Final Words (27 page)

“A couple of teenagers were swimming past yesterday and saw
a man hanging around. Then this afternoon, they came out to go swimming again
and stumbled across her body.” Charlie hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “They’re
giving a statement now but I don’t think they got a good look at the guy. In
fact, they didn’t see much more than a shadow.”

Jason’s jaw set grimly as he headed back toward his car. “Right
now I don’t need much more than that.”

Emma drew back the sheet, then lowered her hands to her
sides and looked at the dead woman.

She hadn’t died easily.

Salt and sand matted Layne’s black hair. Broken capillaries
mottled her face. A livid strand of sapphire bruises circled her throat and her
cobalt eyes stared at the ceiling, frozen in an expression of terror.

Emma considered the evidence of strangulation and thought of
Paul’s strong hands. He would be a careful killer, wearing gloves in defiance
of the summer heat. There would be no fingerprints on Layne’s skin.

She thought of the scratch she’d seen on his cheek that
afternoon and her gaze shifted to Layne’s right hand. Perhaps, after all, there
would be proof. Just one bit of skin under one fingernail would prove if Paul
was her killer.

Emma looked at Layne’s face. The court would get its proof
later. For now, she would take a dead woman’s word for it.

Taking a deep breath, she touched Layne’s shoulder. Before
her mind could even register the chill of the flesh, the spirit appeared on the
far side of the table, eyes flashing, lips an angry red slash in a white face.
The image was so vibrant that if Layne’s corpse hadn’t been lying beneath her
hand, Emma would have sworn she stood before her alive.

“Son of a bitch planned this from the moment I met him!”

“I want proof, Detective Simmons.” Emma ignored the chill
that emanated from the figure. “Not just accusations.”

“I can give you proof.” Layne practically spat out the
words. “I gave his face a good scratch just before he grabbed me by the neck
and shoved my head under that filthy water. Check my fingernails.”

“I will. But I need more, just in case. I need…”

Emma’s voice trailed away as the cobalt eyes shifted and
darkened in fury. Hair prickled on the back of Emma’s neck. Whirling, she saw
Paul standing in the prep room doorway and her heart nearly stopped.

“Emma?” He glanced around the autopsy suite. “Who are you
talking to?”

Emma retreated a step. Her hands went behind her to grip the
cold metal table.

Paul’s gaze shifted to the body lying behind her. “That’s
Layne Simmons. She’s one of my patients.” His voice went hollow as he looked
back at Emma…as hollow as his pale blue eyes. He lifted a hand to touch the
scratch on his cheek. “I heard she was dead and I came to see if there is
anything I can do.”

“You’ve done enough!” shouted the figure behind Emma.

Something prickled over Emma’s fingertips, sharp and hot as
a Fourth of July sparkler and her hands went numb. The prickling spread, dragging
the numbness with it up her arms, into her back, encompassing her torso. She
couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t fathom what was happening to her. Her
fingers lost their grip on the table and her arms fell to her sides like
ice-filled pipes ready to burst.

Air rippled around her like a curtain of water, blurring her
sight. Then the numbness receded. Beginning with her shoulder blades, sensation
returned through her body as the rippled air condensed and took shape between
her and Paul. Feminine shape. Layne’s shape.

Emma realized the spirit had passed through her body.
Weakened by the contact, she fell against the autopsy table.

“You killed me, you bastard!” Layne’s voice raged stronger
than the voices of the other spirits and Emma knew that her soul was not nearly
ready to pass on.

Paul stood near the door, unaware of Layne’s approach. Then
the spirit shrieked and swooped upon him. His eyes went wide as numbness took
him over.

The shrieks of the murdered soul filled the autopsy suite. A
blur of light and shadow engulfed Paul. Affected as Emma had been, he could not
move to escape. His face contorted in terror and his mouth fell open in a
silent scream as Layne’s spirit took what revenge it could. From her own brief
contact, Emma could only image the numbing sensation of heat being drawn from
his body. Could the apparition permanently harm him? Emma wasn’t sure.

Abruptly, Layne’s spirit swept out of him, whirled across
the floor and settled several yards away. She appeared fainter and her chest
trembled with the effort it took to remain visible. But her eyes gleamed with
black hatred as she watched her prey. Her killer.

