Resuscitation (38 page)

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t feel that way any longer?”

“Not at all, Sami. I love you with all my heart. But…”

“You’re walking on eggshells, Al. Just tell me what’s on your mind. Please.”

“I feel as though the fire is gone. It’s as if we’re two people who love each other but live separate lives under the same roof. There’s no time for romance. No time for intimacy. And no time for sex. I need more.”

“You don’t think
I
need more?” She put on the turn signal and merged onto the freeway. “Sometimes life gets in the way. I don’t mean for that to be an excuse, but maybe this is a good thing. Maybe this conversation can get us back on track. Maybe we should talk to a relationship counselor.”

He stared at the floor mats. “It’s not that simple.”

“I never said it would—”

“I slept with another woman.”

Sami wanted to pull off the highway, park on the shoulder, and puke. His confession completely blindsided her. She knew from the start that there would be rough spots along the way. They both brought baggage to this relationship. But she always felt that no matter what, they could work things out because love could leap over even the biggest hurdles. Never in her wildest dreams did she think he would…

Feeling that Brazilian women were among the most beautiful in the world, she tried to imagine what the other woman looked like. She guessed that she was a tall, thin, black-haired beauty with generous lips, ample breasts, and a cute little ass, unlike Sami’s, which at this particular moment felt the size of the Goodyear blimp. The images flashing through her mind replaced her speechless shock with intense anger. She felt so used. So betrayed. If she weren’t driving the car at seventy miles an hour, she could envision herself slapping him silly.

“Are you in love with her?”

His head snapped toward Sami. “Of course not. It was just sex.”

“
Just
sex? You say that so casually, as if all you did was hold her hand.”

“I was lonely and depressed,” Al said. “I would never do something like this under normal circumstances. It just happened.”

Oh, how his matter-of-fact attitude opened old wounds. Her deceased ex-husband, Tommy DiSalvo, always tried to make light of his sexual escapades by excusing them as “just sex.” When she had suggested she should have the same privilege, Tommy became enraged. Why was it okay for a guy to cheat, but if a woman did the same thing, she’d be a tramp?

“How many times did you fuck her? Was she a regular piece of ass?”

He didn’t answer right away, which spoke volumes.

“It happened only once,” Al said, his voice barely audible. “I swear.”

“Are you sure about that? Your word doesn’t mean much right now.”

She could see that his eyes were glazed over, and this made her even more enraged. Did he think for one minute that an emotional display would make it easier for her? “Where did you meet her?”

“She’s a nurse.”

“What’s her name?”

Al hesitated again.

“What’s her fucking name!”

“Sofia.”

“So while you were sitting by Aleta’s bed, so concerned about her welfare, you found the time to get it on with one of the nurses, right?”

“Sami, I’m sorry. What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me why. What have I done to make you cheat on me?”

“I was vulnerable and weak. She was there and you weren’t. That’s all there is to it.”

For the rest of the ride home neither of them uttered a sound. Sami pulled in the driveway and the two of them sat quietly in the car. After several awkward minutes, she grabbed her purse from the back seat and opened the door.

“I can’t sleep in the same bed with you. And with Emily and my mother here—”

“I’ll stay at a hotel tonight. Can we talk tomorrow?”

“We’re going to have to deal with this thing one day at a time.” She pulled the trunk release and, without saying another word, headed for the front door.

Al ran to her and grabbed her shoulder.

“What?”

“I love you, Sami.”

“Love is not enough.”

Fortunately for Sami, everyone was sound asleep when she walked in the front door. She didn’t have it in her at the moment to explain why Al wasn’t with her. She guessed that no matter what she said, her mom would push the issue until she coughed up the truth. Her mom could extract top-secret information from the director of the CIA.

Sami doubted that she’d ever be able to fall asleep with so many disconcerting thoughts coming at her from all angles, so instead of going to bed and tossing and turning, she curled up on the sofa and turned on the TV. As she clicked through the channels, hoping to find a mindless movie to watch that didn’t require an ounce of brain power, she came upon a movie called
The Ugly Truth
. She’d seen this movie before. It was a romantic comedy with a basic premise that women are naïve when it comes to men, falsely believing that sensitive, caring men actually exist, when in reality, all men are pigs and the only thing they care about is getting laid. There are no White Knights in shining armor, only self-centered clods that let the little head think for the big head. At this point in time, this movie seemed like the perfect companion for a woman who felt that every man on the planet should have his balls cut off.

She stared at the screen and heard the words spoken by the actors, but nothing really registered. She loved Al more than she loved any man she’d ever met. But how could she ever forgive him?

For most of the night, Sami slipped in and out of consciousness until her cell phone awakened her. She looked at her watch. At six thirty in the morning, she guessed it was either police business or the wrong number. She wanted it to be Al, begging for her forgiveness, crawling on his belly like the snake he was, but as much as this fantasy tugged at her feelings right now, she didn’t think it was him.

“Sami Rizzo.”

“Sorry to call so early,” Captain Davidson apologized. “Late last night a missing person’s report came in on a McKenzie O’Neill, and I’m afraid she might have been abducted by the serial killer.”

The captain’s timing couldn’t have been worse. Sami felt like a zombie. “What’s the connection?”

“No one has seen her for a couple of days. Her parents said when they couldn’t reach her, they started calling her friends. One gal—her closest friend—said that the last time she saw McKenzie was at a yoga class. She said McKenzie seemed smitten by a man her friend had never seen before. Her description of him pretty much matches our guy.”

