98/3 Closure By Degrees 3/3
After many assurances that Beverly did the right thing indeed, I call Jacobi from the car. "Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asks, and I roll my eyes. Next to me in the driver's seat, Cindy smirks, but doesn't say anything.
I tell him about the shrink, Jonathan Hoffs. He works out of an office in Half Moon Bay, together with three others who have set up the hotline together. With what Beverly has told me, he shouldn't be near another client, ever. Jill has pushed the warrant in the meantime.
"Where are you going?" I ask somewhat irritably, as Cindy takes the next turn left. I have a suspicion, and I do not like it.
"Home? Remember how you're on sick leave which means, you should trust your colleagues to make the arrest this time?" She sounds a bit exasperated, too.
I hate this, to be on the sidelines of a case that's so important. It's personal to all of us. I can't be idle.
At a red light, she turns to me with an apologetic expression, laying a hand on my arm. I sigh, not quite ready to give in, though my body soaks up the warmth of her touch. I am still tired. In the end, I'd rather step back from a case than screw it up. Still, I can't imagine resting, while that killer is out there somewhere. With Heather.
"I know," Cindy says softly. "I'll make you a deal; there's something I forgot to ask Beth. I'd like to drop by, and you can go talk to Jill and Jacobi and see how far they are."
I finally relax a little, and she smiles back at me before turning her attention back to traffic.
"It's got to be hell for Tom, though," she continues. "I can't begin to imagine how he must feel."
I stare out into the rain that comes down in heavy sheets. "I can."
***
At the bullpen, there's rather frantic activity. No one has expected this turn to worse. Both Tom and Jacobi are out at Half Moon Bay right now, and logically, I get looks that range from curious to sympathetic.
I flee to Jill's office while Cindy goes down the the lab the find Beth.
"If you ask me if I should be in bed, I might be doing something ill-considered," I warn her as a greeting.
The amused expression doesn't last long, as she pushes the coffee into my direction with a sigh. "It's a nuthouse here today. And like it or not, you shouldn't be here. Have you heard from the hospital?"
"About what?" I frown when I realize she's not talking about the case anymore. "Why should I? I was getting a little dizzy. Getting shot does that to you."
Jill rolls her eyes at me, though her gaze is concerned. "I'm glad you actually remember that. Look, I know you are worried about Heather... but you shouldn't be involved in this before you're back to hundred percent."
I open my mouth to protest, but she's quicker. "You're not right now, and don't even try to pretend."
A knock on the door interupted the conversation, and Cindy slips inside.
"Oh, good, just the woman for the job."
Cindy looks a little startled at that.
"Will you try and get her in bed now?"
Instantly red-faced, Cindy coughs, and Jill chuckles. "You two are beyond adorable. I was talking about doctor's orders here."
"Sure you were," I say. Banter's over now, as we're all reminded of the matter at hand. "You keep me updated?"
"Of course."
I leave her office, Cindy at my back, with a bad feeling.
***
Cindy has left for her own work when the call comes in.
Jonathan Hoffs is in custody now, his house and office rooms being turned upside down literally. He's married with two adult kids who are in college, and he denies ever having seen Laura Ingram or Bevery Mason.
I curse as Jill tells me over the phone. Time is running out for Heather, while we're running around in circles. I just know it. The brief exchange I had with him, the man who was in the house minutes before I arrived, is still very vivid on my mind.
My instincts are rarely wrong. This was someone who enjoys creating terror in others with a passion, on a level far beyond Dawson's private Armageddon scenario.
"What now?"
"Lab is working overtime again... they're trying to find something in his files. If he was clever, he hasn't kept any record of either Beverly or Laura."
"Get Beverly."
"She's on the way here as we speak."
"Good. I'll need twenty."
I hang up on her before she can share her assessment of my plan.
***
He listens to the young woman's story, indifferent at first, but holding her gaze with his patented interested expression as she chatters on. A college student, trouble with the boyfriend, doesn't seem to be suicidal. She's at that age when every change seems to be such a big drama, but she'll move on. His thoughts are already with the next patient, until she pauses, chewing on her lower lip before she says, "But now I don't know what to do. I'm pregnant."
He shifts in his chair, trying to hide his sudden excitement. "What do you want to do?"
She sighed, flipping a strand of her copper-colored hair behind her ear. "I don't really think I can have a baby right now. But I-- I'm scared."
He nods in acknowledgement, marveling at the wonder or fate that brings them all to his door. An opportunity for the revenge he's long sought.
