Eyes (7 page)

After she'd taken two tablets and washed her face, Connie felt a little better. She wished she could take a cold shower to clear her head, but that would be sure to wake Alan. It was best to let him sleep. He'd have to drive in the morning.

Connie flicked off the light and opened the bathroom door. Alan was still sleeping; she could hear him snoring softly. She crossed the room very quietly and slid into bed, trying not to jiggle the mattress. She was just preparing to pull up the blanket when she felt Alan reach for her.

“I'm sorry if I woke you.” Connie whispered in the darkness. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

Alan was silent, and for a moment Connie thought he'd gone back to sleep. But then he chuckled and she felt his fingers on Connie sighed softly. His hand was so warm, and the way he was touching her made her hold her breath in anticipation. It was unusual for Alan to wake up to make love to her, but from all indications, last night must have been an unusual night.

“What do
you
want?” Connie's voice was light and playful. Alan like it when she teased him. And then she reached out for him, under the covers, and gave a little gasp of surprise. Alan was more than ready. He felt huge and hard in her hand.

He groaned when her fingers closed around him, and Connie giggled. Alan loved it when she played with him. Her fingers circled, touching and then rubbing, and that was when something very unusual happened. Alan lifted her up until she was straddling him on the bed.

“Honey! What are you . . . ?”

But Connie didn't have time to finish her question. Alan pushed on the back of her head and guided her mouth down to him. Connie was shocked and she gave a little giggle of surprise. Alan had never done anything like this before! He'd always preferred what she called “nice” sex, sex with the lights out in the missionary position, fondling and touching but nothing else. Tonight he wanted something more, and Connie was delighted to give it to him.

He groaned as her tongue brushed against him and she giggled deep in her throat. This was going to be fun. She could hardly wait to see Alan's reaction when she really got started.

It was no less than Connie had expected. He almost went ballistic. And that was when Connie got her second shock. He grabbed her quite roughly by the arms and lifted her up in the air, positioning her directly above him and pushing her down.

Connie's mouth opened in a soundless expression of surprise. This wasn't like Alan at all! He'd always been so concerned about her pleasure, asking her whether she was ready for him, and guiding himself inside her so gently. There was nothing gentle about Alan tonight. He'd changed, and Connie wasn't sure she liked it!

But she started to when he moved beneath her, lunging up with his body. He was like a madman, intent on that final pleasure, and Connie gave a little moan in the back of her throat.

“Move, baby. Move it around for me.”

His voice was hoarse, so thick with passion that Connie almost didn't recognize it. Alan sounded like a stranger, and she shivered in excitement. This was a side of him she'd never seen before. The gentle man she loved had turned into an animal, raging with passion.

He guided her hips in tight circles, and Connie moaned again. It felt fantastic. She began to move in wider and wider circles, riding him like a stallion.

“Oh, yeah. That's good! You got it now, baby!”

Connie had the insane urge to laugh. Where had Alan picked up this dialogue? Had he been reading pornographic books, or watching X-rated films?

But she didn't have time to think about that for long. He reached out to grab her breasts, and all other thoughts were driven from Connie's mind as passion began to consume her. There was no sense of time or even of decency. They were two animals, a male and a female, mating in a burst of heated arousal. She cried out. Once. Twice. Strangled little sounds that let him know she was reaching the pinnacle. And then his voice mingled with hers in a full-throated shout as they both gave voice to that crashing completion.

They stayed there, glued together by the memory of what they'd felt, until he broke the spell. He patted her once, a friendly pat, nothing more, nothing less, and then he moved away to his side of the bed. Connie frowned as she heard him begin to snore again. Why hadn't he said anything? Alan always told her he loved her after they'd made love. His silence made her feel bereft, as if she'd been used and then abandoned by the man she loved.

