Creep - Jennifer Hillier [128]
It was coming back to her in bits and pieces. Ethan was dead. Morris had come for her. And Morris had killed him—he’d shot Ethan in the back with his hunting rifle. If he’d come a second later, it would be Sheila downstairs in the morgue.
It would be weeks before the bodies encased in cement at the Lake Stevens house could be removed and identified, assuming they could be identified. Sheila had told the detectives what she knew about Marie, the homeless woman, and also about Diana St. Clair. It turned out they already knew.
They also knew all about Ethan’s girlfriend, Abby Maddox. Abby had cut the throat of the private investigator Morris had hired, the man who’d been instrumental in helping to find her. Then she’d escaped the police station. Amazingly, Abby had missed Jerry’s carotid artery. The officer on duty at the precinct had found him only a few minutes later and was able to stop the bleeding before the paramedics arrived.
Why she had tried to kill him was anybody’s guess.
Thinking about the private investigator now, Sheila choked back a sob. Poor Jerry. He’d been her student a long time ago and she hadn’t seen him in years. A hard worker, juggling school with career. She and Marianne had been meaning to get their men together for a double date for a while now, but it had never happened. Careers got in the way, and there’d been no time for socializing beyond therapy sessions and cups of coffee. And now Marianne’s husband was in critical condition because of Sheila. The guilt was consuming.
She had done this. She had brought Ethan Wolfe into their lives.
The door to her room opened. Surprised, she rolled over to see who it was. A police officer was posted twenty-four hours outside her door, so it was probably just a nurse coming to check on her, but her palms were already sweating. Abby Maddox was still out there. While the police weren’t convinced that Ethan wasn’t equally or even totally responsible for the dead bodies in the basement of the Lake Stevens house, Sheila believed everything Ethan had told her. Abby had killed those women. There were many unanswered questions, but about this, she was certain.
But it wasn’t Abby in her room. It was Morris. In the dim light, he was just a shadow, but she would know the outline of his face and body anywhere.
It was the first time she’d seen him since that day at her house before his business trip, the day before she’d been kidnapped. A lifetime ago.
“I didn’t think you’d come.” Her breath caught in her throat, and she was ashamed at how pitiful and small she sounded. “I can’t say I’d blame you.”
She’d put him through hell. She’d put them both through hell. Morris had never asked for any of this. The only thing he had ever done was love her.
He stood at the foot of the bed, shadows and moonlight playing against the contours of his face. He looked exhausted. She wanted to cry.
“Been here all day,” he said. “You’ve been either asleep or with the cops or doctors. Busy woman, as always.” He managed a smile. “Did I wake you?”
She shook her head. “I wasn’t sleeping. Though I guess visiting hours are technically over.”
Morris walked around the bed and took a seat in the chair near her pillow. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” The lightheartedness in his voice sounded forced, and she was disappointed when he folded his hands neatly in his lap.
She ached to touch him. Her heart broke at the sight of his face, clearly visible now that he was inches away. His eyes were bloodshot and framed with lines she hadn’t seen before, his complexion blotchy and covered in three-day stubble. His hair was tousled. The strong scent of Listerine on his breath told her he’d started drinking again. Yet another thing that was her fault.
Still, he was beautiful.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m good.” Another tired smile. “More important, how are you?”
She tried to match his smile but her lips wouldn’t turn up. “I’m fine. They said I’m dehydrated but otherwise okay.”
“I talked to the doctor. You can go home tomorrow morning. Sleep in your own bed.”
“Can’t wait.” Sheila felt no enthusiasm