Midnight Betrayal (27 page)

33

Louisa’s body bloomed with pain. Her lungs refused to inflate. She inhaled. Instead of air, her breath gurgled with liquid. It felt like a car was parked on her chest. A choking sensation filled her throat.

She opened her eyes. Bright lights and men in uniforms swept the basement. Someone came down the stairs with a handheld floodlight. A policeman wrapped a blanket around Zoe’s shoulders. Conor was on the floor, facedown and handcuffed, with two cops on top of him.

A policeman knelt at her side. “Hold on, ma’am. Help is just a few minutes away.”

Louisa summoned all her strength. Her hand fisted in his pant leg. “Not him. Not Conor.
She
shot me.”

The cop leaned closer to her mouth. “What?”

“She said the girl is the murderer.” Detective Ianelli’s voice boomed over the commotion.

Louisa used her last store of energy and oxygen to nod. “
She
shot me.”

Silence fell over the basement. The last thing Louisa focused on before darkness descended over her vision was the sight of Detective Jackson taking the handcuffs off Conor’s wrists. She let herself go into oblivion.

Conor skidded to his knees next to Louisa. Breath rattled in and out of her mouth with a wet sound. “Honey, stay with me.”

“Ambulance is just around the corner.” Jackson lowered himself to one knee. “Shit. Ianelli, get over here. She can’t breathe.”

“Move over.” Ianelli dropped to the concrete. The Camden cops moved out of the way as the detective ripped Louisa’s blouse open. The bullet wound was low on her left rib cage. “Her lung is punctured. Air is getting in. I need plastic.”

Jackson searched his pockets and came up with a brand-new pack of gum. He tore the cellophane wrapper off and handed it to his partner, who used it to seal the bullet wound.

Louisa’s breathing eased a little. A few dozen raspy breaths later, a new siren approached.

“Ambulance is here,” a uniformed cop called from the stairwell.

Ianelli got up. The paramedics took over.

Jackson slapped his partner on the shoulder. “Ianelli was an army medic.”

Conor rocked back on his heels, watching the paramedics work in silence. One punched a huge needle between Louisa’s ribs. Conor flinched.

Ianelli’s hand landed on Conor’s shoulder. “He’s just evening out the pressure.” The cop helped him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get over to the hospital.”

An IV line was started. Louisa was put on a backboard and transferred to a gurney.

Conor followed the gurney up the steps and into the cool night air. Jackson and Ianelli were right behind him.

“Don’t you have to stay at the scene?”

Jackson popped a piece of gum into his mouth. “Nope. Not our jurisdiction.”

Zoe was frog-marched to a patrol car and put in the back. As the cop pushed her head down, she turned and glared at Conor.

He shivered. Her eyes were pure evil.

34

Conor paced the surgical waiting room. Three hours before, Louisa had been rushed through the ER into an operating room. Dropping into a chair, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Louisa’s pearls, given to him to hold by one of the ER nurses. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he stretched the strands between his hands. The beads were smooth under his fingers, but spots of Louisa’s blood had dried to a rusty brown on the lustrous finish, the stains an insult to the necklace’s perfection. His mind replayed images of Louisa’s pale skin coated in red, the bullet wound in her side, her blood-soaked silk blouse. Her beauty and elegance magnified the violence and horror in the Camden basement.

She’d lost a lot of blood. She’d nearly drowned in it. Her lung had collapsed. She could die.

Fear and reality crowded his mind and his heart.

This morning, she’d said she loved him, and he’d withdrawn. Pat was right. He was a coward.

Had he lost his chance? Would she die never knowing she’d claimed his heart?

Pat and Jayne walked in. Jayne handed Conor a cardboard cup of coffee. “Sit down for a minute.” She tugged him to a chair and pushed him into it. Sitting next to him, she wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “She’s going to be all right.”

“She’s tougher than she looks,” Damian said from another plastic chair.

Conor put the coffee on the laminate table untouched. He couldn’t respond. The bullet had entered through Louisa’s ribs and lodged in her lung. They’d intubated her in the ambulance. She wasn’t even breathing on her own. How could she be all right?

Detectives Jackson and Ianelli had hung around. They sat across the room, occasionally ducking into the hallway to take a call.

