Chapter 9
Anna
“I shouldn’t have done that. I couldn’t stop myself.” Boston ran his fingers through his hair as he paced beside me. “I want Lucy back. I just fucking want her back, and if he...if he touches her. If he fucking hurts her…”
I tried to push away what I knew of the girl they found this morning. Braden had said it was bad. For him to say that, I could only imagine the worst. The details weren’t out, so it wasn’t circulating through media yet, but I knew what everyone else soon would: there was a killer out there, one the residents of Rockford might have to protect themselves from—one…they might have good reason to fear.
“Listen to me. We’re going to find her. Now that Lucy’s picture is circulating, people will be looking out for her as well.”
“I have to go. My mother’s flight—”
“Boston?”
We both looked over at the deep voice. An older man with a concerned expression walked over, wrapping his arms around Boston.
“I came as soon as I could. How are you?”
“Not good. I’m so glad you’re here.” Boston pulled back, lifting his hand toward me. “This is Dr. Patron. He’s a family friend. He happened to be in the area with work. Dr. Patron, this is Anna Monroe. She’s been helping me look for Lucy.”
The man with the white hair shook my hand. He was dressed in an expensive suit, and I couldn’t help but notice how fit he was. His shoulders were wide, and his biceps appeared almost too big for the sleeves wrapped around them. Although his appearance was striking, something unsettling had me studying him closer. And I wasn’t the only one. He was trying to read me too.
“I’m so happy Boston had someone here for him during this tragic time.” He paused, his lids lowering even more. “I’m sorry, you look very familiar. Anna Monroe. I know that name.”
“Are you in the area often? Perhaps you’ve seen me on the news. I’m a reporter.”
Hesitation, and it had me holding my breath.
“I’m only in Chicago, and only every month for a weekend or so. A reporter?” He glanced at Boston, but came back to me. “No…I know you from…” His stare scanned down as he seemed to think, stopping at my left hand. I quickly drew in my fingers. “News. Yes. I bet that’s what it is. I’m sorry. I’m usually very good at placing someone if I’ve seen them before.”
“It’s okay. It happens. You’re a doctor?”
At my question, he smiled. “Psychiatrist. Mainly private practice now, but I did work with the FBI for a while in my younger days. That was another life.”
“Oh. Wow. Like…profiling? That sort of thing?”
“You could say that.”
I glanced at Boston, feeling hope spark. “That’s great. Then you can help us. Boston and I were talking, and we’ve been coming up with ways for him to recall something he’s seen or get an idea if he knows anyone who might want to take Lucy.”
“She’s right. Anna’s had such great ideas.” Boston appeared confused as he looked at the doctor. “I didn’t know you worked with the FBI.”
“Like I said, it was a long time ago.”
“But you profiled for them. You could help us.”
“Boston.” Dr. Patron shifted as he threw him a look. “I plan to help you in any way I can, but maybe we should talk about this later. In a more private setting.”
Immediately, his stare came to me. He didn’t want me to be a part of it. I could read his unease like a book, and I didn’t like it.
“I may be a reporter, Dr. Patron, but what happens between me and Boston stays there. I gave my word that what we uncover will not be shared with my employer. I want Lucy found just as much as anyone.”
“Ms. Monroe, I appreciate you wanting to help Boston, but I think this is best left for the authorities to take care of. If you’ll excuse us, I do believe his mother will be arriving soon, and we really should be making our way to the airport.”
Dr. Patron’s hand settled on Boston’s back, but he didn’t budge as the doctor tried to lead him away.
“Anna was there for me when no one else was. She stayed with me almost all night. Her ideas, her insight, is vital. She’s smart. She’s…” He held the doctor’s stare, breaking away to look at me as he seemed to battle something. “Anna, may I tell him your story? He has to see why I trust you.”
My unease heightened through the reluctant nod.
“Do you remember the Rock River Killer?”
The doctor stayed stoic. “I’m very familiar with the case.”
“Anna was his last victim. She killed him after months of being tortured. She knows what it’s like to be on the other side. Lucy’s side. I need her with me, Dr. Patron. I need her.”
A blank stare was cast my way. It was unreadable. Completely emotionless. And it triggered my other identity—my killer: Annalise. My walls shot up and defensiveness had anger bubbling through the confusion this doctor triggered.
“I thought that’s who you were. The finger. It brought it all back.” He glanced at Boston. “You trust her. But did she tell you who else she is?”
My heart slammed against my chest.
