The Christine Murders (18 page)

But the guard was shaking his head. “No, Ray. That gate was closed no more than a few minutes before, because I’d been up there and checked it and the courtyard right before I headed down into the garage for a walk around. Nobody else came or went either. I was just about in the garage looking around when I heard the shouting. There wasn’t much foot traffic out on a night like this, or at that particular hour either.”

There wasn’t an explanation for what had happened, at least not now, at least until Bill could tell them what had taken place outside. She looked at the police officer. “If you’ll give me just a few minutes I’ll dress, and I’d be grateful for that ride to the hospital. I just want to see how Bill is. He’s a very close friend of mine. He was coming here tonight to help me with a serious problem . . .something that happened recently.” She stopped, numb with fatigue, shock, and fear. For a moment, she wondered if she should tell this officer about Luther, but she decided that for the time being, it was much more important for her to get to Bill. She had no idea what his condition was and she had to find out. Tomorrow, she would find Lieutenant Kinsella and tell him her story. But first she needed to care for Bill.

Ray took her arm gently. “Miss Lindsey, you don’t look too good. Why don’t you let me go over to the hospital to check on Bill and see how things are? You can go over in the morning, after you’ve had some rest. Have you had any sleep at all tonight?”

She shook her head. “No, I haven’t, Ray. I came in earlier from a long flight, just as Bill had. But I’ll be all right, really. I have to see Bill. I don’t know how badly he’s injured. And they’ll need someone who knows him there. You know how it is at a hospital. I wouldn’t get any sleep here anyway after this.”

Ray nodded. “All right, I do understand. But do me a favor. You call me later when you want to come home, okay? I’ll come and get you. Will you do that?”

Christine managed a weak smile. “Yes, I will, Ray. Thank you so much.” She turned back to the officer, who was busy talking with the guard and jotting down some notes. “I’ll be right with you.”

Feeling like she was trapped in a gigantic web, and sick with dread over what might have happened to Bill, Christine walked slowly to her room to dress.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Christine remained quiet on the way to the hospital, allowing her driver to talk about the deplorable crime rate in the city and how tragic it was that decent people could no longer feel safe. It was inevitable that the talk soon shifted to the serial killings. Christine, listening intently now, asked the man only one question.

“Do you have any idea at all who he is?”

“Not a solid thing yet,” he answered. “It’s a very strange case. He is super careful about leaving any evidence. Homicide hasn’t been able to get anything on this guy, absolutely nothing, only the description of somebody seen with two of the women, but even that isn’t a sure thing.”

“What do you mean? Why not?” Christine asked.

“Well, just because some guy was seen with two women doesn’t mean he killed them. Although, the same guy identified with two women who were found murdered a few hours later is more than a little suspicious. But you know how it is legally; it’s not perfect.”

Christine was tempted to tell him everything she knew about Luther, but decided not to, not yet. Not now. Bill was her immediate concern. “Do you know John Kinsella?” she asked the officer.

“I do, yes. He’s a very good man. He has his work cut out for him with these killings, however. This is an abnormally careful killer. But eventually even the best of them makes a big mistake. It always happens sooner or later.”

Once she could be sure that Bill was going to be all right she would go by herself to Kinsella.

When they reached the hospital, Christine thanked the officer and then headed straight to the ER. Bill’s phone, wallet, and identification had apparently been taken by the mugger, so Christine went through the routine admitting procedure for him before a nurse led her to a quiet, curtained cubicle where Bill lay. She would only be allowed a few minutes with him now, after which she could speak to the doctor on duty.

She was sickened at her first glimpse of her friend lying deathly still, his face bruised and his head swathed in bandages. Mercifully, there was no respirator; Bill was breathing on his own. He made no movement, nor did he show any sign of recognition when she touched his hand and kissed him and then began speaking softly to him.

She sat there, tears streaming freely down her face, continuing to talk to him and assuring him all would be well. She only wished she could believe her own words.

