Chapter 8

When Sullivan entered his office the next morning, he had two messages on his voice mail. One was from the Medical Examiner’s office regarding the current homicide victim, and the second one was from Phillip Carlyle. Sullivan listened intently to the messages, then pounded the desk with his fist. He immediately hung up and redialed the number Phillip had left. When the phone was answered in the hospital room across town, Sullivan could hear the strain in Phillip’s voice.

“Detective, we are at a loss. What is going on? We believe Cat is in danger, and we don’t know how to protect her or what to do next.”

Sullivan told him to stay put and grabbed his jacket to leave. As he drove across town he assembled a list of to-do’s in his mind. The first one was to interview the security guard at the hospital and get to the bottom of the threat that was written on Cat’s hospital door. He wondered if Cat had somehow written the message herself and had invented the story of someone coming into her room to throw the investigation off track. She’s intelligent enough to pull that off, he thought sourly. He didn’t want to believe that she would lie to him, but he knew she could have done so.

Positive identification had been made on the stabbing victim by his next of kin. Sullivan had researched the victim’s background and was trying to make a connection to Catherine Carlyle. So far nothing was panning out in this case. He pulled into the hospital parking lot and shifted his black unmarked patrol car into park. He flipped the sun visor down and stared at his reflection in the little mirror. He ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair and attempted to smooth down the multiple silver streaks that poked out wildly from each temple.

“You need a haircut and a good night’s sleep,” he ad-monished his reflection. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t lie. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. With a sigh, he flipped the visor back up, grabbed his notebook that lay on the passenger seat and headed for the hospital security office. He was thinking about Cat as he weaved his way through parked vehicles and made his way to the large sliding glass doors. From the sound of it, Cat hadn’t gotten any rest either. He felt himself feeling anxious to see her. He reassured himself that it was a purely professional draw that he felt. He needed to question her about the victim and their possible relationship. And he needed to see the so-called threat left on her hospital door. That was all.

Sullivan was so lost in thought that he did not notice the man who stood smoking outside the hospital entrance. His dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but he didn’t try to hide his smile as he blew smoke into the path of the homicide detective who breezed past him and into the building. Not much of a cop, the man with the sunglasses thought as he lifted his foot off the ground and braced it against the outside wall. He was standing by a sign that said smokers had to be twenty-five feet away from the building. He continued to pollute his lungs until his flavored cigar burned down to the wooden tip. Crushing out the embers, he pocketed the wood-en tip and slowly made his way to his truck parked on the street.

After stopping in the security office and visiting with a heavy set, older security guard with layers of dandruff on his shoulders, Sullivan headed for the stairs. He decided that his lack of physical exercise the last few days had contributed to his poor sleep. Taking two stairs at a time he reached the fifth floor, slightly winded. He congratulated himself for the exertion but chided himself for the underlying reason: Cat.

As he rounded the corner to where her room was located, he saw the door to her room had been covered with a large plastic bag. He stopped at the nurse’s station and asked about the door and about the log from the overnight nurse. Quickly he scanned the report, asked for a copy and made his way to Cat’s room. He decided to see the message before speaking to Cat or her family. He peeled the tape off the door that held the plastic in place. Scrawled across the door in what appeared to be dried blood, by the brown crusty appearance, was the phrase, “The only good cat is a dead Cat.”

Sullivan could feel the anger welling up inside him. She wouldn’t do this, he thought. This is the real deal. Sullivan resealed the tape and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. He dialed the homicide unit and asked the forensic team to come process the door. Then he pocketed his phone and tapped on the door with his knuckles.

Phillip, Linda and Cat all appeared shaken and with-drawn. Sullivan couldn’t hide his concern for them as he entered the room and shut the door behind him. Phillip had given Linda the recliner and had been standing, looking out the window. He greeted Sullivan with a handshake and began telling him about the events that had occurred over-night. It was apparent that Phillip was fired up. His breathing was hurried to the point that Sullivan thought he might hyperventilate. Sullivan noticed how just hearing the story being repeated had Linda wringing her hands and Cat sinking down beneath the flimsy covers.

This is what the messenger wanted, for them to be afraid. It was working and it angered Sullivan more. He told them about the vandalized tires and about the missing bracelet.

“Catherine, can you think of anyone who is mad at you or who would intentionally do this?” Sullivan asked.

“No, not really.” Cat said. Her eyes were large with fear and misty with tears.

“Has anyone made any threats to you before or made you feel threatened?”

“Ummm. I don’t think so.” She seemed to hesitate and looked off toward the left as she answered.