“I just need to take a quick shower, Captain. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“Did Al come back from Rio last night as planned?”

She could hear herself saying, “Yes, the lyin’, cheatin’ sack of shit did come home last night.” “Made it home safe and sound.”

“Chief Larson and I have been talking, and with your nod, we’d like Al to partner with you on the investigation.”

She was speechless.

“There are lots of implications here, and I’m sure that the rumor mill will kick into high gear. But we don’t have time to pussyfoot around. You and Al are the best we’ve got, so if somebody’s nose gets bent out of shape because of your personal relationship with Al, too fucking bad. I’ve never been a big fan of political correctness. Besides, we got the okay from Mayor Sullivan. Let the naysayers deal with
her
.”

Trapped like a rat
. Under the circumstances, the thought of working side by side with Al, morning, noon, and night, was as unsavory as anything she could imagine at this particular point in time. Her wounds were still raw. But what could she do? As much as it pained her, she had no choice but to do what was best for the department. Whatever became of their romantic relationship, they had to find a way to separate business from personal.

“No problem, Captain. I’m sure Al and I can set our relationship aside and stay on task.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. Do you want me to call him or would you like to break the news?”

“Oh, I think it should come from you, Captain.”

“See you in an hour.”

She set down the phone and headed for the bathroom. On the way, she saw her mother standing in her robe, just outside Sami’s bedroom.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

“Where’s Alberto?”

Sami didn’t have time to explain, so she lied. “He had an early-morning appointment.”

“Why didn’t he sleep here last night?”

How could she possibly know this?
“Can we talk later? I really have to get moving.”

Josephine gave Sami a look she had seen many times, and Sami was certain that their next conversation would not be pleasant.

McKenzie had no idea how long she’d been lying on the bed in that dark room. Although her head was far from being clear, the effects of whatever drug John had given her had lost its grip. She had no concept of time. At this particular moment, the only thing she knew for sure was that she had to use the bathroom.

“Is anybody there? Can you hear me? I have to go to the bathroom.”

Nothing.

Wetting herself was the least of her worries. Obviously, John had other plans for her. She tried not to think about the possibilities. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t help but believe that she had been duped by the serial killer she’d read about in the newspaper and seen on TV. Who hadn’t heard the grisly details of what that maniac did to his victims?

McKenzie was fearful of what he might do to her, of course. But for some reason, she wasn’t out-of-her-mind terrified. Shouldn’t she be? Had the drugs diluted her senses?

Before she could muster another thought, she heard something in the distance, a door opening with squeaky hinges that needed lubrication. Then she heard the door click shut.

Footsteps. A man’s heel-pounding footsteps. The cadence of someone walking slowly toward her. She strained her eyes to make out his image, but the room was too dark. Then, bright lights flooded the room and she squeezed her eyes shut until they adjusted.

“Hello, McKenzie.”

The voice was familiar. She opened her eyes slightly to confirm what she already feared. “What’s your real name?”

“Julian.”

“You’re the one, aren’t you?”

“The
one
?”

“The Resuscitator.”

“That’s such an impersonal name, don’t you think?”

“Would you please cut me loose and let me go to the bathroom?” She hoped that the thought of her soiling herself might motivate him to let her use the toilet.

Next to the bed, McKenzie now noticed a small cart holding odd-looking tools and instruments. She couldn’t make out what they were. Julian reached for what looked like a scalpel and cut the two nylon straps binding her ankles. He held the scalpel inches from her face. “You’re not going to try anything silly if I cut you loose, right?”

His face looked much different than the face of the charming man she had met at her yoga class, the man who had broken through her self-preservation mechanism, the man who would surely be her executioner. She saw an intensity in his eyes that sent chills through her body.

He cut the straps binding her wrists and led her to the bathroom, following only half a step behind. “You’ve got five minutes.”

She went into the bathroom, her mind aswarm with terrifying thoughts of her fate. She now knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her captor was the man the
San Diego Chronicle
referred to as the Resuscitator, the serial killer who performed barbaric experiments on his victims. Now, wide-awake and free of the side effects of the drugs, McKenzie O’Neill was indeed out-of-her-mind terrified.

As she sat in the bathroom, shivering uncontrollably, she realized that the only possible way for her to survive this ordeal was if somehow she overpowered Julian before he bound her to the bed again. But how could a hundred-twenty-five-pound woman ever expect to get the best of a two-hundred-pound man? Frantic, she gently opened the vanity drawer, looking for a makeshift weapon.

“Three more minutes, McKenzie,” his voice echoed from the other side of the bathroom door.

She found nothing in the vanity drawer. Now she checked the medicine cabinet. Aspirins. Antacids. Cotton swabs. Toothpaste.

Panic set in.

Her last hope was the area under the vanity that concealed the bottom of the sink and the plumbing. She opened the doors, squatted down, and pushed a variety of items out of her way.

Mouthwash. Cough syrup. Bandages. Sunblock. Softsoap.

About ready to give up, McKenzie spotted a pair of scissors. They looked like the kind hair stylists used for trimming, the blades pointy and about four inches long. What could she do with these scissors? Could she inflict enough damage to incapacitate Julian just long enough for her to flee out the door? Maybe she’d get lucky and even kill the asshole? Quite to her surprise, McKenzie O’Neill, pacifist, vegetarian, animal activist, found the concept of killing Julian quite appealing. The woman who stepped over ants while walking down the street was embracing the thought of killing another human being. Was she really capable of such a deed?