In the Flesh

Moving on, she looked through the other patient files, studying the notes she’d taken during their private sessions. Two names tickled her conscience.

Clyde Anson and Jamal Rakely.

Clyde was a masochist and had been forced into therapy by the courts for assaulting a woman. His preference toward asphyxiation sex made her uneasy—the killer had strangled his victims. He fit the profile in other ways, as well—he was in his mid-twenties, had been raised in an overly religious home by an overbearing mother and had been abused.

Jamal Rakely also raised her suspicion. During a domestic incident he’d turned violent, had lost control and strangled his wife, but his attorney had pled him out on an insanity charge. His history: Jamal had witnessed his father murder his mother when he was five.

Her cell phone rang, and she startled, sloshing coffee on her skirt. She yelped, grabbed a napkin and dabbed at it, then jumped up and retrieved the phone. A check of the caller ID box showed Dr. Solaris, her mother’s doctor at CIRP. A knot tightened in her stomach.

“Dr. Solaris, this is Jenny Madden.”

“Hi, Jenny. You visited your mother this morning?”

“Yes, I always do on Sunday. Is she all right?”

“Yes, she’s resting now.”

Jenny frowned. “Are you sure? Sometimes after I visit she becomes agitated.”

“Actually she’s been sleeping all afternoon. But the reason I called is that I’ve phoned Dr. Zovall several times requesting he fax me your mother’s files, and he hasn’t sent them yet. Have you spoken with him recently?”

That was odd. “No, but I can give him a call. Have you tried his cell number?”

“Yes. I’ve left messages. Anyway, he’s probably tied up with another patient, but I wanted you to know that I’m going to proceed and conduct a full and extensive evaluation this week. It’ll include a gambit of tests, complete blood work, tests for physiological conditions, chemical imbalances, MRI, cat scans and neurological tests.”

“Good. I expected you would want to conduct your own tests. And frankly, after all these years and her lack of progress, I think it’s time.”

“You voiced your concerns to Dr. Zovall?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t imagine he was happy about you pulling her from his treatment.”

“No, not at first. But he cares for my mother and wants what’s best for her, so he finally agreed that she should see someone else. I think he feels guilty for her lack of progress.”

A noise outside jarred her, and she peeked out the window but saw nothing suspicious. Antsy, she walked through the den to the kitchen and checked the back door. A stray cat slithered through the yard, jumped on the trash can and the lid rattled.

Sighing, she silently chided herself.

“I’ll call you when we learn the results.”

“Good. And if you need me at any time, you have my number.” She hesitated. “I understand this change may be unsettling for Mom.”

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Solaris said. “I’ll take good care of her. We have some new treatments that are working well with other patients. Hopefully your mother will respond positively, as well.”

“I hope so, Doctor.”

She hung up the phone, but another noise out back startled her, and when she glanced through the window her heart raced. A man was skulking across the backyard, his face hidden in the shadows.

F RUSTRATION TIGHTENED every nerve in Raul’s body as he parked in front of Dr. Madden’s house. He’d spent hours requestioning everyone in the bars along River Street and turned up nothing. No one remembered Judy Benson. No one had seen her abduction.

Scrubbing a hand over his bleary eyes, he studied the doctor’s house. Evening shades of gray cloaked her blue Victorian. The traditional lines, and the fact that it needed painting and new shutters shook his preconceived image—he’d expected her to own one of the new modern lofts or a mansion on Skidaway Island, not this fixer-upper.

Not that he gave a damn. The less he knew about the woman the better. He’d just drop off these files and leave her to them. Then he’d grab a beer and a pizza and develop a plan to trap this strangler before he struck again.

He climbed from his car and eased up the sidewalk, scanning the periphery of the house and yard. A shadow slithered between the tall oaks in back, moving toward a side entrance.

The strangler case on his mind, his instincts soared to life. He removed his gun from his shoulder holster, and eased around the side, crouching down to hide behind the bushes as he approached. A scraggly haired young man stood on tiptoe and peered in the window.

A Peeping Tom or could this be the killer? Maybe he’d been watching the crime scene and followed Dr. Madden home.