Connie inched her way to his side of the bed. Even though he'd gone back to sleep, she needed to feel close to him. She cuddled up to his back, pressing her body against his and sharing his warmth, but she couldn't seem to go to sleep. It was a reversal that puzzled her. Alan was the one who'd had trouble going back to sleep. She'd always dropped right off the moment she'd closed her eyes.

She stayed there for long minutes, trying to doze, but her thoughts were a jumble of frightening images. Two policemen, their faces solemn, telling her something she couldn't remember. A bed on wheels, traveling down a long, brightly lit corridor. The face of a man she didn't recognize, seated behind a huge mahogany desk.

It was no use. She couldn't sleep. Connie slid to the edge of the bed and sat up. Even though she didn't smoke, her mouth tasted like stale tobacco, and she was terribly thirsty again. She didn't want another glass of lukewarm water. She needed something with bubbles to settle her stomach.

In most hotels you could find a soft drink machine in the hallway. There would be an ice machine, too, and perhaps even some snacks. Now that she thought about it, Connie realized she was very hungry. A soft drink and some crackers would tide her over until it was time to eat breakfast.

Connie explored the room in the darkness until she found her clothes. It wasn't easy. Her skirt was near the dresser, her blouse was under the chair, and her suit jacket was in a heap in the middle of the room. She found her panties and stockings, but she couldn't locate her bra. It didn't really matter. She'd wear her coat and no one would know the difference.

She dressed in the bathroom, where there was light. Her head was still spinning, so she had to sit down several times to keep from losing her balance. She slipped on her coat and her shoes, she'd found those in the bathroom, and at last she was ready to go.

Money. She needed her purse. She just hoped she'd brought it in and not left it behind in Alan's car. She opened the bathroom door a crack, so a little light seeped out into the room, and smiled as she spotted it on the floor. A moment later, after checking to make sure the door wouldn't lock behind her, Connie stepped out of the room.

She was outside! Her eyes widened as she saw a line of cars parked at the snow-covered curb. They'd stopped at a motel. She was very glad she'd found her coat as a blast of winter air made her shiver. She almost ducked back inside the room. But the frigid air seemed to clear her head a bit, and she really needed something to eat and drink.

A sign pointed the way to the office, so Connie followed the arrow. The walkway was covered, and she swayed slightly as she made her way to the front of the building. There were three vending machines in a small, partially enclosed area; Connie smiled as she saw them. One held newspapers, another was a soft drink machine, and the third contained cellophane-wrapped packages of snacks.

Connie opened her purse and unzipped the pocket she used for change. She had enough for a soft drink, but she needed one more nickel to get the crackers she wanted. She fumbled inside the purse, hoping some change had dropped to the bottom. That was when she felt an envelope and drew it out to see what it was.

The envelope was plain white, and she didn't remember seeing it before. She opened the flap and frowned as she saw it contained one crisp hundred-dollar bill. Why did she have a hundred-dollar bill in a plain white envelope?

As she stared at the envelope, a rush of memories bombarded her. The policemen. Alan. Their baby. The way the Stanfords had rejected her. She pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. Where was she? Why was she here? And who was that man in the motel room?

“Noooooo!” Connie's cry was anguished, the wail of the mortally wounded. The Stanfords were right. She was nothing more than a highly paid whore. But the Stanfords didn't matter. She didn't care if they hated her. The only person who mattered to her was Alan.

She was running then, across the snow-covered parking lot, to the highway that stretched out before her. Someone had to stop. Someone had to help. Someone had to take her to the hospital so that she could find him. She had to see Alan one more time, to gaze into his dear, dead eyes and beg for his forgiveness.

CHAPTER 8

The call had come in at midnight, a disturbance at Universal Hospital. A two-man patrol car had been dispatched, but they'd encountered a burglary in progress and they'd be delayed. The dispatcher had called Doug because he lived quite close to the hospital, asking if he'd drive over and check it out.

Doug had been almost relieved as he'd dressed and hurried to his car. He hadn't been sleeping anyway. Thoughts of Jill had kept him awake. He'd needed something to distract him.

