Sleep No More (26 page)

“It’s my choice. Remember that, Beth. No guilt. People make choices.”

“Bullshit.”

He chuckled. “I don’t have time to argue with you now. Work it out for yourself.”

“I will.” She curled up on the leather couch and drew the throw over her. “But I’m tired of everyone’s risking their necks and treating me as if I were still sedated and almost comatose in that hospital. I’m going to help myself, Joe.”

“Fine.” He was pulling up records on the computer. “When something comes up, I’ll let you know.”

“You don’t mean that.” She turned on her side on the couch to look at him. “But I do. There’s so much I have to learn. I’m strong, but Drogan almost killed me that night at the hospital. You know all kinds of ways to fight people. Will you teach me?”

“If I have time,” he said, his gaze on the computer screen.

“Make time,” she said firmly. “I bet you taught Eve to protect herself. Well, she’s like you, she’s going to stay beside me and run risks no matter what I say. Wouldn’t it be better if I knew how to protect both of us?”

He lifted his gaze. “You’re very clever. You know exactly where to strike.”

“It’s easy. You love her. I don’t know much about feelings like that, but I know that you want her safe. You wouldn’t want me to die, but I don’t really matter to you. Not compared to what you feel for her. Will you teach me so that she has a better chance of surviving if she stays with me?”

He smiled. “As I said, clever. Yes, I’d do that if we didn’t have to move so fast.”

“It wouldn’t take much of your time to show me basics. I’ve always been a fast learner. And I’ll have to learn even faster now. I have so much time to make up.” She added quickly, “Don’t answer me now. I know you’ll do it if I pick the right time. I just thought I’d prepare you.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’ll let you tell me about Eve later, too.”

“Beth, go to sleep and let me work.”

She was silent a moment. “I’m annoying you.”

“Yes.”

“Why? Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

“Because you’re half-child, half-sage, and you have the drive of a bulldozer. It’s a difficult combination for me to handle right now.”

“But I think you like me, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “And I’ve decided that I couldn’t go to bed with you after all even if Eve didn’t mind. Because I like you, too, and it would bother me if I thought I wasn’t measuring up to what you’d want me to be.”

“Well, I’m glad we’ve finally settled that problem,” Joe said solemnly. “Though I thought that subject was already closed.”

“You’re laughing at me. That’s all right. It might have been closed for you and Eve, but I have trouble letting go of anything.” She changed the subject. “I’m not going to be able to sleep. How can I help you? Don’t tell me no. Think about it.”

He thought about it. “Keep the TV low so that it won’t disturb me and monitor anything that might have to do with the theft of the Lamborghini or any police action in the area. Okay?”

“Okay.” She reached for the remote and propped herself up on the couch. “I won’t bother you any longer unless I see something you should know about.”

“Excellent.”

She didn’t speak for a few minutes, then whispered, “I’m sorry he hurt you, Joe.”

Joe didn’t answer. He was frowning intently, and she didn’t know if he heard her. And he might not care how she felt. Everything he did for Beth was because Eve wanted it to be done. What would it be like to have someone love you that much? She felt a sudden pang of loneliness that she instantly dismissed as soon as she identified it. She had been alone all her life, and she wasn’t going to whine about it. Now that she was free, she was going to have a wonderful life and love and friendship might even be a part of it. She was difficult and obstinate, and it was hard for her to reach out. But maybe that could be overcome.

If she was lucky, if she didn’t annoy everyone as much as she did Joe …

*   *   *

THE GREEN NEON SIGN
of the Immediate Care Medical Clinic blazed in the darkness.

TWENTY-FOUR HOUR SERVICE.

There were only two cars in the parking lot, Drogan noticed. That was good. They probably belonged to staff, and he wouldn’t be forced to push ahead of any other patients and cause a disturbance. He had to be very unobtrusive until he got this damn wound treated.

“It’s okay, pull in,” he told the woman driving the car. What was her name? Hester something. Kippling, that was it. “Do you remember what you’re supposed to do?”

Hester Kippling nodded jerkily. “I’ll do whatever you say. Anything. Please don’t hurt me.” She parked the car in front of the building and shut off the engine. Her voice was strained as she tried to control herself. “I won’t tell the police anything. Just let me go home to my granddaughter. Tiffany’s only four years old. You can’t be sure that she can breathe through that gag you stuffed in her mouth.”