Anxiety made his hands sweat, but he closed the distance, careful to tread lightly.

A twig snapped, and the lurker spun around.

“Police, put your hands in the air where I can see them.”

“Wait! Don’t shoot,” the guy cried.

“Hands up now, buddy.” Raul inched closer, senses alert as the young man’s hands shot into the air.

He was about twenty-five. Light-brown hair that needed a cut, eyes that looked glassy as if he might be high. Around five-eleven, medium build, scruffy.

“It’s not what you think,” the young man screeched.

“My name is Bailey.”

“It’s exactly what I think,” Raul snapped. “You’re skulking around this house looking for a way to break in, and I’m going to arrest you.”

“No, I swear. This is my sister’s house.” His expression turned panicked. “Jenny Madden, she lives here. I’m her brother.”

Raul narrowed his eyes. He didn’t see any resemblance. “If you were her brother, why are you sneaking around? Why not knock on the door like a civilized human?”

Bailey glanced around nervously. “I wanted to make sure she was alone, that I didn’t barge in on company.”

Raul reached for his cuffs. “Right. Turn around and spread them.”

Bailey puffed up his scrawny chest. “Ask her, you jerk! Jenny will tell you.”

He wasn’t about to open the door until this guy was subdued. “Big mistake calling a cop names.” Raul spun him around, then snapped the cuffs on his wrists.

Bailey jerked against the restraints and yelled an obscenity. “Jenny!”

The back door suddenly eased open, and Jenny Madden poked her head out.

Bailey stamped his foot. “Jenny, tell this SOB who I am.”

Her expression registered concern but also irritation as she stepped outside. “You can release him, Detective Cortez. That’s my brother, Bailey.”

Raul growled. “You’re kidding?”

She shook her head, her lips pressing together in a thin line. “No, it’s true. He’s harmless, really.”

Raul hesitated. He wanted to run the guy in for being an a-hole, but he was already skating on thin ice with the doctor and his captain, so he uncuffed him. “Don’t let me catch you sneaking around anyone’s house again, even if it is your sister’s.”

Bailey gave him a murderous look, but he was obviously shaken. He started to say something, but Dr. Madden held up a warning hand. “That’s enough, Bailey. Go inside. Now. ”

Her tone brooked no argument and her brother showed his first sign of intelligence by ducking inside.

“Sorry about that,” Raul said. “With a killer on the loose, and him sneaking around—”

“Understandable,” she said quietly.

He nodded, and they stared at each for a long moment, his pulse pounding at the way the moonlight glowed off her silky hair. She looked tired and vulnerable and for a moment as if she needed comfort. And those lips…kissable pink lips if he’d ever seen any.

Damn it. He did not like this woman, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be attracted to her.

Yanking himself back in control, he cleared his throat. “I stopped by to drop off those files. I’ll get them.” Without another word, he rushed to his car and retrieved the files. She was still waiting on the stoop when he returned, a slight breeze tossing the strands of her hair in disarray.

“Thanks.” She ran a hand over her forehead as if she had a headache. Probably due to that smart-assed little brother.

Not that he gave a damn about Jenny Madden’s private life or problems. “Well, I’ll let you go visit with your brother.” Still, he didn’t move to leave. Wondered suddenly why her eyes looked red as if she’d been crying.

“I’ll study the files tonight,” she said, “and try to get back with you tomorrow.”

He nodded, waiting to see if she offered anything more, but tension hung in the air between them.

Finally she arched a brow. “Is there something else, Detective Cortez?”

He had no idea why he hadn’t left yet, but that smarmy little brother of hers disturbed him.

A second later disgust filled him. She was a shrink, for God’s sake. And her brother was none of his business,

Schooling his thoughts, he handed her his business card. “Call me when you’re ready to talk.”

An odd look flickered across her face, then she gave him a clipped nod and shut the door in his face.

But as he strode back to the car, an uneasy feeling gripped his stomach. Bailey Madden was young, a smart-mouth, but surely he wasn’t dangerous, was he?

Yet Jenny Madden had looked tense, worried, shaken.

Was she afraid of her brother?

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