“I don’t know,” he said, turning her in his arms. “But we’ll find out. This stops now. I swear to you—” He sucked in a breath. “I won’t let this continue. And whoever’s responsible… will pay.”
When Kris entered the doors of the emergency room, only a few people sat in the black vinyl chairs in the waiting area. As predicted, they wouldn’t let her see Beth, since she wasn’t family. Derrick had dropped her off at the ER entrance so she could walk in by herself, and he’d taken the rear entrance, keeping in touch with her via text messages.
Now, she sat anxiously, awaiting any word. The room was surprisingly quiet other than a few moans and groans here and there, reminders to the nurses and receptionists that the people were in pain, she imagined, since no one seemed to be in a hurry to attend to the new arrivals.
A few minutes after she sat down, the locked double doors to the ER opened, and Derrick, wearing a white jacket over his khakis and oxford, leaned his head through the doorway. “Ms. Heskin?” he called without making eye contact with her.
Truly surprised, since he hadn’t texted her he was coming to get her, Kris jumped up. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t warned her. “That’s me!” She tossed a glimpse at the receptionist’s desk, but they didn’t seem to question the fact that a doctor was calling her to the secured area. Kris ran across the gleaming-white floor of the emergency room toward Derrick while he held the door.
“Right this way, Ms. Heskin.” He placed his hand on the small of her back and escorted her along the corridor, stopping before he turned to walk them into a room. He lowered his head to speak, without looking as if he knew her. “She’s going to be okay, I swear. But she looks really bad. Are you sure you want to see her?”
Kris gulped, restraining her tears. “Yes. Please.”
“Okay… but try not to upset her. If she wakes up and sees you crying, it will only make it worse for her.”
She bobbed her head. That made sense. She didn’t know how she could retain the tears, but she would. For Beth, she’d be strong.
Kris walked inside the room quietly, doing her best to hold her audible tears as she took in her surroundings. Where were Beth’s parents? Jason? Why weren’t they here holding her hand? Speaking to her, telling her she’d be all right. Kris stepped to the hospital bed, looking up at the monitors to the left of Beth and the IV fluids to her right. Was that a normal beep? she wondered. Would she know if she was in danger? Derrick slid up beside Kris as she placed her hand over Beth’s, and she remembered that as a doctor he would know if anything wasn’t normal. But would he tell her? He’d sworn that she’d be okay, so Kris had to have faith that he wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. He just wouldn’t have said anything.
She retained the audible cries that threatened to burst from her throat, but she couldn’t impede the stream of tears sliding down her cheek. Beth had looked so lovely in her dress today. Her strawberry-blond curls had bounced beautifully around her shoulders, and Kris had told her she should allow plenty of tendrils on her wedding day. Beth had looked like a princess and had even tried on some tiaras, but in the end decided to go with a stunning white and lace headdress with rhinestones that didn’t look as if she was pretending to be royalty.
Now Beth’s light peach-colored skin was red with splotches of yellow and blue forming around her eyes and cheeks. Kris choked back the tears, imagining what that beast had done to her.
“It was a message, Kristina,” Derrick whispered in her ear. “He could have killed her, but he wanted us to see her.”
Kris turned to him. “How do you know it was the rogue? Maybe it was a mugger.”
Derrick shook his head. “The 911 call came from her cell phone. There were no words, just the call. The police triangulated the position of the call. She was on a rooftop. But worse… He used our kind’s insignia. Before phones, when creatus needed to meet, they’d use a courier to deliver a note card with a red wax seal on the front. Nothing else, but it told family members that there was an emergency. The meeting had always been held in the same place at the same time, so creatus knew to show up that night. Obviously, we don’t need to resort to those methods nowadays, but it’s always something we’ve kept from our heritage, reminding us how we used to have to hide, and that our anonymity was our greatest strength.” Derrick dropped his head and sighed. “Since he wasn’t eliciting a response from the media, I guess he’s decided to leave a calling card. Sick S.O.B. This isn’t about food or a thrill; he’s trying to let humans know we exist.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Reece Buckley leaned forward, resting his chin on his fist as he examined the video feed from the hospital. Catching a glimpse of his own image on the monitor, he flinched; he still hadn’t adapted to the short spiky cut. But, high and tight, they’d said, just like when he was a SEAL. He’d been UC for so long in Miami, he’d gotten used to wearing it long. But that’s why the government wanted him, he imagined. He cleaned up well. He could go undercover as a druggie or infiltrate the Russian mafia if need be. With his nonspecific features and medium skin tone, he’d been able to pass for almost any nationality, and it didn’t hurt that as an army brat he was able to speak several languages. The government agency had solicited him; he’d been content traveling back and forth from Miami to South America. DEA had sent him south numerous times to bust a newbie drug cartel before they got out of control like their counterparts.
This was Reece’s first classified investigation, which he was certain they’d sent him on because he was a rookie in their eyes. A simple Google search by a homicide detective had attracted his office’s attention, but now Murphy O’Brian was dead. The scene on the disc was interesting enough to keep Reece investigating, but certainly not worthy of the detective’s execution. The detective hadn’t done anything but mouth off to a few other detectives that some agent had walked in and taken his evidence. But as always, Reece’s orders were to do his job, so he didn’t question his superiors’ motives. From now on, though, Reece decided he’d keep all the information he gathered on his person and to himself before forwarding it to his boss. He wanted more time to interview a potential witness before they needed silencing.
When Reece had been parked outside Kristina Heskin’s apartment earlier, waiting for her to come home, her boyfriend had looked in his direction. The film on the government-issue vehicle’s windshield was similar to the advertisements on busses; only, the outside image was clear instead of having a print on it. Reece loved the anonymity it gave him. But for some reason, he would swear that the man had looked him dead in the eyes. The same man who’d jumped off a hundred and thirty-five foot bridge and pulled up the girl who’d jumped.
Reece examined the image on his phone. Just a red wax seal with a ‘C’ stamped into the middle, but it meant something. Why use a relic as a calling card? When his boss indicated that the stories might be connected, Reece didn’t see it, but then the same man he’d been tracking had shown up.
“Who are you Derrick Ashton? Or rather, what are you?”
Chapter Twenty-three
“So why can’t I be a part of the meeting?” Kristina asked again from the passenger seat.
Derrick took his eyes off the highway and smiled at her pout, her arms crossed over her chest, her lip jutting out a fraction. He resisted smiling, knowing it would only irritate her more than she already was. “It’s not that I mind, but there’s a very good reason other than the others just feeling uncomfortable, which I tried to explain to you earlier.”