It was a short drive to the hospital, only ten minutes on the deserted streets. Doug parked in a red zone next to the emergency room door, then flipped down the visor so his police identification card would be visible through the windshield.

A starched model of efficiency was manning the desk, tightly curled hair with streaks of gray, thick coke-bottle glasses, and a snow white uniform. She looked up as Doug came through the door and frowned disapprovingly. “Please move your car. You're parked in a red zone.”

“Sergeant Lake. Minneapolis PD.” Doug flashed his badge. “You reported a disturbance?”

The nurse looked relieved, and she actually smiled. “They've got her cornered down at the morgue. Jimmy? Take Sergeant Lake to the basement.”

“I'm coming, Miss Applegate.” A tall, black-haired youth rushed up. When he saw Doug, he grinned. “Hey, Sergeant Lake. How's it going?”

At first, Doug didn't recognize him, but then he remembered the collar he'd made two years ago. This was Jimmy Redwing, a young Sioux teenager, who'd fenced a stolen watch for drug money. Jimmy had been a skinny kid back then, with long hair tied back in a greasy ponytail. He'd had a real punk attitude, and Doug had doubted whether the system would work. But it looked as if Jimmy had cleaned up his act.

“Hi, Jimmy.” Doug smiled. “I almost didn't recognize you without the hair.”

“Yeah. Miss Applegate cut it for me. She's my work-study sponsor, and you have to look neat to get a job here. Come on, Sergeant Lake. I'll take you to the morgue.”

On the way to the basement, Doug learned a lot about Jimmy Redwing. He'd been sent to the Bar None Ranch, a juvenile facility in Anoka. It was a real, working ranch, quite a change of environment for an Indian kid who'd grown up in the projects. In addition to three squares a day and four hours of classes, Jimmy had learned to ride and care for his personal horse. At the ranch he'd learned to be responsible, and he was currently living at a halfway house where employer-sponsors interviewed the teenagers for part-time jobs. Miss Applegate had hired Jimmy Redwing; she was his sponsor.

“So how do you like your job?”

“It's great.” Jimmy started to grin again. “Miss Applegate runs my tail off, but she lets me do everything. She says I'm a natural, and she's getting me into the paramedic program.”

“How about high school?”

“I did that.” Jimmy's grin grew wider. “She helped me study and I passed my equivalency test. I get off parole in January. Then I can start taking classes. It's pretty expensive, but the hospital's going to work out a schedule so they can hire me part-time.”

“Congratulations, Jimmy. It sounds like you really turned your life around.”

Jimmy nodded. “Working here helped a lot. The first day I was here, they brought in a kid. He was only fourteen, but he died of an overdose. It made me think, you know? I decided the next time I saw you I'd thank you for busting me. If you hadn't caught me and sent me away, I could've ended up just like that kid.”

“Hey, Jimmy . . . I'm glad everything turned out right.” Doug patted the young man on the back. A cop didn't get much appreciation. Most of the people Doug arrested were resentful. They accused him of picking on them even though they were breaking the law. Seeing kids like Jimmy, who'd made it in spite of the odds, was the thing that kept him going.

As Doug and Jimmy stepped off the elevator, they heard someone screaming, a woman, her voice high pitched. She sounded frightened, hysterical. Doug increased his pace.

“You hear that, Sergeant Lake?” Jimmy hurried to keep up with Doug's long strides. “That poor lady's still screaming. She was screaming when I was down here before.”

Doug turned to him. He might be a valuable witness. “Do you know why she's screaming?”

“Not exactly. But I heard her say she had to find her boyfriend. She wanted to apologize, or something like that. She started screaming right after we put her in restraints.”

“Did she hurt anyone?”

“I don't think so.” Jimmy shook his head. “But we're going to have to get a new window for the morgue. When she found out the door was locked, she picked up a big flower pot and heaved it at the glass.”

“Did she cut herself?”