Everyone stood when a grim, green-scrubbed surgeon walked into the room. A mask hung loose around his neck. “Who’s here for Louisa Hancock?”

Conor stepped forward, his heart slamming into his rib cage until it felt bruised.

The doctor swept the cloth hat from his head. Sweat beaded his forehead. “She came through the surgery fine.”

Conor didn’t hear the details. The surgeon’s voice was drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. Pat’s giant hand slapped him on the back. Conor stiffened his buckled knees. “No permanent damage?”

“Risk of infection aside, she should make a full recovery. We’ll keep her in ICU for the next twenty-four hours as a precaution. You can see her as soon as she comes out of recovery.” The doctor left the room.

Conor backed up to a chair and let his legs collapse. For the next hour, he was busy being grateful and counting his blessings. Jayne brought him fresh coffee and a candy bar from the vending machine. When the nurse escorted him to Louisa’s bedside, he almost felt human.

She was pale and attached to a dozen wires and tubes, but her heartbeat was steady on the monitor next to the bed. Nice and strong and steady. He took her hand and held it for the allowed five minutes. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

Two days later, Louisa sipped water from a straw while Detectives Jackson and Ianelli asked her gentle questions. Conor took the cup from her hand and set it on the wheeled tray.

“Zoe really killed three women just to eliminate Isa as her academic competition?” Louisa shifted her position and winced.

Conor put a hand behind her back to support her weight while he adjusted her pillow.

“Not exactly.” Jackson sighed. Since the case had come to a conclusion, disbelief and disgust were etched deeper in the lines on his already-craggy face. “She was used to getting everything she wanted. Her parents gave up their lives to educate her. She was always the number-one student in her class. She’d never been turned down for anything. Until she didn’t get the Pendleworth grant. But it was clear when we interviewed her that she got off on the whole thing. So what started out as a plan to get the Pendleworth grant escalated as she developed a taste for murder.”

“I can’t believe it.” Louisa let Conor fuss. Frankly, the pain in her chest made her more than OK with him taking care of her. “She was so smart, so talented.”

“Don’t forget crazy.” Jackson stuffed a piece of gum into his mouth. “She put her smarts to use, that’s for sure. She planned this entire operation down to the smallest detail.”

“The cops at the museum found some other personal stuff of hers hidden in the museum storage rooms. Looked like she’d been sleeping there since she went ‘missing.’ We also found three small trinkets, one from each of the dead girls, in another box. There are fingerprints all over them. Plus notes, schedules, and observations about both of you and the three murder victims. She had a laptop and an air card. Apparently, she holed up in the museum attic like the Hunchback of Notre Dame,” Ianelli explained. “So by the time we got your second text from the house in Camden, we already suspected it was Zoe.”

Isa’s body was found at the house marked by the third star on Zoe’s map.

“I am totally creeped out.” Ianelli shivered. “That is one evil girl.”

“I can’t believe she did the things she did to those girls.” Louisa was still reeling from the discovery that Zoe was behind the murders. The medication was numbing her emotions as well as her pain, which was fine with her.

“She grew up on a farm,” Ianelli said. “She’d slaughtered plenty of animals. She’s physically strong.”

“Who was the second victim?” Conor asked.

“A runaway who’d been hanging around the university. Zoe picked her because she fit her basic physical description,” Jackson said.

“I still can’t wrap my brain around it.” Conor shook his head.

“She’s been pretty cooperative in questioning,” Ianelli said. “She also stole an ID from an employee out on leave and bought a stack of general admission passes to the museum to gain access in the daytime. She’d mapped out every surveillance camera. The guards’ patrols were very routine. Working around their patrols wasn’t difficult. Since she routinely helped coworkers with their computers, she knew several people’s passwords and logins. She’d stashed changes of clothes in the apparel storage room, including a pair of coveralls from the cleaning service, and borrowed wigs from the museum’s collection to use as disguises.”

“What will happen to her now?” Louisa shivered. Conor tugged the white blanket up to her chin, took her hand in his, and rubbed her cold fingers.

“I’m not sure whether they’ll play innocent or insane.” Ianelli shoved his hands into his pockets.

“She’s not insane.” Jackson unwrapped a piece of gum. “And the evidence is piling up.”

