"You mean kill her."
"Probably." The idiot doctor hadn't realized whom she was up against, to think Gaby would be that dumb. "Far as Bliss knows, Gaby planned to do just that, even promised that she would. But then she went missing, and you went to the abandoned hospital instead." Luther leaned forward, lowering his voice. "And you found the doctor and killed her."
Putting both hands to his head, Mort closed his eyes. "I still can't believe what I saw there. I only went because Gaby seemed cautious of the place. She said the woods were filled with malevolent spirits."
"She had that much right."
"When I couldn't find her, I went there to look for her."
"I'd just dropped her off, Mort."
"I didn't know that." He rubbed at his temples. "I wanted to protect her from whatever was there, but I'm a coward, so I took the gun—which I'd bought off the street from some guy I haven't seen since."
Dryly, because he didn't quite believe that either, Luther said, "Yeah, I have your statement on my desk."
Mort shook his head. "That crazy doctor would have maimed me, Luther, just as she'd done to those other people."
"Probably."
"Even after I shot her, she still tried to come after me. She hit me with that long-handled saw. And she was strong, let me tell you."
"I saw. She'd practically bled to death before she collapsed. If she'd been just a little stronger, I don't think you'd be here today."
Mort shuddered. "And those poor patients of hers…" He squeezed his eyes tighter. "They were so deranged from Dr. Chiles's torture that they didn't know what they were doing. I had to defend myself from the ones that came after me."
"Brain cancer is a horrible thing," Luther said, citing what professionals had told him. "It can obliterate a kind personality, and instead bring out very hostile behavior." Sitting back, Luther stretched out his legs and kept a close watch on Mort's reaction. "But some of those people were too far gone to move, much less physically assault anyone."
"I know." Mort nodded and opened his eyes. "The doctor killed them. You saw that awful scalpel she had. It was insane the way she started slashing and slashing—"
Luther still had a few nightmares himself, so he interrupted Mort's morbid retelling. "In all the time you knew her, Gaby never mentioned any place she might go?"
"No." His voice softened with sadness. "Until recently, Gaby never told me much of anything. I wish I did know where she was. I'd go to her and tell her… I'm still her friend."
"Yeah." Luther rubbed his tired eyes. He wanted to tell her something similar himself, only with a little more passion. "If you ever do hear from her, tell her I want to see her, okay?" He glanced toward the door to ensure their privacy. "Off the record, Mort. Tell her I just want to talk to her, to know she's okay. Nothing else."
"Okay." He eyed Luther. "If I see her."
As Luther stood, he noticed the large, thick envelope on the bedside table. "A present?"
Excitement brightened Mort's countenance. "A new Servant manuscript. Ann found it when she picked up my mail for me."
Suspicion sparked, and it had nothing to do with Ann's additional signs of infatuation. Luther recalled the similarities in Gaby's behavior and the lead character of the Servant novel. If she modeled herself after the heroine, it might be a way to track her.
Of course, it could just be that he was getting desperate. But still… "You've already read it?"
"Most of it." Though he winced, Mort sat up a little straighten "It's incredible. Do you want to read it when I'm done?"
"Yeah. I do. Soon as you finish with it, let me know."
Ann walked back in carrying a tray of fresh fruit and a warm waffle.
As a visual nudge, Luther glanced at his watch. Now that he'd spoken to Mort, they both had other things to do.
"Don't start pacing," she said. "I'm ready to go, too."
She gave Mort the food, kissed his forehead, and after whispering something in his ear, left with Luther.
"That was nauseating," he told her.
"Get used to it."
"Really?" Luther could barely credit such a thing. Morty and Ann? He shuddered. "You're hitting me at a bad time, Ann. I'm not sure I can take it."
"You're just stressed. You've worked hard tying up the loose ends, getting that creep at the crematorium to confess. But he did just that, even detailing how the doctor paid him to look the other way. You need to take a day off, relax a little. Sleep. And eat."
"Yeah, I'll get right on all that—tomorrows." Today, he wanted to follow a few improbable leads. If he didn't track Gaby down soon, he had a feeling he'd never find her.
And that possibility was unacceptable.
Unfortunately, the weeks went by and still Luther had no clue where to find Gaby. Mort continued to deny any contact with her, and after staking out his place, Luther had to believe him. The Servant novel, while addictive, hadn't provided any new clues. In fact, it had depressed the hell out of him because the lead character had suffered a setback and as a result, would live her life in lonely, detached isolation.
If Gaby allowed the graphic novel to influence her, that plot turn didn't bode well for him.
After another long stressful day, he was about to pack up and head home for the night when a bruised and battered man walked in. He made a beeline for Luther.
Feeling more than a little uncharitable, Luther asked, "Got run over by a truck?"
"No, some little bitch over on Fifth and Elm did a number on me."
That put Luther back in his seat. The man sported a black eye, a bleeding nose, bruises on his cheek and chin, and a hand pressed to his ribs. "You say she was little!" With a nod of his head, Luther indicated the man's bludgeoned posture. "And she did all that to you?"
Hot color flushed beneath the black and blue marks. "She was skinny, but tall. Maybe as tall as you. Fast and strong and mean as hell."
Tall. Skinny. Mean.
Could it be? Hope slowly brought Luther to his feet. "Dark hair?"
"Yeah. Has someone else been in to complain about her too?"
Luther waved that off and scowled at the man in accusation. "Why'd she maul you?"
"Hell if I know! She took offense at something I did."
"To her?"
He propped himself against Luther's desk and shook his head. "No, to some old whore trying to rope me in."
None of it seemed plausible—which seemed exactly like Gaby. "Rope you in how?"
In a quandary now, the man did a verbal stumble. "She… made an offer. I wasn't going to take her up on it. I don't need to pay for sex. But I told her she was charging too much anyway."
"Right." In other words, the man had tried to shortchange a prostitute on an agreed-upon amount. "You insulted a hooker, and for that a female bystander beat the shit out of you?"
More color rose in his face. His teeth clenched. "I think she was a whore, too."
Rage seeped in. "What?"
"She was hanging out with a few of them, being all chatty and friendly-like. Then boom." His fist hit the desk. "She threatened me."
Surely, the man wouldn't be that stupid. "And then you took a swing at a woman?"
Guilt had him backing down off his tirade. "I wasn't really going to hit her! I swear. But before I knew it, she was all over me. Kicking, slugging it out like a dude, All without making a sound. I swear, I think she was letting off steam."
Every nerve in Luther's body twitched. "You say she's over by Fifth and Elm?"
"She was. But that was damn near an hour ago." He touched his swollen eye. "You going after her?"
"Damn right." Luther grabbed up his car keys, his wallet, then he paused. It sounded like Gaby, but then again, it didn't. "Was she dressed like a hooker?"