Chapter 36

Stephanie hauled the large arrangement of flowers out of her Ford F150 with a sigh. It wasn't as if she didn't have enough to do without running more errands for the Sheriff. But when these came in, she'd volunteered. It was time Nick knew what was what.

Still, she couldn't help but think about what her day had been like, even though she'd rather walk on live coals before going through something like that again.

She'd spent most of the morning going through files. Not just any files, Scott Greashaber's files. She had sat in that room under the ground where six women had been brutally killed and where Michelle and Marley had almost lost their lives. She had been among the few that had seen Scott's chamber of horrors and the only woman who had been involved in the evidence collection. She had volunteered to look through the files.

It had to be done. There could be cold cases out there that Scott had committed, girls lost that hadn't been recovered. He could have the evidence they needed to close those cases, recover the bodies and give relatives a little peace of mind.

But, if there had ever been anything worse than what she had found in there, she didn't want to know what it was. The man had been collecting serial killer cases for years. Everything neatly labeled and filed away alphabetically. In some instances, he had managed to obtain copies of the original crime scene photos.

She had looked at pictures of little girls torn open, little boys who had been raped and tortured, their throats ripped out afterwards. Women brutalized, men castrated.

And sometimes he even had items that had belonged to either victim or killer. He had a trophy case full of paraphernalia. He had a wall full of knives and daggers, garrotes hanging by handles, a bull whip that had to have been nine feet long when rolled out. He had precision surgical scalpels, hemostats, even a stethoscope.

There was no telling how long he had been at this.

They had found diaries, started a couple years ago, that told of his recent killings and hinted of past ones. The diaries were scary on their own. Each page was filled with small neat handwriting from the top to the bottom, side edge to side edge. He even wrote of how he planned to kill his wife, to her utter horror.

Then there were the videos. She would never forget those videos. She had watched some of them, had forced herself to even when she started to feel violently ill. Roger had been there for that. He'd gone pale, but he stayed and watched every one. He'd helped tag and collect, organize and document as much evidence as he could before he had been called away. They had enough to keep Scott Greashaber locked away until her great grandchildren had children.

She entered the front lobby of the hospital, feeling the rush of cold air race across her skin from the vent in between the front doors. She liked the waterfall in the lobby. It was a beautiful piece of rounded marble and shiny steel. The sound of water rushing was comforting.

She got off the elevator at his floor and found herself dawdling. Huffing a sigh of disgust at herself, she hurried into his room.

"Where the fuck is she?"

The words were a low growl of frustration.

"You look pretty good yourself, Nick." Stephanie sat down the large bouquet of flowers she carried on one of the very few available spaces left in the private room. "Thanks so much for asking."

"I'm not in the mood, Stephanie. Just tell me where the fuck she is."

Stephanie took a deep breath and swallowed hard. This was a self-appointed task, she didn't have anyone to blame for when he killed her but herself.

"Now don't kill the messenger."

He growled, low and dangerous. And she believed he meant it, even if he was just a week past being stabbed, shot and almost bleeding to death. She really thought he could do it. Damn Roger. He had pulled up stakes and gone on to his next assignment and left her to clean up this mess.

"The Sheriff had a talk with Michelle a few days ago. Word is, and don't kill me for telling you this, he gave her an ultimatum. Either you or her job."

Nick felt like a fist had struck him in his stomach. Why hadn't he seen this coming? Some detective he was. He hadn't even been able to take care of Michelle and keep her from harm. No wonder she had picked the job over him.

He had been waiting for her to come in since she had kissed him that last time in ICU. When she hadn't visited right away, he just figured that she needed to rest to recover. But when they moved him out of ICU and into this room, and she still didn't show up, he grew concerned. He called her cell phone, her apartment. Hell, he even tried her parents house. He'd left messages on her voice mail, left messages with her dad. And hadn't heard anything.

Now he knew why. She had chosen the job. This was her way of ending it. He didn't think she was this much of a coward, he thought she would have at least told him to his face.

"Oh."

Stephanie stared at him. That's all he had to say. He'd gone pale as a ghost when she had told him. He'd just stared at her for long minutes and all he had to say was 'oh'.

"Well?"

"She's made her decision. I'm sorry, Stephanie. Can we visit another time. I'm tired." He put the head of the bed down and struggled over on his side. "Thanks for the flowers."

She couldn't hit an injured man in the hospital. It wasn't the right thing to do but oh, was she tempted. She stalked over to the other side of the bed, where she could see his face. "What does that mean? What decision?"

"Stephanie," even to his own ears, his voice sounded strange. "I don't want to discuss this. Please let it go." He struggled over to his other side, the pain almost a blessing though it didn't come close to the pain of having his heart ripped out of his chest. He wanted her to leave. He wanted to close down, to lock the pain away until he could breath again. He couldn't do that with her here.