“What do you mean? Anna?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing would come. My silence had the doctor’s own lips tugging back on the side. “I worked on your mother’s case. It was me and a former colleague who led the agents in her direction. That’s why Rodney Turner took you, correct?”
Boston looked between us, confused. “I don’t understand.”
“You would if you had all of your memory. Anna Monroe is none other than the daughter of the Madison Ridge Killer. She helped her mother murder countless women when she was a child. One of those women was linked to this man who called himself No One. Anna, here, helped kill the woman who was meant to be his stepmother. He took the loss as an excuse and used it for motivation for who he really was. He didn’t begin committing his crimes out of actual pain from the loss. I doubted he cared for the woman at all. But you won’t hear any of that in the news because even now, the FBI hasn’t been able to make that connection. I, on the other hand, have. Regardless, Anna may have motives of her own for helping you. Tell me, Ms. Monroe, how are the cravings? What exactly did No One make you do once you were his? He had other victims while you were captured. Did you help? Those girls fit your profile, not his. Did you kill those girls he picked out just for you?”
My eyes narrowed through the rage—through the slight twinge of guilt my mind told me I was supposed to feel. Most of all, all I got was the twisted lust I shouldn’t have felt.
“Rebecca Ann Fowler,” Boston whispered. “I remember her. God, I…remember the story. And the news. That’s what Detective Casey meant by criminal minds think alike. Of course.”
“Boston, I can explain. The girl I used to be—the person No One kidnapped—”
“Is still in there,” Boston said, cutting me off. “You’re a victim, and a killer. I saw it. I saw it and couldn’t place it, but I knew I could trust you.”
“I’m sorry?” I took a step back, looking between the two men. “You both are wrong. I don’t kill. I didn’t kill…you have me confused for something I’m not.”
“Oh, we’re not confused at all,” Dr. Patron said, walking closer. “I know things the press doesn’t. I know by the condition of those girls’ bodies you were the one who mutilated them. I also know you ripped that man’s heart out and tore it to pieces when he tried to take you a second time. Just like you did when the FBI took you as a girl. You committed yourself to that mental hospital to try to escape who you are. But we both know the truth, don’t we, Ms. Monroe?”
My head shook, and I spun to leave. Boston rushed in front of me before I could take more than a few steps. Captivation and something entirely unknown filled his face.
“Anna, please, I need you. Lucy needs you. I’m convinced if anyone can find her, it’s you. You know both sides. You think both ways.”
“You heard this doctor. Do you have any idea who you’re standing before? What I’ve done? Aren’t you afraid?”
Boston laughed under his breath. “Not in the least. You may come to see we have more in common than you think.”
“Boston.”
We both looked over at the warning in the doctor’s tone, but Boston came back to me. “How much can I trust you, Anna? Can you keep secrets? To the grave?”
“Boston, enough.”
I soaked in his words—his underlying threat, ignoring the doctor. There was more going on around Boston than he was telling me. But how much more? Who was this man, really?
“To the grave,” I said, keeping eye contact. “I told you from the beginning I wanted to help.”
“And I need it. I was afraid to tell you more about me because of what you would think, but if we’re going to find Lucy, I can’t hold anything back. You’re going to hear things you probably won’t like. You may even hate me when you learn the truth, but I’m willing to risk that if it means bringing Lucy home. I just hope my fears aren’t validated. Maybe you’ll understand. Maybe you’re the only one who will.”
“You’re making a mistake,” the doctor said in a clipped tone.
“There are no mistakes if this helps find Lucy.”
I sighed, not liking where this was going…not liking Dr. Patron. “You asked me to go with you. Should we be on our way to the airport? If so, I have to let the station know I won’t be able to take calls.”
“Yes. Thank you, Anna.”
I nodded, dismissing how the doctor was nearly pacing in my peripheral. The hair on my neck was standing on end. My heart kept jumping in rhythm. Maybe it was his know-it-all attitude, or the way he carried himself as if he knew my every secret…my every move before I made it. Regardless, I was here for Boston. He and Lucy needed me. And I needed this too.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, pulling out my phone. “This won’t take long.”
Boston turned, walking over to Dr. Patron as Carley’s voice echoed through the line.
“Great piece earlier, Anna. I think Davis is jealous.”
My lip peeled back in disgust at the mention of his name. “Let him be jealous. It would do him good to be out of the spotlight for once. Besides, shouldn’t he be planning for his vacation or something?”
