The Awakening s-1 Page 24

  Reddened from smoke and blurry with pain, Mort opened his eyes and looked at Luther. "No."

  Frustration threatened to implode. "No what?"

  Mort pressed his lips together. Flames had singed parts of his hair. A hastily bandaged wound in his side still oozed blood. Various scrapes, bruises, and burns discolored his fair skin. "Gaby's not here, Luther," he said. "She was never here." And then he passed out.

  The paramedics hurried on their way.

  Sensing a betrayal, Luther watched as Mort was loaded into the ambulance, and he stood there as it drove away, stood there even as the lights disappeared from sight.

  Morty had appeared too sick and hurt to lie.

  But then, maybe he was too sick and hurt not to lie.

  Luther needed to figure out which it might be.

  Epilogue

  Head pounding and irritation level at an all-time high, Luther strode down the hospital corridor. His thoughts joggled left and right, but always there, dead center, was a need to see Gaby.

  She'd gone and disappeared on him, and he was pissed as hell.

  When he pushed open the hospital door to Morty Vance's room, he found Ann sitting on the side of the bed, one of Mort's big-knuckled hands in both of hers.

  Un-fucking-believable. But he had to admit, ever since the night of that awful debacle a week ago, Mort was different.

  The nurses saw it, and Ann evidently did, too.

  In the normal course of things, Ann was too independent to accept any gentlemanly favors. She went out of her way to prove herself an equal to the male detectives.

  Yet today, she'd asked Luther to drop her off near the hospital entrance before sending him off to park the car. She was that anxious to see Morty.

  The entire world had turned upside down.

  Ann ignored his entrance, but Morty said, "Hey, Luther."

  Reclining in bed, his hair freshly washed, his face cleanly shaved, and a crisp hospital gown the only concealment to his scrawny bod, Mort seemed… more of a man than Luther remembered.

  "Am I interrupting?"

  Ann let out a sigh. "Instead of being an ass, why don't you keep Morty company while I go get him something to eat?"

  "There's nothing I'd rather do." Luther waited until Ann had circled the bed, then said, "I'll be right back, Mort. I need a quick word with Ann first."

  "Sure thing, Luther."

  Damn it, he even sounded more confident. Once in the hall, Luther stared down at Ann. "Please don't tell me you're interested in him."

  Smug, Ann smiled and examined a nail. "Why would I tell you anything at all? My private life is none of your business."

  "Jesus."

  Ann shrugged. "There's definitely something about him."

  Because he'd felt the same way about Gaby, Luther let it go. "Is he talking much this morning?"

  Ann's smile became a warning frown. "Don't you dare forget that Mort almost died and is just now recovering from all he went through. He doesn't remember many of the details from that night, and you badgering him won't change that."

  "And now you're a mother hen." Luther rolled his eyes. "Go get the food while I entertain Sir Lancelot."

  As she walked away, Ann said, "Sarcasm is not an attractive trait in a man."

  Luther waved that off. After days without sleep, a nonstop headache and a feeling of grave loss, being attractive dropped way down on his list of priorities.

  The second he stepped back into the room, Morty said, "I haven't seen her, Luther. I swear. I wish I had."

  Unconvinced, Luther sidestepped that to ask, "How are you, Mort?"

  Leery, Mort frowned at him. "The docs say I should get out of here soon. My head is fine now. If that explosion hadn't sent debris into my guts, giving me an infection, I wouldn't have been here this long." He leveled his brows. "And I really don't know where Gaby is."

  "Okay." Taking the chair beside the bed, Luther said, "But you'd tell me if you did?"

  His eyes narrowed. "Not if you wanted to arrest her. Gaby didn't do anything wrong."

  "I didn't say she did." As annoying as it was to be without answers, Luther applauded Mort's defense of Gaby. She deserved a few defenders in her life. "In fact, against my instincts, I'm beginning to believe you that she wasn't even there that night."

  Mort's eyes widened. "You are?"

  Not entirely, but he said, "I located that little hooker friend of hers—Bliss."

  "The girl Gaby saved from being abused."

  "That's the one. Bliss had an interesting story to tell me. She claims Dr. Chiles threatened to kill her, just as she'd killed Rose, another hooker, if Bliss didn't trick Gaby into coming to the isolation hospital. The thing is, Gaby wasn't supposed to go until the next night, when the doctor planned to ambush her."

