access to Dana’s hospital room – less than a week after she’d passed out from the sheer stress of investigating the Cleveland Slasher case. Well, the sheer stress of it washed down by more than just a little Kettle One vodka.
Dana’s heartbeat pounded against her ribs as she studied McNamara carefully from the corner of her left eye, not wanting to alert him to her suspicions. McNamara didn’t look like a killer to her, but then again neither had her brother. Hell, Nathan Stiedowe had been so devilishly handsome he’d made Ted Bundy look downright homely in comparison; completely obscuring the horrendously ugly person he’d been inside.
Dana clenched her fists in her lap and breathed in slowly through her nostrils, berating herself for not even considering the possible threat until it was too late. Once again, it seemed, she was a day late and a dollar short – the same mistake she’d consistently made during the Cleveland Slasher investigation.
Dana shook her head in exasperation. What in the hell was wrong with her these days? Why couldn’t she think straight any more? And if something was up, had Dr Spinks been in on it too?
Before Dana knew what was happening, her worst fears were suddenly confirmed. Without warning, McNamara slammed down hard on the brake pedal, bringing the van to a screeching halt.
Dana’s body slammed forward violently against her seat belt. Pain like a knife wound ripped through her right shoulder. A casual smile played across McNamara’s full lips as he turned in his seat to face her.
Dana jerked back in horror – seeing Nathan Stiedowe’s face dancing in front of her eyes again – and lifted up her arms quickly to protect her own face. It was a natural reaction in all humans, but one that no doubt made her look like a terrified vampire who’d just glimpsed the morning sun streaming over the dew-soaked horizon, who’d just glimpsed his own mortality with frightening certainty for the first time.
A confused look flooded across the young orderly’s handsome face. ‘Whoa. Take it easy, ma’am. We’re here, that’s all. You’re home. Look.’
He gestured past Dana’s aching right shoulder and out her window. Dana turned in her seat and blinked hard in confusion. Fifty feet away, her apartment complex loomed up nine stories high into the late-afternoon winter sunshine.
A wave of relief flooded through Dana’s veins, chasing away the confusion. Without realising it, she’d gotten lost in her thoughts again, had completely lost track of time. Worse, she’d also briefly lost track of the location of her physical body, had absolutely no idea where in the hell she’d been there for a moment. If nothing else, she knew that the FBI shrinks would have a field day with her once they’d finally coaxed her onto the comfortable leather couches scattered around their plush offices down in Quantico.
Dana felt ridiculous as she lowered her arms and tried to smile at McNamara. ‘So we are,’ she said, trying her best to sound casual about the whole thing but no doubt falling miserably short. ‘Sorry about that. I guess I’m just still feeling a little bit jumpy.’
The concerned look in McNamara’s eyes let Dana know that even he could see that she’d lost her marbles – and he was just a lowly orderly. Told her he thought that they might as well start fitting Dana for her white coat right now – and not the kind she was currently wearing as part of the elaborate Fletch ruse. The kind of white coat that restricted the free movement of your arms, for both your own safety and the safety of those around you. The kind they passed out right along with the psychotropic meds over in the mental-health wing at the Cleveland Clinic.
McNamara forced the semblance of a smile onto his lips. ‘No problem, ma’am. Welcome home.’
Dana exited the van and stood on the curb until McNamara had driven away. The young orderly adjusted his rearview mirror in order to keep her in his line of sight as he swung the van out of the parking lot before disappearing into the traffic streaming down Clifton Avenue. No doubt he wanted to make sure that Dana didn’t slit her wrists right then and there on the snow-covered sidewalk. Truth be told, though, Dana didn’t blame him in the least little bit for his vigilance. She probably would have reacted the exact same way had she been in his shoes.
Dana shook her head mournfully, knowing the poor kid had