“That’s exactly what Mr. Rice told him. A few more days, and he’s off to Bermuda. Lucky bastard.”
“Indeed.” I fake laughed. “Well, if you want, throw my stories his way. I have to take off the rest of the day. I’m not feeling so well. Can you let Mr. Rice know?”
“Sure thing. Feel better soon.”
“I’ll try.”
I brought the phone down, hitting Braden’s number as I glanced toward Boston and the doctor. They looked deep in conversation and neither appeared very happy about it.
“Anna.”
My smile was genuine. “Braden. How are you?”
“Tired. Could be better. I’m actually on my way home to catch a few hours of sleep. How are you?”
I paused, walking farther away as I pretended to act natural. “I’m okay, I think. I’m here with Boston. A doctor showed up. A family friend of Boston’s parents I guess. He says he’s a psychiatrist. Even said he worked with the FBI once upon a time. He…he knew things about me, Braden. He knew about my mother’s case. About things that last day with No One he shouldn’t have known. I don’t like him.”
Silence had me glancing back over to the men.
“What’s his name?”
The protectiveness in Braden’s voice had a comforting calmness rolling through. “Dr. Patron. I’m not saying he has anything to do with Lucy. I highly doubt it. I just. I don’t know. There’s this feeling with him I can’t explain.”
“Try not to worry too much. When I head back into work later, I’ll look him up. I’m glad you told me. Did he mention when he arrived?”
His detective was starting to kick in, and it had my feelings for him surfacing even more. “Not yet, but I can find out. We’re about to leave to pick up Boston’s mother. I can talk to him then.”
“You’re going with them?”
It was my turn to be quiet. “Boston really wants me there.”
“Of course he does,” he bit out, only to calm his tone. “It’s a tad bit odd, I’d say, but whatever. If you come across anything, or need me, call.”
“I will not. You need sleep. Call me when you’re awake. Take care, Braden.”
I hung up, letting out a big breath. I plastered a fake smile on my face and headed back toward them.
“Done. They’ll cover me for the rest of the day.”
“Excellent. How about the night?”
“The night?” I repeated.
Dr. Patron’s brow creased at Boston’s question, but he gestured, and we began walking. Boston didn’t speak again until he and I were both sliding into the back seat of the luxury sedan.
“I’ve been thinking, Anna. You know this place better than anyone. You know the neighborhoods and a good amount of the residents. Hell, you cover the news. You have connections in the police department. I thought while Dr. Patron occupies my mother, we could put together a map. You can show me where the good areas are, and the bad. You can tell me everything there is about this city. Maybe even seeing it laid out in that form will make you think of something you might have possibly overlooked. A recent story, or a conversation concerning a criminal who didn’t seem like a big deal at the time, but actually is. You know, like the stuff you made me think of concerning the pictures.”
Boston turned more in my direction, continuing. “I only said night because I’m not sure how long this will take. I can’t sleep knowing Lucy is out there and possibly…” He closed his eyes, letting time pass before connecting back with me. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t know what happens to people when they get taken. Not all are abused or beaten, but no one has called for ransom and each minute that passes, she may be undergoing something that’s hurting her. I can’t stop looking until she’s found. To even begin, I need insight. Insight only you have.”
“From both sides? The victim and the…”
“Killer. Yes,” Boston said, nodding. “With Dr. Patron’s knowledge, mine, and yours…we can’t fail. There’s no way. We’re smarter than this person, but our time is running out. We’re Lucy’s best hope. I can’t explain it, but I can feel how right this is. You came to me that day for a reason. You wanted to find this person just as much as I did. Now’s our chance. You’re going to figure out where he is, and when you do, that bastard is mine.”
“Yours, how?” Our stares held for what felt like forever. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to with the darkness he harbored. I nodded, bringing my attention to Dr. Patron. He was watching us in the rearview mirror. “What’s your place in this? A distraction to Boston’s mother? Profiling? Both?”
“I once thought about contacting you, Ms. Monroe. But I’ll be blunt. You’re too unstable. You’re beyond help because you don’t want it. If you care what happens with Boston and Lucy, I think it would be best if you made your map and left.”
“What did I say?” Boston moved toward the edge of the seat. “Lucy needs Anna.”
“Lucy…or you?”
Boston reached around the seat and hooked his arm under Dr. Patron’s chin, choking him before the older man could react. With his other hand, Boston pulled against his wrist, tightening the grip. The car swerved through two other lanes on the freeway, nearly clipping a car before the doctor gained control. Despite the situation, he didn’t look panicked. There was no expression at all.
