The Stranger Inside, page 22
part #4 of Stranger Series
I really needed to do those things. To hurt them. Like really hurt them . . .
What the hell does—? Then a thought flashed into her mind and her mouth went dry.
No.
It didn’t make sense. Not Josh. He’d been the golden child. The perfect one.
Josh? No. No way. No freaking way.
She reread the letter, barely able to breathe.
CHAPTER 40
DIANE SAT IN a straight-back chair next to her son’s hospital bed and held his cool, limp hand as he slept. The room was cold, sterile, quiet, except for the steady beeping of the machines that were connected to Josh’s body.
They’d been at the hospital now for thirty-six hours; the first twelve she’d spent in a waiting room while her son was in surgery and then recovery.
Alexa was also there. She lay curled into a ball on a blue vinyl couch against the far wall. When a nurse peeked in the room, Diane didn’t even bother looking up.
“Mrs. Christie?” she said, her voice sounding far away. “The neurologist, Dr. Renshaw, will be in here in a few minutes to check on your son.”
But Diane didn’t have the energy to respond. She stared at her son, his face partially covered in bandages. Was her love for him so strong that she had refused to see what was happening right in front of her face? Had she somehow known something was going on but looked the other way?
She thought of the timing. Had Frank’s suicide been a catalyst? Or had Josh murdered before?
She stared at Josh . . . her sweet little boy. But he wasn’t so little anymore, was he? And he obviously wasn’t as sweet as she’d always thought him to be. Her stomach roiled.
Oh, God. People are going to think he’s a monster.
Is he?
She flinched.
Yes. She imagined he was.
Her throat was on fire from all the screaming. The crying. She’d cried for the victims. For the families that had lost their children. She cried for Josh. And for losing him.
Even if he survived this, they would take him away.
She didn’t think there was a death penalty in Massachusetts, but they’d lock him away for life for sure. And who would care for him when his health was on the decline? When he needed his breathing treatments?
In hindsight, all the puzzle pieces snapped together in her mind. The dogs that had gone missing over the years. How much Josh had grieved afterward. Hurting them had been traumatic for him, hadn’t it?
But he still did it . . . and had continued to.
She thought again to his lifeboat questions. Now she realized every question he asked had been a test. He was wrestling with his guilt. Wanting assurance that she’d love him—even though he’d done such heinous, abominable things. Wanting to know if she would be there to rescue him.
She still felt a burning need to protect him. But from what?
Justice?
But that was insane. She knew that wasn’t right—and that it wasn’t something she could do. This time she couldn’t protect him. He was in too much trouble.
Her phone chimed, snapping her tired mind back to the present.
Lance.
He had texted and called her at least four times over the past several hours because she’d left that text message saying she thought she might know something about Trish’s murder.
That seemed a lifetime ago . . . when she thought that Rick could be behind the killings. Right now she was wishing he had been. It was incredible how much had changed in the span of a few hours.
“Who keeps calling you?” Alexa asked from the back of the room.
Diane glanced at her daughter. “Lance.”
Her daughter seemed to recoil at the name.
Diane poised her thumbs on the phone’s keyboard. She wasn’t sure what to say. She was going to have to turn Josh in before they came looking for him. It was the right thing to do, and she knew the consequences for harboring a murderer, and she couldn’t afford to go to jail. Alexa needed a parent.
But she hadn’t been able to do it yet—because once she did, she knew there was no going back. She also worried his medical care might suffer once they knew he was a killer. She would tell the detectives, but not until she was ready. She wanted to spend a little more time with her son while people didn’t know, because once they did, the place would become a circus.
She finally decided what to type.
DIANE: No need to worry. Everything’s fine. Just a silly idea that makes no sense anymore.
She set the phone in her lap.
Please. Just let it go and don’t respond.
But a thought bubble immediately popped up, indicating he was already responding. Then the text came through:
LANCE: Are you sure?
Before she could type a response, the phone rang. He was calling her.
“Shit.”
She took a deep breath, mustering all her energy to sound normal. “Hi.”
“So what is the information you have?” Lance asked.
“Like I said, it was silly.”
“I’d still like to hear it.”
Her voice was thick. “No.”
A nurse’s voice crackled over the hospital PA, and Diane quickly covered her phone.
“Where are you?” Lance asked.
“At home.”
Then she remembered gunshot injuries were reported to the police. Had Lance seen the report? If he hadn’t, he would soon.
“Now’s not a good time to talk,” she said.
“Okay,” Lance replied. “I guess I’ll see you at the crisis center?”
“Yeah,” she lied.
“Oh, and Diane. Since I know you’re so interested in the case, I thought you’d like to know that they have a witness now.” Lance continued, “He attacked a girl yesterday in Fog Harbor. He did it in broad daylight, and apparently he let her go. We’re having a sketch composite made right now. We also pulled surveillance video from Brookmart, and we’re working on an IP address. We’re getting really close.”
Diane hung up.
Josh had attacked someone else? Then let her go?
“Mrs. Christie.”
Diane turned toward the voice. It was a blond doctor she’d seen earlier that morning. “I’m Doctor Renshaw, chief neurologist,” he said. His face was soft, his eyes kind. “I’m here to check on your son again.”