"Have you told anyone?"
She shakes her head vehemently. "No, just you. I was hoping you could tell me where to go to-- you know."
Anger overshadows the thrill, and he struggles not to let it show, not to jump up and slaps that guileless expression off her face like he wants to. "Why don't I make you a tea and we talk about all of the options you have?"
She gives him a grateful smile. "That would be awesome."
He smiles in return, effectively covering his disgust. How can she ever think it's her decision to make? How can she dare? He thinks of the woman in the basement, the one who thought she could get away having a baby from a married man.
As he prepares the tea in the small kitchen next to his office, he thinks that it's going to be a busy night.
He returns a few minutes later to find her staring at her hands worriedly. Well, she doesn't know it yet, but she had more to worry about than her stupid boyfriend and wrong decisions.
He gives her a friendly smile, though he can't wait for the moment he can let the mask slip. "Milk or sugar, Ms. Thomas?" he asks her.
***
6th Degree
Fear lodges in her throat like some real object blocking her breathing. She'd kill for something to drink, though somewhere at the back of her mind, she's aware that thirst, or the nagging hunger she feels aren't her worst problems. He'll be back with a little water eventually. She dreads the moment. He doesn't talk much, and that's even worse. She has no angle, no way to start and talk him out of whatever he wants to do with her.
Heather only understands that this is a man who has molested two teenagers, probably more. He knows that she knows, and he won't let her get away with it.
She forces herself to take slow, measured breaths. She has got to calm down, any way. Not just for herself. Heather is startled out of her thoughts and the devastating realization how futile all her hopes have become, when the sound of the key in the lock is to be heard.
Her eyes widen when she recognizes the woman he's carrying.
"You've got company," he announced. "Just don't expect her to talk much... yet."
In the small pause he made, her heart has refused to beat, but then the pulse returns with a force strong enough to hurt.
She is alive; they both are.
Yet.
***
Tom shoots me an exasperated look, but doesn't comment on my presence otherwise. In the interrogation room, there's Jacobi with Hoffs. Jill comes inside with Beverly who looks rather frightened.
I give her an encouraging smile. "Hi Beverly."
She looks from me to the man behind the two-way mirror. Walks closer, only to spin around and glare at us. "Is this supposed to be some joke?"
I know it before she says, "This isn't Dr. Hoffs."
"Beverly, that is Dr. Jonathan Hoffs from the World Wide Web of Help For You Service," Jill explains.
"But it isn't the guy who saw me in Half Moon Bay," Beverly insists. "He isn't who--" Breaking off, she glances at me anxiously, and I step closer to her, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay. Do you think you can describe him to the sketch artist?"
"Really? Like on TV?"
Behind her back, Jill and Tom share a mild, if pained smile.
"Something like that," I confirm, as I guide her out of the room.
"Inspector Boxer?"
"Yes?"
"I think he sent Laura a picture once. It might still be on her computer."
***
The first sensation is instant severe nausea. Still groggy, Cindy barely manages to lean over the bucket by the side of the bed in time. Gasping for air, she tries to sit up properly, her attempt halted by a fit of dizziness.
All of that, however, isn't nearly as bad as the moment the realization sinks in, what happened, where she is now.
"I'm so glad you're awake." The voice sounds very concerned, and Cindy turns her head a fraction, slowly, as to not aggravate the nausea, to meet Heather's gaze.
"Sorry about that," she says miserably.
Heather gives her a small smile. "Don't worry about it. It made me sick, too."
Cindy tries to sit up once more. As her brain is starting to function properly again, she wonders why she isn't tied up. Did he think the drug would last longer? Whatever he did think, it's an advantage she's planning to use. "I'll try to get you loose," she promises, pushing herself off from the bed, but her knees don't quite carry her yet. She topples over and ends up in Heather's lap.
It makes them both crack up despite the fact that their situation, locked up down here by a man who has killed and probably won't hesitate to do it again, is everything but funny. Despite the fact he's most likely already decided that they're going to die.
"I'm sorry," Heather says, though she hasn't really done anything, laughter and tears mingling in her voice.
Cindy pulls herself up and finally manages to stand for long enough to try the knots of the rope that binds Heather to the rackety chair. She crouches down, starting to work on them.
"Are you okay?" she finally asks.
Heather's expression is somewhat wry, telling her, 'as much as anyone can expect to be', which is a relief. "Good. Now let's concentrate on getting us out of here."
