No Grace, page 13
Will shrugged. "It's a legitimate form of therapy. And if it can help Valerie's mother, then it's worth a shot."
Charlie looked at Valerie. "What do you think?"
Valerie hesitated for a moment. This was dangerous. First, she'd have to persuade Doctor Robertson to let an outside therapist treat her. Then, Valerie would be risking the truth about her father's death and her mother's knowledge of it getting into the wrong hands.
She thought for a moment. The situation was a ticking time bomb. Better she get to the truth before Heinlein's men.
"If it could help, then let's do it," she said. "But if I say the therapy needs to stop, that decision is mine, okay?"
"Of course, " Will said. "Speak with the hospital first."
Valerie smiled. "Thank you. I'll talk to Doctor Robertson about it tomorrow."
Will raised his glass. "To helping Valerie's mother remember."
They clinked their glasses together and took a sip of their drinks, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.
But in the morning, death would make itself know yet again.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
George sank into his plush armchair, the memory of his wife still fresh in his mind. He could still hear the sound of her voice and feel her presence as if she was sitting right beside him in the living room. It was the same every night, and he wouldn't have had it any other way.
The dancing flames in front of him reminded him of their honeymoon in Tahoe, where they’d spent hours cuddled by the fire, lost in each other's warmth. It was a chilly night, but his wife's love kept him warm. Despite the emptiness he felt since she passed away several years ago, it was moments like this that brought them back together again.
He smiled softly to himself as he looked up at the empty chair across from him. He would have spoken out loud, talked about how much he missed her, imagining she was sitting there.
He smiled to himself. No, she hated it when I got sappy, he thought.
As the clock struck midnight and sleep began to creep its way into his mind, a sudden, loud knock sounded throughout the house. George jumped and his heart began to race. He stood up immediately, nervously shuffling towards the door.
Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece over the fire, the two hands sitting at twelve made him feel uneasy. Ever since he was a kid, the midnight hour had been foreboding for him. It was when, so his father had told him, evil was at its strongest.
He made it to the door, his old legs stiff, and grabbed the handle and paused, his hands trembling slightly. He knew this couldn't be good; who would be calling on him at this hour?
Bad news comes at night, he thought.
With dread in his stomach he finally opened the door - but there was no one there. Not another soul as far as he could see, just darkness and silence. He would have told himself that no news was good news, but that empty doorstep somehow felt worse than being informed about something bad.
George furrowed his brow and looked out beyond his yard to the street for any signs of someone playing a prank on him. He remembered doing the same when he was a kid, but it seemed too late for that sort of thing.
He scanned the street as best he could, but it was quiet, and the moon shone down on the empty road. Besides, even if someone had been there, his vision was getting fuzzy with age, like staring through dirty glass.
George closed the door to the world, wondering if he had imagined hearing the noise. Maybe it had been a dream as he had hovered on the cusp of dozing at the stroke of midnight.
He went back to his armchair and sat, thinking about how unsettling the night could be when alone.
Getting comfy again, George's eyes started to drift close when he heard a momentary clattering noise coming from the back of the house. The crash echoed through the silence, like something had been knocked over.
"I definitely heard that," he said to the empty chair in front of him. Something had to be done, even if he'd have rather slipped away into sleep.
He sighed and shivered, feeling a coldness in the air around him.
Another bang came. Closer than before.
Now George was starting to feel afraid. He hated that. As a younger man, fear had rarely been something he’d experienced. Now, that had changed. Everything made him jump and worry.
But defiance was in his belly, and so he pushed back.
He slowly got up from his chair and crept toward the back of his house, ready to investigate whatever lurked outside.
He gradually made his way through the darkened house towards the back door, his chest pounding. He felt a surge of dread along his spine as he peered through the window, seeing nothing but darkness beyond.
The yard was as still and as neglected as it had been since George's wife had died.
Despite this, he had a feeling that all was not what it seemed.
It's her garden, not anyone else's, he thought, grumpily. He would chase off any local teenagers who were probably lurking around there looking for somewhere to drink, illegally.
George opened the back door and stepped out into his garden. He could hear the sound of water splashing, coming from his pool. His eyes widened as he saw something floating on the surface of the water. It looked like a body.
Horror rushed through his veins as he realized that likely one of the teenagers had fallen in and possibly drowned. He moved as quickly as his creaking hip would allow, hoping he could get to the person in time to save them.
He rushed over to the pool, fear gripping his heart. Just as he reached out to touch the body, he realized at the last moment that it was a doll. A mannequin in clothes.
Confusion clouded his mind, but it wasn't enough to stop the forward motion of his hand.
It was too late. As soon as his fingertips brushed the water's surface, George saw a spark.
George's body convulsed as the electric current surged through his body. He tried to scream, but no sound came out. The pain was overwhelming. He couldn't pull back. Instead, he fell into the water. There was a burning smell, and soon George's vision started to fade.
