Find Me If You Dare (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 2) (19 page)

                           Chapter Fifty

Once the words were out, once he said the word “Dragon”, the energy seemed to drain right out of him. His body appeared to deflate and relax. He had probably lost consciousness. I looked over at the broken man, hardly recognizing the confident professional that I had known over the previous months.

He really was fortunate to be alive. Was it intentional, or not? Was he left alive to show us both that it was up to her, it was in her hands, who lived and who died? There was no way to know for sure. It seemed as though we were all just caught up in Elizabeth’s sick, twisted game.

Sitting there looking at Martin Ross, I had to admit, there had been a time when I really hadn’t liked the man. I hadn’t appreciated him using me for bait, using me and my friendship and devotion to Elizabeth to get the different personalities to manifest. When he had been so convinced that he had cured her and had been partly responsible for her gaining her freedom, I had wanted to strangle him myself. Now though, seeing the weak, frail man before me, I experienced a different kind of emotion.

I was angry. Not at Dr. Ross and all his
maneuvering, but at Elizabeth. I was furious with her. For the first time since coming into her unique circle of friendship all those years ago, I was absolutely enraged with her. I was just so tired of being on the receiving end of all her selfish, harmful actions. The strong emotion welled up inside of me until I thought it would burst.

I glanced over at Madeline.  She was
carefully studying my ever-expressive face.

“What are you feeling?” She whispered to me, always trained to look for facial expressions and body movements.

“Rage.” The one word summed it all up. I didn’t know if I could say more.

She took in my intense expression. I could almost feel my face flush and my own blood pressure rise. With a calm sigh, she
reached over and placed her hand on mine. A knowing look came into her eyes.

“Psychology 101,” she nodded in understanding
, searching my eyes to see if I understood her.

At first, I couldn’t see past the blind rage. I allowed the pain from Lewis’ death to rise to the surface. It ate at me as strongly as the
guilt. Guilt for still loving and caring for a man that had hurt me so much. Guilt that I may have been even partly involved in his death. The anger for the brutality that had been dealt to Dr. Ross. He was no saint, but he certainly didn’t deserve what she had done to him. Few times in my life had I felt such fury.

It took a moment to see past my strong feelings and to understand what she was saying.
I had to force myself to take a step back and think objectively. Psychology 101? What was she talking about? Then it hit me.

“The fi
ve stages of grief.” I answered, taking a deep, cleansing breath. I let the strong emotions wash over me and fought to look at this from a distance.

She nodded and smiled like a proud professor when their prized pupil gives the right answer.
She was right. Anger was a very normal thing to feel right now. The realization only lessened the emotion slightly. The strong feeling only seemed to renew my determination for finding Elizabeth and making sure she was put away somewhere where she could never harm another person.

“Come on,” I rose to my feet and Madeline did the same, “let’s
give Dr. Ross a chance to rest. I don’t think we’ll get much more out of him anyway.”

The hospital staff seemed somewhat relieved as we walked towards the sliding glass door. They were probably anxious to have their patient undisturbed.

It wasn’t until the door slid open and I was halfway through it that I heard a raspy reply from the bed.

“It said one more thing.” His voice was almost a whisper. I couldn’t tell if Martin was really conscious or not. Maybe he was just rambling. Still, I walked back to his bedside to see if he said more.

“It?” I questioned. “What did ‘it’ say?”

“As I was sitting in that chair, bleeding badly after
it cut my throat,” his words were almost incoherent as I strained to hear them, “it said something.”

It?
Was he talking about the Dragon?

“I thought I was dying. I thought I was already dead. I could have been. How else could you explain those glowing red eyes?” His words brought me closer. Did I hear him right? Glowing red eyes? Had he been hallucinating from the loss of blood? I had to know.

“What did you hear it say?” I urged.

“It said: ‘
I finally found him. I’m going to kill him now. He deserves it. He will wish he had never been born. He will wish I never had been born. He never should have abandoned us.”

A chill went down my spine as his words hit me. I knew what I had to do.

                     Chapter Fifty-One

“Logan,” I was on my cell phone with him before we had even left the MICU entirely. Where to start?

“What is it?” Even over the cell phone he could hear the alarm in my voice.

“I think I know where she’s headed next.” Madeline followed fast on my heels as I strode down the long hospital halls.

“Where?” Logan and Madeline asked at almost the same time.

“Use all your resources. Look for a Bobby Marshall, or a Robert Marshall.” I walked into the elevator and hit the button for the ground floor.

“Who?” Madeline asked in confusion.

“It’s Elizabeth’s biological father.”

Finally, the pieces started fitting into place for me. These weren’t just random attacks and killings.  She was going through her past and purging herself of anyone she either didn’t like or who she had thought had hurt her in some way. Every one of the victims had done something to her in her mind. Everyone but Lewis. He was a message to me directly, and I knew she had never liked him.

We were at the ground floor of the hospital and walking through the main lobby when I realized that Madeline and I didn’t have any transportation. Logan and Director Phillips had left us at the hospital and gone ahead to the crime scene. I stood at a large window, looking out at the city below, feeling frustrated.

“What do you know about him?” Logan asked.

“Elizabeth and Barbara rarely spoke of him,” I rubbed my forehead, trying to force the memories to come forward. “All I ever remember them saying was that he left them right after Elizabeth was born. He moved south, New Mexico, I think. He got remarried and started a new family. But that was almost thirty years ago. There’s no telling how much has changed since then.”

Madeline found the nearest chair, sat down and took her laptop out of the large bag she carried with her everywhere. She only tried for a moment to get a
Wi-Fi connection before she walked over to the hospital information desk, flashed her badge, and all but demanded their internet password. The poor elderly lady at the front desk didn’t dare refuse her.