***
I take Beverly who is now a little disappointed that she might not need to see the sketch artist, down to the lab to have her look at the files Beth could extract from Laura's computer. I'm glad no one really pays to much attention to me, because the room keeps swimming every now and then, but I can't back down now. We're close.
Beverly has hardly sat down behind the PC when the door opens again and Jacobi rushes in. "Whoever the guy is who posed as Dr. Hoffs, he also used the calendar on his server. There are a few appointments with patients Hoffs swears he's never seen."
This is making my head hurt, literally. "And he did only just notice that?"
Jacobi doesn't join in on the joke. He looks very serious instead.
"What is it?"
"Linds... you should look at this." He hands me a printout with brightly marked passages; the patients in Hoffs' timer that weren't his. Like the last one.
CINDY T.
The letters blur before my eyes. The entry was for today, about half an hour ago. "Damn it!" I swear, the same moment Beverly says hesitantly, "Guys...? I think I've found him."
***
"Oh my God." Jonathan Hoffs pales visibly when he is confronted with the picture of the imposter.
"You know him?"
"You can say that. His daughter was a client of mine once. A fourteen year old girl, severely traumatized. She was pregnant. The father--" He shook his dead, a flash of fury on his face. "Ryan Farmer. My testimony made sure that he went to prison. He shouldn't be out yet."
"Wait a minute." I share an incredulous look with Jacobi. "You say Farmer was the father--"
"Yes. He went ballistic when it came out and Emma was taken to a foster family."
"What's his deal with pregnant women?"
Hoffs' expression is grim. "In his sick reasoning, the child was rightfully his, and she had no right to take it away from him. I heard he even tried from prison to find her. Damn it, I can't believe he used my practice--"
"That's still pretty vague," Jacobi reminds him. "Why other women when he couldn't find his daughter?"
Hoffs is shaking his head. "He's a total nutcase. Could be women who are remarried, or a teenager like Laura Ingram - he thinks they don't have a right to their children. And from what you've been telling me, I can guess he's escalating."
I take a moment to absorb this, trying to shake this bad feeling. Cindy's name wasn't in the calendar accidentally.
What did she do?
***
They search the room together, every square meter, frustration rising. Their last attempt, finally, is to push the bed aside, and there it is, some kind of trap door in the wall, leading into a dark tunnel. Inside, the walls are not high enough for either of them to stand, but it's something, and it's leading away from this room. Cindy and Heather share a doubtful look. Somehow that seems too easy. It's not like they have so many alternatives left though.
"Why don't we try?" Heather suggests. "This guy is crazy. I don't want to sit around and wait for him to come back."
Cindy thinks she has a point. "Wait. I've got a little flashlight in my purse." It surprises her a little that it's actually still there. He took her wallet and cell phone though. Figures.
Heather is carefully stepping into the darkness when they hear the sound of footsteps, both of them freezing before the imminent return of their kidnapper jolts them into action. Since she is taking the lead, Cindy hands the flashlight to Heather, then follows her inside the tunnel. Something sharp digs into her leg. Heather spins around at her yelp. "What is it?"
"Nothing. You go."
It's not nothing, she can feel that she's bleeding, and stuck by the fabric of her pants, but she's not going to tell Heather.
"Let's see."
"No!"
Outside, the man is turning the key in the lock. "You're the one who's pregnant. I am not. Go!"
Heather gives her a desperate look, but she does what Cindy tells her. "I'm going to find a way out of this damn house," she promise. "I'll have someone call the police right away."
Then she is gone. Cindy gives a desperate pull, the pain almost making her faint. There must be some pole sticking out the wall, something with a sharp edge. She just hopes Heather will make do with the small flashlight and not run into any of those on her way.
"You come out of there," a furious voice orders.
"I can't," she gasps.
"We'll see about that." The man she met in Jonathan Hoff's office has a stronger flashlight, and he shines it right into her face. Cindy already feels lightheaded, and she thinks it'll serve him right if she throws up on his feet.
***
I have no idea how to describe my state of mind, and I don't have the time to try either. All I can think of is that our killer is escalating, taking two women in such a short amount of time. I don't dare think what that could mean for Heather. We need to find both Cindy and her by the end of the day.
There can't be any other outcome.
***
When she first sees the first rays of daylight through the grating, Heather nearly cries with relief, but now, several minutes later, she curses, her fingers are bleeding and she still didn't manage to open it. But she will, and then find the highway. Stop a car, and if she needs to juzmp right in front of it like a screaming banshee, then so be it.
