Shades of Desire (23 page)

“Of course,” he finally said. “Here. Take my arm.”

* * *

M
AC
WAS
CLOSE
. He’d be in Plainville in the next fifteen minutes. Since he still hadn’t heard from her, he called Liz. “Do you have her?”

“I just got here. I’m going to find her right now.”

“I’ll stay on the line,” Mac said.

He heard Liz talking to the nurse on duty.

“Natalie Jones…the patient’s friend. She’s blind. Well, where is she?” Static came on the line as Liz juggled the phone. “She’s here. She just went to the chapel. It’s across the street.”

“Get to her, Liz.”

“I’m running. But—hang on!”

Mac heard silence interrupted by periodic bumps, static and the sound of Liz’s breathing. A soft curse.

“Liz, what is it?” Mac snapped.

“I just got an update from dispatch. Morrison’s here.”

Liz’s words stopped Mac’s heart, but she kept talking.

“We checked the hospital parking lot. His car’s here. The same car seen leaving the hit-and-run.”

* * *

T
HE
MAN
WHO
GUIDED
her was charming. Too charming. He wanted to chat when all Natalie wanted was to get to a phone and call Mac.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going?”

“I saw the phone down this way. It’ll just take me a minute to find it.”

“You don’t work here?”

“No, I’m visiting a friend at the hospital. You?”

She pictured Melissa, fighting for her life in surgery. Waking and wondering what was going on. Feeling frightened that she was alone. She’d head back to the E.R. as soon as she called Mac. “The same.”

“Will your friend be okay?”

“I—I don’t know. She was run over.”

The man tsked. “An accident?”

“Deliberate.”

“By whom?”

“I don’t know. But I have my suspicions. The worst kind of coward. A pathetic excuse for a man.”

The man jerked to a stop. “That’s not something a lady should say. Women should respect men. They are superior.”

Natalie’s laugh was as automatic as breathing. He was joking, right? “Do you know that most serial killers are white males?”

“No. I didn’t know that. But men are worth more than women. Leviticus 27:1-7.”

The phrase made her frown. It sounded like something Alex Hanes might have said.

“Ah. That got your attention, did it? You’re blind, but now you see?”

She wrenched her arm away from him and backed away. “Who are you?”

“I’m a messenger from God, just like Alex was. The God who wants to meet you, face-to-face, Natalie Jones. But Alex wasn’t smart enough or ruthless enough to get the job done. I am.”

“You’re with that church. You’re the minister Mac told me about. You ran down Melissa.”

“Reverend,” he said gently. “And I don’t know who Mac is. I assume he’s one of the cops working on Lindsay’s case?”

“Did you kill her? Did you kill her baby? Or did you just hire Alex to kill her, being the coward that you are?”

He sucked in a breath. “So you do remember seeing her. That’s how you know about the baby. But I didn’t kill him. Of course I didn’t. I’d never kill my own son. Not when I could give him to my barren wife and in turn get everything from her and her father that they’ve been withholding.”

She continued to back up. She had no idea where she was, but the nurse had said there was nothing but medical offices here now. Closed medical offices.

Leaving her isolated and alone with a madman.

But she’d automatically been keeping track of their walk. They’d walked about 250 feet from the entrance to the chapel. He’d taken three turns—a left and two rights.

She whirled and ran, keeping one hand against the wall.

He laughed harshly. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Several times she slammed into an obstacle, but she kept moving. He was right behind her, his footsteps heavy and ominous. She pushed herself faster and made several turns, elated when she no longer heard him behind her.

After rounding another corner, she paused for breath.

He wasn’t laughing now. “Come here and let’s end this, my dear.”

She jerked into motion again. His voice was clear but some distance away. He sounded tired. His breathing labored.

Not wanting to give away her location, she bit back her retort but feared he heard her heavy weaving steps anyway. She pushed herself to continue running in the same direction until she finally hit a dead end. Frantically she felt along the wall until she came to a door. She tried pulling it open, but it was locked. Same for the door that was right next to it. A whimper escaped her.

She heard him again. Closing in. She kept moving. Kept patting the wall. Kept trying to open any door she came to. She could practically feel him breathing down her neck when she finally found a door that gave way when she turned the knob. She fell into the room, took a few running steps and immediately crashed into a low, hard surface.

She jumped when several items fell to the floor. The noise was going to bring him right to her, she thought. For a moment she wanted to crouch down. Cover her ears and hide in a corner the way she had when her mother had locked her in the closet. But she knew the man after her would be even more merciless than her mother had been.

