She nods. “I’ll leave as soon as he does.”
There’s something about her words that sit in my chest as I get in the Porsche. The idea that maybe, somehow in my relationship with Eve, I left first, at least emotionally.
It happens, especially when I’m writing. Wrap myself up in the fiction, absent in mind, if not in body, for hours, days at a time.
I did it at work, too.
I’ll fix that when I reset my world.
Honey, I’m coming home.
I turn on the radio, and my gaze falls on the file folder from last night. The Mulligan file. I shove it into my satchel to look at later, and pull out, heading downtown.
My phone buzzes in the cup holder, and I turn on my Bluetooth. My ride might be vintage, but I tricked it out with all the current technology.
Burke’s voice booms through the speakers. “Hollie woke up. Meet me at the hospital.”
Aw. Not the item at the top of my agenda, but lives are at stake here, too, and the past isn’t going anywhere, so I agree and hang up.
The University Hospital is a sprawling set of buildings seven blocks deep but it has a valet parking service and although it grinds me, I pull up, get a ticket and let some kid take my pretty into the high rise lot while I find Hollie’s floor.
Burke is outside the room, leaning against the wall, his arms folded. “It’s a miracle. They thought she’d never talk again, maybe not even wake up. But she’s awake, coherent, and the doc says you can talk to her for five minutes.”
Her parents are in the room, next to her bed. Hollie is still under oxygen, the bruises around her neck deep purple. Her face bears the marks of a struggle, her eye blackened, her lip broken. But she’s alive and that’s all I can think of as I come up to the bed. She’s alive, and twenty-three other women aren’t, and if I can catch this guy, then I leave this timeline a safer place.
“Hollie,” I say. “I’m an Investigator with the Minneapolis Police Department. Rembrandt Stone. I’m so sorry about what happened to you.”
Her eyes film, and I get it. When people understand your pain, it’s easier to trust them. Not a technique—I mean the words—but it helps the questions go down easier.
Eve taught me that.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about your attacker. That okay?”
She nods and out of the corner of my eye, I see her father take her hand.
“Do you remember anything about him? Any description?” We already have the time and place, the details of the attack from Eve’s crime scene report. What I need are specifics to help me find, and nail, Leo Fitzpatrick for these murders.
Her breath hiccups and her voice comes out soft and a little hoarse. “It happened so fast. I was coming out of work at Mahones and I heard someone behind me. I started running, and he tackled me. He put his foot in my back and held me down and…” Her eyes are filling. “He told me not to scream, but I did anyway, so he hit me. And then he…” She looks away. “I couldn’t breathe.” She closes her eyes and I hate that I have to ask her to relive this.
“Do you remember anything, his voice, his smell—”
“Yes.” She looks back into my eyes, her gaze searching. “He smelled…like a locker room. Sweaty and foul and…” Her expression matches her words. “He kept talking so quietly the entire time, saying I’m sorry, and Don’t scream. He sounded…wounded. Like he was angry that he was hurting me.” She shook her head. “I don’t remember anything else.”
A gym. That’s at least, something. “Thank you, Hollie.” I meet her father’s eyes and I thank him too. ?
?If she remembers anything else…”
He nods, his eyes dark with fury and I feel it in my bones. I get it.
Leo Fitzpatrick killed my daughter, too.
I need to see that file, and I say as much to Burke when I walk out of the room.
He’s clearly still on the precipice and I give him a look. “I need to check something,” I say, as if the interview has dislodged a clue. “I have a hunch.”
His face betrays the fight I might have to have with him.
“Okay. Against my better judgment. I’ll get it for you as soon as I get back to the office. I have a meeting, then I need to pick up my car from the shop.” He checks his watch. “Could be a while.”