Fractured (29 page)

He grinned as he pressed the button. Grasso said, “What?”

“At last I've found a woman who I do think gets me.”

*   *   *

Georgia saw the
light come on, glanced at her appointment book, and set aside her pen. Only occasionally did she make notes by hand, but sometimes it was effective in a thinking-out-loud sort of venue. She wrote it down, examined the words, and then decided how valid the conclusions might be.

She didn't have an appointment scheduled.

As a matter of fact, her receptionist was off for the day. She stood and went to the door, opened it, and realized that she did have a visitor in the waiting room. Rachel stood there, her clothes a little disheveled. Under the circumstances, Georgia wasn't surprised to see her. Given what had happened, not at all.

But something was off.

In her office her phone chimed.

“Rachel?” She took a step forward and then stopped. There were dark stains on her patient's clothes and she seemed disoriented. “Are you okay? Did Lea hurt you?”

“No, she hurt someone else. Can we talk?”

*   *   *

Ellie had to
use crutches to move around, but she was restless anyway. She'd even managed to get dressed. At least she'd cracked her left wrist, so she could comb her hair and brush her teeth right-handed.

Georgia Lukens wasn't answering her cell phone. She'd sent the text, but no response, so she'd called to make sure it came through but just ended up leaving a message. Maybe she was seeing a patient and would check her messages later.

Damn, Ellie hated delays, and she hated
this
.

Eight weeks off. It was a gloomy thought. With Bryce out of town, she wasn't sure she could take it.

It chafed to not be able to go along for the lead they had in Jefferson County.

She sat down and stared out the window, thinking about Santiago's off-the-wall theory. It sounded ridiculous but then again … he was correct about one thing. Rachel seeing the same therapist was a long shot.

It bothered her.

She tried again.

No answer from Georgia.

That bothered her even more and she really needed something to do. Santiago had just said Georgia was at her office.

Five minutes later she'd called a cab and was using her very underdeveloped skills with her crutches to go downstairs.

*   *   *

It was a
rare morning when she had a third cup of coffee, and even though she'd made it and the fragrance of it filled the office, Georgia was extremely doubtful at the moment that she was ever going to get a chance to drink it.

Rachel looked unusual to the extent she was dressed very differently. There were dark splotches on the sleeve of her wool coat and she wore a short dress beneath it instead of the long flowing skirts she favored. She also had on stockings and short stylish boots, but her rumpled appearance suggested she might have slept in her clothes.

If she'd slept at all. Her eyes were rimmed with red and literally glittered when she took a gun from her coat pocket.

This was turning out to be a very unusual morning.

“Sit down.” The gun indicated her usual chair.

Georgia took the not-so-subtle hint and sat behind her desk. It seemed like the prudent course. Her cell phone, which she had set on vibrate, hummed again. It was difficult to keep her voice even, but she was calm enough when she spoke even though her pulse was jumping in her throat. “All right. I'm sitting. There's no need to point that at me. I am not threatening you. Are you injured? Did Lea hurt you?”

“Lea? No. She tried to hurt someone else.”

“Rachel, why don't you sit down too? Let's discuss what has happened.”

“I'm in trouble.”

“I think you must be or you would never do what you are doing now.”

“You have no idea how much.”

“I will if you tell me.”

“I don't know if I want to.”

Her phone vibrated yet again. Georgia ignored it because quite frankly the gun held all of her attention. She was pretty grateful when Rachel sank into her usual chair. Only her patient didn't tip her head forward in her usual manner, using her hair to hide her face, but stared at her directly.

Not Rachel.

It registered but in an abstract way, because multiple personality disorder was so rare there were experts who even discounted its existence. Even now, at this moment, Georgia wasn't sure that was the problem, but she certainly
was
sure the person sitting across from her was not the same young woman who'd been coming in for sessions. Everything about her screamed the difference, not just her posture. She asked quietly, “Am I talking to Lea?”

“Don't be stupid.”

Reality was evidently
not
the problem. “What is your real name?”

“Lauren.”

“I felt all along you were lying to me, but why conceal your name?”

She glanced away, but the gun was still in her hand. “I … I did not ask to be put in this position.”

Georgia thought about her cell phone, ringing again just inches away on the polished desktop, but instinct told her it would be a bad idea to move a muscle. She said with credible poise, “Look, you came to me in the first place to talk. So let's talk. You have walked around your problems all along. This is your chance. Tell me what happened to the person you've portrayed as Lea but we both now know is you. I can't promise it will make you feel better, but I can promise I will listen to what you have to say.”

When Lauren looked up, her eyes were empty. There was nothing there and Georgia experienced a chill that ran down her spine.
This
was the killer the MPD was looking for so frantically. It was there in her face.

And they were alone.

“I know you will. That's why I'm here.” Lauren idly set the gun in her lap and briefly closed her eyes. “I'm going to tell you and then I want you to bring him here so I can kill him.”

“Kill whom?”

Georgia had to admit her hands had gone cold so she massaged her fingers but in plain sight.

“There was a man. He had blond hair and very blue eyes. I remember the color perfectly.”

That did fit Santiago's description and, according to what she'd been told, also the other victims. “He hurt you?”

“No. He lied to me.”

“A lot of people lie, Lauren.” It felt strange to call her that, but this was not the Rachel Georgia knew either.

“He said he was going to the hospital.” It was a painful whisper.

That was confusing. “Who said that?”

“The man.”

That
narrowed it down.

The door to her office opened a little and she did her best not to react.
Not alone any longer
.

Lauren asked plaintively, “Why would he do that? Why lie to me?”

*   *   *

This was probably
the worst situation ever. Ellie, only tenuously balanced on one crutch and she was hardly an expert after one morning with crutches in general, was riveted to the conversation, and had her hand on her weapon.

