Page 32 of 1st Shock
Haley tilts her chin up to give me a better view of her wound. It's a two inch gash starting under her left earlobe.
Whatever happened to her, Matt and I got there just in time.
14
Charlie
Ihate the reek of hospitals even worse than the smell of prison. Can't tell you exactly why, except it has something to do with being at someone else's mercy, not feeling in control.
Internally, I'm shaking from head to toe with anger—at least that's what I tell myself. I have no room for fear, not now, even though the bitter burn of it underneath is what's charging me up.
Haley didn't want to come, but I made her. She was so freaked out, we could barely get her through the interview with the cops. Meg was mothering her, trying to coax her into having a doctor check her, and my nerves were burning with the need to do something. I put my foot down and dragged the poor girl here.
The doctor confirms Haley needs stitches. I hate to be petty, but there's a part of me that feels a bit self-righteous that I made her come. Even if I do loathe hospitals and would’ve rejected the idea if it had been me in her place.
It's a good thing she's bleeding, in all honesty, because otherwise my fear and anger would rise up to blast her for going into the alley alone. Did I not just spend an hour-plus the other day grilling her about safety and security procedures?
Yeah, sometimes I'm a bitch, but when you're trying to protect people, and they don't follow the rules you've given them, well, if you're me, you get a little bitchy. It's only because I feel the need to protect everyone who works for us. Haley's safety is just as important to me as Meg or Matt's.
"I can take her home," Matt offers. "If you want to get back to the office."
Meg is downstairs looking for vending machines, even though none of us are hungry. I'm pacing the hallway, the stink of alcohol and the sharp tinge of guilt filling my nostrils. We're all dealing with concern in our own ways, and Meg already yelled at me for being a bitch. She probably figured it was better to take her anger and fear to another floor temporarily before we get into a row. "Not necessary. I'll drive her home."
Thank God Matt was there. I can only imagine what might’ve happened if it had been only Meg. My sister is beyond tough; I have no doubt she can handle herself in a fight. She's taken multiple self-defense courses that I make her review with me on an annual basis. But if the bastard was holding a knife to Haley and threatening her, it wouldn't matter how tough or well-versed in self-defense Meg might be. She would’ve blamed herself for anything that happened, and she doesn't need that kind of guilt.
JJ strides around the corner just as Matt says, "Goddamn, I should have nailed the asshole. I tried. He's playing with us, and I, for one, am sick of it."
I share his frustration, but I'm relieved Matt didn't end up needing stitches too. Or worse.
After Haley gave her report, JJ left to speak to the chief of police. Even now, there are unmarked cars in strategic places near our office, the duplex I share with my sister, and Haley's apartment, just in case the bastard shows up there, because of JJ's insistence. When she went out the back to grab files from her car she'd taken home and forgotten to bring in earlier, she interrupted the bastard going through her glovebox. I have no doubt he now knows who she is and where she lives. When she's done receiving stitches, she'll be staying for a few days with a friend across town.
"You did good grabbing the bastard's hat," I say to Matt.
"We got lucky, Charlie. It fell off when he bolted."
"It doesn't matter. You still saw it in the dark."
JJ sent it to the lab with a rush order. We may be able to retrieve DNA and see if it matches any already in the criminal system. On TV and in the movies, they make it sound like every criminal's is on record when in reality, the database is fairly small. So, it's a long shot, but one worth taking.
I look at JJ. "Did you get permission for me to go back to the prison?"
He nods. "You really think Wilson will know who our copycat is?"
"It's possible. Hell, Mickey may have trained him."
The body dug up today can't be Mickey Wilson's work. It's too fresh. But I have a sneaky suspicion he won't like the fact someone took up where he left off. Unless he has a protégé who's feeding him the details after each kill.
At the prison, Mickey tried to take credit for Emily, but I saw right through him. Of course, he called her Tonya, but maybe this Tonya was actually a victim of Mickey's protégé.
I need to question him again, make him feel inadequate, or maybe play on that big, fat ego of his once more and get him to admit someone was helping when he made all those kills. One way or the other, I have to get into his head, get more info. Even if he didn't train this copycat, he might have an idea who it is.
Matt leans on the wall, unconvinced. "We still don't know the guy from the office is the same one who killed these girls."
He's right, but I argue anyway. It's hard to leave bitch-mode once I'm in full steam. "Of course, it is, Matt. The blond wig he left on Meg's skull? And it shows upthe same daywe questioned Mickey? Come on. You know your gut's saying the same thing mine is. Whoever this guy is, he has all the markings of a serial killer, and dollars to donuts, he's the one who's been leaving bodies along the Beltway since Mickey went to prison."
Matt puts his hands in the air in a show of supplication. "I hear you, Charlie. But part of my job is playing devil's advocate. What if we're dealing with two different people?"
I don't want to consider that, because that means I have absolutely no leads on Cap Guy if the DNA doesn't match.
