INK: Abstraction (17 page)

She peeks out from my
embrace to Carl. “Carl, I want you to help me. I want you to
make me stronger. I want to make it stop. Please help me.”

“You got it,
darlin’.” He nods with strong affirmation.

“When do we
start?” she asks eagerly.

“We already
have.” He puts his hand on her shoulder and they exchange a
knowing look.

Harry

Eli
damn well better back off of Glass; the mere suggestion that he’s
involved in this will bring down one hell of a fiery shit storm that
will be impossible for us to navigate. The question is how do I get
Eli off of this? How do I convince Shayleigh that she’s wrong?
Damn it this gets worse every minute.

I stand outside the
morgue on the basement level of the hospital waiting for Miranda.
McNab says I shouldn’t trust her. I don’t trust anyone.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned being a cop it’s
that everyone has something to hide. I’ve also learned how to
ferret out what it is.

“Harry, thank you
so much for meeting me down here.” Miranda’s voice
travels down the quiet hallway. She walks past me and through the
doors to the morgue like she’s been here a hundred times.

“No problem, what
did you find?” I hesitate as I walk through the double doors,
like I always do. You’d think after twenty years I wouldn’t
have such a problem with this place.

“Another victim.”
She looks back at me with her eyebrows arched.

That’s what I was
afraid of. “What do we know?”

“Caucasian male,
late twenties.” Miranda stops and turns to look at me. “This
report reads like a step by step for Shay’s handiwork.”

“What?” If
I didn’t convey disbelief in my voice, I’m certain I have
with my expression.

“You know, like
the drawings.” She turns dismissively and continues toward the
inner doors. “Gutted and drained. This one is a much closer
match to the Manning murder. The cuts were quick and sloppy, not
surgical like some of the others.”

“Are you thinking
copy cat?” That’s exactly what we don’t need.

“Possible, but
these killings feel so much more personal. There’s a lot more
bruising on this one than the Manning case.” She stops and
thinks a moment after picking up the chart on a table. “Oh, and
he still has his eyes. Although, his eyelids were removed.” She
taps her pen on her chin thoughtfully. “Curious.”

I cringe at the thought
and find myself rubbing my eyes. “Wow, I can think of a few
reasons the killer would have done it. But normally in this sort of
pathos with an ocular obsession, the eyes are somehow rendered
useless or obscured. It’s like the killer wanted the victim to
see what he was doing.”

“Very good Harry,
but what is it the killer wanted him to see?” She puts on a
pair of gloves and pulls the drawer out to reveal a mangled body.

The horror of it sinks
in. It takes a moment, but familiarity dawns on me. “Nigel.”

Miranda looks up from
his abdomen devoid of organs. “What?”

“Nigel, he’s
a…was a reporter.”

She does a double take
and her eyes widen. She blows out a breath. “Wow, you knew
him.”

“Sort of, he was
a friend of McNab’s,” I tell her, unable to pull my eyes
away from Nigel.

“Nigel Taylor?”
She studies his face closer. “Huh, yeah I see it now. Well,
McNab always tried to warn him he would cross the wrong person one
day.” She’s very unaffected by all of this. I’ve
gotten more upset about a fly in my soup than she seems to be about a
human being lying dead and mutilated before her. She looks up at me.
“But you spent time with him? Did Shay?”

“She met him once
in Tampa.” I recall Eli’s attitude toward Nigel. “Eli
didn’t much care for him.”

“Did Nigel do
something to Shay?” she asks, poking around inside Nigel’s
abdomen with forceps.

“I remember
hearing something about Nigel printing a story about Shayleigh, Aiden
and Eli.”

“I’m
assuming it wasn’t exactly a flattering fluff piece.” She
glances up at me quick. “Was it pretty damning?”

“I don’t
remember everything about the article, but it implied that Shay was
violent toward the boys.”

She forces a sarcastic
laugh. “’The boys’, huh? Eli seems like a grown man
to me.”

“They’ll
always be the boys to me. You watch a kid grow into a man, but you
never stop seeing the boy that he was,” I answer, even though
I’m starting to believe she lacks the capacity for real human
emotions.

“Tell me more
about Aiden.” She’s preoccupied with the body, is she
actually making small talk?

