Worth Dying For (A Slaughter Creek Novel) (12 page)

Did that one capture Amelia’s alters?

At the foot of the silhouette lay a shadowy black outline of a body on the floor. It looked like a police drawing at a crime scene; Liz wondered if it portrayed the death of one of Amelia’s personalities.

Jake made the introductions, and Liz offered Amelia a smile. “Thanks for agreeing to talk to us.”

Amelia looked so much like Sadie that it was startling, except that Amelia seemed wary and slightly thinner, her sharp eyes darting around as if she didn’t know who she could trust.

Sadie offered them coffee, but Liz declined, and so did Rafe. For a moment, her gaze was drawn to Sadie’s belly. The small baby bump brought a knot to Liz’s throat.

“How far along are you?” she asked softly.

Sadie rubbed her stomach. “About four months.”

“Do you know what you’re having yet?”

Sadie smiled. “No. Jake and I decided to wait and be surprised.”

“Congratulations.” All the more reason Jake would want Sadie in protective custody. She was pregnant with the Commander’s second grandchild.

Perched on the edge of the club chair, Amelia wrung her hands. Sadie covered them with her own. “Relax, sis.”

Amelia bit her lip. “I don’t know how I can help.”

“Then you understand the reason we came?” Rafe asked.

Amelia nodded. “I know the Commander broke out of jail, and that two women have been murdered. You think he killed them?”

“We think one of his subjects did.”

“We’re just speculating now, but we think it was Six, the subject we haven’t located,” Liz filled in. “Do you remember him?”

Amelia bounced up and down on the seat, agitated. “Six? Why do you think he killed the women?”

Liz glanced at Rafe, both of them aware that Amelia had avoided answering the question. “The first woman who was murdered was named Ester Banning.” Liz flipped her phone around to show Amelia Ester’s picture. “Did you know her?”

Amelia’s eyes widened, but she shook her head. “I . . . I’m not sure. She . . . looks familiar.”

“She was a nurse,” Liz said. “We’re looking into the theory that she might have been involved in the experiments, or that the killer might have been her son.”

Amelia’s face paled. “I don’t know anything about that.”

“Maybe one of your alters met her,” Sadie suggested.

Amelia nodded. “That’s possible. Skid always used to come out when I got scared or one of the staff was abusing me.”

Sadie rubbed circles along Amelia’s back to calm her growing agitation. “I know this is painful for you, sis, but do you know anything about Six? Did he have a family?”

“No,” Amelia said. “They told him his parents died.”

Liz and Rafe exchanged looks. “They could have lied to him,” Liz pointed out. “After all, they lied to you and the others.”

“That’s true, Amelia,” Jake said. “The Commander made us all think that our sister, Seven, was dead. And that he was dead as well.”

“When was the last time you saw Six?” Liz asked.

Amelia stood, her movements jerky. “I told you, I don’t know anything.”

Rafe showed her a photograph of Truitt. “Do you recognize this man?”

Amelia quickly looked away. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Look at the picture again,” Liz insisted. “It’s important, Amelia. Is this man Six?”

A mask seemed to fall over Amelia’s face, as if she might be disappearing within herself. “No.”

Tension stretched between them for a long second. Was Amelia lying to protect Six?

Liz flashed the second victim’s photograph. “How about this woman? Do you recognize her?”

Amelia rose, her arms crossed, her fingers tapping along her arms. “I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.” Her voice broke, and she dropped her arms and ran from the room. The back door slammed, indicating she’d run outside. Sadie chased after her, leaving Liz, Rafe, and Jake alone with unanswered questions.

Rafe’s phone buzzed with the ME’s number. “Agent Hood.”

“We ID’d the second victim.”

“That was fast.”

“Apparently she served in the military. Her name is Beaulah Hodge,” Bullock said. “She was fifty-one. Never married. Joined the marines when she was eighteen and became a nurse.”

“So she was a nurse just like Ester.” Had Amelia lied about not recognizing her?

Bullock mumbled agreement. “The similarity could be significant.”

“It could be.” Rafe pulled at his chin. “Anything else?”

“Still working on the autopsy. Will let you know if something else comes up.”

Rafe hung up and relayed the conversation to Liz. “Let’s stop by the sanitarium and have a chat with the senator. Maybe his stay there has prompted him to talk.”

He studied the message board for the followers of the Commander. Had the police discovered the site yet? Did they know that supporters of the Commander posted daily, bragging about the experiments he’d conducted, raving that he was an innovative genius whose mind had simply been too advanced for his time?

Others sent hate messages calling him cruel and inhumane.

In truth, he was both.

Where was he now? Had the CIA secretly helped him escape so they could hide him again?

Maybe he was already working on another project.

His head spinning like truck wheels churning for solid ground in a mud pit, he drove to the sanitarium where it had all started. He needed to remind himself of the horrors that had happened to keep him on track.

He slipped inside, soaking up the acrid smells of urine, sweat, and sickness, easing through the halls and locked doorways with the security card he’d stolen.

His next target had stayed hidden in the shadows of the investigation into the CHIMES project, slyly wielding her own brand of torment with that vile tongue of hers.

