Chapter Eighteen
On the phone, Terry had sounded less than impressed that Meaghan had taken it upon herself to question Lilith and her group. He was downright angry that she had withheld the information about the recent murder. Nevertheless, he called her into his office to discuss the phone message she had left for him on her cab ride home from the campus.
“Sit!” he ordered the moment she entered the office. “Explain your cryptic message and why you believe there was another murder.”
Meaghan did as she was told without question. Terry looked angrier that she had ever seen him, even in his youth, and something in his expression warned her not to argue. Not that she was afraid that he would cause her physical harm as he had always treated her with kid gloves. No. It was her job that was on the line, not her well-being.
“I’m sorry Ter—”
“Just cut to the chase Officer Lamb. What led you to believe there was another murder and why were you still questioning students? You are technically on sick leave.”
Terry hadn’t called her Officer Lamb since that day she graduated the academy. On that occasion the reference had been in recognition of her achievement. Today it felt like a reprimand. She cut straight to the point.
“Now don’t get angry Terry…” She bit her bottom lip knowing it was already past that. “But the reason I know there was another murder is because, this time … I witnessed it.”
“What the hell!” Terry slammed both fists onto his desk, spilling his coffee and drawing the attention of other officers who were working near his office. He waved them off and walked over to close the door. “I specifically told you that you were off the case.” He paused for a moment as if considering the significance of what she had said. His voice softened a little when he asked. “Did the killer see you?”
Meaghan shook her head. “No. I was incorporeal at the time and Terry … there is more than one.”
“Body?”
“No. Killer. There’s a whole freakin’ group of them.”
Terry sat back on the edge of his desk and Meaghan could see the tension raising his shoulders. He looked tired, but more than that, he looked worried.
“All right,” he said. “You’d better give me the whole story.”
Meaghan explained what she’d seen at the sacrifice and how she’d gone to the cafeteria in order to interrogate Lilith and her friends. When she told him how she had been followed and only narrowly escaped—thanks to Pierre—she noticed the strain on his face. His forehead crinkled, forming a thick line between his brows and he rubbed the back of his neck.
“Do you realize what could have happened to you?” Once again the volume of his voice attracted attention from outside the office and made Meaghan jump in her seat.
“I know, I know, Terry. And I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t mind telling you, it gave me a bit of a fright. If it wasn’t for…” She almost mentioned Anna’s premonition which would have complicated matters further. Fortunately, she stopped herself in time to say, “…Pierre—the art teacher—asking to speak with me about my scholarship, I think I would have found myself in a bit of hot water.”
“A bit of hot water? You think making yourself the target of serial killers is a bit of hot water?”
“Okay Terry. I get your point. I—”
“No. I don’t think you get my point. I don’t believe you understand the danger at all and, if you were going to say you won’t do it again … you can hold your breath.” He reached down, grabbing her roughly by the shoulders as he yelled into her face. “You got yourself into deep shit this time, Megs. You could have been killed!”
“I can do this, Terry, really I can. Just give me another chance.”
“No! I’m responsible for you, both as your boss and your friend. You’re off this case. I’ll send a couple of officers to check the area behind the campus and see if they can turn up a body or any other evidence. In the meantime, you’re to stay away from the campus, do you understand?”
“You can’t make me stay away from the campus … sir.” She emphasized the sir as she stood up, the speed of her ascent catching him off-guard. Her head almost connected with his chin before he stepped back. “I have a scholarship and I have every right to study there. You can’t stop me.”
“No, but I can fire you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“I would if you push me.” He paused for a moment and sighed. “Come on, Megs, be reasonable. Corel is dead. You have no scholarship and no reason to finish the art classes. If you are serious about being a cop, give up on the idea of being an artist and come back to work full time. I’ll give you a nice safe desk job until you toughen up. You can move in with me until you find another place. No hurry, stay as long as you like.”
He reached out to touch her but she backed away.
“So, you’re saying that I can’t be serious about police work and have outside interests? You are such a hypocrite, Terry. I know you play golf every Saturday and are in a bowling league. How are your outside interests more important than mine?”
“Come on, Megs, you can’t tell me you’re serious about your art? I thought it was a passing phase.”
“My teachers tell me that I have real talent.”
“Well, bully for them.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, maybe that’s not such a bad idea after all. Being a full-time artist might keep you out of trouble. Maybe you should give up the force altogether and concentrate on your art career.”
Meaghan gasped. Terry had always been her ally. “You want me out?”
“If the truth be told … yes, I want you out. I want you safe, I want you…” He stopped mid-sentence and looked away. “And besides, what type of homicide cop pukes at the sight of blood.”
“That’s not fair, Terry. You know why I can’t stand the sight of blood. You were there after I found Clarissa in the bathroom of our dorm.”
“Okay, okay. I remember. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Then cut me some slack. I have proven myself as an asset to this case and proven that David was innocent.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” he argued. “Don’t try and pass the buck. You may have found more killers but Corel was definitely guilty. He was killed at the scene of a murder for fu—”
“David was innocent and if the information I’ve given you already is not enough, I’m going to do whatever it takes to prove it.”
“You listen to me Officer Lamb.” Terry shook his finger in her face, his cheeks crimson with rage. “You stay away from that campus and you stay away from the Corel residence.”