  "You mean kill her."

  "Probably." The idiot doctor hadn't realized whom she was up against, to think Gaby would be that dumb. "Far as Bliss knows, Gaby planned to do just that, even promised that she would. But then she went missing, and you went to the abandoned hospital instead." Luther leaned forward, lowering his voice. "And you found the doctor and killed her."

  Putting both hands to his head, Mort closed his eyes. "I still can't believe what I saw there. I only went because Gaby seemed cautious of the place. She said the woods were filled with malevolent spirits."

  "She had that much right."

  "When I couldn't find her, I went there to look for her."

  "I'd just dropped her off, Mort."

  "I didn't know that." He rubbed at his temples. "I wanted to protect her from whatever was there, but I'm a coward, so I took the gun—which I'd bought off the street from some guy I haven't seen since."

  Dryly, because he didn't quite believe that either, Luther said, "Yeah, I have your statement on my desk."

  Mort shook his head. "That crazy doctor would have maimed me, Luther, just as she'd done to those other people."

  "Probably."

  "Even after I shot her, she still tried to come after me. She hit me with that long-handled saw. And she was strong, let me tell you."

  "I saw. She'd practically bled to death before she collapsed. If she'd been just a little stronger, I don't think you'd be here today."

  Mort shuddered. "And those poor patients of hers…" He squeezed his eyes tighter. "They were so deranged from Dr. Chiles's torture that they didn't know what they were doing. I had to defend myself from the ones that came after me."

  "Brain cancer is a horrible thing," Luther said, citing what professionals had told him. "It can obliterate a kind personality, and instead bring out very hostile behavior." Sitting back, Luther stretched out his legs and kept a close watch on Mort's reaction. "But some of those people were too far gone to move, much less physically assault anyone."

  "I know." Mort nodded and opened his eyes. "The doctor killed them. You saw that awful scalpel she had. It was insane the way she started slashing and slashing—"

  Luther still had a few nightmares himself, so he interrupted Mort's morbid retelling. "In all the time you knew her, Gaby never mentioned any place she might go?"

  "No." His voice softened with sadness. "Until recently, Gaby never told me much of anything. I wish I did know where she was. I'd go to her and tell her… I'm still her friend."

  "Yeah." Luther rubbed his tired eyes. He wanted to tell her something similar himself, only with a little more passion. "If you ever do hear from her, tell her I want to see her, okay?" He glanced toward the door to ensure their privacy. "Off the record, Mort. Tell her I just want to talk to her, to know she's okay. Nothing else."

  "Okay." He eyed Luther. "If I see her."

  As Luther stood, he noticed the large, thick envelope on the bedside table. "A present?"

  Excitement brightened Mort's countenance. "A new Servant manuscript. Ann found it when she picked up my mail for me."

  Suspicion sparked, and it had nothing to do with Ann's additional signs of infatuation. Luther recalled the similarities in Gaby's b
ehavior and the lead character of the Servant novel. If she modeled herself after the heroine, it might be a way to track her.

  Of course, it could just be that he was getting desperate. But still… "You've already read it?"

  "Most of it." Though he winced, Mort sat up a little straighten "It's incredible. Do you want to read it when I'm done?"

  "Yeah. I do. Soon as you finish with it, let me know."

  Ann walked back in carrying a tray of fresh fruit and a warm waffle.

  As a visual nudge, Luther glanced at his watch. Now that he'd spoken to Mort, they both had other things to do.

  "Don't start pacing," she said. "I'm ready to go, too."

  She gave Mort the food, kissed his forehead, and after whispering something in his ear, left with Luther.

  "That was nauseating," he told her.

  "Get used to it."

  "Really?" Luther could barely credit such a thing. Morty and Ann? He shuddered. "You're hitting me at a bad time, Ann. I'm not sure I can take it."

  "You're just stressed. You've worked hard tying up the loose ends, getting that creep at the crematorium to confess. But he did just that, even detailing how the doctor paid him to look the other way. You need to take a day off, relax a little. Sleep. And eat."

  "Yeah, I'll get right on all that—tomorrows." Today, he wanted to follow a few improbable leads. If he didn't track Gaby down soon, he had a feeling he'd never find her.

  And that possibility was unacceptable.