Jimmy shook his head. “All the glass went inside. I helped the security guys pull her back before she could jump through the window.”

“Good work.” Doug nodded. “Who called security?”

“I did. She came in through emergency, and she looked weird. I could tell there was going to be trouble.”

“What kind of weird? Describe it for me, Jimmy.”

“Well . . .” Jimmy hesitated a moment. “I'd say she was on something. Pupils dilated, rapid breathing, flushed skin. You know what I mean?”

“I know. What do you think it was?”

Jimmy shrugged. “PCP, maybe. She's not very big, but she was super strong. It took all three of us to hold her down.”

They rounded the corner and Doug saw the broken window. A heavy brass flower pot, still holding a potted palm tree, lay on the tiled floor of the morgue. Jimmy hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said she was strong. “How much does that flower pot weigh?”

“I don't know, but the janitor can't move it by himself. That's why they got that dolly.” Jimmy pointed to the small block of wood with wheels propped up against the wall. “I saw her lift up that tree like it was a feather and toss it through the window.”

As Doug rounded another corner, he saw her. She was a slim, brown-haired woman who would have been pretty under any other circumstances. Even though she had on an old-fashioned straitjacket, it still took two security guards to hold her down.

Jimmy ran toward the security guards, and Doug followed him. He tapped the older security guard on the shoulder, then pointed to Doug. “Chuck? This is Sergeant Lake.”

“Hi.” Doug flashed his badge. “What have you got here?”

“A wildcat.” Chuck was an older black man with salt and pepper hair. He looked worried as he turned to Doug. “If we let her go, she tries to kick us. And she won't stop screaming.”

The woman looked up at Doug. Her eyes were wide and frightened, and they didn't seem to be focusing properly. She stared at him for a moment, then started screaming again.

Doug motioned for Jimmy to take Chuck's place, and they walked down the hall. Chuck unlocked a door to a vacant office. Then they stepped in and closed the door.

“Tell me what happened.” Doug sat on the edge of the desk and pulled out his notebook.

“I don't know, but it's a good thing the kid called us when he did. We got here just in time to keep her from going through that window. I hate to think what might have happened if she'd gotten into the morgue.”

Doug nodded. “What time was that?'

“A little after midnight. Tommy and I were just taking our break.”

Doug glanced at his watch. It was almost one. “And she's been screaming all this time?”

“That's right. She stops for a couple seconds to catch her breath and then she starts in again.”

“Has anyone given her a tranquilizer?”

“Not yet.” Chick shook his head. “The doctor said he had to wait until you got here. He doesn't know what she's on, and he can't do a blood test unless you arrest her and sign off on the form.”

Doug nodded. It was standard operating procedure. If the woman's condition wasn't life threatening, the hospital couldn't treat her without a signed release form. “Okay, Chuck. Call him and tell him to bring me the form. I'll arrest her for destruction of property and sign it. And let's have an orderly bring down a gurney with straps.”

“Okay. You got it.” Chuck used his radio, and a few minutes later an orderly brought a gurney. It took all five of them to strap the woman down, but finally she was rendered immobile. Doug signed the release form. Then the orderly wheeled the woman away, accompanied by Jimmy and the younger security guard.

“What a relief!” Chuck sat down in a chair and stretched his arms. “You wouldn't think a tiny little thing like her could be so strong. I'm going to wake up with a stiff back tomorrow, I can tell you that!”

“Do you think she was trying to hurt you?”

Chuck thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. “She was just trying to get in that morgue. She thought her boyfriend was in there, and she had to see him.”

“Do you think she was on some kind of drug?”

“I don't know.” Chuck frowned. “She was grieving for her boyfriend, I can tell you that. And she thought we were keeping her from seeing his body. She was crazy, but I don't know if it was drugs.”

While he was waiting for the results of the blood test, Doug interviewed everyone who'd come in contact with the woman. He learned that she'd carried no identification and no one knew who she was. Her clothing was expensive and so was her watch, but they provided no clue to her identity. She'd come into the emergency room alone and had followed the signs to the morgue. The cars in the parking lot were all accounted for. Either someone had dropped her off, or she'd arrived by bus or taxi.