“Not much to tell
really except that he’s out of the picture, for now.” A
flash of anger threatens in my voice. “He does that, disappears
for a period of time then shows back up.”

“Do you know
where he is now?” Miranda eyes me accusingly.

“No, we never
know where he goes.”

“Interesting.”
She returns to her grisly task. “Oh, what is this?” She’s
holding Nigel’s mouth open and pulls out a shard of glass. She
holds up the green shaded glass to the light, examining it. “Huh,
what do you make of this?”

“What is that?”
I ask, putting my glasses on to get a clearer view.

“Not sure, it
looks like it’s from a glass soda bottle.” She lays it on
the table and looks in his mouth again, but this time with a
flashlight. Her eyes light up and she picks up the forceps and slides
them into his mouth and pulls out a slip of paper. “It was put
in postmortem; it’s not very wet.”

“What does it
say?” I’m hoping Shay’s name isn’t on it.

She carefully unfolds
and reads it slowly. “Garbage in, garbage out.”

Miranda and I exchange
a puzzled look until I have a terrible thought. It can’t be,
and I really hope that isn’t the answer. “What is it
Harry? What are you thinking?”

“Well, ‘garbage
in, garbage out,’ there’s only one thing I can think of
if it’s meant to be a clue.” I hesitate.

“I was thinking
the same thing.” She pulls her lips to the side and gets to
work on pulling the flap of skin back together on his abdomen. “Only
one way to find out, help me roll him over.”

“I was hoping I
was the only one thinking that.” I cringe while I get a pair of
gloves off the work table. “Okay, on three. One, two, three.”
I pull his body toward mine, exposing Nigel’s hind end to
Miranda. Thankfully she makes quick work and is rewarded with a small
slip of newspaper.

I roll Nigel back over
and follow Miranda to the lit magnifying glass. The slip is a tiny
roll that’s about eight inches when unfurled. She reads it
slowly.

“’Never
again.’” She looks at me quizzically. “What do you
think it means?”

“I don’t
know.” I step in closer and study the print on the newspaper.
Shayleigh’s name is mentioned along with Aiden and Eli. My
first
instinct
is to keep quiet about what I see. This is the
paper that Shay was so upset about and the reason Eli hated Nigel.

“Hmm.” She
looks around until she sees a small evidence bag she can drop the
paper in. “I think we’ll be taking this with us.”

“You can’t
take that, it’s evidence.” The cop in me kicks in, even
though a part of me knows that the cops finding it wouldn’t be
in Shayleigh’s best interest. But is Miranda having it a good
idea?

“Don’t get
your knickers in a twist, Harry, I’m going to make sure it
makes it’s way back. I just want to get some info from it
first,” she says, slipping the bag into her jacket pocket. Her
cell phone starts beeping. She scrambles to the drawer and covers
Nigel. She slides the drawer back in. “Time for us to go.”

I follow her out of the
morgue, protesting. “Miranda, you can’t just go in there
and take evidence.”

She’s walking at
a fast clip. “Harry, we need the upper hand on this so we know
how to proceed.”

“But tampering
with evidence…” I hesitate when she hands me the bag
from her pocket.

“Here, Harry, you
hold on to it. I think we need to know what’s on this before
anyone else touches it. We need to know that whatever we get will be
actual results, not something cooked up by your old cronies down at
the precinct.”

“Miranda, this is
wrong.” I stop and take her by the arm. “We can’t
do this.”

“Harry, in the
wrong hands this is very dangerous for your daughter. It’s our
job to make sure it stays in the right hands.” She tugs her arm
away from me and continues walking down the corridor leaving me
pondering whether or not her having it is the “right or wrong
hands.”

***

A middle-aged man with
hospital credentials attached to his pocket is coming from
Shayliegh’s room when I reach the door. “Mr. Baynes, can
I have a word with you?”

“Dr. Green,
right?” I ask, looking at his badge.

“Yes, I didn’t
have a chance to really talk with you earlier.” He leads me to
a lobby down the hall.

“How is she
doing?” My question is full of caution; I know how these things
can go with the victims.

“She’s…”
he hesitates a moment, “She’s okay, but I have some real
concerns. She’s going to need aftercare.”

“I understand,
she’s been through a lot,” I concede.