Very slowly she drew it out, remembering that horrific screaming from when Santiago was attacked. From the look on Dr. Lukens's face she also realized her danger, but was trying to talk her patient off a ledge.

Might work, might not
.

As far as having the cavalry riding in, Ellie was not at all positive she currently fit the description with her two casts, but she was better than nothing and she knew Georgia had seen her crack the door.

She should have told Metzger where she was going. Or Santiago, or
someone,
but it was too late. She was there, and a woman with a gun that had probably committed a series of murders was right in front of her.

Lukens seemed relaxed but a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. She carefully kept her gaze on her patient. “This blond man represents something awful to you. Can you tell me what it is?”

“My brother was killed when I was eight.” Lauren seemed to find the opposite wall interesting. “It was awful. I still remember the sound of the tires, the thud, the scrape of metal as his bicycle skidded along the street … I had nightmares for years.”

Great time for a shot, but Ellie was still trying to find her balance between the door and her weapon, should she have to fire. At the same time she was trying not to give away she was even there. Not an easy process. Besides, she really needed more reason to shoot. You would think she wouldn't, but this disturbed woman was hardly an average criminal.

Georgia's voice was very gentle though her hand trembled where it rested on the blotter on her desk. “That's terrible. Why haven't we talked about this before?”

Lauren didn't seem to hear the question. “A man hit him with his truck.”

“On purpose?”

Lauren shook her head, refocusing on her target, which unfortunately for Dr. Lukens, happened to be her. “I don't think so, but that doesn't matter. It was horrible enough, but afterward it was worse.”

Georgia shot another swift glance at the doorway and she and Ellie made eye contact, but wisely she immediately looked back. “Forgive me if I don't understand. Can you explain to me why we are here now in this situation because of this incident in your past? No one is more willing to listen to the story than I am. Tell me. It will help.”

Georgia Lukens should have been a prosecuting attorney. Her ability to draw out a witness was stunning. Just the cadence of her voice was calming.

Lauren whispered repetitively, “He hit him in the street. We were just riding our bikes and he came around the corner very fast. Then … I think he realized it, what he'd done, and he told me to go home and get my parents. He said we couldn't wait for an ambulance. That he was going to take my brother to the nearest hospital.”

Lauren was rocking now in agitation, just a little, but her hands were still on the gun in her lap. Ellie wanted to edge in but she wasn't exactly able to do it at the moment, perched awkwardly on her crutch, so she just widened the gap in the door with one hand and said a silent prayer of gratitude it didn't make a sound.

“That seems like a reasonable request.”

“I did what he told me.” Lauren rose up, and then sank back down as if undecided whether to pace or not. “So I ran home and told my mother.”

“What a very tragic responsibility for someone so young.”

Lauren's voice was emotionless, which wasn't reassuring. “But when we got back there … he was gone. The man, the truck, the bicycle … and my brother.” Her head came up again and so did the gun. “He took him away. I want you to call Detective Santiago and make him come here.”

Georgia handled it pretty well. “Lauren, it
wasn't
him.”

“How do you know that?”

Lukens evidently couldn't answer that question, especially with a gun pointed in her direction. Normally seeing the composed doctor rattled might be amusing, but not under the circumstances. Ellie made a decision to shove open the door fully.

The distraction worked anyway. Lukens was smart enough to duck down behind her desk, which left Ellie exposed but at least armed. Lauren swung around and fired, and Ellie went to the floor, her gun skidding.

Shit
.

Ellie's adrenaline was running so high she couldn't do anything but crawl after her weapon, a few crucial feet away.

Having a broken ankle and cracked wrist was not much of a help when confronting a determined killer, she concluded at that moment. Luckily, even at this range, Lauren wasn't a great shot and the second bullet hit the floor by her head.

Ears ringing, Ellie lifted to her knees, her ankle protesting the entire procedure, and she gasped out ineffectually, “Police officer. Please put down your weapon.”

A weak kitten was probably more of a threat.

Lauren Levine walked forward a few paces and pointed the gun at a much closer range. Just inches away, just like when she shot Gurst. Her expression was so cold Ellie could swear the temperature in the room dropped. “Detective MacIntosh. You already know I've done worse things than this.”

That was when Ellie swung the crutch. The impact made a dull sound as it caught her target across the knees and Lauren staggered back. Then Ellie was on her feet, swaying, cursing like Santiago on a bad day, her ankle screaming at her …

The second shot was like adding ballast to an already sinking ship. She went down hard and the world disappeared.

*   *   *

Jason's phone beeped
and he registered the number with misgivings and then punched a button. “What?”

“Detective, you are as charming as ever. Ellie is back in the hospital. I think she might qualify for a super-saver discount soon if she just comes in one more time.”

An ice-cold hand clamped around his heart.

Dr. Lukens added, “I knew you'd want to know.”

He turned to Grasso. “Head back. Now.”

As they made a sudden turn, he caught the door handle and went back to the call. “What exactly happened?”

“A lot of shit hit the fan.” Dr. Lukens sounded tired. “I can't even begin to describe it over the phone, and by the way, you are my one phone call. I'm at the police station. If you could help me out, I'd really appreciate it. I'm trying to explain, but given I am not even positive what was going on with Lauren and have no actual medical records with her name on them,
and
I shot her in my office, the police are naturally suspicious. I'm being held for questioning and not liking it very much.”

Grasso could hear and gave a low whistle. Jason said, “The shit really did hit the fan. We're on our way.”

 

Chapter 28

Metzger looked displeased, but then again, that wasn't new. The chief came up to her desk instead of ordering her to his office, which was nice of him, but she did have an in-the-line-of-duty injury. He pulled up a chair and took a seat. Ellie met his eyes and wondered what he was about to say because he had a very intent expression.