Find Me If You Dare (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 2) (18 page)

                    Chapter Forty-Seven

It was later in the evening that Madeline and I sat in the waiting area of the MICU, waiting to hear about the condition of Dr. Ross. Logan and Director Phillips had gone ahead to the doctor’s residence to search the crime scene and look for evidence and clues. It seemed as though Elizabeth had slipped through their fingers once again. The authorities were canvassing the gated community where the doctor lived, but so far, there had been no sign of her.

Patrols had
also been increased on my family since we now knew that Elizabeth was still in the state. I tried to not feel panicked that my family may be in danger.

At this end, we were still waiting to hear if Dr. Ross had stabilized and if we could get in to speak with him again.

Madeline sat across from me on a hard cushioned chair, sipping a coffee she had bought at the cafeteria downstairs. I had a bottle of water and a stale granola bar I had purchased from the vending machine down the hall.

“What do you think he meant when he said that Elizabeth wanted to introduce him to the ‘Dragon’?” Madeline asked as she glanced up from her paper cup.

I had wondered when she was going to ask me that question. There wasn’t much that got past this lady.

I swirled the water around inside the bottle for a moment while I thought of the best way to respond. This was something I
had been thinking about for some time, I just wasn’t sure the best way to put it into words without sounding as though I was losing my mind.

“Well,” I answered hesitantly, “I have a theory.”

She arched her manicured eyebrows in question. I didn’t answer right away. She didn’t push further, just gave me her full, direct gaze.

“You’ll probably think I’m crazy,” I hedged, shrugging my shoulders.

“Since I’ve been involved in this case, I’m beginning to wonder who isn’t,” she gave me a half smile.

She was right. Everything in this nightmare would make you question your sanity. Her calm, matter-of-fact attitude allowed me to open up just a bit and trust her.

“Let’s hear your theory.” She encouraged.

“Well,” I hesitated again then decided to just get it out. “As
we were working on proving Elizabeth innocent of her mother’s death, we were going back and reading through Barbara’s journals that she kept on her computer. I also talked to Elizabeth during my visits and I think I made a few connections. There was one traumatic incident that happened when she was a young girl. Both she and Barbara mentioned it. It had something to do with a Halloween party and a séance. Now, I know that as a psychologist you’re trained to deal with facts, with medicine and science. But I think that something happened that night that was beyond science.”

I stopped, not certain if Madeline would be open to what I had to say.  She sensed my hesitation.

“Go on,” she prodded, “I’ll keep an open mind.”

“Well, from what Barbara wrote in her journals, I think she opened herself up to something that night that she shouldn’t have. As crazy and bizarre as it might sound, I think she became possessed that night. I think it was a demon of some sort. She called it the ‘Dragon’ or ‘Altrus Dracona’, Black Dragon.”

There, it was out. I waited for the distain, perhaps the ridicule. It was a wild idea, I knew. Few people believed in such things, and Madeline had always seemed to be a very practical, reasonable person. I held my breath, waiting for her response.

She put the coffee cup down on the table next to her and brought her hands together,
resting her chin upon them in thought. She took a moment to answer.

“I’ve been with the FBI for almost thirty years.
I was recruited right out of college, back when it was a man’s world and they didn’t give women a lot of credibility. Back then, forensic psychology wasn’t yet a catch phrase and criminal profiling was in its infancy. I’ve worked on numerous cases over the years, from terrorists to serial killers and each time I think I’ve seen the worst, the next case comes along to prove me wrong.”

Her usual confident façade fell for just a moment and I saw a world-weary expression on her face.
It was the first time I had considered the toll this line of work had taken on her. I couldn’t imagine what she might have experienced or seen over the years. Maybe I had underestimated her.

“Before I became involved in this case, before I had seen the things this one small woman was capable of doing, I would have thought it was impossible, or something out of a cheap horror movie. Now…”

Her eyes told me she was readjusting her way of thinking. Perhaps, for the first time in her career, she being forced to consider some things that she might have thought impossible before. She then blinked and thought through what I was saying.

“You said you thought Barbara was possessed,” she gave me a confused look, “but Barbara is dead. Dr. Ross said Elizabeth wanted to introduce him to the ‘Dragon’.  If Barbara really was possessed, then what did Elizabeth mean?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” I again warned her. Was she ready for this? I took a deep breath and forced it out. “I think that sometime before Barbara died, maybe that very night, the demon left Barbara and entered Elizabeth. I think it could be there inside of her, with all the other personalities. I think it could be the motivating factor behind all the murders.”

