Cut to the Chase (27 page)

S
o, you see two, right?” Erin asked, already knowing the answer. It didn't hurt to hear the doctor tell her for the fifth time in less than a minute that two heartbeats were clearly detected on the ultrasound.

“Two strong heartbeats,” the doctor said, humoring her once again. “But I understand why Dr. Miller sent you to be checked out. You were definitely dehydrated and for pregnant women that can be a serious problem, especially those carrying multiples.” The doctor withdrew the probe and handed her an ultrasound photo of Baby A and Baby B. “The babies look great.” Erin finally allowed herself to breathe and she stared at the glossy, black and white photo. “But you do need to slow down, Erin. Drink plenty of water and eat. It would be best if you put on a few pounds. You'll need to increase your calorie intake to support those growing babies.”

Picturing her belly swelling with Chase's babies made her smile. Erin felt Mia grab her hand. “If you need an eating partner, I would be happy to volunteer,” Mia said, giggling.

“Sisters?” the doctor asked, looking from Erin to Mia.

“Hopefully, one day we will be,” Erin said, looking at the woman who had put her life on hold, had put her life at risk, for those she cared for. Erin couldn't imagine a better sister or a better wife for her brother. Mia smiled and squeezed her hand.

“Well, let's get you two out of here, shall we? I am prescribing you both an evening in front of the television with cheesecake in hand,” he said with a smile. The doctor swiftly and painlessly removed the IV from her hand. It was amazing how much better she felt from simply dumping a bag of sodium chloride into her vein.

“Erin, I think we should adhere to the doctor's orders, maybe even extend those orders into tomorrow as well,” Mia said, chuckling.

Shaking his head, the doctor said, “All right, someone will be in with the discharge papers. Don't even think about running off to the nearest bakery without them.”

“We promise,” Erin and Mia said together.

Mia waited until the doctor was gone before taking the playful conversation to where it had to go, unfortunately. “We should get going. Paul, Chase and Uncle Drew are most likely chomping at the bit.”

Feeling rejuvenated at learning that her babies were safe, Erin was able to refocus on the monster that threatened the lives of everyone she loved. But before she could allow her mind to completely perseverate on such a morbid topic, she clicked on the video app on her cell phone and pointed it at the ultrasound photo. Erin had never seen Chase as frightened as she had in his hospital room. The possibility that she and their babies were in danger had invoked a level of fear in him she never cared to experience again. Although the still shot was a bit fuzzy, Erin could still make out Baby A and Baby B perfectly. With a little commentary from her explaining that their babies were beautiful and healthy, Chase would hopefully be able to calm down and exhale.

“I'm going to hit the bathroom. By that time, your discharge papers should have been delivered and your video will be finished,” Mia said, grabbing her purse.

Erin looked up and stared at the woman Paul had fallen in love with. Mia had been a godsend in so many ways. She had been a source of strength when Erin felt her own leave her. She had been the voice of reason when Erin's head was spinning out of control. And she was the woman who had the ability to heal Paul's wounded heart and soul. “Mia…thanks for staying with me…and for being what we all seem to need right now.”

Mia stopped midstride. “Before you all came along, I was just going through the motions. Trust me, Erin, I need you just as much.” A sheepish grin appeared on her beautiful face before she turned and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

A
lthough Scott had ditched his cell, the device that allowed him to track Montclair and his Whore's whereabouts, he knew where to find them. As Plain Jane had prepped her DVD player with a chick flick and he dished out the dumplings last evening, his tracker had alerted him that Montclair had been rushed to Mercy General. Scott had been cautiously optimistic that he had silenced Montclair. But the arrogant asshole had survived the shooting and was on the road to a miserable recovery. It didn't matter, now. Without harming another hair on Montclair's head, Scott was going to destroy him. Montclair might walk out of the hospital, but his Whore would never see the light of day.

Scott climbed the hospital stairs. It didn't take long for Scott to work the woman at reception to learn Chase Montclair's hospital room. Even in his disguise, he could charm and coerce the filthiest of creatures. Scott was about to ascend the next set of stairs when he spotted the Whore's oversized bodyguard through the stairwell door's narrow pane of glass. The bloated piece of shit was camped outside a patient's room. This observation intrigued him since the fourth floor was devoted to maternity patients.

She really was a whore.