Diane nodded.
She stood and stepped back to give the doctor room. He walked past her and checked the readouts on the machines, then examined Josh.
Diane stared at the floor, feeling completely powerless. “Mrs. Christie? Are you okay?”
Okay? What an ignorant question. No. She wasn’t okay.
She felt a hand on the small of her back. Rick had returned with a cup of coffee for her. His face was drawn, concerned.
He tried to guide her back to the chair, but she didn’t want to sit. She looked at the doctor, preparing for the worst. Would her son survive? Earlier this morning they said that there was more than a 50 percent chance.
Dr. Renshaw took a seat in a chair and rolled it closer to her. “Your son’s a lucky boy,” Dr. Renshaw said.
Lucky? The word sounded ludicrous.
“Only about ten percent of gunshots to the head are nonfatal. And out of that percentage, most never fully recover.”
She stared at him, waiting for him to go on.
“The trajectory of the shot shattered his jaw, which deflected the bullet. It did do some damage to the frontal lobe, but from what we can see so far, it seems to be localized. His jaw can be rebuilt.
“The frontal lobe damage could result in some changes in personality, but hopefully nothing too radical. Time will tell.” He paused to let what he’d said sink in. “But like I said, he’s lucky. If the angle had differed by just one degree in either direction, he would have likely suffered enough brain damage to leave him completely unresponsive.”
Diane nodded, knowing she’d need time to process the full meaning of what the neurologist was telling her.
“He’s not out of the woods quite yet, of course. But barring any complications, things are looking pretty good for him. Please pardon the pun, but your son literally dodged a bullet.”
Rick laid a hand on her shoulder. She heard Alexa sobbing behind her.
The neurologist went on. “When he recovers, it’s very likely he may suffer from ongoing seizures, the severity of which we can’t know at this point. But if that happens, there are always antiepilepsy drugs. The best thing you can do for him right now is to take good care of yourself. He’s going to need you, and when he does, you need to be ready.”
Diane’s mind raced as the neurologist left the room. The prognosis hadn’t looked nearly as good just a few hours ago. Josh had shot himself in the head. How could it be possible that he might be okay?
Rick unpacked a sandwich from a paper bag he had brought back from the hospital cafeteria. “You need to eat,” he insisted. “You can’t just keep getting by on coffee. Like the doctor said, you need to take care of yourself.”
Diane looked at the sandwich and shook her head.
“Maybe something else? I can get you whatever you like,” Rick offered. He slid a chair next to hers. The metal legs screeched as they dragged across the linoleum floor. Rick took one of her hands and held it. His touch felt good, warm. She had been pouring out all of her energy; it was nice to have a little poured back in.
She considered telling Rick what Josh had done, but then decided to wait . . . just a few more minutes. She needed just a few more to muster the energy. To wrap her head around the fact that Josh had done these terrible things, if that was even possible.
“Mom, we need to talk,” Alexa said, appearing in front of her. Alexa knelt down, her gray-blue eyes urgent. She looked and sounded softer than usual. Even loving, maybe. Definitely frightened. “It’s important.” Her eyes slid over to Rick. “And it’s private. Sorry.”
Rick nodded and squeezed Diane’s hand. He stood. “I’ll be right outside,” he said and left the room.
Alexa took a seat in his chair and leaned forward. “I know, Mom,” she whispered.
Diane stared at her. “Know what?”
“I know,” she said. “About Josh. I found his note.” She pulled the folded piece of paper from her pocket. Diane stared at it in disbelief. She took it from her daughter.
“Does anyone know yet? Besides you and me?” Alexa asked. “The police? Rick?”
Diane shook her head. “I don’t think so. Why?”
Alexa lowered her voice even more until her words were barely a whisper . . . and she said something that raised the hairs on Diane’s neck.
A FEW MINUTES later Alexa followed her mother to a bathroom in the corridor. Her mother stared at her in surprise . . . or horror . . . or maybe both.
“Why would you even suggest such a thing, Alexa? You have your whole life ahead of you.”
Alexa was crying so hard everything looked blurry. She could hardly see her mother’s beautiful but pained face—or the bathroom stalls behind her. “No. You don’t understand. I . . . have nothing but you and Josh. I realize that now. You’re my world and I just could never see it. I’m flunking school. I’m depressed and scared and I can’t figure it all out myself. I’ve been trying, and I just can’t. Not alone. I need you. And I think maybe you need me, too.”
She looked deep into her mother’s eyes. “Let me help. Please. I want to. For me as much as for you and Josh.”
She watched her mother stare at her. The shock that had been on her face had transformed into something different. Was she considering it?
“We can’t let them take him,” Alexa continued. “They’ll try to kill him if we don’t get him out of here. Give him the death penalty—or lock him up forever. We can help him. You used to be an emergency room nurse. And you’ve been taking care of his medical needs for years, so you’ll know what to do. It’s Josh. We can’t let that happen,” Alexa pleaded. “That would kill you. You know that. That would kill you, and I’d . . .” She paused and sniffed. “I’d never get you back. I’d lose you both.”