“Then you’d better get home to her right away before she suffocates. But it’s more likely that you’ll end up dead than the kid if you don’t do exactly as I say. You wouldn’t want her to end up an orphan.” He tucked his gun back into his jacket and got out of the car. “I’ll be watching you. One glance, one twitch of an eyebrow that tips off that doctor, and you’re dead. Now get out and act like a loving wife who’s so worried about me that you’re shaking and about to collapse.” He laughed. “It shouldn’t be difficult. All you need to do is think about this gun in my pocket and the fact that if you cause trouble, I’ll go back to your house and blow the kid’s head off.”

Hester Kippling. “No trouble. I promise.” She hurried toward the front entrance. “Just don’t hurt me or Tiffany. We didn’t do anything to you.”

No, and he probably wouldn’t do anything to Tiffany Kippling. He didn’t have time to go back and deal with the woman’s granddaughter. He didn’t like leaving witnesses, but a child wasn’t really believable in a court of law. He had made sure she was terrified before he’d bound and gagged her. She wouldn’t be able to even look at him without becoming hysterical. It was marginally safe leaving her alive.

And not at all safe permitting Hester Kippling to survive this night.

“Would I hurt that sweet little girl?” He opened the heavy glass doors and added softly, “Only if you force me, Hester, and I know you wouldn’t do that.”

*   *   *

IT WAS OVER FOUR HOURS LATER
that Beth suddenly straightened on the couch. “I think this may be what you were talking about, Joe. It all connects.”

Joe turned to look at her. “What connects?”

“Drogan.” She pointed to the TV screen that showed an EMT van and several policemen milling around an Immediate Care Medical Clinic parking lot. “Triple murder. A middle-aged woman, Hester Kippling, a Dr. Dan Thomas, and Lynn Smith his nurse. Thomas and the nurse were on duty at this clinic about forty miles from here. Hester Kippling accompanied her supposed husband into the facility and insisted on staying with him through the treatment.” She glanced at Joe. “He had a hand injury. His entire right hand was bandaged.”

He nodded. “Drogan.”

“Dr. Thomas evidently performed the necessary surgery. But the doctor, nurse, and Hester Kippling were found dead a few hours later by another nurse who had come in at a shift change. Shot to death. There were video cameras in the reception area but none in the examining room. No clear photos of the killer. He managed to stay out of view.” She looked at Joe. “But it has to be Drogan, doesn’t it?”

He nodded. “Otherwise, it’s entirely too coincidental.” He smiled. “Good job, Beth.”

She shivered. “Nothing good about it. Three people dead because of me. It could have been even worse. They found a little girl tied up but alive at the Kippling house.” Her lips firmed. “But I won’t think like that. I have to keep telling myself that I’m not guilty. It’s Drogan. It’s all because of Drogan.”

“That’s right.”

“But he has to be stopped, Joe. Did you find anything else about him?”

“His photo.” He pulled up Drogan’s photo on his phone to reveal dark hair, olive skin, and large brown eyes set in a narrow face. “He may not look quite the same. This was taken years ago. And I found out a few other things. I tapped the FBI database and found out that Drogan is the pseudonym of an ex–Army Ranger who was kicked out of the service after a friendly-fire incident that killed his commanding officer and was suspected of being far from friendly. His name is Carl Saglet, age forty-three, born in New Orleans. His mother, Zela Saglet, was a prostitute who was heavily into drugs and belonged to a voodoo cult that had monthly ceremonies at an abandoned plantation outside the city. There’s no doubt that Drogan attended those ceremonies. He bragged about it at his school, and the welfare workers tried three times to take him away from his mother for child endangerment. But the police couldn’t prove that there was anything criminal taking place at the ceremonies.” He shook his head. “But years later they discovered a small graveyard near the swamp, in which seven bodies were buried. They couldn’t identify all of them, but they were able to trace two who were known homeless vagrants on Bourbon Street.” He paused. “And Drogan’s mother, Zela. She was found in a makeshift coffin with the skeleton of a large water moccasin wrapped around her throat.”

“Drogan?” Beth whispered.

“Probably. The FBI had records of three suspected kills years later with the same M.O.”

“Suspected? Why haven’t they been able to arrest him?”