Soon the young resident who had admitted Bill joined her. He explained that Bill would be taken for a CAT scan in a few minutes.

“We stabilized him here. He had some x-rays already that showed a few broken ribs, among other things. He took a beating, no doubt about that. But there’s nothing so serious there that won’t heal. But the head injury is a matter for concern. There might be brain injury, and that’s what we have to determine now,” he told her. “He’s breathing on his own, which is encouraging, and he was slightly lucid when he came in. He was mumbling something about a key.”

“A key?” Christine asked. What key? She was trying to absorb the doctor’s statement that Bill might have suffered a brain injury. The enormity of that was more than she could accept. Such a thing couldn’t happen to Bill.

“Yes,” the doctor continued. “Somebody had a key or keys, he was saying. And he was very agitated. But that was all we could get that made sense. Are you with the airline, too? He was in uniform when they brought him in.”

“Yes, I am, I’m a flight attendant, too. I’m Christine Lindsey,” she said. “Bill and I went through training together. We’ve been such close friends for years.” She managed a weak smile.

The doctor nodded. “Does he have any family?”

“Only one brother, in Massachusetts, and some cousins, but they’re not close. He’s pretty much alone except for me and his airline friends here in San Francisco. He does have lots of friends right here.”

“All right then. We’ll have to wait and see how he is by mid-morning after the scan. You see, we never know how these things are going to turn out.” He shook his head. “It’s terrible, these muggings and attacks. They’re not satisfied just taking your money. They’ve got to rough you up too. And Bill, I’d say, put up a fight.”

Christine nodded. “Oh yes, Bill would put up a fight. Always. But last night he was so tired, he’d just come off a long flight that had an extra long delay.”

“You can stay with him until we take him for the scan, Miss Lindsey. Keep talking to him. I don’t know if he’ll know you’re here or not.” He stopped, peering closely at her. “I must tell you, though, from a professional standpoint, that you look pretty beat to me. When did you last get any sleep? Why don’t you go home and rest and come back later in the morning?”

Christine turned and smiled at him. He was quite young. And he looked none too well-rested himself.

“It is morning, Doctor, or very nearly. And as far as sleep, I really don’t remember. Last evening, I flew home on a long flight also, from Tokyo. But I’ll stay here a while longer, if you don’t mind. You’ll be taking him for the scan soon, won’t you?”

He looked at his watch. “Momentarily. I’ve been waiting for them to come. Tokyo? What’s that, about a fourteen-hour flight? And on your feet I’d bet for most of that time. Really, Miss Lindsey, you won’t do anybody any good if you collapse. I don’t want to have to put you in here, too.”

Christine frowned. “Actually, I might be safer here.” Then, seeing the puzzled look on his face, she went on. “I’ll be all right. I promise I won’t collapse or cause any trouble. I feel better being here with Bill.” And yes, safer she thought, so much safer. Luther can’t find me here.

“Okay, I’ll let you know when we are ready to go.” One of the nurses brought her a cup of steaming coffee, which she accepted gratefully and drank while she tried to make some sense out of what had happened. Bill remained still, lost somewhere in a deep sleep, unaware of her vigil beside him.

For the time being, in the busy yet professional setting of the ER, all thoughts of Luther were pushed from her mind. Only one thing mattered now. Bill had to get well.

She would stay here with him and talk to him and pray silently for both of them.

Suddenly, quietly, the young doctor appeared at her side, followed by two orderlies. “We’re ready to take Bill now, Miss Lindsey.” Then he handed her an envelope. “We can hold his uniform and any other personal effects he was carrying, if you wish. But meanwhile, I thought you might want to take this, for safekeeping.”

Christine opened the envelope, as the orderlies prepared Bill. Inside it were Bill’s flight steward wings. She held the gold pin in her hand, feeling the tears well up again. “Thank you, I certainly will,” she told the doctor, who patted her gently on the shoulder as she kissed Bill before he was wheeled quietly from the ER.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Soon after dawn, the hospital came to life, as new shifts of nurses, technicians, and workers began their daily routines. Christine had gone to the ICU lounge to wait for Bill to be brought back after his scan. She was weak and dizzy from fatigue and knew she couldn’t stay on much longer. But still she feared going home alone. Here in the hospital she felt safe and protected from Luther.