As he took his last breath, one filled with putrid water, he saw a figure standing at the edge of the pool. It was a woman. For brief second, he thought it was the ghost of his wife coming back to save him from a fate worse than death.
But it was not. It was death itself. She was dressed in black and was watching him with cold, calculating eyes. Smiling. Of all things, smiling.
And then everything went black in a hail of sparks and horror.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Valerie woke up in a cold sweat, her heart racing as she gasped for air. She couldn't remember what dream she’d been having, only that it was filled with the thoughts of a suffocating darkness.
It took her a few moments to realize where she was - a dingy motel room in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirts of the small town where she was investigating the murders.
She looked at the clock: 4:36 AM.
She knew that she needed to get more sleep, otherwise she would be next to useless in the morning.
As she tried to calm herself down, she heard a knock at the door. She hesitated, unsure if she should answer it, but curiosity got the better of her.
She pulled herself out of bed and approached the door.
Peering through the peephole, she saw two orderlies in white coats standing on the other side. She felt like she was staring into another world the way the glass warped their appearance.
What were they doing here?
Valerie kept her eye trained on the men through the peephole. "What can I do for you?"
The two men exchanged glances before one of them spoke. "Valerie Law?"
"Yes," she said.
"Agent Valerie Law?" he asked again.
"Yes," she said loudly through the thin door.
"We have orders from higher up to bring you back to the hospital," he said. "Something about a case that needs your attention."
Valerie was utterly disorientated. She had been on duty earlier in the evening and had only just come off shift. What could be so important that she was being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night? Which hospital were they talking about? Where John Fox was being kept... Or her mother?
"I'm sorry, but I'm still on duty," Valerie said firmly. "I don't understand why I need to go with you."
The orderlies looked at each other again before one replied, "We're sorry ma'am, but our orders come from as high up as they can. We were told that this matter is urgent and requires your immediate attention."
Valerie felt a sense of dread wash over her as she realized that something very wrong was going on here. There was no way the hospital would be sending out orderlies to collect her in the middle of the night unless it was a matter of life and death.
She took a step back, pausing for a moment before she answered. "I'll need to get dressed," she said slowly, buying herself some time to think things through. "Give me five minutes."
She watched as the orderlies nodded and stepped away from the door.
Before she could do anything, one of them then lunged forward violently and kicked the door open, hitting Valerie in the face and sending her crashing to the ground. Blind pain ran up her forehead from the impact.
She scrambled to her feet, reaching for her gun, but the orderlies were too quick. One tackled her to the ground and overpowered her.
"Charlie! Will!" she screamed.
But one of the orderlies put his large, sweaty right hand over her mouth, smothering her words.
Between the two men, they held Valerie tightly and dragged her out of her room. As she tried to break free and scream again, she saw a white van with its doors open. The men swung her around and then threw her into the darkness of the rear cab. They doors then slammed shut.
Valerie felt sick as the van moved off. She screamed and cried out, but it was to no avail. She had no idea where they were taking her. Soon, the van stopped and the doors were flung open.
She tried to fight, to scream, but it was useless. The orderlies were too strong, too efficient. They pulled her out of the van and dragged her through a set of double doors into a stark, sterile hallway of a familiar building. She could hear screams and cries coming from behind the doors on either side of her.
As they made their way down the hallway, a tall man in a white lab coat emerged from one of the rooms. Valerie recognized him instantly - Dr. Robertson, her mother's doctor. He gave her a cold smile, and without saying a word, injected her with a clear liquid that burned like fire as it coursed through her veins.
The last thing she remembered before everything went black was the sound of her own screams echoing through the hall.
When Valerie came to, she was lying on a cold metal table, her arms and legs bound to its corners with thick leather straps. She tried to move, to free herself, but it was no use. She was trapped, helpless.
She looked around, trying to get her bearings. She was in some kind of operating room, its walls lined with ominous-looking medical equipment. But what caught her attention was the figure standing in the shadows at the back of the room. It was her mother, or at least, what was left of her.
Her mother was wearing a straightjacket, her eyes wild and frenzied. She was laughing, a high-pitched, maniacal sound that sent shivers down Valerie's spine. Beside her, a second figure appeared. It was Suzie, Valerie's younger sister.
The two of them looked grotesque, their skin pale and sickly, their hair matted and tangled. They beckoned Valerie with long, thin fingers.
"Join us," they hissed together.
"No..." Valerie whispered beneath her tears.
"You'll end up like us," they warned. "It's only a matter of time." Then they both cackled loudly.
"NO!" Valerie screamed. "I'll find a way out!"
But then she saw something that made her blood run cold - a bright blue light started to pulse and flicker around her mother and sister. It crackled and sizzled, and Valerie could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
She knew that it was the same phenomenon that precedes lightning.