Her mother peered down at the scuffed tiles and seemed to think about it all. Alexa grabbed her slight hands and squeezed them. They were cool beneath her touch.
Please say yes, she thought. Please. Because she knew that if Josh was taken away, there’d be no family any longer. No second chance to be who she wanted to be. Selfless, a good person. A good daughter. A good sister. This was her opportunity to finally be there for her mother and brother—and in a meaningful way.
A big way.
She was more than willing to trade in her miserable life for one that could be better. To get a clean slate somewhere where no one knew them. But her mother needed to be on board. To say yes.
When her mother looked up again, her eyes looked different, maybe a little wild. “It’s been years since I’ve been a nurse,” she whispered. “I . . . This is insane.”
She’s thinking about it.
Her mother stared at her. “And Josh . . . you know he killed those girls. You know that, right? He’s a killer, Alexa,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears. “I still haven’t completely—”
“But he’s still Josh,” Alexa said. “We can help him stop. We can. I know we can.”
Her mother gazed at her.
“But we can’t wait long,” Alexa said. She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Lance . . . he’s been blowing up my phone. I think he knows something, Mom. This isn’t going to stay secret much longer. We have to make a decision, and fast.”
AT NOON, DIANE had been nodding off at Josh’s bedside when she felt someone nudge her.
“Diane,” Rick said. He smiled and pointed to Josh. “He’s awake. I’ll go get the nurse.”
Diane stood up and grasped Josh’s hand a little tighter. “Josh, honey. I’m right here.”
He blinked at her as though confused. “You’re in the hospital, and you’re okay.” She squeezed his hand again. “You’re going to be okay.”
His eyes welled up with tears. They streamed toward his ears and were soaked up by his bandages. He shook his head.
“Are you in pain?” she asked.
He didn’t say anything. He just stared at her.
Tears filled her own eyes to the point she could no longer see.
A nurse walked into the room. Then Dr. Langley, the intensivist on duty. Diane backed away from the bed so that the doctor could get close. He leaned over Josh and smiled. “Well, hello there, Josh,” he said gently. “I’m Dr. Langley. You probably don’t remember me, do you?” He smiled again. “I just need to check a few things, okay?”
He held his index finger up to Josh’s face. “I want you to follow my finger. Can you do that for me?”
He moved his finger back and forth in front of Josh’s eyes. Diane watched as one eye tracked perfectly. But the other only moved in spurts.
“That’s good. They’re both moving. One eye’s a bit lazy, but that can be expected. Can you say something for me, Josh?”
Josh’s mouth opened a little, but only a wheezing sound came out.
The doctor patted his shoulder. “It’s all right. Don’t force it.”
The doctor spent another few minutes with him, checked the machines for reports on other vitals, then asked Diane to join him in the hallway. Diane hesitated, not wanting to leave her son. But Alexa appeared next to her and took hold of his hand. “I’ll stay with him.”
Out in the hallway, Dr. Langley set Josh’s medical file in a hanging basket on the door. “I understand Dr. Renshaw’s been by and spoken to you?”
Diane nodded.
“He’s doing so much better than expected, Mrs. Christie. You have quite the fighter there. That boy really wants another chance at life,” Dr. Langley said. “I’ve ordered another CT scan for the morning, as well as a consult with plastic surgery. If all looks like it does today and Dr. Renshaw or Dr. Pendi don’t have different recommendations, your son will be moved to a general ward as soon as tomorrow night.” He smiled and patted her on the shoulder. “But as of now I feel fairly comfortable telling you that I think your son’s going to be okay.”
After the doctor left, Diane held Josh’s hand until he fell back to sleep. Then she gestured for Alexa and led her back to the lobby bathroom.
Her blood was electric. “Are you sure about this?” she asked her daughter.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” Alexa answered.
“Because what you’re talking about is very wrong.”
“It doesn’t feel wrong.”
Diane had to agree—and she found it shocking that she did. Maybe she wasn’t thinking straight—she was almost certain she wasn’t—but this was Josh they were talking about. And although he had admitted he’d killed those girls, she was having trouble reconciling the sweet, charming boy she’d known for sixteen years with the abominable killer she’d read about. Having trouble believing there was no hope that he could change.
She wished she had more time to sort out her thoughts. To really think this through. But time wasn’t a luxury they had right now.
“You’ll be risking your future.”
Alexa’s eyes filled with tears. “But I don’t have a future . . . not the way I’m going . . . and not without you guys.”
Am I seriously considering this? she asked herself as she stared at her daughter, every inch of her skin prickling. “If they catch us—” she started.
“They won’t.”
“They could . . . and they might.”
“They won’t.”
AT ELEVEN O’CLOCK that night, just as the nurse left after giving Josh his medication and checking his head bandage, Diane and Alexa set their plan into motion.
Diane asked Rick if he would pick up her sleeping pills at the house so she could finally get some rest, knowing that the round trip would take him at least thirty minutes. He’d already brought her a bag with a couple of changes of fresh clothes.
“Anything else I can get you from the house?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, blood thrumming at her temples. She felt horrible for misleading him. She was going to miss him, but she couldn’t let herself think about that now.