“I can’t imagine how many Robert Marshalls there are in New Mexico,” I all but groaned.

“I’ll have an approximate number for you in just a moment,” Madeline mumbled as her small fingers flew across the keyboard of her laptop.

“What if he’s moved?” I hated to be the pessimist here, but I had to look at this realistically.

“I’ll do a national search if we don’t find him in New Mexico,” she replied calmly.

“Caitlyn, I just spoke to Director Phillips,” Logan had my attention again. “He’s sending one of the agents from the Salt Lake office over to pick up you and Madeline. We’d still like to have you both do a walk though at the crime scene here. In the meantime, we’ll get some of our best agents on this.”

“Okay,” I nodded, even though I knew he couldn’t see me.

“How are you holding up?” His voice was suddenly personal. There hadn’t been very much time recently to talk privately.
The change of tone, the concern in his voice, almost made me crumble.

“It’s another needle in a haystack, Logan,” I whispered. “Another crazy chase. What if we can’t find him in time?
What if I’m wrong?”

“Caitlyn, you’ve been amazingly accurate so far,” Logan reassured me. “Stop selling yourself short. Phillips was just telling me earlier how valuable you’ve been to
this investigation. This might be our chance. Maybe this time we’ll be able to find him and get there before her.”

“I hope you’re right.” I looked out over the city again
in the fading light of sunset, knowing that there was a killer out there somewhere and many innocent people were unaware of it. “Because this is the only thing that makes sense.”

“You’re right about this, I feel it.” I had to smile at that. One thing I had learned about Logan, he had good instincts. “I’ll see you soon.”

                
   Chapter Fifty-Two

The gated community was picture perfect, surrounding an emerald green golf course with the backdrop of the Wasatch Mountains. The homes were large and opulent, with three and four car garages, large RVs the size of Greyhound busses and boats the size of small yachts in the driveways.

Neighbors stood on manicures lawns and landscaped pathways, whispering to each other as they stared at the numerous police and federal vehicles in their small, private community. Violence just didn’t happen in a place like this. They were safe from all the crime and
corruption that happened in other places, weren’t they? At least that’s what they liked to believe.

It was disconcerting that I was becoming so familiar with crime scenes.
I put on the latex gloves and the paper booties and made my way around the federal agents and the local CSI as though I had been doing it for years. Sometimes, I felt as though I had.

Madeline and I went through the garage, the same way Martin had told us Elizabeth had entered his home. It seemed large enough to
store a small airplane inside. His burgundy Jaguar was still there but his dark-green Range Rover was missing. So were his keys. They had sent out an APB as soon as they realized it was gone. So far, there had been no hits.

We entered the house through an immaculate mudroom. The laundry room was next, which seemed larger than most bedrooms. I only glanced briefly at the spacious kitchen, with its island bar and state-of-the-art appliances. Again, it was all spotless, as though no one really lived there.

Logan appeared from around the corner. His serious expression seemed to relax somewhat at the sight of me. I would have loved to approach him, to feel his strong arms around me, even if only for a moment. But there were too many people around, and this definitely wasn’t the place for it. Instead, we exchanged a silent glance, filled with more than could be expressed in words.

“Are you certain someone lives here?” Madeline spoke up from behind me. She must have noticed the same thing I did. The opulent home didn’t looked lived in. It looked as though it was ready to be photographed for some home design magazine. 

“Yes,” Logan nodded, “Martin Ross lives here, although he lives here alone. We’ve found that he was divorced a little over a year ago after thirty-two years of marriage. His wife got a hefty settlement then moved back east where her family is from. They have one son who is a professor at Duke University. We were able to reach him and let him know of his father’s injuries. He won’t be flying in to see his father. They weren’t close.”

Logan’s words made me pause for a moment. I glanced back through the kitchen then around another corner at a large circular staircase going up to a second floor landing. Beyond that I could see a spacious foyer and a formal front room.
Every piece of furniture carefully chosen and arranged. Every gilded mirror on the wall or flower arrangement on a table placed for a purpose. Instead of the rich furnishings, the imported carpets and Martha Stewart-style décor, I saw an empty life.

I walked down the hallway, feet sinking into the plush carpet, and entered Dr. Ross’ office. At first, I saw a familiar wall filled with plaques and accomplishments. This office here was similar to the one I had sat in many times in the mental hospital. The furniture was heavy and dark, the walls lined with even more bookshelves, filled with classics as well as medical literature.

Now, I began to see another side to the doctor. His life might have been filled with all the accomplishments that lined the walls, but now, when he was gravely injured in a hospital and fighting to live, what did he have? Who was here for him? What good were all the articles in the medical journals when he was there alone in the hospital? The plaques on the walls, the medical degrees, what comfort could they give him as he lay in that hospital bed.

An empty life.
I could clearly see him now, not as the adversary that baited and taunted me there in the mental hospital, but as the sad, lonely man, victim to one of his own patients.

It was then that I noticed the blood. It was a large, dark stain, spread across the floor, soaking into the thick carpet. The metallic smell of it was obvious now. There was so much of it, it was a wonder he h
adn’t bled to death. The doctors said he almost had.

A comfortable dark brown leather chair
sat behind the solid walnut desk. The dark stains of blood almost blended into the leather. There was still duct tape attached to the arm rests where he had been bound.

Before I could take another step into the office, I felt a hand on my arm.

“There’s a lot of blood, Caitlyn,” Logan cautioned in a low voice, “are you sure you’re ready for this?”

I glanced up at his concerned face then back at the room. I took a deep breath.

“I know there’s a lot of blood,” I admitted. “But this is different.”

“Why?” Logan wasn’t really questioning me, he was only curious.

“Because,” I stepped into the room for a closer look, “this time the victim survived.”