Obsessed (24 page)

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Authors: Jo Gibson

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BOOK: Obsessed
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Judy looked frightened. “Oh, no! I don’t want to press charges, Detective Davis. Michael just . . . he just flipped out, that’s all. I don’t want him to go to jail! I just want him to get some help.”

“That could be arranged. The court will order a period of observation in a mental facility if you request it.”

Judy looked hopeful. “If I did that, would Michael get some counseling for his problems?”

“Of course. Make up your mind in the morning. There’s no rush. He can cool off in a cell tonight.”

“Well . . . all right.” Judy gave Detective Davis a shaky smile, and then she turned to Andy and Carla. “If you see Michael, tell him that I’ll wait for him, and I’ll be right there when he gets out. That should make him feel much, much better!”

Twenty

J
udy parked her Volvo in one of the tree-shaded spaces
marked for visitors, and walked up the flagstone path to the lovely white house that was set on the crest of the hill. It was almost September, and here in the countryside, the trees were beginning to change color. A grove of maples created a riotous spot of bright red and orange against the rolling green hills, and the ash trees provided a lovely gold en shade. There were spruce trees, too, their dark green branches reaching skyward, weaving gently in the autumn breeze. Even the sky was a perfect crystal blue, dotted by puffy white clouds.

The day was lovely, the scene pastoral. Judy felt her spir its lift as she approached the entrance. The heavy mesh screens on the windows were almost invisible in the bright noon sun, and it all looked quite ordinary and quite beau tiful. Of course, not all things were as they appeared. Judy knew that. She’d been here many times before.

A discreet wooden plaque near the door identified the home as Brookhaven, and it could have been the setting for a romantic film. The peaceful grounds were deserted, and Judy felt as if she had stepped into a painted landscape. No one was out walking, although it was a lovely fall day. Per haps they were waiting until after lunch to enjoy the warm fall air.

There was a small brass buzzer by the side of the door, and Judy pressed it. Then she waited, tapping her foot on the floorboards of the old-fashioned porch.

“Yes?” A tinny voice came out of the speaker box near the buzzer.

“It’s Judy Lampert. I’m here to visit.”

“Come in, dear.”

The voice sounded friendlier now, and the door gave an audible click. Judy pushed it open, and waited in the ves tibule in front of another door, until the outside door had clicked shut behind her. Then an older woman wearing a white nurse’s uniform hurried toward her to unlock the sec ond door.

“Hi, Miss Danver.” Judy smiled as the nurse let her in. “How is he today?”

“Much better. The shock treatments seem to be helping. His parents were here yesterday, and they were sure he rec ognized them. He even made an effort to speak.”

“That’s good news.” Judy nodded. “Do you think I could see him?”

“I’m afraid not, dear. He had quite a setback the last time you were here, and the doctor thinks it would be wise to wait for another few weeks.”

“Oh. Of course.”

Miss Danver felt her heart go out to the pretty blonde girl who came to visit every week. Judy was a dear, and it was a pity her presence made the patient react so violently. Still, there was no use denying reality. Michael Warden suf fered a setback every time she visited.

“I brought him these.” Judy handed the nurse a pretty box, wrapped in gold paper. “They’re chocolate chip cook ies, and they used to be his favorites. I made them myself.”

Miss Danver smiled as she took the box. “That’s very sweet, dear. I’ll make sure that he gets them.”

“Do you think he might be able to see me next week?”

“Perhaps.” Miss Danver smiled as she told what she re ferred to as a little white lie. The doctor had left strict or ders, and this poor, sweet girl was no longer on the visitor’s list. “Just give me a call before you drive all the way out here. It’s a long trip.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. It’s so pretty here. And I always bring something for him, even if I can’t see him. I know this sounds crazy, but it makes me feel better to be even this close to him.”

“I understand.” Miss Danver gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, dear. But he’s getting better every day. I’m sure you’ll be able to see him before long.”

