambulances and the crew that brought him in thinks it got mixed in with his personal stuff.”
“Yeah, but, he’s got a security guard too. I could see one of us distracting the cop, if the cop even cares, but if we try to talk to the guy in front of the security guard, he’s gonna call the lawyer and get us thrown out of there.”
Katerina paced in front of the small veterinary shop. There had to be a way around that. “What about Blaise? Could he help us?”
West shook his head. “He’s in trouble right now as it is, I don’t want to get him involved.”
Katerina snapped her fingers. “Jordan! She could distract him in a big way.”
West smiled. “Good idea. Unless it’s a female security guard.”
“If it is a woman, then Jordan can go in with me and you can distract the guard,” Katerina said, a teasing smile on her face. She felt normal for once, even after the horrors of the day, and she was milking it. “A big beefcake like you should be able to buy us plenty of time," she said, making a show of feeling West's bicep.
“Unless she’s a lesbian.”
“If she’s a lesbian, then we’re back to Jordan. It’s foolproof.”
West laughed and shook his head. “I don’t know about foolproof, but maybe there’s a chance we’ll all get out of there without being arrested.”
“I don’t care if we get arrested, as long as I get a finger on Frank Phillips first.”
Jordan’s car pulled in the parking lot and West waved her down. She parked next to them and got out, looking under her lashes at Katerina.
“Jordan Mankiller reporting for duty. Is this sexy enough?” she asked, motioning to her form-fitting black blouse and red miniskirt.
Katerina whistled. “Absolutely. Don’t you think so West?”
West looked off into the darkness of the parking lot. “Um, sure,” he mumbled. Katerina and Jordan laughed together. It felt good.
The trio walked in through the emergency room doors like they belonged there. It was almost midnight, and visiting hours were definitely over. Most of the hospital was shut down for the night, but you could still be buzzed in if you had a reason to be there. They headed straight for the doors and West nodded to the security guard who nodded back, and buzzed them right in.
“Easy as pie,” West said when the doors close behind them. “He’s on the fourteenth floor.”
They headed to the elevators and hit fourteen. The elevator opened up on an empty waiting room. “You guys wait here, I’ll scope it out and let you know.”
Katerina and Jordan sat down and West disappeared through the double doors that led to the long-term recovery unit. Within a minute he was back. He sat down and leaned over towards the women, his voice quiet. “It’s perfect, the cop and the security guard are both sitting outside of his room. And they’re both men,” he said pointedly, eying Katerina. “Jordan, I’ve got a better idea for you - wait here.”
Before either one of them could say a word, West was gone again, disappearing down the hall the other way. Within a few moments, he came back with something under his arm. He handed the something to Jordan and Katerina saw it was a pair of scrubs. “Go in the bathroom and put these on. You can say you are a nursing student and you need help with something. The cop won’t leave - he has to stay in front of the door or in the room, but if you can get the security guard to follow you, you’ll only need to keep him away from us for about five or ten minutes.”
Jordan nodded doubtingly. “What should I say I need help with?”
“I don’t know, tell him you need help carrying something heavy and then just pretend like you forgot where it was or something.”
Jordan made a face. “I’m not a big fan of the dumb blonde routine, but I’ll do it for you guys.”
Katerina squeezed her hand. “Thanks Jordan, we wouldn’t ask if it weren't important.”
“I know, I know.”
Jordan disappeared into the bathroom and came out a few minutes later wearing the scrubs. She gave them a thumbs up then pushed through the double doors. Katerina saw her lick her lips nervously before she disappeared.
A tall man in a white coat strolled past them in the hallway and Katerina and West both nodded at him. When he disappeared down the corridor, West stood. “OK, let’s go see how she did.”
They pushed through the double doors and Katerina saw a stark, empty hallway. She followed West around a corner. To their left was a police officer sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair. He was alone, a chair sitting empty next to him. Jordan worked fast. Katerina smiled and silently blessed her friend.
West stopped in front of the cop who looked at them with a half smile on his face. “Is this Phillips’ room?” West asked.
The cop nodded affirmatively and cracked his gum. “Yep.”
“Oh good, we found him. This guy was brought in by one of our units last week. We’re missing a laryngoscope and we're pretty sure it got mixed up in his clothes or something. Can we take a look?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” the cop said, waving his hand at them and cracking his gum again.
Katerina pushed inside the door quickly, not wanting the cop to see her expression. That had been too easy. She heard West behind her as she quickly approached the bed.
Frank Phillips was on his back, apparently sleeping. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply, and all the machines he was hooked up to were silently recording his vital signs. She noted the handcuffs on both arms keeping him fairly immobile. She stepped to the side of the bed and reached for his arm. She wanted to be in and out of here before anyone figured out they weren’t supposed to be here. She’d had enough trouble today to last a lifetime.
He looked peaceful but pathetic to her and she almost felt sorry for him.
“Don’t go feeling sorry for him,” West said in a gruff voice, startling her. “He’s a killer, remember.”
Katerina almost laughed. She was supposed to be the psychic here.
She put her fingers on the skin of his arm, steeling herself for the horrible things she’d witnessed the last two times she had touched him. But instead she heard a soft whooshing sound in her head, accompanied by an almost-pleasant absent sensation. It was like he was empty.
