“You actually have memory of all that?”
“I guess you don’t, huh?” Gaby patted his arm in bogus sympathy. Poor Luther, he hated the loss of details, his weak grasp on the happenings. “The uncle injected you first. You got in one good hit that knocked him down, but it was too late—the drug was already in you and doing its thing. While I was moving to help you, the loony aunt stuck me, not just once, but a bunch of times.”
Luther paled. “Show me.”
Why not? Gaby turned and lifted her shirt.
“Jesus, Gaby.” Gentle fingertips smoothed over her skin. “She did a number on you.”
“Yeah. But I clocked the bitch in the nose, which is how it got broken. I’d have done more, but then I passed out and the rest is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.” She lowered her shirt again.
“You need to be checked.”
“Forget that, cop. I’m fine.”
Concern warmed his face. “It’s important that we both go—”
“Ha.” Gaby shoved away his hands. “You might have to follow orders, but I don’t.” To keep him from getting pissed again, Gaby changed the subject. “Do you realize that this room is exactly as Bliss described it?”
Sickened by it all, Luther nodded. “I imagine all dens of torture look similar. It’s a grisly sight.” His gaze locked on hers. “You don’t seem bothered by it though.”
Gaby forced a shudder. “Yeah, it’s creepy.” She slugged him in the shoulder. “Thank God you played hero and took care of them, huh? If it wasn’t for you, we’d probably both be—”
Luther squashed a finger over her lips. “No.” He lightened his touch, caressed her lips. “Save it, okay?”
“Um . . . what does that mean?” Gaby prayed that he wouldn’t start doubting her rendition of things. She wasn’t up to full disclosure. Not yet.
Probably not ever.
“You’ll have to tell it again at the station. There’s no reason to go over it all now.”
“Oh.”
He looked tender, forbearing, and pained.
How should she interpret all that?
Luther put an arm around her shoulders. “There’s no reason for us to stay down here. Let’s go get some fresh air.”
Because he looked like he needed it, Gaby agreed. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”
Ann was at the other side of the room with two other detectives. Luther walked over to her. “We’ll be out front if anyone needs us.”
She surveyed him with a critical eye. “I’d prefer you head on to the hospital to get checked out.”
“I’m feeling better by the minute.”
“We need to be safe. You can’t remember anything, and what if it isn’t a drug? What if you have a concussion?”
“I wasn’t hit in the head.”
“All right, fine.” She tried a different tack. “It wouldn’t hurt to get a blood sample, just in case the drug is still in your system.”
“I guess it can’t hurt. I am still sluggish and a little on the queasy side. If you want to line up someone to drive me, I’ll go.”
“I’ll have Sergeant Faulkner take you. If the doc gives you the okay, you can come back then. God knows we’re going to be here awhile.”
After that agreement, they both looked at Gaby.
She frowned. “What?”
Luther gave her a suspicious once-over. “It’s odd, given how I feel, that you don’t seem at all adversely affected by the drugs.”
So now she recovered too quickly? Nitpicking jerk. “I guess I’m hardy, huh?”
Ann’s expression pinched. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it, Gaby.” She shared a look with Luther. “Go on outside. The stench in here is enough to try even the hardiest stomach. Sergeant Faulkner will be right with you.”
Once they reached the steps, Gaby nudged Luther. “When Ann first got here, she spent a lot of time clinging to you.”
“She’s a friend, and she knew I could have died. That’s all there is to it.”
“She’s a really touchy-feely friend, isn’t she?”
Luther sat with a groan, not giving her concerns much attention. “You were offended by it?”
“No. I know she’s got a thing with Morty.” She joined him on the top step. The clear, star-studded sky blanketed the area. It amazed Gaby that a night so beautiful could shadow such evil. “From what Ann said, I guess they’ll be here for a long time?”
Luther leaned into a post. “Maybe all night. It’s important to collect evidence in the proper way. They’re hoping to tie the other deaths to this scene. Even in the worst situations, it’s good to give victims closure.”
“With all that blood and stuff in there, that shouldn’t take long.”
“They’ll get search warrants and go through the whole house.” Luther paused. “You know, it’s possible they might find more bodies inside.”
“They won’t,” Gaby said, before she thought to censor herself. She made haste to cover her error. “Oren was too cagey for that. I have no doubt he’s killed others, but they’re dumped somewhere, someplace where they might not ever be found.”
Just then, several men brought out the plastic-wrapped corpses to transport to the county morgue.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?”
Luther watched her through the darkness. “What is?”
“The house is so beautiful—and it hid the basest evil imaginable. If you ask me, they should burn this place to the ground.”
He pulled her against him. “I understand one sicko running amok, wreaking havoc on innocent lives. But how the hell do these crazies find each other to conspire together?”
Closing her eyes and resting her head on Luther’s hard shoulder, Gaby recited something she’d read long ago while trying to understand her own predilection. “Bloodthirstiness can stay clandestine inside the most trustworthy people, and no one would ever know it’s there. Societal teachings and moral principles lock it down and keep it well hidden, but it smolders there, torpid, idle, until the right circumstances call forth the appetite—and serenity is forever shattered.”
Luther’s mouth touched her temple. “You are a fascinating woman, Gaby.”
She was a scared woman, a woman wanting things she was never meant to have. In a mere whisper of sound not intended for Luther’s ears, Gaby spoke her deepest thoughts. “If only I’d figured this out in time to save Lucy.”
Luther kissed her again. “You did your part, honey. Yours, and mine.”
Gaby’s eyes widened.
The sergeant stepped out of the house. “Sorry to have kept you waiting. My car’s right over here.”
Luther stood. “Come on, Gaby. We both have to get checked, repugnant as it seems, so we may as well get it over with.”
“I hate hospitals,” she told him as she tugged to her feet.
“But you’ll have me with you. And that, Gabrielle Cody, can make anything more bearable—if you’ll only let it.”
Two weeks had passed since Oren and his aunt and uncle were stopped in their deadly occupation of torture; two weeks of mundanity, the tedium melding one hour into another.
Gaby had a lot of decisions to make, but circumstances gave her time aplenty to make them.
Luther, her biggest decision of all, stayed busy with the details of the case, gathering information, and filling out reports.
Accolades for his work were pouring in. Jimbo read the papers daily—a shocking revelation for Gaby—and he kept her informed without being asked. So far the police chief and even the mayor were heralding Luther as a hero. They said his dedication, professionalism, and cool head under pressure had spared the community further, unspeakable crimes.
Cool head under pressure? Gaby snorted. Yeah, being threatened with prolonged torture would qualify as pressure, for sure.
Luckily Luther had endured a drugged sleep through it all.
And she . . . well, she’d only been pressured to dispatch the abominations without Luther being injured, and without him knowing. By all accounts, she’d succeeded.
And so went the banausic nature of her life.
During cooler nights and quiet days, Gaby completed her novel and mailed it anonymously to Mort. In less than a day he’d read it and now he enthused to any and all who’d listen that this was the best Servant graphic novel yet.