She is well aware that Cindy Thomas, a woman she barely knows, is putting her life on the line for her and her unborn child. She'll make that chance count.
Heather gives another push, another fingernail breaking, but she doesn't care: the grating finally lifts.
***
7th Degree
I see the conflicting emotions flicker over Tom's face after he picks up the phone. Alarm, then relief, finally concern. It's driving me crazy. He turns away from our scrutiny, whispering something before he says goodbye and hangs up. When he turns back to us, his eyes are bright.
"Heather is on the way to the hospital," he says. "One of the unis is taking her there... she sounded okay."
"That's... great. What about Cindy?" My heart is beating so loudly I'm almost afraid I'm going to miss what he'll say. "What's going on, Tom?" He said 'her', not 'them'.
He pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly. "I don't know all the details yet, Linds. But Cindy wasn't with her."
"What?" The possible conclusions to this fact nearly make me stagger. Jill lays a hand on my arm in a calming gesture, but I shrug off the touch angrily. "What does that mean? Did she say anything about Cindy at all? Nevermind. I'm going to come to the hospital with you."
Tom holds up a hand. "You are not going to interrogate her."
"I won't. I'm on sick leave, remember?" I shoot back somewhat spiteful.
"I'm sorry. We'll get her back too," he promises, and knowing he means it, I'm the one who has to turn away for a moment. I can't let that emotion get in the way now though; that won't help Cindy. After a few more seconds to get my bearings, I face him again. "Where did the unis find her?"
"No way." He knows me too well. "I've got cops in the field searching the area already. As you've just pointed out, you are on sick leave."
I can't just stay here and wait. "Fine," I huff. "Anything happens, you call me on my cell right away. Jill?"
She looks a little hesitant, knowing that I'm about to make her an accomplice in something that Tom won't like. But for Cindy, she's going to help me.
***
"You think you're so smart, don't you?"
Both Cindy and the man start at the sound of a third voice. "You walk into my practice and commit crimes in my name."
It's the real Jonathan Hoffs, and he's training a gun on the imposter.
"Jonathan!"
The greeting makes all of Cindy's hopes dissolve into nothing. They know each other.
"Who did you think it was, you dumbass?" the psychiatrist asks. "Now where's the lieutenant's wife? Got away from you, huh? And this one, she's not even pregnant. You've been had."
"No! That is not true!"
"You tell him." Hoffs waves the gun at Cindy who has done her best to become one with the wall, then turns back to the other man. "You were trying to set me up with the cops, but that didn't work. Too bad they're real close now. You know I'm an expert on abnormal brains like yours. It's going to be easy to explain why you shot the girl and then offed yourself."
It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but when they do, the ground crumbles underneath her. This can't be happening. Not when she's been talking for her life, getting Farmer to tell the sickening story about how he'd punished every woman of his choice for the fact that his daughter had chosen to excluse the abusive father from her life.
While Hoffs' attention is still on Farmer, Cindy slowly moves closer to the hole in the wall where Heather hopefully escaped to freedom, biting her lip against the pain that each movement causes. Thank God she never neglected her Tetanus shots, because the deep cut is from a rusty piece of metal. She's going to be more careful.
When Hoffs pulls the trigger, Cindy yanks the trap door shut behind her, plunging herself into pitch black darkness.
***
"If we do what I'm thinking you want us to do, this is what'll happen," Jill tells me. "First, your boss is going to fire you. Then he's going to make my boss fire me."
"I can handle Tom. Besides, I think Denise has something of a soft spot for you."
At that, Jill flips me the bird and we both laugh. It makes me feel good for a moment, guilty the next. "There aren't many houses in the area, plus there are cops already there. Shouldn't be too hard."
Jill looks at me concernedly for a long moment. "Linds, are you sure you're up to this?"
"I am absolutely sure," I answer without hesitation. I can worry about myself once Cindy is safe. Maybe. The ringing of a cell phone jolts me out of my thoughts, but it's not mine. Jill's.
"This is weird," she says. "It seems like the delivery has been delayed. Cindy sends a dossier on Jonathan Hoffs. The real one. Let's hope he's still in the building. I'm calling Tom."
"You do that," I say, stepping on the gas.
***
The wood splinters as Hoffs fires another shot at the door. Cindy cowers on the floor, her hands over her head. He must have lost it. No way he can damage the place and then sell off the scene like he's planned to - but as it seems, he doesn't care much.