Disgusted, Scott exited the stairway and began the trek down the fourth floor hallway, looking for the magic closet. If he was on a maternity floor, then there might be a closet devoted to scrubs for fathers-to-be. And as he rounded the corner, Scott found what he was looking for. The room was not occupied at the moment, another indicator that he was going to succeed. He quickly changed out of his khakis and polo shirt and into aquamarine scrubs. He withdrew five loaded syringes from his duffle bag, secured them in the band of his pants, and made his way toward the Whore.

Scott approached the nurse's station and grabbed a random clipboard from one of the cluttered desks. There was only one nurse manning the station and she was too busy talking on the phone to notice him.

Control…Focus…Control…Act.

It was highly unlikely that Erin Whitley was in Room 404 by herself. But it didn't matter. All he had to do was get close enough to her to sink the syringe into her tainted skin and it would be over. He cared little about what happened after…if he too never saw the light of day.

E
rin pressed
RECORD
and started to speak into her phone when she heard a knock at the door. Time to be discharged. Thank God. “Come in,” she yelled as she stood from the hospital bed.

Erin couldn't tell if the man who entered was a doctor or nurse, but it didn't matter. She was getting out of there and back to Chase.

“Ms. Whitley, are you going somewhere?” the man asked rather sweetly.

Erin looked at the clipboard in the man's hands, but there wasn't anything on the clipboard resembling discharge papers. Just a notebook and pen were attached by the clip. “I'm due to be discharged,” Erin said, staring at the man in scrubs. Though he wore the typical hospital attire, the man seemed out of place. Erin wanted to believe that it was the blond ponytail and goatee that threw her off, but she knew that she would be lying to herself. It was a gut feeling and the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing on end that told her she was in danger.

“Ah, receive a clean bill of health, did you?” he asked. He snatched the ultrasound photo from her hand and stared at her children. “You really are a whore aren't you, Erin? According to this picture, you're hovering around six weeks, which means you spread your legs for him within two weeks of knowing him.” He drew closer. “Which means…you have fallen from grace, Angel.”

Erin wanted to run or at the very least scream for help, but she couldn't bring herself to do either. She was in some sort of dreamlike state, where her greatest nightmare was unfolding before her eyes and she had no idea how to stop it. He peeled the goatee away from his face, then the blond ponytail, and dropped them and her photo on the bed. Although his face was caked with some sort of makeup, she would know him anywhere.

Maybe it was his choice of words that made her come to. Because when he uttered the word “grace,” she instantly became aware of what she needed to do. “Just like the others?” she asked, baiting him.

The curious look on his face told Erin that he hadn't expected that particular question…which gave her hope. She needed him to talk, even if she didn't make it out alive. She needed his admission on tape. Although her hands trembled, she was still able to hold on to her phone. It was still recording, but the time allotted was limited.

“Erin, you were my favorite. Maybe it was because I had waited so long, waited for that perfect moment, to have you in that cemetery.”

“To rape me?” she asked, taking a step toward the door.

“Such a vile word,” he said. Morris shook his head. “Vile words are uttered by whores, by women not fit or worthy to breathe my air.”

“Women like Gabrielle?” she asked, careful not to look at her phone.

Morris's lips curled to form a devious smile. He was enjoying the moment, knowing, or thinking rather, that he had nothing to lose. “Some women are born filthy, Erin. Gabrielle was repulsive, tainted, even as I held her beneath the cascading suds in her bathtub.” He took a step toward her. “But she served her purpose the night of the benefit…and so did my father.”

There had been speculation over Morris's involvement in regards to Gabrielle's death all along, but now that it was confirmed by the killer himself, her current situation seemed even more ominous. But she couldn't stop now, especially when he just alluded to even another murder.

“Dr. Mitchell Morris?” she asked.

Morris crossed his arms against his chest and appeared disappointed with her. “You are an intelligent young woman, Erin. I thought you would have figured that one out by now.” Shaking his head, he said, “The talented and ever-respected oncologist, Dr. Mitchell Morris, had kept quiet this past year. But after seeing you the night of the benefit, I got the sense that his silence was about to be broken.”

“He didn't fall?” Erin asked, taking another step, until her back pressed up against the bathroom door. And that was when she remembered…Mia.

“He fell…right after I let go of him,” Morris said, his voice arrogant.

Erin silently projected the reoccurring command, Stay put, Mia. Stay where you are safe.

But Mia must not have received her subliminal message, because the doorknob rattled behind her. For a split second, she had hope that Morris hadn't heard the slight jiggle of the knob. When he closed the gap between them in two strides and grabbed her by the arm, she knew that she had been foolish to underestimate him. He ripped her away from the door and she immediately felt something prick her arm. She looked down to find the source of her discomfort and saw a loaded syringe lodged in her vein.

