That’s what coma was for. Anesthesia. The doctors had found no serious injuries beyond her concussion. The airbag had made certain of that. The tree had fallen on the empty passenger seat, missing her but bringing the roof of the car down on her head. She had a slight cranial contusion, perhaps enough to cause amnesia, but not coma.
Amnesia would have been more merciful. Now that she had awakened, she remembered it all. She remembered and cared enough to call the station for an update. The chief said he’d come out and explain things. He would arrive any moment.
“Detective!” came the voice from the doorway. Bigg’s face was red and fleshy beside the big spray of flowers he had bought in the gift shop downstairs. The thin plastic wrapper was still around the bundle, and it still bore a price tag. “So, you decided to come back to the land of the living.”
“Yeah,” she managed. She cleared her throat, swallowing painfully past the soreness from the feeding tube. “You didn’t have to drive out here.”
“Aww, it’s nothing.” He cantered in and pulled back the drapes. Sunlight stabbed against the ivory-colored wall. “I was hoping to see the old Donna again, you know.”
“Here I am. Got two months of beauty sleep.”
He laughed uncomfortably. “Yeah. Well. It looks good on you. You weren’t looking right during the whole trial.” He handed her the flowers.
She smiled, sniffing the frumpy bouquet. “Oh, that’s just TV cameras for you. They add ten pounds and twenty years.”
“I’m glad you can joke again. It’s good to see you without that creep hanging on to you.”
Donna blinked. “Thanks for the flowers.”
He gestured dismissively. “For the first couple days, it was round the clock guard – in case you-know-who would show up. He didn’t. Must’ve bought the story of your death. The press sure did. Ran with it. They care more about a good story than a true one.”
Donna took in the information. “What do you mean, in case you-know-who showed up? How could Azra show up?”
Biggs grimaced and changed the subject. “The judge didn’t see past all that malarkey about the Gulf War.”
“Malarkey?”
“Well, that part of it has only come out three weeks ago. It turns out that whole story was one Billings arranged from prison. His wife came out with it. Named names. There’re going to be seven different indictments. Falsifying information. Planting evidence. A bunch of computer tampering crimes.”
“It was a lie?”
“All of it. We know less about our Doe now than we thought we knew before your accident.”
“He always said it was made up,” Donna said. She swallowed sourly. “I’m the one who convinced him it was true. I’m the one who told him he had to believe, he had to live.” She shook her head, weary to the bone.
“So, has Illinois scheduled his trial yet?”
“Well, no. See, that’s the thing…”
“He’s been extradited already?”
“Well, no. Not extradited.”
“Where is he?” she asked, concern piercing her grogginess.
“He’s in Illinois, just not in custody.”
She sat up, and the blood drained from her face. “Not in custody?”
“He tried to kill himself – just after hearing about your accident. They rushed him to the hospital – this very hospital, but en route he killed everybody and took the ambulance. Even overturned a semi on the highway. Got away.”
“Mother of God. Well. God damn it, Azra. God damn it.”
The chief glanced down, chagrined. “Yes. Yes, it’s bad. He’s giving the Chicago cops quite a time. He’s escalated. Twenty-two in the last two months.”
Her eyes were pleading. “No. No. That’s not possible. No. He… he had such a heart, Chief. He was just a dog that had been kicked and kicked and kicked until he snapped at anything and everything, but I started to get through all of that. I saw the man trapped inside that monster, and I was bringing him out.” Donna sank back against her pillow.
“He’s not a lost child, Donna. You’ve been asleep. You haven’t seen the papers.”
“You don’t understand-”
“No, you don’t understand. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger – like Bundy, like Manson. He’s brainwashed you.”
“I love him.”
“Damn it, Donna,” Biggs snarled. He stepped away to the window and looked out grimly. “He’s not the man you knew. He’s changed his MO, for one. He works alone, now. He takes his victims’ heads and hands and makes masks and gloves out of them. His own identity has disappeared.” He turned back to Donna. “He’s always taking on the identities of his victims. He can be anyone, anywhere, at any time. He could be me.”
Donna stared intently in the chief’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said it. Just a figure of speech.” He paused, sniffing. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re awake. And if you’re serious about wanting to talk to him, you could help us catch him.”
Donna couldn’t answer at first. Her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t catch her breath. Finally, she managed, “Whatever you need. We’ve got to get him off the streets.”
“All right,” he said grimly. “There’s going to be another plenary on the Son of Samael down in Chicago, three days from now. I figured, if we could get a special release from the doctor…”
“I’ll go, regardless.”
“There’s my girl. You’re kind of – well, you’re the expert on this guy. There’ll be FBI profilers there, discussion of proactive approaches, and all that.”
A troubled look came into her eyes. She swallowed and looked down at her swollen abdomen. “What about…?”
“The accident wasn’t enough. Besides, it’s a Catholic hospital, Donna. They did everything to make sure it survived.”
She breathed, staring blankly ahead like a frightened animal.
“You’ve still got a month to get it done legally. I’ve talked to a doctor who said she would take care of it after you’ve been stable for a week.”
A sudden brightness came into her eyes. “No. No, I’m glad. It’s all right. I’m Catholic, too, Captain. You knew that.”
“Yes, but in cases of rape-”
“But this wasn’t rape. My car ran into that tree, but I survived. The baby survived. God has done something here. It’s about time that God has done something. And I’m not going to undo it. If I’m going to live, the baby will, too.”
“You’re sure about this, Detective? The sins of the fathers, and all that. Aren’t you afraid whenever you look at him -?”
“There’s got to be redemption somewhere in this mess. It always takes a child to overcome the sins of a previous generation. There’s got to be redemption somewhere.”
He sat at the breakfast counter of a small, smoky diner. A plate of sunny-side-up eggs, bacon strips, and hash browns sent steam coiling up the valley of the newspaper. His fork sliced free a rounded wedge of egg, piercing the yolk, which oozed across the plate. He lifted the wet mass of white toward his lips – not his lips, but those of the fat grocer he had slain on the loading dock. The mask was becoming one of his favorites – comfortable and realistic. It was the first mask he’d filled out with foam rubber to make the jowls and bulbous nose and rings under the eyes turn out well. He would not have sat at the breakfast counter with any other mask, much less ordered a runny egg and crumbly hash browns.
The article he was reading was buried on page thirteen of the first section, unlike most of the stories written about him. He had almost missed the account.
“Which would have been a great shame,” he told himself.
KILLER’S COP GIRLFRIEND WAKES
AP International
Photo and Story by Blake Gaines
Previously reported dead, the Son of Samael’s female companion, Detective Donna Leland of the Burlington, Wisconsin, police, woke from a two-month coma yesterday, according to anonymous sources at St Mary’s Hospital, Racine, Wisconsin.