But doing so would accomplish nothing more than her capture. She'd screwed up enough already—no need to add to it.
Doing her best to tamp down emotion and heighten awareness. Gaby waited as professionals got the fire under control. Soon, the thick smoke subsided and only choking odor billowed out the windows and a busted door.
Please, she prayed.
Seconds later, her heart thumped in relief as a tall, familiar form emerged.
Fingers locked together at the back of his neck, Luther stepped away from the destruction. The female detective, Ann, stood close beside him.
"I don't fucking believe this," Luther cursed.
Appearing dazed, Ann put a hand to her stomach. "They're all dead, Luther. I don't… I don't even know what they are. Human?"
"Fucking experiments." Luther dropped his hands and punched the damaged door hard enough to break knuckles.
Glued to the sight of him, Gaby winced in sympathy for his pain, both physical and emotional.
Cuddled up to him, Ann pleaded, "Don't be a caveman, please. I'm too shook up to take it."
"Sorry." Luther flexed his hand. "It's just… I know the guy who killed them all."
Gaby's stomach hollowed out. Surely, Luther didn't believe that Morty had done the deed? That was too absurd.
As Gaby's thoughts tumbled, Ann hugged herself up to Luther. "Why do you suppose he did it?"
Slinging his arm around her and pulling her close, Luther said, "God only knows, Ann. God only knows."
Gaby turned her back on them and buried her face against her knees. Yeah, God knew. But He wasn't about to share with the likes of them.
If only she'd gotten that damn door open, if only she hadn't left Morty in the first place, then… Luther would have locked her up.
For the sake of humanity, it was better this way.
But then why the hell did it hurt so much?
With nothing else to do, she used a rough tree trunk to pull herself to her feet and, in the near silent way of wraiths, exited the woods. She had to disappear, and if she didn't hurry, Luther would catch her in the act of packing up the tools she used to write and illustrate her graphic novels.
Nothing else mattered. Not any more.
Feeling an awful twinge in his heart, Luther pressed a fist to his chest.
Ann grabbed him. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." But he wasn't. It felt like someone had just ripped out his soul. He'd thought for sure that Gaby would be here, in the middle of the awful destruction.
But so far, there'd been no sign of her.
Duty demanded that he couldn't leave yet, but damn it, he needed to find her. He wasn't sure why, but it felt crucial.
As paramedics carried Mort out on a gurney, Luther had them pause. "One second."
"We need to move."
"Yeah, I know." Luther touched Mort's shoulder. "Mort, where's Gaby?"
Faint and rilled with pain, Morty whispered, "Luther?"
"Yeah, it's me. Was Gaby here with you? Is she hurt? Where is she?"
Reddened from smoke and blurry with pain, Mort opened his eyes and looked at Luther. "No."
Frustration threatened to implode. "No what?"
Mort pressed his lips together. Flames had singed parts of his hair. A hastily bandaged wound in his side still oozed blood. Various scrapes, bruises, and burns discolored his fair skin. "Gaby's not here, Luther," he said. "She was never here." And then he passed out.
The paramedics hurried on their way.
Sensing a betrayal, Luther watched as Mort was loaded into the ambulance, and he stood there as it drove away, stood there even as the lights disappeared from sight.
Morty had appeared too sick and hurt to lie.
But then, maybe he was too sick and hurt not to lie.
Luther needed to figure out which it might be.
Epilogue
Head pounding and irritation level at an all-time high, Luther strode down the hospital corridor. His thoughts joggled left and right, but always there, dead center, was a need to see Gaby.
She'd gone and disappeared on him, and he was pissed as hell.
When he pushed open the hospital door to Morty Vance's room, he found Ann sitting on the side of the bed, one of Mort's big-knuckled hands in both of hers.
Un-fucking-believable. But he had to admit, ever since the night of that awful debacle a week ago, Mort was different.
The nurses saw it, and Ann evidently did, too.
In the normal course of things, Ann was too independent to accept any gentlemanly favors. She went out of her way to prove herself an equal to the male detectives.
Yet today, she'd asked Luther to drop her off near the hospital entrance before sending him off to park the car. She was that anxious to see Morty.
The entire world had turned upside down.
Ann ignored his entrance, but Morty said, "Hey, Luther."
Reclining in bed, his hair freshly washed, his face cleanly shaved, and a crisp hospital gown the only concealment to his scrawny bod, Mort seemed… more of a man than Luther remembered.
"Am I interrupting?"
Ann let out a sigh. "Instead of being an ass, why don't you keep Morty company while I go get him something to eat?"
"There's nothing I'd rather do." Luther waited until Ann had circled the bed, then said, "I'll be right back, Mort. I need a quick word with Ann first."
"Sure thing, Luther."
Damn it, he even sounded more confident. Once in the hall, Luther stared down at Ann. "Please don't tell me you're interested in him."
Smug, Ann smiled and examined a nail. "Why would I tell you anything at all? My private life is none of your business."
"Jesus."
Ann shrugged. "There's definitely something about him."
Because he'd felt the same way about Gaby, Luther let it go. "Is he talking much this morning?"
Ann's smile became a warning frown. "Don't you dare forget that Mort almost died and is just now recovering from all he went through. He doesn't remember many of the details from that night, and you badgering him won't change that."
"And now you're a mother hen." Luther rolled his eyes. "Go get the food while I entertain Sir Lancelot."
As she walked away, Ann said, "Sarcasm is not an attractive trait in a man."
Luther waved that off. After days without sleep, a nonstop headache and a feeling of grave loss, being attractive dropped way down on his list of priorities.
The second he stepped back into the room, Morty said, "I haven't seen her, Luther. I swear. I wish I had."
Unconvinced, Luther sidestepped that to ask, "How are you, Mort?"
Leery, Mort frowned at him. "The docs say I should get out of here soon. My head is fine now. If that explosion hadn't sent debris into my guts, giving me an infection, I wouldn't have been here this long." He leveled his brows. "And I really don't know where Gaby is."
"Okay." Taking the chair beside the bed, Luther said, "But you'd tell me if you did?"
His eyes narrowed. "Not if you wanted to arrest her. Gaby didn't do anything wrong."
"I didn't say she did." As annoying as it was to be without answers, Luther applauded Mort's defense of Gaby. She deserved a few defenders in her life. "In fact, against my instincts, I'm beginning to believe you that she wasn't even there that night."
Mort's eyes widened. "You are?"
Not entirely, but he said, "I located that little hooker friend of hers—Bliss."
"The girl Gaby saved from being abused."
"That's the one. Bliss had an interesting story to tell me. She claims Dr. Chiles threatened to kill her, just as she'd killed Rose, another hooker, if Bliss didn't trick Gaby into coming to the isolation hospital. The thing is, Gaby wasn't supposed to go until the next night, when the doctor planned to ambush her."