                    Chapter Forty-Eight

I held my breath and waited for Madeline’s response. Maybe I had lost it. Maybe all the stress was getting to me. Maybe I was so worried since Elizabeth had been on the loose that I was starting to see the bogyman around every corner. I had to admit, it was a far-fetched theory. Finally, Madeline spoke.

“It’s not enough that she could possibly have twenty-seven different personalities running around inside her head, but you think she might have a demon thrown in there too?”
It was hard to tell if she was taking me seriously or not.

The tiny woman stood up and started pacing around the small room, thinking through what I had said. For some reason, her opinion was important to me. I had come to respect her, not only as a professional, but as a friend. I didn’t want her thinking that I was losing my mind.

She paced for a moment in silence, thinking quietly. When she finally spoke, there was a haunted expression in her eyes.

“I had a case several years ago. There were a series of mail bombs. Boxes were sent to certain people through the US mail. Innocent enough you would think. When the recipient opened the package, it exploded. Two people were killed and several others seriously injured. I was called in to help profile the unknown suspect. We did a thorough background check on all the victims and found one person in common. He was an expert on rare religious books and artifacts. As it turned out, he had been forging various documents and selling them at a considerable profit. When he thought he might get caught, he decided to try to kill those he had deceived.”

She stopped her pacing for a moment and took a deep breath. The case seemed familiar. I thought I had remembered hearing about it on the news when I was younger.

“As we were closing in on the suspect and getting ready to bring him into custody, he was actually in the process and building and delivering another bomb. It accidently detonated and he was severely injured, but he survived. It took several surgeries to save his life, but once he was coherent, I was able to interview him extensively.”

She took off her glasses for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if reliving the memory.

“I asked him why he did it. I wanted to understand what his motivation was for killing and injuring all these innocent people. He told me there was a devil inside of him that spoke to him and made him do what he did. The odd thing was, though, he didn’t say it in a crazy, insane way. He was an extremely intelligent man. He had more degrees than I could count. There didn’t seem to be any mental health issues, except for a good deal of narcissism. His actions were all very thought through and deliberate. It wasn’t the old ‘the devil made me do it’ kind of a thing, either. He was absolutely convinced that a devil was present inside of him.”

She put her glasses back on and resumed her pacing
, her small feet tapping on the tiled floor.

“At the time, I wanted to believe it was just an excuse, a way to detract from what he had done or a clever way to use an insanity defense. But over the years since, I’ve wondered…”

She came to a stop in front of me. We were almost eye-level. Her gaze was direct, her eyes open and honest.

“I’ve never been one to believe in demons and possessions,” she
brought her hands up in a somewhat helpless gesture, “religion is a tricky thing when you’re in my profession. You are right. I have been trained to believe in the facts, in the evidence. Science and medicine are the backbone of psychiatry. But if I was ever going to step outside of that box, if I was ever going to believe such things as demons exist, the things I saw when I watched that video of Elizabeth’s sessions with you, well….”

She left the rest unsaid for the moment.
I knew what she meant. How could I have come face to face with Vesper, Myst or many of the others and not believe in demons, no matter what name you wanted to call them.

How many times had I confronted a member of the ‘family’ and known fear? Ho
w many times had I visited Elizabeth in the mental hospital and not known who or what I would be facing?

“There are evil being
s that exist inside of her.” Madeline continued. “No matter what you call them – personalities, alter-egos, demons, entities, I believe they are there. And no matter what we believe, the important thing is, Elizabeth believes they are there.”

Madeline was right, and I appreciated that she took my theory seriously and didn’t think I was nuts. As I thought through what she said though, something occurred to me. Maybe I wasn’t looking deeply enough into Elizabeth’s head. Maybe I was too distracted by all the other personalities inside of her that I wasn’t focusing closely enough on her, Elizabeth, the core.  Maybe the key was there somewhere. Maybe if I looked closely enough, the common thread to this killing spree she was on would start to unravel.

“Caitlyn Stewart?” A small middle-eastern man was standing in the doorway calling my name with an Indian accent.

“Yes?” I answered.

“Martin is asking, well actually, he’s demanding to speak to you. I really don’t think he should have any visitors at this time, but he’s quite insistent.”

             
       Chapter Forty-Nine

On our way back to the MICU, Dr. Jeetan brought us up to date on Dr. Ross’ condition. The loss of blood had taken a toll on his heart and they were having a hard time keeping his vitals stable. Even with the additional blood transfusions, his body was severely weakened. Besides the bruising to his face, he had received a concussion too. His nose was broken and he had a few facial fractures. He had been in and out of consciousness since I had seen him earlier but had woken up a short time ago demanding to speak to me.