Miss Danver put her arm around Judy’s shoulders and walked her to the door. As soon as the inner door had closed behind her, she locked it and pressed the buzzer to open the outer door. She gave a deep sigh as she watched Judy walk down the path. Her shoulders were drooping, and her pretty blonde head was bowed. It was clear that she was very disappointed,
and Nurse Danver imagined her sorrow ful face, blinking back tears, as she walked all alone toward the parking lot.

Nurse Danver sighed again, as Judy rounded the bend and disappeared out of sight. She would have been very surprised indeed, if she’d been able to see the satisfied smile on Judy Lampert’s face.

Judy was smiling as she pulled out of her parking space. It gave her great pleasure to visit Michael, even if she wasn’t allowed to see him. It was good to know that he was here, behind locked doors. And he’d be here forever, if she had her way. After all, he’d almost ruined her life.

There was a country-western station on the radio, and Judy sang along as she drove down the road to the freeway entrance. The song was about how painful love could be. Judy smiled wryly. Michael had caused her plenty of pain, but now it was time to put all that grief behind her, and find someone new. Of course she’d have to be very careful to choose someone who would truly appreciate her.

Judy felt a sudden burst of excitement. She knew her new love was out there somewhere; all she had to do was find him. If
he turned out to be unworthy of her affections, she’d simply get rid of him. Just like she’d done with Michael.

*  *  *

The next visitors arrived within the hour. Miss Danver let t
hem in, and checked them off on the visitor’s list. They were allowed. Carla Fields and Andy Miller didn’t upset her patient at all.

“Carla, dear?” Nurse Danver held out the gold-wrapped box. “Would you take these in with you? They’re cookies that Miss Lampert baked for Michael.”

Carla nodded, and took the box. “Of course. Should we let him have one?”

“He can have as many as he wants,” Nurse Danver told her with a smile. Carla wasn’t as pretty as Judy Lampert, but she was a very nice girl.

Carla held the box in front of her as they walked down the long hallway, and turned the corner. Then she handed it to Andy. “Do you want to do the honors this time?”

“Sure.” Andy stopped next to a wastebasket, and, tore the wrapping from the box. He lifted the lid carefully, and frowned when he saw what was inside.

“She sent another note.” Andy unfolded the piece of blue stationery that had been placed on top of the cookies. “It says, They haven’t caught the killer yet, but I know you didn’t do it. Maybe someone else will get killed while you’re locked up, and then they’ll know that you’re innocent.”

“What do you think? Is it enough?”

“No. It’s in bad taste, but it doesn’t prove anything. She’s smart, Carla.”

Carla nodded. “It’s a good thing Michael didn’t get it. Her last note almost did him in. I’m glad the doctor stopped all his mail, except for the cards his parents send him. Do you think we’ll ever catch her, Andy?”

“Sure. She’s bound to mess up sooner or later, and we’ll be right there when she does. All we have to do is watch, and wait for her to make a mistake.”

“And meanwhile, poor Michael is locked up in here.” Carla took the note, and placed it carefully in the pocket of her purse. “Let’s go see him, Andy. Maybe he’s better today.”

They found Michael in the crafts room, staring down at a tray of paints. There was an easel propped up in front of his chair, but the canvas on it was completely blank.

“Hi, Michael,” Carla said.

Carla took the chair next to him, but Michael didn’t seem to notice that she was there. He didn’t even react when Andy took the paintbrush out of his hand.

“I want you to watch me very carefully, Michael.” Andy dipped the brush in a pot of brown paint. “I know you don’t want to talk, but there are other ways to communicate.”

Carla frowned slightly as Andy drew some lines on the canvas. Then she gasped as she recognized the design. It was a quiver with five arrows.

“Look, Michael.” Andy was very serious. “We know the arrows didn’t kill them. We need to know what kind of weapon she used. It’s very important.”

Carla held her breath as Andy held out the brush to Mi chael. Was he well enough to tell them? Or were they push ing him too hard? It was a big gamble. If Michael retreated back into his shell, it would take months to bring him back.