So she wouldn’t hide.

She stuck out her hands and felt in front of her. There was a smooth surface. A table. Maybe a desk. She felt along the edges. There was a phone. A cup with pens and pencils that she’d knocked over. A stapler. She gasped when something cold and sharp pricked her fingers. She picked up the item and carefully ran her fingers across it. A pair of scissors.

She wielded it in front of her, facing what she thought was the door to the hallway. Shadows flickered as the door opened, and he stepped through.

“I was going to make this fast and painless,” he gritted out between heavy breaths, “but you’ve made me angry, Natalie. You really thought you could get away from me? Even though you’re blind? You females are all alike. You and Lindsay and Shannon. You need to learn your place in this world. On your knees.”

A sound crashed behind her, and she jerked. He’d thrown something, deliberately wanting to shake her.

“Are you familiar with the book of Matthew, Natalie? I’m particularly fond of verse 18:9. Shall I quote it for you?”

“How about you just go to hell instead?” She slashed out with the scissor blades even though she really had no idea how close he was. “Stay away from me.”

“Verse 18:9 says that ‘if thine eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: it is better for thee to enter into life with one eye, rather than having two eyes to be cast into hell fire.’ God took your vision because you offended Him, Natalie. Now you’ve offended me, and I’m going to take your life.”

He threw something hard into the corner of the room again, then something else. Each time, she jerked. Helplessness washed through her, quickly increasing her terror. All the air in the room suddenly disappeared, and she struggled to breathe.

God, not now. She couldn’t have a panic attack. She needed to be strong. She needed to be ready.

She forced herself to take deep breaths. Recalled the peace she’d felt while she sat in the chapel.
Don’t be afraid. Everything’s going to be just fine.

Along with the memory of Pete’s words came the faint sound of a siren.

It could just be another ambulance.

But somehow she knew it was the police.

Somehow she knew she wasn’t alone.

She wasn’t the only person she could rely on any longer. If the police were here, Mac wouldn’t be too far behind. Mac would come for her. Somehow Mac would know where she was, and he would save her.

She yelped as cruel fingers clamped on her wrist and twisted the scissors out of her hand. He yanked on her arm, sending her flying. She hit the edge of something hard, more objects falling around her, then fell to the ground herself.

“You’ve caused me nothing but trouble,” he said from above her. As soon as the words left his mouth, he kicked her in the ribs, hard enough to make her scream. “Even more trouble than my wife, and that’s saying a lot.”

After her initial scream, Natalie breathed through the pain and remained silent. But still, she kept track of where he was, noting from his voice the way he walked around her.

“A pity I couldn’t make sure your friend was dead, but it wouldn’t have been smart to hang around. She wasn’t really who I was after anyway. I’m sure you know that now.”

She couldn’t hold back her scream of fury. “You bastard!” she yelled, struggling to get up, but he simply kicked her again. She crumpled, and he was on her, trying to drag her away. Her hands scrambled to find purchase, to stop him from taking her wherever he was taking her. There were objects all over the floor. She tried to grab hold of something, but he was moving so fast… .

Feeling his breath close to her ear, she squirmed, trying to knock him in the head with her own. He slowed down but stayed out of reach, laughing at her struggles. “The police stopped by to talk to me. Arrogant pricks. I wish they could see this.”

“Let them see what a maniac you are? Believe me, they already know.”

For an answer, he kicked her again. This time in the face.

Natalie heard the bones in her nose break and felt the warm spray of blood that covered her cheeks and lips. She choked, trying to fight off the sudden rush of dizziness. She collapsed onto the floor and closed her fingers around something hard. She had no idea what it was.

He kicked her again, but she barely felt it this time. “After you, I’ll work on the cops next. I never knew it was quite so simple. My wife always told me to be more ruthless. She was so right.”

Pain radiated from inside her, making the blows he’d landed seem feeble by comparison. Mac was smart, but she didn’t even want to think about this psychopath going after him.

He crouched next to her again, grabbing her hair and pulling her head up until her neck muscles screamed in agony. “It was all under duress. The devil made me do it. Only it was my devil of a wife. You’re just like her, you know. So hard. You think you can do everything. That you don’t need a man. But you do. All women need a man.”

She raised her arm, tried to hit him with whatever it was that she held, but he deflected the blow. The item slipped out of her grasp. “Bitch!” He thumped her head against the floor. When he released her hair, only a whimper escaped her. She couldn’t move. She could barely hear him.