“You push me. Something you’ve never done before. Take it back.”
“Boston. Let him go.”
Hazel eyes shot to me. “Not until he apologizes. Take it back!” Boston pulled against his wrist until the doctor’s face was turning purple.
“F-Fine.”
Boston let go, slamming his fist into the back of the seat while Dr. Patron coughed.
“I can’t believe you fucking said that. You know how much I love Lucy.”
“I also know how obsession works and this is not your fault. Think about it. Who’s the doctor? Me. When I said I needed to ground you, I wasn’t joking. You’re not okay right now. Your condition doesn’t just disappear because the object of your affection is not present. Sure, it follows her. You’re compulsive in trying to locate her, but here, right now, you’re absorbed on something entirely different: Ms. Monroe. Her help is your fix, and for her safety…” Dr. Patron’s eyes flickered to me in the mirror, “she needs to remove herself from you.”
“Anna stays,” Boston threatened.
My head shook as I processed their argument. “Obsession? Like, real obsession?”
Boston’s face hardened as he leaned back in the seat. “Yes, but I promise you’re safe. I’ve been obsessed with Lucy since I was twelve. I’ve…done things…to make sure she was mine. I’ve killed for her, and not in self-defense. I love her. I love her more than anything in the world. He says obsession. Whatever. Let him use his labels. All I know is Lucy is my world and to keep it revolving around her, I’ll take out any bastard who gets in my way.”
“Like her mom? Her brother?” I asked cautiously.
“Enough,” Dr. Patron snapped. “You don’t know this woman. She could ruin you. This isn’t you talking, this is your condition allowing you to open up to her. Keep your mouth shut.”
“I already gave you my word, Boston. To the grave, remember?”
His jaw flexed through his paused silence.
“Yes. Like her mother and brother.”
The doctor’s fist hit into the dash. I wasn’t sure what to think of Boston’s confession, or even the doctor’s reaction. I should have been disgusted or terrified, but I felt nothing but surprise. Slowly, I reached for his hand. His breaths increased, but he didn’t move or pull away.
“I know obsession, in a way.” My voice dropped as I moved in closer so the doctor couldn’t hear. Boston was changing in my eyes. Turning into someone I could trust. Someone I could relate to. I couldn’t explain it, but he felt like a friend. Someone I had always known, even though I didn’t. We were similar, and there was solace for the woman who did nothing but bottle her secrets. They devoured me. Taunted me. “I once felt that way. I loved a girl. I loved her like I didn’t think possible. Nothing mattered but her. She was the first thing I thought of when I woke up, and the last before I went to bed. She consumed me. My heartbeats, my breaths, they were all for her.”
Over and over, Boston’s eyes jerked back and forth over mine. “Exactly. That’s how I feel for Lucy. What happened? You mentioned the detective, but nothing about a woman.”
I frowned, pausing. “It was a long time ago. I found her with a boy.”
“Did you kill him? I would have fucking killed him.”
I shook my head. “Not him.”
Surprise lit his face. “You killed her? The one you loved?”
“We shouldn’t talk about this right now.” I glanced back to the doctor.
“He won’t tell a soul. It’s his job. People like us.”
Confliction left me almost inaudible as I continued. I trusted Boston, but not this doctor.
“She hurt me. She betrayed me. I wasn’t in my right mind. I was destroyed to the core. No…destroyed doesn’t seem a strong enough word. My mother once said I would get hurt. That someone would break my heart. Her solution was the only thing I could think of during that time. It kept repeating over and over, feeding my pain. Cut out their heart, Anna. Put it in a box and lock it away. Without a heart, they can’t love another person. What’s better is it’s yours forever. Nobody can take it away from you. All I wanted was her heart. Her love. And she gave it to someone else. But I got it back. It became mine forever."
Boston’s mouth was parted and the way he was staring had me quickly dropping his hand. Obsession. Yes, I could see it now, lurking in his depths, wrapping around who I was—what we shared.
“You cut out her heart. Wow. That’s…perfect for what she did. Although…” he got quiet, “I could never hurt Lucy. Not like that. Even if she did…she wouldn’t. But…no. It wouldn’t get that far because he’d be dead long before he ever thought of making his first move.”
“We really shouldn’t talk about such things right now.”
“No, Boston shouldn’t,” the doctor bit out. “But I wouldn’t mind hearing more about you. I did say I was curious about you, Ms. Monroe. Why don’t you tell me about those girls Mr. Turner brought you while he had you imprisoned in his home? Was finding that part of yourself again empowering? Fulfilling, even if you did know it was wrong? Or had you secretly killed before that?”