Paul’s knees buckled and he fell to them on the cold floor. “What
the hell?” He looked at Emma. “It’s true. What you said you could do.”

His gaze fixed briefly on Layne’s body before shifting to
search the shadows in the room. The spirit still hovered where it had settled,
glaring at him.

“She’s here,” Paul whispered, returning his attention to
Emma. “She told you that I killed her. Did others tell you too? Is that why you’ve
been asking questions about me? Is that why you’ve been so uneasy? Is that why
you were at the beach where Leonard Fletcher died?”

“You…” Emma’s dry tongue scraped against her teeth. “You saw
me there?”

“I went back to get the pipe I used to kill him.”

Emma edged toward the door leading into the shower area. But
Paul, already recovering, began to push himself upright.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

Emma debated running for the cooler room. But the heavy
steel door would open too slowly and she would have to run around the autopsy
table to reach it. Paul would catch her before she got to it. Talbot and Jimmy
were probably still outside working on the van and wouldn’t hear her cry out
through the thick walls and the hum of the chillers. If she was going to
escape, it had to be through the shower area. If she was lucky, she would find
a security guard.

She looked at the spirit. Fury still blazed in the cobalt
eyes. If Emma could provoke her into attacking again…

“Why did you kill her, Paul?” she asked.

“She was a police officer. People depended on her.” He
glanced around the suite again, wary now. “But she started drinking and then
abusing her power. I’ve worked with her before but I knew this time that
therapy wouldn’t help her.”

Emma heard a low growl from Layne’s spirit.

“You should understand.” Still shaky, Paul pushed away from
the wall. “You know how it feels to want justice and not get it. She had to be
punished.”

Layne’s spirit shrieked. Paul cried out as she swept over him
again, driving him back against the wall.

Emma took advantage of Layne’s attack. Running across the
room, she bolted into the shower area, crossed it and burst out into the main
corridor. It stretched away empty in both directions. She started toward the
door that led to the staff parking lot but the ding of the elevator stopped
her. She looked back as the elevator door opened and Edgar stepped out.

“There you are,” he said. “Did you hear the police found—”

“Edgar!” Running back, Emma grabbed his arm. “We’ve got to
get out of here!”

Suddenly something hit them from behind, driving them into
the elevator and slamming them into the mirrored wall at the back. Emma threw
up her hands to shield her face but Edgar hit the mirror, shattering it.
Groaning, blood trailing down the glass from his nose, he slid to the floor.

Powerful hands grabbed Emma and jerked her around. Paul
loomed above her, his eyes wild with fear. “You left me there!” he shouted. “You
left me alone with her!”

His fear gave strength to her anger and Emma glared up at
him. “I left you alone with a figment of my imagination.”

Fury swept away what remained of his terror and he shoved
her down on top of her unconscious boss. At least, Emma hoped that Edgar was
only unconscious. He didn’t stir beneath her weight and blood smeared his face
and clothes.

Paul stood over her, fists clenched at his sides. “I knew
you were up to something when I found you in my office building today. When you
questioned me during your sessions, I worried that you’d found out what I was
doing. When I heard the police had found Layne, I suspected you’d try to tie it
to me.”

“And so you came here hoping to accomplish…what?”

Once again, he lifted a hand to the scratch on his face. “I
hoped to distract you long enough to dispose of any evidence I might have left
behind and then I planned to leave town.”

Emma eased away from Edgar. “You couldn’t have distracted me
long enough to dig all the DNA from under her fingernails. Not unless you
killed me first.”

“I didn’t think you would be here.” Paul’s anger vanished.
Lowering his hand to his suit coat lapel, he smoothed it down. Then he pressed
the button for the third floor and the elevator doors slid closed.

Emma’s heart pounded harder. “What are you doing?”

A cold smile curled his lips. “She may have told you that I
killed her but she won’t tell anyone else. Neither will you.” The elevator
began to rise. “People will say you were still distraught over what happened to
Brian. You still felt guilty for surviving when he didn’t.”

Leaning down, he grabbed her and hauled her to her feet. She
tried to pull free but his fingers dug into her arms.