“Or what?” she yelled back at him defiantly.
“Or … you’re fired!”
“You know what Terry.” She turned and headed for the door. As she turned the door knob and stepped into the corridor she added, “You can take your job and shove it.”
****
Meaghan leaned heavily against the brick wall outside the police station and took a deep breath of cool night air. She had practically dashed through the corridors on her way out of the building and it was not until she stepped outside that the realization of what she had done hit her like a ton of bricks. I quit my job. Her body trembled but not from the cold mist that had suddenly enveloped her. She had resigned from the force, told Terry where he could stick his job and left without any idea of what she was going to do professionally or emotionally. She wondered if she should go back in and apologize. No. She had every right to lose her temper. My information was accurate. I was an eye witness for Christ’s sake. He should be the one apologizing, not me. Terry was so hard to figure out sometimes. He could be considerate and thoughtful and then suddenly cold and hard, so different from the boy he had been in the orphanage. That Terry would never have thrown her blood phobia in her face so cruelly, especially knowing how it originated. That Terry had always encouraged her art.
She felt her mobile phone vibrating in her coat pocket and heard the familiar ping of the message alert. She checked the caller ID—Terry Palmer—and read the message. You forgot to leave your gun and badge. Growling under her breath she responded. Gun under my pillow, badge in my drawer. I’ll bring them in tomorrow. The phone pinged again displaying a cranky face emoticon then moments later another message. I refuse to accept your resignation until you recover from your injury. Until then, we’ll call it a leave of absence. Why is your gun under your pillow?
She thought for a moment knowing she couldn’t tell him the truth. She’d left the gun there since the night David broke her wrist. Shaking her head, she decided full disclosure was probably not such a good idea. Instead she typed… To kill the monster living under the bed.
Ping. I thought I did away with him years ago.
Meaghan smiled as she texted. No. That was the monster living in the closet.
Ping. That’s right, I remember now. Go home, Megs, go straight home and stay out of trouble. And carry that gun with you at all times!
Meaghan snapped the cover of her phone shut and put it back into her pocket. A bitter wind had crept in while she was busy texting. She fastened the buttons on her jacket and pulled the collar up around her neck. It suddenly occurred to her that the fog had moved in quickly—probably pushed by the wind—and how unusually thick it seemed. She could barely make out her hand when she held it out in front of her and when she pulled her phone back out to call a cab, she couldn’t see the screen. The street was deserted and the car drivers must have decided to stay at home because not a sound could be heard besides the nervous tapping of Meaghan’s shoe on the pavement. A howl shattered the silence, shaking Meaghan to the core. Oh, no. Not here. She’d heard that noise before, outside the window of her old apartment and again at the cottage. But on both occasions she’d been locked safely inside her home. Now she was alone on an empty street, vulnerable and wishing her gun was where is belonged, in the pocket of her jacket and not under the pillow on her bed. Damn it. She hated Terry being right.
When the next howl shook her. It seemed closer, resonating through the glass in the window beside her. She looked inside, hoping to attract someone’s attention but the few people still working within the station either didn’t hear the guttural noise or chose to ignore it. Either way, she was screwed. She could hear the pad of paws on the pavement. Large paws. She remembered the glowing red eyes outside the bedroom window and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. The air hummed with electricity. No, not electricity. Growling. She leaned against the wall feeling the rough bricks through her jacket. The door to the station seemed miles away. Would she make it in time?
Simultaneously, she heard the footfalls of a large animal charging towards her and the screeching of tires. The car reached her first. David flung open the passenger door of the yellow Lamborghini and yelled at her to get in. She didn’t hesitate, lunging for the car at the exact minute the unseen animal attacked. Meaghan felt a tug at the hem of her coat as she jumped into the passenger seat. She heard the sound of material tearing but didn’t wait to face her attacker. Neither did David. He threw the car into gear and sped down the street with Meaghan trying and eventually succeeding to pull the door closed. A screeching noise assaulted their ears and she covered them with her hands and screamed as the beast swiped at the rear of the car with its claws in a last ditch attempt to stop them before they disappeared into the clearing fog.
David reached out and lightly touched Meaghan’s hand as he kept his eyes on the road. He pushed 150 kilometers an hour with no sign of slowing but Meaghan had no intention of asking him to take his foot of the gas. If anything, she wished he would go faster. She would have made the request if she’d been able to find her voice. She turned to David and opened her mouth to speak but all that came out was a sob.
“Did it hurt you?” David asked. His voice sounded breathless. His face twisted in concern.
She shook her head. She had no idea if she was hurt. It was possible that the animal had torn her skin along with her jacket but she felt nothing but the cold sweat that was soaking her clothes. Her body going into shock.
****
David watched as Meaghan began to tremble violently. He could hear her heart going a mile a minute and beads of sweat dampened her forehead. The color of her complexion drained to a whiter shade of pale and she covered her mouth with her hand as she dry-retched.
“I would offer to stop the car but under the circumstances I—”
“Don’t stop!” she screamed in response. “Please, don’t stop.”
“Not for anything, kitten.” He promised as he floored the gas pedal while checking the rear view mirror. “Not for anything.”