Louisa tried to concentrate, but the pain was reaching a crescendo. She wanted more answers before she tapped her morphine drip. “What about Professor English?”

Jackson’s jaw sawed on his gum with determination. “He’s up on charges, just not for murder. We’re not sure how that will pan out. English didn’t sell or distribute his home movie collection. The DA has to prove the girls weren’t aware they were being filmed. Isa and Riki are both dead. They have to identify the other girls and get them to testify. The professor had dozens of videos on his computer, and it seems like he used grants and the teaching assistant position as rewards for sex. In the past twelve years, he’s never had a male TA. He could end up serving a couple of years. Most likely, the case’ll drag out until nobody cares.”

“His career is over, regardless.” Conor was watching her, his eyes intent, as if he could sense her increasing level of pain.

“Apparently, Isa was the one who found the camera,” Jackson continued. “She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to lose the grant or her position as TA with her PhD right around the corner, or risk getting caught up in an ugly university scandal at that time, so reporting the professor was out. She found the videos on his computer, copied them, and went to Heath for advice. Heath had been chatting her up while he was dating Zoe. Heath is the one who suggested blackmail as revenge. Isa was angry enough to agree. Heath took care of the process, and they split the money. They’d already milked the professor out of twenty grand and had no plans to stop.”

“She opted to use him instead of being used by him.” In a way, Louisa thought that was apt. She took a deep breath, and pain cleaved her in two like a magician’s saw. Conor put the morphine button in her hand. She pressed it. If there were any other loose ends, she’d have to hear about them another day. The medication slid through her veins, smoothing and blurring all the sharp, painful edges.

“Zoe saw the video on Isa’s computer.” Jackson’s voice faded.

“What happened to Hector?” Conor asked.

Jackson shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”

“We’re looking for Louisa Hancock,” a woman’s voice said from the hallway.

Dread contracted Louisa’s muscles and amplified her pain. She fought the drug’s effects and the vulnerability they produced.

Conor put down her hand. “I’ve got it.”

Conor walked out of Louisa’s room. A thin, older woman in an expensive-looking dress and coat clutched a small purse with manicured fingers. Next to her, a guy in a suit glanced around him. He looked worried. As he should.

Conor’s feet took him to the desk. “Excuse me. You’re looking for Louisa?”

The woman sized him up and arched a snooty brow. “What I’m doing here isn’t any of your business.”

“You must be Aunt Margaret,” Conor said. He shifted his gaze to the blond man. “Does that make you Blaine Delancey?”

“Yes.” Blaine tugged at a cuff. “And you are?”

Conor punched him dead center in the face. Blood spurted across the pale gray linoleum. Blaine fell backward, landing on his ass on the floor. With a stunned blink, he covered his bleeding nose with a hand.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He climbed to his feet.

“Oh my goodness.” Margaret rushed to Blaine’s side and pushed tissues into his hand. “Someone call security.”

Conor jabbed a finger in the air. “I know what you did.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Blaine pressed the tissues against his nose.

“I know what you did to Louisa.” Conor enunciated the words individually. “In the boathouse.”

Blaine paled, then shook off his shock. “Everyone in here saw you assault me.”

The detectives stood in the doorway.

“I didn’t see anything.” Detective Jackson shrugged. He back-knuckle tapped his partner on the arm. “Did you see anything?”

“Nope.” Ianelli crossed his arms over his chest. “I was checking my e-mail. Sorry.”

“Margaret.” Blaine put a hand on her shoulder. “I hope you’ll excuse me. Obviously, I’m not wanted here. I’m going back to the hotel.”

“Wait, Blaine. I’m Louisa’s next of kin. I have the right to make her medical decisions.” Margaret cast a steely eye over Conor. A woman accustomed to getting her way. “I don’t know who you are, but no one else gets in to see her except me. You don’t need to leave, Blaine. They do.”

“Aunt Margaret.” Louisa’s voice was weak but clear. “I’m fit to make my own decisions. You may come in. Blaine can go to hell.”

Margaret hesitated before walking into the room with unsure steps.

“I think you’d better sit down,” Conor heard Louisa say.

Blaine took the cue. Grabbing a fresh pile of tissues at the nurses’ station, he walked toward the exit with hurried steps.