His fingers curled around the end of the scalpel he’d used on his last victim when he took her eyes.

This one killed people with her vicious words—words that had robbed him of his manhood and inflicted pain on Amelia and the others. It was time to end her reign of terror.

She wasn’t here now, though. She’d moved on, while the rest of them were stuck forever in this horror, like rats on a wheel inside their cage.

Soon he would free himself—and exact revenge for the others.

Chapter Thirteen

R
afe turned up the long, winding road that led through the mountains to the sanitarium. The mental hospital looked like a giant mausoleum or some Gothic castle out of a horror movie—a place where people were hanged, shadowy ghostly figures floated in windows, and screams filled the night.

Instead of helping its patients, the hospital had been a bed of horrors for Amelia Nettleton and several other children. Liz had seen photographs of the basement where the experiments began. No child should have been subjected to that cruelty.

Therapy helped, but nobody really ever forgot that kind of trauma.

When the senator had a breakdown in prison, the judge had ordered him committed to the sanitarium for treatment. Liz had expected them to close the place down after all the bad publicity, but apparently not. She’d heard that they’d brought in a new director, though, and the hospital was under close scrutiny.

Rafe parked in front, and they walked up the sidewalk to the entrance. A foreboding overwhelmed Liz, but she straightened her spine.

They identified themselves to the receptionist at the welcome station. “We need to see Senator Stowe,” Rafe explained.

“Hmm, let me check with his doctor.” The receptionist punched an intercom and paged the doctor.

Five minutes later a woman in a white coat appeared, introduced herself, and shook their hands, then led them to an office with dark wood furniture.

“We need to talk to the senator,” said Rafe.

“You’re aware he had a breakdown when he was arrested?”

“Yes. But he’s been in therapy, correct?”

The doctor drummed her fingernails on the desk. “Yes, but he’s still extremely depressed.”

Liz had no sympathy for the politician. “This is important. We think he may have information that could help us solve the murders of two women. He may also know where Arthur Blackwood was going when he escaped from prison.”

The doctor rubbed a spot behind her ear. “All right. But I’m warning you that he’s not stable. He hasn’t handled being confined well.”

“Neither did those poor kids he hurt in that project,” Liz shot back.

The woman slanted her a scathing look. “I’m well aware of what he did. I’m just telling you the facts. It’s my job to protect my patient’s rights.”

“Even if it risks the murder of another woman?”

The doctor glared at Liz. “Point taken. But if you get him agitated, I’ll have to ask you to leave.” She stood, adjusted her lab coat, and gestured for them to follow her down a long hallway that echoed with lonely cries and the sound of metal carts clanging.

Seconds later they crossed through two sets of double doors, both requiring key cards to enter. “This is where we keep potentially dangerous patients and those on suicide watch,” the doctor commented.

Keys jangled in her hand as she lifted them from her belt and unlocked the door. Liz sucked in a sharp breath at the sense of desolation in the room. Senator Stowe sat in a vinyl chair in the corner, apparently staring out the window, his back to them. His body was slumped forward as if he was asleep or heavily sedated.

What kind of narcotics were they giving him?

Liz eased forward toward the senator, but Rafe held up a warning hand, then circled in front of the man. When he looked up at her and the doctor, his face was grim.

“He’s not going to tell us anything,” Rafe said. “The senator’s dead.”

Rafe pressed two fingers to the senator’s wrist to check for a pulse, following the routine although he knew he wouldn’t find one. “He’s still warm.”

Liz and the doctor both rushed forward, the doctor’s face turning ashen when she saw the bullet hole in the middle of the senator’s forehead. “Oh, my God. I knew he was depressed, but I never thought he’d kill himself.”

Liz gestured toward his fingers. “No gun, gunshot residue, or blood on his hands.”

“It looks like a professional hit.” Rafe pulled his weapon. “Call Security and lock down the hospital. Now.”

Liz removed her gun from her purse and raced toward the door.

“Don’t let anyone inside the room,” Rafe told the doctor as he followed Liz into the hall. They jogged down the corridor until they reached a T, and he gestured for her to go left while he went right.

He inched down the hall, searching hospital rooms and storage closets, but didn’t find the shooter. An alarm shrieked. Employees scurried about, checking on patients, while Security rushed to guard exits.

One of the nurses in the hall froze at the sight of Rafe’s gun. “What’s going on?”

Rafe flashed his badge. “Senator Stowe was murdered in his room. The shooter may still be in the sanitarium. Have you seen anything suspicious?”

She shook her head. “No one but doctors and orderlies.”

Rafe passed the nurses’ station, checking more rooms and closets. When he reached the elevator, he noticed that the stairwell door was open. An orderly stumbled out, looking shaken as he rubbed at his arm. “Damn, that guy was in a hurry.”

“You saw someone in the stairwell?” Rafe asked.

“Yeah. Some doctor about knocked me over running down the steps.”

Rafe charged into the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. Below him, footsteps pounded. Rafe whirled around a corner and picked up his pace, holding his gun at the ready.