“He’s very careful, very smart. He became a contract killer a few years after he got out of the service, and he’s been moving around the world and gaining a reputation for himself. He worked for the Italian Mafia for a while, then moved to Mexico. But he didn’t do well down there; the drug cartels don’t have any use for either caution or subtlety. They just hang their victim’s heads on bridges as warnings. So the last word on him was that he’d moved to somewhere outside L.A. and was taking lucrative assignments from his base there.”

“And Pierce found someone who put him in touch with Drogan?”

“It’s logical. If he didn’t want to get his hands dirty killing you himself.”

“Why, dammit?” Beth asked. “Was I just in his way?”

“Not in his way,” Joe said. “I imagine that Pierce would have been happy to continue with the arrangement for the foreseeable future. Why not? He was being paid a handsome fee, and you were no trouble.”

“No trouble,” Beth repeated bitterly. “I was like one of the zombies at Drogan’s voodoo ceremonies. No wonder Pierce felt comfortable hiring him. It was entirely fitting, wasn’t it?”

“Until you woke up. No one could call you a zombie now.”

“No, I’m not,” she said fiercely. “And I’ll never be that way again. I won’t let Drogan kill me or Pierce put me back in that stupor. I’ll kill them first.”

“Easy,” Joe said. “There’s no question of that’s happening. We just have to work on catching Drogan so that we can get him to testify against Pierce.” He paused. “And anyone else who’s involved.”

“Not Rick. It wasn’t Rick. And I never met my grandmother or grandfather Avery but there’s no reason for them to want to hurt me. Why would they do that?”

“Maybe they don’t want to hurt you. But they paid the bills for your stay at the hospital. Now, since we suspect that you should never have been there in the first place, wouldn’t it be smart to dig a little deeper?”

She reached up and touched the golden key at her throat. “Maybe Pierce lied to them and said that I had an injury that was incurable. Maybe it wasn’t their fault at all.”

“And you’d rather believe Pierce was the villain than anyone else. I don’t blame you. He’s a bastard and should burn in hell.” He met her gaze. “But unless we get to the bottom of this and prove he hired Drogan to kill you, there’s a chance he’ll be able to manipulate the system and put you back in that hospital.”

“No!”

“You’ve been studying what’s been going on in this wicked old world since you got out of the hospital. Truth can be twisted, and the good don’t always come out on top.”

She tried to smile. “But I’ve got you and Eve to help me.”

“And your friend, Newell.”

Her smile faded. “Billy’s been hurt enough. I want you to find a way to send him somewhere where he’ll be safe. Can you do that?”

“Possibly. If he’ll agree to leave you.”

“Make him do it.” She moistened her lips. “I know neither you nor Eve will be persuaded to go away. I have to accept that you feel it your duty to help me because Eve is my sister. That’s crazy, too, since I’ve been nothing but trouble. But Billy has no reason to run the risk.”

“He thinks he has a reason.” He shrugged. “I’ll try to send him out of the line of fire. I can’t guarantee anything.” He got to his feet. “And now I’m going upstairs to tell Eve what’s been going on.” He glanced at the TV newscaster, who was repeating the story of Drogan’s triple homicide. “Not a pleasant way to wake up.”

“Ugly. I’ve known her for such a short time and yet brought so much ugliness into her life.”

“She can handle ugliness. She can handle anything that comes along.” He turned and headed toward the door. “I never got around to telling you about her. Sometime, check her out on the Net. It won’t tell you about the steel inside her, but it will give you an idea why she had to develop it.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost five in the morning. Why don’t you try to take a nap? You were up all night staring at that TV.”

She watched the door shut behind him and felt suddenly lonely. The hours of shared effort aimed at a common goal had been interesting and a little exciting. But now he was going to Eve, and Beth was alone again.

They would be together in that closeness and bonding that even Beth could recognize as being both rare and special. She felt a pang of envy. Oh, not of Joe or Eve but the relationship, the love itself, that she had never known.

And she might never know it. So just take life and drink every pleasure. She wouldn’t behave like a hungry beggar at the gates. She’d make herself valuable to herself and become Eve’s equal and maybe it would work out.

And maybe it wouldn’t.

If it didn’t, then she’d move on and open herself to other people, other experiences. But not now, when she could explore this tentative bond that was forging with Eve.