It was two in the morning when the blood work came back from the lab, and it was negative. No sign of drugs or disease. Since she was still screaming, the doctor gave her a tranquilizer, and when she was quiet and her vital signs were stable, Doug turned her over to two uniforms for transit to the county jail. Jane Doe, the name they'd given the woman for booking purposes, would be on suicide watch in a private cell. If they were lucky, she'd be able to tell them her real name at her arraignment in the morning.

It was three in the morning when Doug shook Jimmy's hand and headed for the door. But he stopped and turned back when he remembered that Jill's husband was a patient. “Hey, Jimmy. My friend's husband is here. I won't wake him, but do you think I could take a quick peek?”

“No problem, Sergeant Lake.” Jimmy sat down at the computer. “What's his name?”

“Neil Bradley.”

Jimmy typed the name on the screen and nodded. “He's in room five eighteen. Just take the elevator up to the fifth floor and turn left. If anybody gives you any grief, just flash your badge.”

Doug felt a little strange as he rode up in the elevator and walked down the corridor to room five eighteen. He wasn't sure why he wanted to see Jill's husband. Perhaps it was just to look at him, to see if there was something in his sleeping face that would provide an answer to why Jill had chosen him. It couldn't be good looks alone; Jill wasn't that shallow. There had to be some other reason, and perhaps he'd learn it if he saw his rival in the flesh.

The door to Neil's room was open and Doug peered in. Neil was in bed, his eyes bandaged, his head in some sort of restraint. His sleeping face was relaxed and appeared younger than the picture on the book cover. As a matter of fact, Neil Bradley looked vulnerable, almost pathetic, and Doug felt ashamed for spying on him.

He was just about to leave when Neil made a sound. He was trying to talk. Doug stepped into the room. If Neil was awake and needed something, he could help him ring for the nurse.

Neil spoke again, a mumbled word, and Doug moved to the bed. Perhaps he needed something?

“Lisa? Where are you? I need you, Lisa!”

Doug nodded. Lisa must be the name of Neil's nurse. “Just hold on, Neil. I'll get her for you.”

Doug hurried out of the room and raced to the nurses' desk. Two nurses were sitting there talking, and the younger one looked up.

“Hi. The patient in five eighteen, Neil Bradley. I just looked in on him, and he's asking for a nurse named Lisa.”

The younger nurse nodded. “I know. He does that every night. Mr. Bradley's talking in his sleep.”

“Are you sure he doesn't need something?”

“We're sure.” The older nurse spoke up. “I just checked on him a couple of minutes ago. He was sleeping like a baby.”

Doug raised his eyebrows. “He had me fooled. I really thought he was awake. Is Lisa his day nurse?”

“No.” The younger nurse shook her head. “There's no nurse on this floor named Lisa. We think he's asking for his wife.”

“But his wife's name is Jill.”

The two nurses exchanged surprised glances; then the younger one shrugged. “Lisa could be anyone. He's dreaming.”

“Okay.” Doug nodded. “Thanks for letting me peek in on him.”

The older nurse smiled. “No problem. You said you were a friend of his wife?”

“That's right. Jill's an assistant DA, and I work with her.”

“I wouldn't mention this to her, Sergeant.” The older nurse looked concerned. “It might hurt her feelings. Lisa could be anyone, a former wife, a sister, a girlfriend. There's just no way of telling.”

The younger nurse nodded. “This isn't unusual, Sergeant. Patients say strange things when they're sedated.”

“Don't worry. I won't mention it to her. I'll just tell Jill I saw him and he was sleeping.”

Doug was thoughtful as he walked to the elevator. Who was Lisa? And why was Neil asking for her, instead of Jill? It was another piece of the puzzle, and he needed to figure out where it fit in.