“Well, I’ve spent enough time here. I need to get this over with. I’ll put you out of your misery now.” He kissed her cheek softly, and his warm breath puffed against her. She let out an involuntary gasp but then immediately bit her lip hard, refusing to make another sound.

She slowly blinked her eyes open, trying to focus on him. To get a clear sense of his shape. She couldn’t. She couldn’t see anything, but she could feel the blood covering her face. Getting into her eyes. “See anything?” he taunted.

“Yeah,” she snapped, unable to help herself. “I see a giant coward.”

He slapped her hard. She made one final attempt. Threw her arms wide, sweeping the floor, grabbing anything that came in her path and slashing out at him with it.

He screamed just as she heard someone call her name.

“Natalie!”

It was Mac.

She heard crashing sounds. Felt a heavy weight on top of her. Screamed and thrashed. Heard a gun go off.

Then her heart was pounding so fast it was all she could hear. Her lungs were being squeezed so tight that it was all she could feel. She struggled to stay conscious. To hear him say her name once more.

“Natalie. Baby.”

There it was.

Faintly she was aware of him cradling her against him. She couldn’t see him. Had never been able to see him. Would never be able to see him smile, but oh, how she wanted to. “I knew you would come,” she said. “Got to—got to stop meeting…this way…”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

N
ATALIE
APPEARED
TO
lose consciousness. Mac had only a few seconds to hold her before some EMTs, led by Liz, came careening into the room. They took her gently from his arms, ignoring the prone body of Reverend Carter Morrison altogether.

He never took his eyes off her, but his tears made keeping her in focus difficult. God, the bastard had hurt her. Her jaw looked as if it had been fractured, and her eyes were swollen shut.

The EMTs put her on a gurney and wheeled her toward the E.R. across the street while he ran alongside her. He fumbled for her hand, sighing with relief when she weakly squeezed his fingers. He knew how afraid she must be. How much she hated hospitals. How much she hated feeling helpless and out of control. “Natalie. You’re okay. I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

She didn’t squeeze his hand again. Didn’t move at all. Still, he sensed she heard him.

A small whimper escaped her, and she tried to speak but couldn’t.

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“Mac…” His name was as thready as smoke, but he heard her. Barely.

“I’m here, Natalie. I’m not leaving.”

“Mac…” She stopped when she was hit by a round of coughing. A liquid gurgling rattled in her chest, and Mac looked at the doctor who was now pulling the gurney with the EMTs. The doctor stared back at him grimly.

“Natalie, don’t try to talk. The doctor’s here. He’s going to take care of you.”

Natalie shook her head. “No. Mac…need to tell you…”

He leaned closer as her voice faded out. “What? What Natalie?”

Someone shoved Mac back. “Back off, Detective. She might have internal bleeding and maxillofacial trauma, with possible fractures to her eye socket and skull. We’re going to need to do a C.T. scan and possible surgery to lift any fractured skull bones off her brain.”

Mac held on to Natalie’s hand as long as possible until they pushed the gurney through a set of sliding glass doors. One of the EMTs and a nurse blocked his way. “Stay here, Detective. We’ll come out as soon as we know something.”

Mac watched as the gurney was navigated around the corner. He looked down at his hand and at her blood that stained him.

* * *

M
AC
SAT
IN
THE
HOSPITAL
lobby long after the solemn-faced doctor walked away. The SIG team had arrived to lend their support, but he didn’t talk to any of them as images of Natalie clicked through his mind. The day they’d first met. The first time he’d kissed her. The way she’d looked and felt and sounded when they’d made love. But most of all, how she’d called him to tell him that Lindsay had been pregnant—how she’d been trying to
help
him—and how he’d pushed her away. Because he’d cared for her—hell, he’d fallen in love with her, a woman who seemed hell-bent on endangering herself to prove she was still normal—and that had scared the shit out of him.

Grief and guilt pounded at him with equal force. He’d delivered bad news to families before. Had become somewhat inured to their suffering. In truth, he’d always viewed grief as an obstacle to overcome, maneuvering around it until a victim’s family had finally given him the information he’d needed. It had always been about solving the case after that. Yes, that included bringing the victim justice and the family closure, but he’d never truly focused on those as his ultimate goal. Always in the back of his mind had been his success record, and the fact that he didn’t want to let a criminal get the better of him.

Someone knelt in front of him, cradling his face. His vision slowly focused on Carrie Ward. For a moment, her mouth moved silently until sound penetrated his brain.