“Don't move, Erin. If just a few drops of what is in this syringe enter your bloodstream, you and the heathen inside of you are dead within moments.” Erin wanted to warn Mia, but she also had no doubt that Scott would empty whatever poison was in that needle into her body, killing everything she loved.

The stress of the day was taking a toll on Mia. She had a pounding headache, one that wasn't going to go away without some assistance. She rummaged through her purse and found her travel pack of Advil. She popped two pills in her mouth and washed them down with water from the tap.

Mia stared at her reflection, which only made her feel worse. Although she had slept soundly, wrapped in Paul's arms last night, the stress of the day was sucking the life out of her. But who the hell was she to complain? Erin had just had the scare of a lifetime. All she had was a headache, which would subside within an hour of taking the meds. She could definitely suck it up for Erin's sake.

Mia was in the process of putting the tube of Advil back into her purse when she heard the bathroom door shake. It didn't sound like someone knocking, but more like someone brushing up or pressed up against the door. Mia almost shouted Erin's name, but her instincts told her to remain silent. A jolt of adrenaline surged through her body and she pressed her ear against the door.

She recognized the smug voice immediately, as she had come face-to-face with it and the obnoxious prick it belonged to just hours earlier. Mia was now thankful that she had such a headache, one that prompted her to bring her purse into the bathroom, a purse that contained her pistol. Mia knew what kind of monster she was dealing with. If Morris was on the other side of the door instead of having escaped when he had the chance, then he had already come to terms with the repercussions of his actions. His own death was not a deterrent. He had nothing to lose, which meant that if Mia didn't intervene, Erin was in grave danger.

Mia turned the knob and flung the door open. Although she aimed for the head, her eyes were fixed on the syringe hanging out of Erin's arm. Morris's thumb hovered over the tip of the syringe. Just a push of the thumb and that unknown fluid would flood Erin's system. Morris strategically positioned himself behind Erin making it nearly impossible for a clean shot between the eyes. Mia quickly readjusted her aim and set her sights on his brachial artery. If her shot rang true, then Morris's arm would be completely incapacitated.

“A pleasure to see you again, Mia,” Morris said, his eyes sparkling.

“Release her, Morris. This will be your only warning,” Mia said, zeroing in on her target.

“Aren't you afraid you will be too late…again?” Morris asked, taunting her, trying to hit her where she was the most vulnerable. “You seem to have a knack for being late to the big dance. Your father definitely fell victim as a result of your poor timing…as did your sweet next-door neighbor, Rose.”

Mia had never been comfortable with the police's findings. Deep down, despite the hard evidence, Mia had known that Rose's death wasn't an accident. Mia made a promise to herself that if she made it out of that hospital room alive, Rose's children would learn the truth. They deserved it.

Mia knew that he was baiting her, attempting to rattle her enough to make her second-guess herself. But ironically, his goading only solidified Mia's unwavering determination to put an end to Morris and her own self-doubt. Paul was right. Her father didn't kill himself because she had failed to promptly produce her mother's killer. He just couldn't live without the woman he loved.

Mia knew what she had to do. There was no need to negotiate. Morris had come for one reason and one reason only. And it was clear that he was willing to die to achieve it. Mia remained calm, as calm as she could be under the circumstances, and slowly cocked her neck to the left. She didn't dare take her eyes off of Morris to see if Erin had followed her lead. Another inch would be a great help, a little more wiggle room to hit her target without taking out Erin's shoulder instead.

Out of the corner of her eye, Mia took in the ever-so-slight movement giving her the green light. “You know, I had hoped…” Mia said. She pulled the trigger, never intending to finish her thought, and found her mark. His arm went limp, leaving the syringe dangling from Erin's arm.

Mia was about to finish him off with another round when she saw Erin rip the syringe out of her own vein and slam it into Morris's neck. Erin drained the syringe and stepped away from his already-convulsing body. Morris's back arched as his limbs twitched, but he still had enough in him to speak, though it was garbled. “You had hoped?” he asked, now foaming at the mouth.

The hospital door swung open, revealing a gun-toting Alex, but Mia raised her hand to thwart his own attack on Morris. “I had hoped I would have had the pleasure to kill you.” Mia looked to Erin and smiled. She then turned her attention back on the quivering mess in front of her and said, “But watching you succumb by Erin's hand…is more enjoyable.”