'Can I see her?'
'Wait until they take her out of Recovery, okay? It's a madhouse in there right now. Probably an hour or so.'
'Thanks.'
'Sure.'
Eve Wilonski, the night supervisor, came striding down the hall, her face looking like an angry bulldog's.
'Well, Mr Vail, you're becoming a fixture around here,' she growled.
'I hardly have any choice,' Vail answered, and there was anger in his tone.
'Is all this related in some way to your earlier visit?' she asked, her voice softening.
'Unfortunately. I'm afraid we're going to be around here for a while,' Vail said. 'Sorry if we're screwing things up.'
'It's the press, sir,' she said. 'They're making a nuisance of themselves.'
Vail looked at Shock Johnson.
'I guess it's time to make an official statement,' he said, then turned to Mrs Wilonski. 'Is there someplace we can hold a quick press conference without turning the hospital inside out?'
'We have a press room on the first floor,' she said. 'It's all yours.'
Five miles away Stampler guided the stolen BMW onto Interstate 80. It was fairly crowded with people returning from dinner and the theatre. He manoeuvred into the fast-moving outside lane. It was eleven-thirty-five. With a self-satisfied smile, he headed east.
Thirty-Seven
The driving was going well, a breeze, in fact. Stampler had figured out the cruise control and set it on 70, a safe speed according to Rebecca. Hold it to 70, be sure to use your turn indicator when you pass, do not drive erratically, she had told him. It's like swimming, she had told him. You never forget how. Don't worry.
Worry? He never worried. Worry was destructive. He remembered a quote from Emerson. 'What fears you endured, from evils that never arrived.' Worry sapped his strength, fear drained his energy. Together they were destructive forces, distractions he could never afford.
He turned his thoughts to Daisyland, to Max and Woodward, patronizing him, telling him how 'well' he was doing. Panderers. Treating him like a child. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles almost glowed in the dark. God, would he like to see their faces now.
The news was coming on and he turned up the radio.
'Good morning, this is Jerry Quinn with the two A.M. edition of the news. Updating the hottest story of the hour, in a bizarre murder case that is still unfolding, Supreme Court Judge Harry Shoat was brutally murdered in his Lakeshore condominium earlier tonight and his killer, a deranged woman, was shot and killed while resisting arrest less than an hour later. During a hastily called press conference at midnight, Lt. Shock Johnson of the Chicago Police Homicide Division told reporters Shoat was brutally murdered about 9 P.M.
'According to Johnson, Shoat's body was mutilated and he was beheaded. His head was found an hour later in the apartment of Rebecca Hutchinson at 3215 Grace Avenue. Ms Hutchinson was killed when she attacked one of the arresting officers with the same knife she allegedly used to kill Judge Shoat.
'Acting District Attorney Martin Vail, who joined Johnson at the press conference, said that his office has issued a murder warrant against Raymond Vulpes, aka Aaron Stampler, of a central city address. The warrant will charge Vulpes/Stampler with the murder of police officer John Rischel and the attempted murders of attorney Jane Venable and special officer Maj. Abel Stenner.
'Vail said these attacks took place at approximately the same time Shoat was killed by Hutchinson. Vail identified Vulpes as Aaron Stampler, confessed killer of Bishop Richard Rushman. Vail said Stampler was released from the state mental institution at Daisyland earlier in the day. Stampler has been a patient at Daisyland since the Rushman murder ten years ago. Ironically, Vail defended Stampler in the Rushman murder trial before becoming chief prosecutor of the district attorney's office.
'Vail said Stampler will also be charged with one count of murder and two counts of attempted murder and mayhem in the attacks on well-known attorney Jane Venable and Maj. Abel Stenner, head of the DA's Special Investigation Squad, both of whom also figured prominently in the Rushman case. Here is a portion of acting DA Vail's statement.
' "We have reason to believe that Aaron Stampler, during the past several years, communicated by computer with Ms Hutchinson, who was his teacher in grammar school. We also believe Stampler abetted Ms Hutchinson in two other murders. The murder of Mrs Linda Balfour at her home in Gideon, Illinois, last October, and Alex Lincoln, a UPD delivery person, in Hilltown, Missouri, a few weeks ago. In both cases, the MO was exactly the same as was used in the Rushman murder. Stampler also attacked attorney Jane Venable and detective Abel Stenner at Ms Venable's home. Both are in critical condition in the Intensive Care Unit of City Hospital but are expected to survive."
'Police have issued a five-state alarm for Stampler and will have an updated photograph of him in about an hour. Stampler is thirty-five years old, five-nine, weighs one hundred and fifty pounds, and has blue eyes and blond hair. According to Ms Venable, she struck Vulpes during the attack and he has a severe laceration on the left side of his jaw. Police said Stampler should be considered armed and extremely dangerous -'
Stampler snapped the radio off.
'Son of a bitch,' he said aloud. 'Son of a bitch!' They killed Rebecca! How did Vail track her down? What had gone wrong He slammed a fist into the steering wheel. His eyes glittered with hatred. Venable and Stenner, who sat on the witness stand and told the court that Stampler was faking it, had survived.
Well, he'd show them. Get-even time. Get-fucking-even time!
He passed the sign on the edge of the interstate:
SHELBYVILLE, NEXT EXIT.
This time there wouldn't be any mistakes.
He pulled into a sprawling truck-stop complex and parked in a dark area off to the side of the restaurant. He checked his map and stuffed it in his pocket, then went through the doctor's satchel again. He opened a flat leather case and his eyes gleamed. It was a set of scalpels. He took out the largest one, tapped his thumb on the blade, and drew a drop of blood. He sucked it off and slipped the razor-sharp tool in his breast pocket. He also took a hypodermic needle, a vial of morphine, and a large roll of adhesive tape from the bag. He got out of the car and locked it. He looked around. Nobody was near him. He hastily opened the trunk and threw the doctor's satchel on top of Rifkin's body. He slammed the trunk shut and walked off into the darkness.
Vail sat next to Jane Venable in the ICU. The entire right side of her face was swathed in bandages. IVs protruded from both arms, the narrow tubes, like snakes, curling up to bottles attached to the back of her head. Behind her, machines beeped and hummed as they measured her life signs. An oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose. Her limp hand, which he clutched between both of his, seemed cold and lifeless.
He watched the clock on the wall. It was nearly 2:30 A.M. Stenner had been in surgery for more than four hours. An hour earlier, one of the doctors had stepped briefly into the hall.
'We're doing everything we can,' the weary surgeon had told Vail. 'He's a lucky man. The point of that knife missed his heart by a quarter of an inch. If it had nicked the aorta he would have bled to death before the medics got to him.'
'But he's going to make it, right?' Vail said, almost pleadingly.
'It's touch and go. He's still opened up, we're having to do a lot of microsurgery. But he's strong, in excellent physical condition, that's going to help.'
Since then the tortured minutes had crawled by.
Outside the ICU the entire staff had gathered at the hospital, monitoring phone calls in a small office Mrs Wilonski had hastily cleared out for them. But in the outside world there was nothing but silence. Stampler had simply vanished into the night. Was he holed up somewhere in the city? Had he stolen another car? Vail was overwhelmed with anxiety, guilt, and hatred towards the man who had so successfully conned them all and was now on a madhouse killing spree.