Chapter Eleven

“It’s blood, isn’t it?” Lacy asked, bile climbing up her throat at this awful night.

“Yes,” Balthazar said. “We just don’t know whose.”

Lacy couldn’t speak. Her pounding heart hadn’t let up since she’d left her apartment. Lacy is next? What was that supposed to mean? I’m nobody. All I wanted was to stay hidden and small and—invisible.

Only Jake’s extra tight hand at her elbow kept her knees from buckling. When an especially vicious shiver jerked up her spine, he pulled her into his side and led her back to the front of the building.

“Wait a minute. Where is everyone?” she asked, her head reeling. “This place should be jumping. There should be patients lined up and ornery because they have to wait their turn. It’s the flu season, guys. Where are all the people? The staff?”

“The clinic was empty when we responded to the call, all except for the deceased,” Balthazar explained while the M.E. rolled the body bag away from the scene on a gurney with squeaky wheels. “The police are canvassing the neighborhood to see if anyone saw or heard anything. The clinic was still working a twelve hour, twenty-four-seven shift rotation tonight, correct?”

“Yes, we were. Dr. Anderson, Roxy, and Jeanette should’ve been here, Carol and Bonnie too. Nights are always busy.” She peered through the broken glass door to the demolished office. “Maybe Dr. Presley, too. Where are they?”

“Lacy, look at me. What aren’t you telling me?”

Fire Chief Balthazar’s tone caught her short. The kindest gaze reached out to her from the worry lines of his dark, handsome face. He always did have some kind of weird sixth sense where she was concerned. Maybe he was like that with everyone. The man just seemed to know when she was having a tough day, but there was no way she would betray Marlee’s trust.

“I’ve told you everything I know,” she replied evenly, because I can’t tell you what I don’t know for certain, and I don’t know what’s in that black box. Yet.

Ernie Balthazar’s eyes were the kind of gentle, grandfatherly eyes that could see right through a person and make them feel like a sneaky kid. The kind that could make a girl confess to anything and everything she’d ever done wrong in her life. If she let him get to her.

She returned his gaze, determined he’d only see what she wanted him to see—a strong woman and a Marine, not some hysterical nutcase with bright red burn lines across her forehead, and a rubber plug in her mouth so she couldn’t bite her tongue off. Or scream too loud.

Experimental treatment for hysteria, my ass. That jerk-off lied to my parents. He’d claimed he could cure me with one shock treatment. Then why’d he keep me locked up for seven days? Why’d he keep shocking me? Why’d I finally have to lie and tell him I was cured before he’d take the straps off? Why can’t I ever go back home because I’m afraid of what my parents think of me? Because of what he might’ve told them? The sonofabitch!

Jake must have sensed she’d taken a mental detour down Hysteria Lane. He’d pulled her into his solid body, and her butt once more pressed tight against his thigh. She gulped despite the strength radiating from his touch.

“Are you going to be okay?’ he asked, his lips nearly in her ear. “Do you need to sit down?”

“No, I’m good,” she said. I guess. But what moron wrote that creepy message? Why would anyone want to kill me? What could I possibly know? That my secrets are driving me nuts? That I can’t walk this tightrope much longer before I start screaming again and prove I’ve lost my mind? And furthermore, whose freaking blood did that psycho paint this message with? Who’s dead? Everyone, but me?

“Are we done here?” Jake asked.

The steady and strangely calming physical contact with the other half-crazy person at the scene amused her in a verging-on-hysteria kind of way. After the day she’d just had, her nerves were shot, but not so bad that she couldn’t see that she and Jake were at the same level of sane, which, if she guessed right, was mostly just barely. Maybe even borderline cuckoo. Her hands shook despite his arm circling her shoulder and neck to rein her in. Did he know how close she was to falling apart? Could he tell?

Working long shifts at the clinic had kept her moving forward, but some days were just damned hard to get through, and this was the worst. Her mind strayed to the secrets hidden in her closet, the things she’d never let anyone see.

Maybe it’s time to pull them out, and declare to the world in one bright and bloody statement who and what I really am. Maybe it’s time everyone knows.

Hysteria eked steadily up the back of her throat like water from a plugged drain that had nowhere else to go, pushing for release. She ground her butt harder against Jake, scared to death the maniac within her might make a break for it and start cackling any second now.

And how will that look, huh?

Jake circled her neck and shoulders with his arm, sticking his chin into the crook of her neck. He seemed intent on keeping her close to him, but he didn’t seem to think she was crazy.

Ha! What does he know?

Chief Balthazar rubbed the back of his neck and sighed in the patient way of an honest man who’d worked too many long hours in a thankless job. “We’re done here,” he said wearily. “I’m sure the police will have more questions for you, Miss Wright. Call me if you think of anything else.”

Oh, crap. Did he just call me Miss Wright? Not Lacy? Not kiddo?

“My car got blown up tonight, Ernie,” she offered weakly, needing him to know she was in more trouble than she’d ever been in before. Needing him to care like he always seemed to when he’d visited the clinic. Crazy or not, Jake was right. Ernie Balthazar was one of the good guys, and she needed him to see her.

A soft smile tugged the corners of his weary brown eyes. “I know, Lacy. Heard it over dispatch on the way here. Wished I’d been on that call instead of this one.”

Me too. Tears sprang to her eyes. Her heart stopped pumping too much blood for its own good. He still cared about her. See? That’s all I needed.

“You do know I’m always here if you want to talk, don’t you?” he asked. “About any of this? Anything? Anytime?”

“I do,” she sighed. There were good men everywhere, even on the tough streets of Anacostia. “Thanks, Ernie. I’ll be in touch.” There. That didn’t sound crazy now, did it?

“You can bet your next cup of coffee on it, little girl,” he said, his grandfatherly kindness in place once more. “I’m buying. Maybe a piece of that chocolate silk pie you like so much, too.”

Lacy could have cried. The simplest things were all that kept her going some days. How did people not get that? Kindness freaking mattered!

Kevin had stayed to give her and Jake a ride back to her own crime scene, but she knew he’d been watching and listening the whole time. He tucked his handy dandy little notepad into his shirt pocket, no doubt with every word she’d said recorded for his report. She expected more questioning, but he surprised her. “Are you ready to go home, Miss Lacy?” he asked kindly. “I’ve got a nice warm patrol car at your bidding.”

“Yes,” she said. This damned crazy day had to end. It just had to.