As I entered what I thought of now as the “glass room”, I noticed that his face looked even more bruised and swollen than it did before.

“It is imperative that you do not upset him,” Dr. Jeetan gave a quiet warning as we neared the patient. I nodded silently and approached the injured man.

“Caitlyn?” Martin’s one good eye snapped open as soon as he sensed my approach. It still felt odd to be on such familiar terms with the doctor.

“Yes, I’m here.” I assured him. He seemed to relax just slightly once he knew I was there.

“Good,” his raspy voice
answered, “you didn’t leave.”

“No, I’m right here.” The nurses had brought two chairs next to his bedside which Madeline and I gratefully sat down in. “The doctor said you wanted to speak with me. Do you feel up to talking?”

‘No,” was his immediate reply, “but I need to anyway.”

I nodded but didn’t push. I wanted to wait until he was ready. A few minutes passed in silence.
The buzz and beeps of the machines monitoring his vitals seemed loud to my ears. After a while he let out a hoarse laugh.

“You always were a patient one.” His bruised face turned into a grimace, as though it hurt to laugh. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or giving me a compliment.
“I think that was why she was always so willing to open up to you. I think that was why the different family members gravitated towards you.”

There seemed to be a mixture of respect and envy in his voice.
I wasn’t quite sure how to take it. Maybe he was right. I had always been quiet and even-tempered, patient. Maybe that generated trust, both with Elizabeth and the others.

Trust.
Wasn’t that what she had accused me of betraying? Wasn’t that why she was so angry with me?

“She spoke of you. She told me things.” A haunted look came over his battered face. It was strange to see th
e normally confident and self-assured man so subdued and anxious. It was out of character to see him like this.

“What did she talk about while she was there?” I asked then thought of another question. “Who was there?”

The look in his eyes told me he knew what I meant. Which of the personalities were there?

“I have to admit,” he swallowed hard, “it’s very different when you’re not behind a wall of glass.”

Oh yes, the observation room. Now maybe he was able to understand what it was like confronting Elizabeth and her demons face to face, instead of behind a safe wall of glass, or a two-way mirror. How many times had I gone toe to toe with Vesper or Jade or any of the others? Perhaps he now had a new-found respect for what I was willing to endure every time I went to see Elizabeth.

“There were several there,” he admitted quietly. “Elizabeth only for moments here and there. Mostly it was Maxine and a few of the others.” His body shivered slightly as he alluded to the more dangerous members of the family.
I glanced up at his monitors, hoping the memory wouldn’t raise his heart rate too much.

“What did she want? Did she have a purpose there besides harming you?” I asked.

“At first she was mocking me.” Even in his weakened state I could tell that was offensive to him. “She wanted to play doctor/patient. She wanted to talk about her childhood. It was as though she was toying with me. I couldn’t tell if she was just trying to goad me or if she really wanted answers. She wanted me to tell her why she became what she is.”

I took a deep breath and tried to imagine what
he had been through. He must have been duct taped to his chair, helpless, while she circled around him, playing with him, taunting him. The fear and uncertainty must have been overwhelming. She was capable of anything. We certainly knew she was capable of murder. He really was lucky to be alive.

“Was she just rambling, or was there a coherent train of thought?” This question was from Madeline.

“It was mostly about her childhood. That and her friendship with you, Caitlyn. She said it was the one thing she could count on in her life. She said you were the only person she ever thought she could trust.”

His words struck a deep chord with me.
I had fought, since that night she had murdered my ex-husband, to build a wall around myself. I had desperately tried to separate myself from the bond we had once shared, to see her not as a cherished childhood friend but as the criminal and murderer that she was.

I couldn’t let his words shake me.

“Was there anything she might have said that would give you an idea what she planned to do next?” I prodded.

‘No,” he replied
reluctantly then a thought seemed to strike him. “It was important to her that I call you. She wanted me to confess that I should have treated her better. I think she wanted you to hear me die.” He swallowed hard again after saying the words. His one eye closed for a moment as he struggled to come to grips with what he had gone through. “I think it surprised her that you caught on so quickly, that you realized she was there with me.”

Maybe I had helped save him after all. The thought wasn’t entirely comforting when I looked at him and realized again how bruised and battered he was. He seemed to read my thoughts.

“You did save me.” He had never seemed to be a man of soft emotions. The concession must have been hard for him. “Whatever it was that appeared at that moment, it called itself the Dragon, and it didn’t intend to leave me alive.”