Suddenly, the electricity surged toward her, shooting out of her mother and sister's eyes and mouths like bolts of lightning. Valerie screamed as it hit her, burning her flesh, and searing her insides. She thought she was going to die, but instead, she woke up.
Valerie leaped out of her bed in a panic. The sweat was dripping from her. She let out a cry and held her hand to her mouth. She was in the same dingy motel room as before.
She was beginning to struggle to know what was real and what wasn't. The nightmare had been so detailed, so visceral.
Then she realized what had saved her from the madness of the dream. Her phone was vibrating on the bedside table. Her hand still trembling with adrenaline, Valerie answered it.
"Hello," she said, her voice feeling weak.
"Val, sorry for waking you so early," Charlie's comforting voice said on the other end of the line. "I tried knocking your door, but you didn't answer."
Valerie thought about the orderlies knocking on her door in the dream. She wondered if Charlie's knocks had somehow filtered into her nightmare from the real world.
"It's okay, Charlie" she said. But she knew everything was far from okay. If Charlie was calling in the early hours, it meant that something bad had happened.
"Val," Charlie said, his voice as grim as the grave. "The killer struck during the night."
Valerie's heart sank.
Charlie then said: "But this time, he killed three people."
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Valerie walked along the sunlit street with one dark thread of anxiety touching every nerve within her. She was starting to worry that she couldn't tell the difference between what was happening and what was in her head.
Isn't it all in your head, anyway? she thought. She would have laughed at that if it weren't so hurtful.
Will and Charlie walked beside her as they moved towards the house in the morning sun. The street was quiet except for the occasional sound of a bird chirping. The houses in the neighborhood were neat and well-kept, with green lawns and white picket fences. Valerie felt groggy from her nightmare and the lack of sleep. The world seemed dreamlike, as if she were in a daze.
As they approached the house, they could see that it was being swarmed by police and forensics experts. Flashing lights from the police cars illuminated the street, making it look like something out of a movie. Valerie couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding as they got closer.
Charlie spoke up, breaking the silence. "Detectives told me they think the victim was lured outside and that the pool had been connected to a main supply," he said, referring to George Darin's murder.
"I'm still mystified by the mind behind this," Will said. "In some ways, it feels worse than the more commonplace manner that serial killers murder. An electrified pool..."
Valerie shuddered at the thought. The idea of someone purposely electrocuting a man in his own swimming pool was horrifying, but especially an elderly man. She couldn't understand why anyone would do such a thing; her career was filled with those moments of revulsion for the things of which humans were capable.
"Another thought," Will continued. "Is that we're seeing significant escalation now. Three dead in one night. That's quite a leap. I'm not sure we've encountered that fast a spree in our other cases."
"The security guard in the underground parking lot was run over, though," Charlie added. "I think we can chalk that one up to opportunity."
"I agree," Valerie said. "Either that or it happened by accident as the killer abducted the old lady. But it does suggest that the killer is ramping up his schedule. We have to catch him or who knows how many he'll kill in the end."
"Other than the ECT theory," Charlie said. "We don't have much to go on. How are we going to do it?"
"We need to see if there's any connection that hasn't been identified between the victims," Valerie said. "If we can find that and understand why the killer is targeting them specifically, I think we have a chance of tracking him down before he kills again."
Valerie now realized that they were standing outside the house swarming with police.
"After you," Charlie said.
Valerie nodded, taking a deep breath. She knew they had a long day ahead of them, and the emotional difficulty in such places always took its toll.
She approached the house and shook the hand of a police officer standing by the front door, flashing her badge to him.
"They're waiting out back, Agent Law," the officer said.
He opened the door wider, allowing the team to enter the house.
Valerie stepped inside and the first thing that struck her was the distinct smell of cherry wood furniture polish. The house was filled with cozy furnishings, mementos, and photos of George Darin's wedding day from decades before. There were a few bookshelves filled with classic literature and a several antiques here and there.
The walls were adorned with pictures of family members, old friends, and cherished memories from years gone by. An old-fashioned record player rested in the corner of a large, open plan living room. Valerie loved records, and had it been a social call, she would have no doubt loved to have a look at George's record collection.
But Valerie knew those records would now remain silent. She thought of Tom for a moment, dancing in her kitchen, listening to a jazz record while cooking them a meal. Valerie was weary at the thought that all loves had to end in parting, through their own erosion or by life being snatched away.
She wondered how many people would feel that George Darin had been snatched away from them.
They walked through the living room and down a hallway, Valerie taking in the surroundings.
As they walked down the hallway, Valerie glanced at more photos hanging on the wall. There were pictures of George and his family, as well as pictures of him with friends and colleagues at what looked like a hospital when they were younger and working. She felt a pang of sorrow.
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