If this was the Commander or one of his peons, Rafe had to stop him. A door slammed shut below, and he jumped down three steps, sprinting to the bottom floor.

There, the door from the stairwell to the hospital was standing open, and a guard lay on the floor, blood on his forehead. Rafe knelt and checked his pulse.

He was alive.

Shouting for a nurse, he glanced at the visitor’s desk in the entryway and noticed two employees near it. Another alarm blared, and he looked to the left and saw an emergency exit door shutting.

It had to be the shooter escaping.

Adrenaline kicked in as he ran down the hall and pushed open the door. Outside, the sun was waning, dark storm clouds rolling in. The sky was gray, the air foggy.

A figure was running toward the side parking lot near the woods. Rafe sprinted in pursuit, then jumped behind the edge of the building just in time as the man turned and fired at him.

A second bullet flew toward him, nearly skimming his arm. He gripped his gun, took a deep breath, and glanced around the corner. The shooter was nowhere in sight.

The sound of an engine cut into the air, and a dark sedan peeled from the parking lot. Fuck. Rafe’s SUV was on the opposite side.

He sprinted toward the sedan, firing at it, but the distance was too great. Yanking his phone from his belt clip, Rafe called the sheriff’s office.

“Shots were just fired by a man escaping Slaughter Creek Sanitarium in a black sedan, tinted windows. No, I didn’t get the license plate.”

The deputy told him he’d call it in to local officers, and Rafe hung up and punched Liz’s number to fill her in. She agreed to meet him in the senator’s room.

By the time he spoke to Security inside and assured them that the shooter was gone, Lieutenant Maddison and his team had arrived.

“It looks like Blackwood either came back himself or sent someone else to make sure the senator didn’t talk,” Rafe said.

Liz tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her brows furrowed. “What was he afraid the senator would tell us?”

Rafe’s gaze met hers. “The name of the real person behind the project.”

Rafe grimaced at the sight of the media rushing toward the hospital entrance.

Brenda Banks was a damn good journalist, and Nick Blackwood’s fiancée. Despite what she did for a living, Rafe actually liked her. She was tough and tenacious, and had helped to bring down the Commander.

But Rafe wasn’t yet ready to reveal to the public that he hadn’t solved the case. Everyone was now calling the killer the Dissector. The people of Slaughter Creek would want answers.

Answers he didn’t have.

And now Senator Stowe had been murdered.

Liz beat him to the steps to meet Brenda, but he jogged over for backup.

“We just received word that Senator Stowe is dead,” Brenda said. Her cameraman raised his camera to capture live footage, and Brenda tilted her microphone toward Rafe.

“How did you hear that?” Rafe asked.

Brenda glared at him. “I have my sources. So it is true.”

Rafe sighed. Might as well give her something, so she wouldn’t bother the other agents, but he’d keep a lid on the details. “Yes, I can confirm that the senator is dead. At this point, however, I can’t divulge any of the details.”

“It’s been reported that he was on suicide watch. Did he take his own life?”

Rafe shot her a warning look. “Again, I can’t discuss the details until we’ve investigated and the medical examiner has performed an autopsy.”

“But you saw someone suspicious leaving the senator’s hospital room?” Brenda pressed.

How the hell had she heard that? Or was she just guessing?

“I can’t address that at this point.” Technically he hadn’t seen anyone. Another party had.

Brenda pursed her lips and angled the mic toward Liz, obviously hoping female camaraderie would improve her chances of a scoop. “Special Agent Lucas, you’re a profiler, aren’t you?”

Liz was a pro. She knew how to play the game. “Yes,” she said cautiously.

“Do you believe the senator’s death was related to Commander Blackwell’s escape from prison?”

Rafe bit his tongue. The answer to that question was obvious.

“As Agent Hood stated, we are just beginning our investigation.”

“What about the other two murders in Slaughter Creek? Is Slaughter Creek dealing with another serial killer?”

The lines around Liz’s mouth tightened, an indication that she was gauging her response. “I can’t confirm that the two cases are related at this point. However, we are looking into several persons of interest, and there are indications that the murders could be personally driven.”

“You mean committed by different perpetrators?”

“That’s not what I said, although that’s also possible. If there is another serial killer, he is extremely dangerous. Whoever killed these women has a personal agenda and a very sadistic side. Both victims so far have been middle-aged, so it’s possible that he perceives them as mother figures.” She omitted the other common factor, that they were both nurses. “We believe he’s transferring his anger and rage toward his own mother or another figure who hurt him. I would caution all women in the area to be on guard until we know more.”

“The last serial killer case in Slaughter Creek revolved around the CHIMES experiments. All of the CHIMES subjects have been accounted for except one. Do you think that person could be responsible for these women’s deaths?”

“This interview is over.” Rafe took Liz’s arm and pulled her away toward his SUV.

“You didn’t have to jump in, Rafe,” Liz said. “I had the interview under control.”

“I don’t want you in the limelight.”

Liz’s gaze flew to his, realization dawning. “Because you think it’ll draw Harlan back to me.”

“If he’s alive, it will. If he’s not, we have another ruthless killer out there.”