  Unfortunately, the weeks went by and still Luther had no clue where to find Gaby. Mort continued to deny any contact with her, and after staking out his place, Luther had to believe him. The Servant novel, while addictive, hadn't provided any new clues. In fact, it had depressed the hell out of him because the lead character had suffered a setback and as a result, would live her life in lonely, detached isolation.

  If Gaby allowed the graphic novel to influence her, that plot turn didn't bode well for him.

  After another long stressful day, he was about to pack up and head home for the night when a bruised and battered man walked in. He made a beeline for Luther.

  Feeling more than a little uncharitable, Luther asked, "Got run over by a truck?"

  "No, some little bitch over on Fifth and Elm did a number on me."

  That put Luther back in his seat. The man sported a black eye, a bleeding nose, bruises on his cheek and chin, and a hand pressed to his ribs. "You say she was little!" With a nod of his head, Luther indicated the man's bludgeoned posture. "And she did all that to you?"

  Hot color flushed beneath the black and blue marks. "She was skinny, but tall. Maybe as tall as you. Fast and strong and mean as hell."

  Tall. Skinny. Mean.

  Could it be? Hope slowly brought Luther to his feet. "Dark hair?"

  "Yeah. Has someone else been in to complain about her too?"

  Luther waved that off and scowled at the man in accusation. "Why'd she maul you?"

  "Hell if I know! She took offense at something I did."

  "To her?"

  He propped himself against Luther's desk and shook his head. "No, to some old whore trying to rope me in."

  None of it seemed plausible—which seemed exactly like Gaby. "Rope you in how?"

  In a quandary now, the man did a verbal stumble. "She… made an offer. I wasn't going to take her up on it. I don't need to pay for sex. But I told her she was charging too much anyway."

  "Right." In other words, the man had tried to shortchange a prostitute on an agreed-upon amount. "You insulted a hooker, and for that a female bystander beat the shit out of you?"

  More color rose in his face. His teeth clenched. "I think she was a whore, too."

  Rage seeped in. "What?"

  "She was hanging out with a few of them, being all chatty and friendly-like. Then boom." His fist hit the desk. "She threatened me."

  Surely, the man wouldn't be that stupid. "And then you took a swing at a woman?"

  Guilt had him backing down off his tirade. "I wasn't really going to hit her! I swear. But before I knew it, she was all over me. Kicking, slugging it out like a dude, All without making a sound. I swear, I think she was letting off steam."

  Every nerve in Luther's body twitched. "You say she's over by Fifth and Elm?"

  "She was. But that was damn near an hour ago." He touched his swollen eye. "You going after her?"

  "Damn right." Luther grabbed up his car keys, his wallet, then he paused. It sounded like Gaby, but then again, it didn't. "Was she dressed like a hooker?"

  "Not like any I've ever seen. But why else would she be hanging out with them?"

  Thank God. He couldn't quite imagine Gaby in flaunt mode. "What'd she have on?"

  "Sloppy clothes. Loose sandals. Oh, and a choker necklace."

  Luther's heart pounded hard. Would Gaby still be wearing his gift? "Describe it."

  With a shrug, the man said, "Black leather, I think. With a little silver cross in the middle."

  "Ann!"

  At Luther's shout, the man jumped a foot and Ann came running. She looked worried. "What?"

  "Finish with this guy, will you?"

  "Sure, but why?"

  Like he had time to explain! "I'm going out."

  "All right, fine, but… Luther! Slow down."

  "No time."

  "You can answer a single question, damn it." Ann caught his arm and pulled him to the side. "Now, what's going on? Are you okay? Where are you going?"

  He tucked his wallet away, straightened his tie. "That's three questions, Ann."

  "Answer one of them, damn you!"

  "I'm fine." A smile broke over his face. "I'm going to get someone who got away."

  "A suspect?"

  "No. She's not… that." Gaby was too smart to stay in the area if she thought he'd have any reason at all to arrest her. Either she was innocent, or she knew he couldn't pin anything on her. At the moment, either suited him just fine.

  Ann didn't appreciate his rush. "This is insane. Do you need backup?"

  He actually grinned, his first real grin in a long while. "No, but she might when I get my hands on her." On impulse, whether Mort liked it or not, he pulled Ann in close and gave her a sound smacker right on her mulish mouth. "Hold down the fort, sweetheart. I'll be back when I can."

  On his way out the door, Luther vowed, "You won't escape me again, Gabrielle Cody. Not a second time."

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