“Not going to happen, Doctor. I’m here to help. Not to confess so you can try to dissect or profile me.”
“There’s no need to do that. I already know enough. What were you whispering to Boston? Something about a heart. Were you telling him about your mother and your work together?”
“What I told him is between the two of us. Why the interest in who I am, or what I’ve done?”
“Curiosity. Although I know a lot about your life, I, of course, don’t know everything. It might do you some good to get it off your chest. I doubt there’s anyone you’ve been able to be open with.”
“I’m not a very open person, and I like it that way. Why don’t you tell me more about you, Dr. Patron? Why go from working with the FBI to catering to the same type of people you helped imprison? And don’t pretend that’s not what you do. Your protectiveness over Boston is genuine. Not paid for. You know his darkest secrets. You know what he’s capable of. Yet, here he sits, a free man. And with who else by his side? You. A professional, schooled in the ways of the law, not to mention a general doctor who’s mastered in psychology. It makes me wonder. Who is this man who puts himself on the same side as killers, yet walked away from the opportunity to be their downfall? Who is Dr. Patron?”
A smile jerked at his lips, but faded back to nothingness as his stare returned to the road. “You’re very clever Ms. Monroe. Surprisingly so. My work aside, you don’t like me, but it’s not for the reasons you think, and I’ll explain. What you feel is natural. You’ve bonded with Boston on a level you can’t quite understand. It was almost immediate for both of you, and even though the emotions were high on both your parts for Lucy, it has nothing to do with her. The two of you are killers. You both felt it before you ever knew. You subconsciously connected because your interests do not conflict. You think the same. You have the same sort of energy. Overall, you both protect. You have a common goal which was cemented from your first contact with each other. Add me into the picture, and it interferes with the entirety of the situation. It interferes with your motives.”
His eyes cut up to mine in the mirror for only a second as he continued.
“You like routine, Anna. So much so, anything that inhibits it can put a damper on your entire day. The way you look right now: your conservative clothes, your natural makeup—you’ve played the wallflower for so long, even though you don’t feel as though it’s who you are, it’s the perfect mask which puts you at ease. I bet before you got your contacts, you wore big glasses. Not ones that made you look pretty, but ones that hid your face. I also bet if I were to go into your home and look through your closet, everything would be a size too big. The colors bland. The necklines high. Your guilty pleasures, which to normal people would be hung further down the closet, are packed away tight. The temptation they represent is a comfort to have, but you’re not strong enough to stare at them daily. Daring dresses. Bright, tight, low-cut little numbers. Do you crave women, Anna? Do you fantasize about them often? Red lipstick. Dark eyeshadows. Isn’t that what you used to put on your mother’s victims before you cut off their breasts? Before you buried your little girl hands in their chests to remove their hearts? Open your purse, Little Annalise. Show me there’s not a tube of bright red zipped up in the inside pocket.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. I couldn’t think. Could barely speak, but my tone was strong and didn’t waver. “Would you like to borrow it, Doctor? The shade would look great with your deeply tanned skin and the color of your hair. But…no. I’m guessing with how much you work out, you’re not the feminine type. Quite the opposite, with your form-fitting suits, expensive watch, and shoes. Now, it’s my turn.”
I reached into my purse, jerked the zipper to my inside pocket, and took out the lipstick. I didn’t even look at the bright red shade as it rose, and I traced it over my lips. “You turned your back on the law to work with killers because although you crave the violence, you’re too cowardly to commit the act. I bet you get off at their confessions. Perhaps you fantasize about them and how you helped each of your clients get away with what most don’t. I’m going to bet this tube of red lipstick you have an excessive hate for woman. It shows in your overdeveloped biceps and your slip from being reserved. Something I bet you pride yourself on. You’re probably berating yourself on wasting your time having this exchange with me. Why you’re revealing too much when you know you shouldn’t. Yet, here you are, unable to help yourself. Unable to one-up me so you’ll feel superior.” I placed my lipstick back in my purse. “You may be surrounded by bad people, but there’s a difference between them and me. They trust you. They’re blinded by the false sense of fatherly protection you provide. I, on the other hand, see you for exactly what you are.”
“And what is that, Ms. Monroe?”
I smiled, rolling my eyes as I looked out the window. “If you’re so good, there’s no point in me telling you. You already know.”