What Have You Done(58)

“Nothing makes sense. Her head was shaved because that’s what my mother did to her hair the day she tried to kill me and my brother.”

“Then you being innocent makes all the more sense. If you killed the girl and the trauma forced you to suppress the memory, I doubt your subconscious would want to keep the hair. The two forces of the brain don’t work in conjunction like that.”

“If I am being framed, I can’t prove it. Everything points back to me.”

Gerri pulled another sheet of paper from her folder. “Have you ever been to Lakewood, New Jersey, with Kerri?”

“Lakewood? That’s by the shore. Near Point Pleasant, right?”

“Yeah.”

Liam thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, I’ve never been there.”

“You remember my theory about bruising or past scars or something that would show us a history of violence?”

“Yeah. We looked at the body and couldn’t find anything.”

Gerri sat down on the couch. “I ran her name and social through the system, and it turns out last year Kerri was brought into Kimball Medical Center in Lakewood with a facial contusion and sprained wrist. She filed a police report with the Lakewood PD while she was in the ER. I bet if you find out who’s named as her assailant in that report, you find her killer.”

Liam took the paper and studied it. He was tired and cold. His hands shook as he read through the report. “I remember that. She told me she hurt her wrist falling on wet tiles and hit her cheek on the bathroom door.”

“You don’t file a police report after you slip on wet tiles.”

“I have to get to Lakewood.”

Gerri got up from the couch and rushed over to her desk. She pulled a second file from her drawer and opened it. “I also got a copy of your blood work back,” she said. “They automatically send me a copy since I’m the department liaison. The other one went to you at the office.”

“What did you find?”

“Clean. No traces of anything.”

“That doesn’t help me.”

The intercom on Gerri’s desk beeped once, breaking the silence in the room. “Dr. Cain, please pick up.” It was Dorothy, the nurse at the reception desk. Gerri picked up her phone and stood quietly, listening. After a few moments, she hung up.

“I need you to stay calm,” she said.

“What?”

“Don’t do anything rash.”

“Come on, Gerri. What?”

“Dorothy recognized you from the news reports this morning and called the police. They’re on their way.”

Liam jumped from the couch. “Dammit!” he screamed. “I came here for help!”

“This is the time to surrender, Liam. As your friend, I’m telling you this is the time to give yourself up, and we’ll give them the information they need to track down what happened in Lakewood. I don’t think you’re guilty, but you can’t keep running. We’ll tell them what we know and let them handle it. We don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Liam ran to the door and cracked it open. The reception area looked clear. He could see Dorothy standing at her post, looking his way.

“You’re only going to make things worse,” Gerri cried.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t turn myself in yet. I will, but not yet. My brother’s working things out on his end, and I have to get to Lakewood. No one’s going to listen to me about theories of a frame job once I’m in custody. I have to find out what happened before I get caught. It’s the only way right now.”

Liam threw the door open and ran toward the stairs next to the elevators. He slid quietly into the stairwell and listened for approaching footsteps. He could hear someone coming from down below, but no one was talking. He turned and made his way up toward the next floor, determined to find a way to escape the hospital.

The next floor was the Medical Surgical Unit. He walked into the busy corridor and quickly stepped in line with the other foot traffic, passing the main desk without being noticed. As he passed the rooms, he peeked inside and saw mostly elderly people lying in beds, semiconscious, tubes protruding from various parts of their bodies. It looked as if they were in suspended reality, stuck between life and death.

“Clear the way! Coming through!”

A small team of three officers at the far end of the hall came running in his direction. The sea of people clogging the corridor parted ways as they ran by, guns at the ready. Liam ducked down and slid into the closest room he could find, shutting the door behind him and hiding against the nearest wall. He waited until he heard them pass. When they were gone, he turned to find an old man lying in the bed, asleep with the television on above him.

The patient’s locker was at the far end of the room. Liam ran over and opened it. Inside were street clothes the old man had worn when he came in. There was a pair of tan slacks, a black golf shirt, a brown leather jacket, and a Phillies cap. Judging from the man’s frame, it appeared they would fit well enough to disguise him and get him out of the hospital. He grabbed the clothes and began changing, stripping out of his wet pants and throwing those into the locker. He pulled the golf shirt over his head, and then put on the pants, jacket, and hat. When he was done, he stuffed his pockets with the cash and contents from his own pants. It was time to run.