“Think hard. This is important,” Sullivan urged. He could tell she was holding something back. He wanted to grab her thin arms and shake her. He hated to be lied to, especially if someone’s life was at stake. He believed hers was.

“Nope, can’t think of anyone that has threatened me recently,” she finally said.

“Okay, who has threatened you in the past?” He inquired again.

“No one.”

“But you said ‘Recently.’ ‘No one had threatened you recently.’ That’s what you just said.”

Cat looked like she had been slapped. She glanced at her parents and then to Sullivan. “I guess I didn’t mean it that way. I meant to say that no one has threatened me,” she sighed. This police questioning is tricky business, she thought.

There were few things in life that Sullivan despised, but none more than a liar. This gal was lying to him, and he didn’t know why. But he intended to find out. He thought about shaking her until her teeth chattered. Instead he gritted his own teeth until his jaw ached.

He needed a drink. Coincidently, that is the exact thought that Cat was having. Except his version was a strong, black coffee and hers was a strong, cool whiskey.

Later that morning, after having her car towed from the station parking lot to a tire store for repairs, Cat’s parents dropped her off at her apartment as promised. Cat had said she wanted to get cleaned up in her own shower and then planned to meet her parents for lunch at a restaurant in downtown Guthrie. Her father had insisted on checking the apartment first for any sign of an intruder. After he cleared the apartment, he and Linda left Cat and Hannah alone, unwillingly. Phillip had tried to persuade Cat that she shouldn’t be alone, but she said she couldn’t stand another minute of being hovered over and babied. Linda and Phillip decided to walk around downtown while Cat got ready for lunch.

As soon as Cat shut the door, she turned to look at Hannah who sat patiently with eyes shining, her cropped tail wiggling back and forth furiously. “Come here, baby dog,” Cat said as she scooped her up and twirled the dog around the room. Hannah’s wet little nose pressed against Cat’s neck as the two got reacquainted after their brief separation.

“Want to go for a walk? Get your leash. Where’s your leash?” Cat asked over and over as Hannah danced around in a circle. She snatched the leash in her teeth and raced for the door. Looking back over her shoulder, Hannah whimpered and half-heartedly growled at Cat as Cat slipped a light jacket on and finally made her way to the door. Cat picked up the end of the leash that wasn’t slobber-ridden and slipped it on her wrist, then snapped the clasp into the D-ring on Hannah’s red collar.

“Let’s go!” Cat said enthusiastically.

Hannah pranced and pulled, straining against the leash until she choked herself. “Take it easy, sister. I can only walk so fast.” Cat laughed at her goofy little roommate as she was pulled down the hallway and out the back of the building where a fenced in courtyard awaited them. While Hannah searched for a place to relieve herself, Cat seemed to zone out. Her mind was reliving the past twenty-four hours. Suddenly, she snapped out of it.

“Come on, we have to hurry. I have to jump in the shower. Not all of us live the life of luxury.”

Cat rubbed her furry friend’s belly after Hannah rolled over on her back. Hannah began kicking one leg in a seizure type reflex as Cat scratched her favorite spot. When they were back in the apartment, Cat put Hannah back in her kennel and shut the door. She made kissing noises as she walked out of the room, but Hannah didn’t seem to notice. Hannah was already burrowing under her covers and settling in for an early nap.

Finally! Cat thought, as she stood in the bathroom and peeled off her clothes. She dropped them into the wicker basket she used as a dirty-clothes hamper. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so disgusting in her life. Even though she had taken a shower at the hospital and had put on fresh clothes, she still felt nasty. The stench of antiseptics from the hospital lingered on her clothes and skin.

As she waited for the shower to warm up, she turned on the radio that sat on the counter and brushed out her hair. She suppressed the desire to analyze all the recent events. She needed to turn her brain off for awhile, she reasoned. She began singing with the song that was playing and stepped into the tub. She hiked up the heat and stuck her head under the simulated rain shower.

For nearly half an hour she scrubbed herself, shaved her legs and stood under the hot water trying not to think. She let the nearly scalding water wash over her skin as she envisioned it washing away the filth that she couldn’t scrub off. Finally she turned the water off and wrung her hair out. She stepped out of the shower, into the steamy room, wrapped a towel around her and started planning the rest of her day.

There wasn’t any reason not to go on into work tonight she decided, except that she really didn’t want to face Rick. She toweled off her hair and ran her fingers through it when her eyes saw the heart and the arrow. It took a second for her brain to decide what it was that she was seeing and what it meant.

“He’s been here!” she whispered, before the screaming began.