“Some of what I’m
hearing from her can’t be explained simply by this instance of
violence.” Dr. Green puts the tip of the pen in his mouth,
formulating his next thought. “Does she have a history of
schizophrenia or delusions of grandeur?”

“Well, no.”
I’m taken aback by his question. “Do you think she’s
schizophrenic?”

“There’s a
possibility. It’s best for me to continue to see her and run
the proper tests to determine whether or not she’s suffering
from a type of PTSD I’ve never seen before or perhaps some
other mental illness that has not manifested itself as blatantly as
it has now.” He awaits my protests. Honestly, he’s not
going to get any argument from me. I’d like to know what the
hell is wrong with her.

“Will she need to
stay in the hospital longer or can she do this outpatient?”

“I’m
signing off that she’s able to be discharged, but the final
decision is Dr. Kendrick’s.” He extends his hand toward
me. “Thank you, Mr. Baynes, and I’ll have my secretary
set up her appointments so we can continue treatment.”

I’m left
bewildered with all of this, could it be that she’s having a
real mental breakdown? Of course she is, who wouldn’t? When I
reach her door, I inhale a cleansing breath before I enter. I can
hear laughter coming from inside the room. My heart lightens at
hearing her able to feel some type of happiness.

“Hey Doodlebug.”
I walk to the side of her bed and kiss her forehead.

“Hey Daddy,”
she smiles up at me. “I think they’re going to let me
loose today.”

“That would be
wonderful.” I sit in the chair. “Have you thought about
where you’d like to go?”

She looks down at her
hands then to Eli expectantly. “I think I’d like to go
home.” She pauses and looks at Eli. “To Eli’s, if
that’s okay with you.”

Eli’s shoulders
relax and he takes up one of her hands. “Of course it’s
okay. I want you to come home, but I want it to be your decision.”

“Is that really
best?” Eli should be encouraging her to come home with me where
she belongs.

“Yes, Daddy, I
think it would be best for me. Besides, there’s not enough room
at your house for Carl and McNab.”

“True.” Eli
tenses up again, but the look in his eyes indicates that he knows
they are all a package deal.

“Yup, package
deal,” Shay says, smiling.

“What was that?”
Eli and I exchange a look.

“I just think it
best that until we defeat the Specter we all remain close to one
another,” she says as though she’s in charge.

“What do you
mean, the Specter? Are you talking about your comic?” She
cannot be diverting blame for all that’s happening to some
fantasy she’s cooked up.

“Yes, Dad, I have
to defeat him and Carl is going to help me.” Her new attitude
has me deeply concerned, especially after talking to Dr. Green about
delusions of grandeur. Hearing her talk now, I’m growing even
more concerned about her mental health.

“Listen,
sweetheart, I think you need to lay off the Specter business when you
are talking to Dr. Green.” I rest my hand on hers.

“Oh, he thinks
I’m as crazy as a loon.” She rolls her eyes. “But I
got it. I’ll be sure to tone it down.”

After a brief knock on
the door a woman carrying a tray enters the room. “Dinner
time.”

“Good, I’m
starving, hopefully it’s something yummy.” Shayleigh
lifts the top off the plate. “Or not.” She deflates back
on the bed.

“Sorry hun.”
The woman pulls her lips to one side and says in a low volume, “I
don’t know that I’d eat that either.”

They both enjoy a
laugh. A nurse joins us. “Miss Baynes, good news. It looks like
you’ll be going home in the morning.” She makes a note of
Shay’s vital signs as she speaks.

“Whoo hoo.”
Shay’s relief plays all over her face. “Home, sweet home.
But why tomorrow?”

“We are waiting
for Dr. Green to finish the paperwork on your evaluation and
recommendation for treatment. So you’re stuck with us for one
more night.”

I can’t help but
notice how quiet Carl and Eli are being. It makes me wonder what I’m
missing. There also seems to be some sort of silent exchange between
Shay and Carl. I’m feeling like the odd man out. “It’s
just one more night, sweetheart.”

“Yup,”
Shayleigh smiles, “I can cope.”

“I hope you get
to feeling better, I’m about to go off shift and I won’t
see you tomorrow. But take care,” the nurse says, looking at
Shayleigh thoughtfully.

“Thank you so
much, Rebecca, I really appreciate all you’ve done,”
Shayleigh says with sincerity.