“My report will indicate that you were depressed and
suicidal.” The elevator slid to a halt. Dragging her behind him, Paul stepped
out. “I came here tonight to check on you but I was too late. You went to the
roof and threw yourself off. Everyone will believe that Dr. Powell tried to
save you but he fell too.”

Emma wasn’t afraid to die. She knew the peace that waited on
the other side and when her time came, she would go without fear. But this wasn’t
her time or Edgar’s. She wanted to see her parents again. She wanted to see
Jason, to build a life with him. She wanted to live.

“You’re unstable, Emma. You’ll never forgive yourself for
surviving when Brian didn’t.” He spoke to her as a patient father might speak
to a distraught child. “You won’t be able to concentrate on your work. Your
usefulness is over.”

Knowing that begging would never break through to whatever
remained of his rational mind, Emma struggled harder, jerking on her arms and
kicking her feet. If she couldn’t reason her way out of this situation, she’d
beat her way out.

But Paul picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. “You’re
wasting your energy, Emma. I promise you won’t hurt for long. And Edgar Powell
is unconscious. I’ll go back for him in a minute. He’ll never know what hit
him.” He shoved open the door to the stairway that led up to the roof.

She grabbed the doorframe. “Is that what you told Layne and
your other victims?”

“I deal only with those who can’t take care of themselves.”
Breaking her grip easily, he carried her up the stairs. “Those who are a menace
to themselves and the society they prey upon.”

“I haven’t preyed on anyone!”

“You endanger my work.” Opening the door at the top of the
stairs, Paul carried Emma through. Lowering her feet to the graveled rooftop,
he shifted his grip and held her against his chest. Moonlight showered over
him, catching the mad glint in his eye. Almost patiently, he went on, “Those
who commit crimes must be punished so their victims may be avenged.”

Summer heat radiated off the roof but Emma felt only the
chill of fear. “You’ve killed people who couldn’t be held responsible for their
actions. Paul, please—”

“Everyone is responsible for what they do. Even those who
are incompetent to stand trial must pay for their crimes in some way. An eye
for eye, as my father would say.”

“That’s why you really do this, isn’t it? Because your
parents were murdered and their killer was never tried.”

“You know more than I thought you did.” He lowered his voice
and his words grazed the flesh just beneath her right ear. “Yes, that’s why I
do what I do.”

“And how will justice be served by my death?”

Before he could answer, she swung one leg back, striking and
buckling his knee. But when he fell, she went with him. The hard roof bruised
her face and knees. Grit blinded her and she couldn’t breathe beneath his
weight. But Emma wasn’t done yet. When he hauled her upright again, she came up
slapping and punching, determined to escape, determined to live.

Despite her efforts, he pushed her closer to the low wall at
the roof’s edge. “You’re only making it harder on yourself, Emma. Remember how
you felt the night of your accident, in that emergency room. You were free of
your body and your cares. You told me yourself that it was wonderful.”

“I’ve left notes.” She tried to twist in his arms but his
grip strengthened. “The police will know it was you.”

“Notes can’t hurt me if there’s no proof. Once I take care
of Edgar and the evidence under Layne’s fingernails, there will be no proof.”

She saw his eyes through the tangled mass of her hair.
Madness burned within the pale depths. He believed he was some sort of divine
dispenser of justice who could cover his tracks as he’d done in the past. But
Emma decided that if she had to die, she would at least provide proof that he
was her killer. She would make sure that Jason got the evidence he needed.

Throwing all her fear and anger into one move, she scratched
his face as Layne must have done, peeling his skin away with her fingernails,
feeling the heat of the blood she drew.

Howling in pain, he jerked his head back out of reach and
grabbed her wrists. Crushing them in his hands, he dragged her toward the roof’s
edge.

A siren blared in the distance. From a corner of her eye,
Emma saw flashing red and blue lights. Paul’s blood-streaked face turned toward
those lights.

“They’re coming for you,” Emma said. “You won’t have time to
remove the evidence from my hands and get to Edgar and Layne before the police
get here.”

Still holding her wrists, he looked down at her. Blood
trickled around his ice blue eyes. “You’re right.”

Hope shuddered through her. “It’s time you faced justice.”

“We’ll face it together.” That cold smile returned. “I’m not
afraid. You’ve told me what it’s like. Let’s go together and see what justice
has in store for both of us.”