“Please help us, Michael.” Carla patted him on the shoul der. “We can’t do it alone.”

Michael’s hand began to tremble. And then he reached out to grasp the brush. He dipped it into the black paint and drew a stick that was shaped like an “L.”

“What is it?” Carla turned to Michael with a frown. “Can you tell us, Michael?”

Andy drew in his breath sharply, as Michael’s head dipped in a nod. Michael’s hand moved again, dipping the brush into the pot.

His hand raised slowly and he chose a blank spot on the canvas. And then he started to print, in bold block letters. TIRE IRON.

“She killed them with a tire iron?” Andy looked excited. This was a real breakthrough. “The tire iron was the blunt instrument?”

Michael nodded. He raised the brush to the canvas again. MINE MISSING. CHECK HER CA . . .

The word trailed off in a smear, and Carla reached out to take the brush from Michael’s trembling fingers. He was clearly exhausted. But Michael waved her away, dipping the brush in the paint once more. This time he used bright red, and the drops that fell from the brush looked like a trail of blood.

They held their breaths as the tip of the brush touched the canvas again. The brush strokes wavered, but Andy and Carla could clearly make out the words that Michael labo riously painted. STOP HER BEFORE SHE KILLS AGAIN!

The Crush II

This book is for “Dollar Bill.”

With special thanks to: John, Lois,
&
Neal,
the good people from V.N.A., Marian, Iris
&
Trudi,
Danny
&
the laptop, and Ruel.

Prologue

Judy Lampert had never been so mad in her life. Her face was red, her heart was pounding, and she felt like screaming in pure frustration as she knelt down on her adoptive parents’ immaculately kept lawn and peered through a gap in the hedge. There was a party going on next door. She’d seen her friends pull into the driveway and get out of the car, carrying platters of food. But she hadn’t been invited!

It was August in Southern California, and the af ternoons were bright and sunny. The broiling heat of July had passed, and it was no longer necessary to run the air conditioning twenty-four hours a day. It was perfect weather for a party, and that seemed to be what was happening next door. Cars had been ar riving for the past thirty minutes, pulling into Mr. and Mrs. Warden’s driveway and parking in front of the house.

Judy had been in her bedroom suite when she’d heard music coming from the patio next door. It wasn’t the type of music that Michael’s parents would enjoy. This was rock music, excellent rock with a driving beat that made Judy’s feet tap and wigg
le with the desire to dance. But why were Michael’s parents hosting a teenage party when their only son, Michael, was locked away at Brookhaven Sanitar ium? It just didn’t make
sense.

The gardener had just watered the lawn, and Judy felt moisture seep through the knees of her jeans. That didn’t matter. She had several new pairs hanging in her closet, and she had plenty of time to change clothes before she went to her night job at Covers, the teenage nightclub in Burbank. Getting her clothes wet didn’t bother Judy in the least. Her primary con cern was finding out exactly what was happening next door.

Judy parted the scratchy branches of the box wood hedge so she could see most of the patio. Her drama teacher at Burbank High was sitting on a tall director’s chair, surrounded by several people from Covers. Mr. Calloway owned Covers, and most of his staff were students. As Judy watched, Linda O’Keefe, one of the singers at Covers, grabbed Mr. Calloway’s hand and pulled him up to dance with her. Linda had sung several duets with Michael be fore all the trouble had started.

As Judy watched, Andy Miller, the short-order cook at Covers, whirled into view. Andy was dancing with Carla Fields, and they looked so funny, Judy almost giggled out loud. With his carrot-red hair and the extra inches around his waist, Andy wasn’t any girl’s dream guy. But he could certainly do better than Carla!

Carla was the assistant manager at Covers, a nice girl, but not the type that any boy would look at twice. Carla had nondescript brown hair pulled up into a bun, and she wore horned-rimmed glasses. Today she was dressed in her usual outfit, a baggy skirt and an over-sized blouse. Carla came from a poor family and her clothes were all thrift store bargains. She didn’t own anything that fit her properly.

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