She really wants the police to be here right now. In fact, she needs Lindsay to be here and hold her, because she's about to lose it, but she's willing to compromise given the fact that Lindsay should be at home and resting.
One more shot has the lock breaking.
***
I don't get to be the hero. Once we arrive, the cops on the scene lead an angry looking Jonathan Hoffs to the squad car. My heart misses a beat at the sight of a body bag being carried out, and I all but yell at the officer in charge of the scene to tell me who's inside.
When he does, I feel like the ground is giving way under my feet, but I can't indulge myself yet.
Jill and I hurry down the stairs to the basement; it's a good thing when you have a badge and a friend with you who also has business being on a crime scene. Not that I'd let anybody keep me away now.
"You can come out now, Miss. It's safe," the paramedic pleads on one side of the splintered door. Is that how Heather escaped? I take in the scenery, the bed standing askew in the middle of the room, the chair with the rope still wrapped around the back.
The blood on the rough tiled floor. I shudder. It smells of fear and death in here. Hiding seems like a good idea.
"Let me," I tell the guy, and then crouch beside the hole in the wall. "Cindy?"
"Don't be mad at me. I can explain everything."
The pained tone just about breaks my heart. "I'm not mad." Carefully I clear away the wood and scoot closer. "Are you hurt, baby? Can you get out of there?"
I can finally touch her, the relief overwhelming but short-lived, as my hand comes away wet, smelling of copper, and I yell for the paramedic while cradling her in my arms. "It's going to be okay," I promise. It has to be, after everything.
"Lindsay Boxer, where the hell are you?" Tom's angry voice floats over to us. "Can't you follow a simple order?"
Cindy laughs a little, and I kiss her temple.
"That's why you got in here, hiding from the boss?" she asks teasingly, but her voice is shaking.
I need to make room for the paramedic now, much as I hate to let go. "Very funny," I say. "I guess I'll have to face his wrath though."
She holds on a moment longer. I can feel her shaking, or maybe it's me, too. "See you on the other side," I whisper, and then make my way outside.
Tom gives shoots me a furious glance. "That ghostly pale isn't a good look on you, Linds."
"Whatever. I wasn't asking you for fashion tips," I return. Behind him, Jill is biting her lip to stifle a smile, but she gets serious a moment later. "How is Cindy?"
"Hurt, but coherent."
We watch together as the paramedic briefly confers with his partner and then they carry the stretcher into the tunnel to get Cindy out, moving carefully to avoid the cut pipe that had caused the injury in the first place. I squeeze her hand briefly before they carry her upstairs. "I'll see you soon."
Tom opens his mouth to say something, but Jill interrupts him. "I'll drive. And there's no place safer than the hospital, right? Good night, Lieutenant."
***
When I enter the room, Cindy gives me a loop-sided smile, no doubt having been provided with the good stuff already. "I see they doped you well," I tease as I sit in the chair beside her bed. The light tone is only a thin surface. I know there are going to be rusty pipes, wood splinters and blood in the nightmares for a while.
She smiles regretfully. "I was supposed to make you rest. See what a lousy job I've done."
I lean forward to place a kiss on her lips, then take her hand when I settle back in the chair. "I can rest now. Case is closed, and what you sent Jill helped to figure out that Hoffs wasn't so innocent either. Farmer was blackmailing him because of some big time tax dodging."
"How's Heather?"
Tom had actually stopped being mad at me for long enough to tell me. "She and the baby are fine."
Cindy looks as relieved as I am about that fact. It's probably not the right moment to address this, but the subject inevitably brings us back to ther things unspoken. Given the close calls of the past 48 hours, I'm ashamed I let it go that far. She was meaning well. This is not just about me.
"I'm sorry." Her voice is barely above a whisper. "I shouldn't have presumed--"
"It's alright," I say. "It's not always going to be easy to be with me, but you don't have to turn into someone else to do it. If there's a decision to be made, we'll make it together."
She struggles to lean up and I meet her halfway, holding her close to me.
Here's one subject to which I've finally found closure. Tom and the life we've once planned; it's truly in the past now, and it's a good thing for both of us. I tighten my arms around Cindy, marveling at the weird, wonderful coincidences in life.
There was a time when I thought I'd never love again.
But I do, and I'm stronger for it.
There's one thing I don't share with Cindy tonight: Kiss Me Not is still out there, and no chance in hell I'll forget that for just one moment. But I'm back in the game now, and this time, I'm ready to win.