During the wait, she phoned Flight Services to let the airline know about Bill’s attack and hospitalization. Soon her young doctor friend returned with good news.

“The CAT scan showed a subdural hematoma, Miss Lindsey, which had created pressure on Bill’s brain,” he explained. “It’s being evacuated now, as we speak. Once that pressure is relieved surgically, the brain swelling will resolve itself, in about three days. Barring any other complications, Bill will recover, with no brain damage. And all his other injuries will heal. So, good news here.” He smiled at her. “Now I really do think it’s time for you to go home and get some rest. Bill won’t be back for a few hours, and later today you can stay with him, okay?”

Buoyed up with relief and more thankful than she had ever been, Christine agreed to phone Ray to come and take her home.

***

Somewhere deep in a thick hazy mist, Bill floated comfortably, feeling nothing, unable and unwilling to move, but listening to the assorted voices and sounds near him. Never had he felt so tired, so listless. He had been exhausted after the horrendous delay of Flight 812, but this was ridiculous. He felt as if he’d been heavily drugged or intoxicated. Maybe he had joined his passengers in a few of those free drinks during the Honolulu delay, was that it? Was he coming off the mother of all hangovers? If so, this one was a real beaut.

But where the hell was he? Who were all these people he was aware of, and what was that machine they’d brought him to? Why did he feel like he was rolling along a long hallway somewhere? From the mists earlier a familiar voice had floated to him. Christine, it was Christine, of course! She was holding his hand. She sounded like she was crying. Why? What was wrong? Why was he here in this strange place, floating and feeling very hung-over and hearing Christine crying?

Struggling through the heavy mists, Bill tried to remember what could have happened to make Christine cry. He wanted to comfort her, but he couldn’t. He struggled with his lazy brain. Something had happened, but what? Had his plane crashed yesterday? Was that it?

Gradually, bits and pieces of life floated back to him.

He had reached San Francisco safely, hours late. Yes – of course he did. But he had been troubled about something, very troubled. What was it? He had driven from the airport in a light refreshing rain, he remembered that. But he hadn’t been going home. He had been going to see Christine. Yes, that was it! Christine was in trouble!

He had reached her apartment complex, and there had been someone there already, someone he knew. Who was he? Why couldn’t he remember?

He drifted off again into a deep sleep, dreaming of airports and passengers and delays – all in a day’s work for a flight attendant. Papeete; he had been in Tahiti. He so loved Tahiti, but something had happened to him there. It was not a good layover. He recalled watching Moorea dip behind puffy white clouds from his hotel room. But why?

Something terrible had happened while he was on layover in Papeete.

He felt himself floating closer to the surface of the mists now. He thought he saw Peter Breen then, and he wanted to tell him about something important, something to do with Christine. Peter should be here; he would help figure out what was going on. He loved Peter, yes. He had to admit that to himself.

Why had Christine been crying?

Suddenly, vividly, Bill saw another face in the mist. A man in a dark knit cap, and he remembered who the face belonged to. Vivid blue eyes were staring angrily at him. Luther Ross-Wilkerson. Yes, that was it! Luther Ross-Wilkerson was the serial killer, and he had been at the gate of Christine’s apartment, letting himself in with a key! He was going after Christine!

Now Bill remembered the struggle, and wrenching violent pain. If only he hadn’t been so damn tired, he could have taken Wilkerson down. Wilkerson had ripped his wallet and phone from his pocket to make the attack look like a mugging. But the last thing Bill remembered before drifting away into the pain and mist was Wilkerson pulling a key from the gate and running off into the night. He had a key to Christine’s building. He had been thwarted in his attempt to get to her that night, but most certainly he would be back. And only Bill knew this. How was he going to warn Christine?