She let go of her bracing posture slightly, and when still nothing came, she relaxed completely. She twisted her lips and asked a question. Slowly, as if it were being held back, an image finally came to her. She studied it, but it didn’t seem applicable to the situation. She had asked him
who is killing the women
?
And this image of a young man, possibly as young as a teenager came to her. She asked the question again and again the same image came to her.
Who is he?
she asked.
I need a name
.
A muddy soup of browns and blacks swam into focus in her mind’s eye, and finally a name came to her.
Bubba.
What is his last name?
Smells skidded by. Burnt meat. Dead grass. Forest trees. Cold dirt.
Bubba Phillips.
Is he your brother?
Yes.
Where can I find him?
The bomb shelter.
Where is that?
The old farm.
Why is he killing women?
Because he wants to know death.
Katerina shuddered at that, then pushed it aside and tried to ask where the old farm was, but the man’s tissues distracted her. She had been able to communicate with him easily - Frank’s consciousness had given over the information with something like relief, once she had learned to interpret exactly how it was coming. But now the cells in his body were practically jumping up and down, trying to get her attention, like an excited dog when its master comes home. The extent of his injury hit her hard. Her bullet had tumbled through his body, tearing veins and arteries, destroying capillaries, severing tendons and muscle. She could see the bloody path of torn destruction in her mind. But that had all started to heal. What was trying to kill him now was an infection. An infection he had developed during the surgery that had closed the biggest holes and attempted to clean out the rest. A nurse hadn’t been paying attention when she pulled the surgical tools out of the autoclave meant to sterilize them, and two clamps had touched a non-sterile surface. The clamps had picked up a scary kind of resistant enterococcus which was now running rampant in Phillips’ body. Katerina could tell he had almost an equal chance of living or dying. He would live for sure with stronger antibiotics than what he was getting, and if his cells received organizing and instruction. From her.
Katerina felt his cells responding to her and she pulled her hand back in horror. Sudden confusion swirled through her mind. If she was at a call, and a criminal had been shot, she would still do her job, still provide him first aid to the best of her ability - but this was so different! Wasn’t it? Just because she had the strange and unique ability to mobilize Frank Phillips’ cells into doing a better job of healing themselves didn’t mean she should do it, did it? And tell the doctor he needed stronger antibiotics? There was no way she was doing that.
Katerina stood frozen, wanting to ask more questions, but unable to make herself touch him again. She felt West’s stare upon her. And then he reached out and pulled her backward suddenly. She looked up, spooked.
Frank Phillips eyes were open and he was reaching for her, but she didn’t read any malice there.
She patted West’s hand and gently removed it from her arm. “It’s okay.” West didn’t want to let her go. “Really, it’s okay, I can tell.”
Katerina moved forward and looked into Frank Phillips’ eyes. He was different. She could see that clearly. But what had happened? A remorseful deathbed conversion? No, something deeper than that. But would he help them?
“Frank,” she whispered. “Who is killing the women? Please tell me.”
His eyes filled with sudden terror and he shrank into himself, like a five-year-old who’s been told he’s going to get a spanking. He licked his lips and Katerina sensed a great struggle inside him.
“Bubba,” he croaked, his voice cracking from disuse.
“But who is Bubba?” Katerina whispered fiercely. “Where can we find Bubba?”
“The old farm, the bomb shelter.”
Katerina looked at West, seeking help. He stepped forward, and he didn’t whisper, his voice was filled with authority and command. “Give us an address.”
Frank licked his lips again and opened and closed his mouth. No words came out. The door to the hospital room opened and the police officer pushed his way in. “What’s going on? Is he talking?”
West backed away from the bed. “Our laryngoscope isn’t here – too bad – but he started trying to tell us something.”
The cop leaned against the wall, his arms folded. “We aren’t supposed to be talking to him, there’s a judicial order, but nothing says we can’t listen I guess, if he’s got something to say. You didn’t ask him a question, did you?”
West and Katerina didn’t answer. Katerina shifted her gaze to Frank nervously. What would the cop make of whatever he said?
Frank’s jaw worked and Katerina waited to hear his words. Everything rested on this.
A frantic beeping erupted from one of the machines next to him. Katerina looked up at the heart monitor and saw that his heart rate was dangerously high. Any second, a nurse was going to sweep into the room and any chance they had with him would be lost. She put her hand out and touched his arm one more time, asking sharply where the farm was. An image popped into her mind immediately. A falling down farmhouse, a red barn looming behind it. And the boy again. Katerina sensed this was Bubba Phillips at eighteen or nineteen years old.
But what does he look like now?
she sent desperately.
The image changed; the chest filled out, the shoulders broadened, the jaw hardened, the skin darkened and roughened, and then the eyes turned red and horns grew from the forehead. Katerina realized she was looking at the devil and she grimaced against the image, releasing Frank.
As she had predicted, the hospital room door burst open and two nurses rushed in. “What is going on in here?” the older one barked. Her hand went to the monitor, silencing it and then she rushed to the bedside, checking monitor leads and Phillips’ pulse. “Everyone out!” she commanded, and the two men turned to go immediately. Katerina lingered, knowing this would be their only chance. The nurse pointed at her. “I don’t know who you are or what you are doing, but I know you’re not supposed to be in here. Out
now
, before I call security.”
Katerina turned to go, crushed that they hadn’t learned more.