“Mac…she’s going to be okay. The doctor said so himself.”

Mac’s hands shook as he grabbed her wrists and gently pushed them away. He didn’t deserve her comfort. “Her eyes. The doctor said she suffered head trauma. That the bastard kicked her in the face. He doesn’t know how it will affect her vision—”

“You don’t know if it’s permanent. She’s lost her vision before and it came back.”

“And what are the chances of that happening again? Damn it, she could have been killed!”

The knowledge had shocked him. Made him realize how much color and vibrancy she’d added to his life in such a short time. It had all become about the job for him. He’d told himself that being relieved to be out of his marriage with Nancy proved he was meant to be alone. That he’d be happier that way. But that hadn’t been it at all. Nancy had simply been the wrong woman for him. He’d finally realized that when he’d met Natalie, but only after he’d almost lost her.

“But she didn’t, Mac. She fought him and she survived because she didn’t want to leave you!”

He stared at Carrie, not sure where this was coming from. A glance at Jase confirmed the other man’s discomfort. He’d obviously told Carrie how much Natalie had come to mean to him. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t care who knew how he felt about Natalie, even if those feelings cost him his job. But he remembered the way she’d sounded when he’d rejected her. Both times. After they’d made love and after she’d called him. He wasn’t counting on her wanting to see him again, especially after today.

His mouth twisted at his unfortunate choice of words.

“Excuse me.”

Carrie moved aside as one of the surgical nurses asked, “Does Ms. Jones live by herself? It will be a while before she’s ready to be released, but I need to know who to contact when the time comes.”

“Me,” he choked out, and passed the nurse his card. “You can call me. If I’m not here. But I’m going to be here,” he added lamely.

The nurse smiled. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Was she? Mac thought as the woman walked away. He doubted she’d see it that way, whether or not her vision had worsened. Would that be the final straw? Would she even want to go on? How could she, after everything she’d suffered?

But she
did
want to go on, he reminded himself.

Natalie had fought for her life. First in her own home and again across the street. That knowledge had him suddenly reconsidering Carrie’s words.

She’d fought for her life. And what was he going to do about it? Let her face her recovery alone, just like that prick Duncan Oliver had done? Hell, no. She might not love him, might not want to have anything to do with him, but that was going to be her choice. He wouldn’t abandon her when she needed him, and he was going to do his damnedest to make sure leaving him wasn’t the choice she ultimately made.

He stood and touched Carrie’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carrie. I’m going to see her now. Even though she’d not awake and probably won’t be for a while, I—I need to see her.”

With a final glance at Jase, who gave him a nod of support, Mac left.

* * *

A
S
M
AC
WALKED
away from her, Jase put his hand on Carrie’s shoulder. To his surprise, she leaned back against him. She kept her eyes on Mac, but when she spoke, her voice wasn’t quite steady.

“He’s going to be okay.”

Jase nodded. “Thanks in part to you. I could see the guilt eating at him. What did you say to him?”

He’d looked more than guilty. He’d looked dead. Literally. As if the very soul of him had been sucked out and nothing but a shell remained. It had been a wonder the guy had even been capable of standing.

When he’d stood and looked at Carrie, however, something had changed. Something encouraging had lit his eyes. A fire of resolve and determination and strength that told Jase his friend was going to be okay. And that he was going to make sure Natalie would be okay, as well.

“I—I just told him she fought for her life. Fought to stay with him.” Finally realizing she was leaning against him, Carrie straightened. She quickly swiped away a tear, as if she was embarrassed someone would see it.

“So, looks like the Monroe girl’s case is closed. You’ve got cause to celebrate. Which one of your women are you going to call first?” She smiled weakly at him, yet he saw her words, mild-sounding as she tried to make them, for what they were. Her attempt to push him away yet again.

What surprised him was his sudden urge not to let her do it.

“Come here, Carrie.”

Her eyes widened before he pulled her into his arms.

She held herself stiff at first, then slowly relaxed into him. Even though it made him feel like a bastard, he couldn’t help the way his body hardened at the feel of her against him. Still, holding her wasn’t about desire. It was about wanting to be her friend. Offer her comfort. Give her a little of himself just the way she was giving him a little of her.

Far too soon, she pulled back. Smiled at him.

And he couldn’t help himself. That smile took all his genuine and well-meaning intentions to comfort her and transformed them into something dark and intense.

He leaned down and kissed her.