Shadow of Perception (33 page)

When Nancy walked away, Dorothy grinned. She couldn’t believe she’d found a confidant in her new nurse, and could picture Nancy visiting her. Maybe they’d watch TV together or play a game of cards. She hadn’t played cards in years. Releasing a wistful sigh, she conjured different scenarios. All of which included a clean house and Nancy. The filth Dorothy had been living in suddenly bothered her. Having this kindred spirit in her house made Dorothy yearn for change. Between Dorothy’s disability check and Pudge’s income, she wondered if they could afford a cleaning service. She’d love to see the house fixed up a little nicer, if she were to have Nancy visiting more often. Hell, she’d love to do the job herself.
 

Dorothy realized she no longer wanted to be chained to the rented hospital bed. She hadn’t had a friend in so long. Nancy, with her sweet demeanor, and understanding eyes, made Dorothy want to walk, to move around, to clean her own damn house…to be a good friend.

Smiling, Dorothy laid her head against the pillow and waited for Nancy. At this point, if Pudge came home and found the nurse snooping, Dorothy didn’t care. Nancy would fight for her, and Pudge wouldn’t hold the cards any longer.
 

With friendship and long-needed companionship on the brain, Dorothy was determined to make a comeback.
 

 
When Nancy entered the room carrying a large duffle bag, Dorothy said, “Before you tell me what you’ve found, I want you to know that I’m really excited you’re here. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a…friend to talk to. You’ve inspired me, Nancy. I want to lose the weight and get out of this bed. Go for coffee, go for a run.” She chuckled. “The only time I’d ever think I’d want to run is if someone was pointing a gun at me. But not any more. I’m ready to get healthy.”

Nancy laughed as she brought over the duffle bag. Hell, she didn’t just laugh, she cackled, the sound eerily familiar and unsettling. Dorothy couldn’t put her finger on her sudden edginess, but then she shrugged off the feeling. This was Nancy. Her new friend.

“Very touching,” Nancy said as she unzipped the bag, then dumped the contents on Dorothy’s legs.

Shackled to the bed by her weight, Dorothy panicked and made several attempts to roll and dislodge the disgusting things lying on top of her legs. Years of not using her muscles had her sweating and panting. Fear of what Nancy had discovered had her heart beating out of control and her mind racing.
 

Pudge had been very bad.

“Oh my God,” Dorothy gasped. “W…what is all of this?” Shocked, she stared at the bloody clothes and sharp medical instruments. “This has to be part of a costume. Why else would Pudge have—?”

“I doubt this is,” Nancy said as she held up a dildo. “Or this.” She showed her more clothes stained with what appeared to be a lot of dried blood.

Sickened, Dorothy mumbled, “Dear Lord.”
 

“Praying won’t help you,” Nancy said, her tone no longer sweet and compassionate.
 

Frowning, Dorothy glanced away from the filth on her bed, and looked to the other woman. “You’re right. We should go to the police. If Pudge has hurt someone…”

Dorothy knew in her heart that this was Rick’s fault. He’d screwed up Pudge’s head. Dorothy had witnessed Pudge’s beatings, and the night Rick had died, she’d learned the bastard had been raping his own child for years. Something he’d told Dorothy as he’d punched her in the head. Told her she couldn’t do anything about it. But she had done something. She’d killed Pudge’s tormentor, then laid him to rest in pieces.
 

But what if they did go to the police and report Pudge? Would the cops investigate their family’s past? If they did, or if Pudge went under psychological treatment, they could find out what had really happened to Rick. Dorothy would go to jail. She couldn’t allow that to happen. Between Rick and her weight, Dorothy had grown tired of being a prisoner.

“Let me see that,” Dorothy demanded, and grabbed what looked to be a maintenance worker’s uniform shirt. She checked the size, then sighed with relief. “It’s a double XL, Pudge would swim in this thing.” She tossed it aside. “I told you I thought I heard other people at the house. I bet Pudge is holding onto these things for someone else. Did you find any drugs?”

Nancy shook her head, and Dorothy swore the other woman eyed her with perverse amusement. No, not Nancy. Nancy was helping her. The thought of Pudge being involved in something that could drag them down had her paranoid.
 

“Okay, listen,” Dorothy began, a plan formulating in her mind. “Why don’t you put this stuff back where you found it? I don’t want Pudge to know we were snooping.”

“So you expect me to allow you to live alone with a murderer?” Nancy asked.

Dorothy shook her head, and answered Nancy honestly, “Pudge isn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, if you get my meaning, and couldn’t pull off killing a person and getting away with it. That child is and always will be a door mat. Murderer.” She shrugged. “I’ll take my chances.”

Nancy leaned over the bed and began stuffing the stained clothes in the bag. When she held up the scalpel, light glistened off the sharp edge. “Are you sure about that? If I were you, I’d be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of my own child.”

Still holding the scalpel, Nancy grabbed her hair, then tugged. “You should be.”

“Pudge?” Dorothy whispered, and began shaking. She stared in utter disbelief as Pudge tossed the wig to the floor. “I…I…”

“I, I, I,” Pudge mimicked. “Did you really think I would be stupid enough to allow you to have access to my things? When you threatened my inheritance, I knew I had to make sure Gretchen didn’t come see you…ever.”
 

When Pudge sent her a vicious grin, Dorothy asked, “Did you…hurt Gretchen?”

“I did more than hurt her. You needed a new nurse. Honestly, I planned to just fill her shoes to make sure you didn’t change your will or beneficiary.”

“Pudge, honey, I wasn’t going to do that.”

“No? Then you were just going to have her snoop through my things?” Pudge shrugged, then put the scalpel in the duffle bag. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. But what
does
matter is that you can’t be trusted.”

Pudge peeled off the nurse’s nose, and then the plump cheeks. After dropping them on the bed tray, Pudge pulled the shirt off, and tossed it aside. “Look who’s the stupid one now,” Pudge said, and showed off the padding that had once been Nancy’s ample breasts, thick stomach and hips. “You couldn’t even recognize your own child. So here’s what I’m going to do with you.”

Shaking, Dorothy couldn’t stop the tears streaming down her face. What had happened to her baby? “Pudge, I’m sorry. Please don’t kill me. Please,” she begged.

“If I was going to kill you, you’d have been dead a long time ago. Do you really think I enjoy feeding your fat face, wiping your ass, changing your disgusting colostomy bag? Do you think I like living here with you? That I’m living the fucking dream? Hell, no. But I want your money, and to get it, I need you to die…naturally.”

Relief washed over Dorothy, until she caught a wicked glint in Pudge’s eyes. “What are you going to do with me?”

“The better question is what am I going to do to you?” Pudge replied, and snatched the TV remote and phone off of Dorothy’s bed tray. “Guess what that is? Absolutely nothing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“And you thought I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. Let me lay it out for you. I will no longer take care of you. Those bed sores can fester until they’re infected and reek as much as your colostomy bag, which I refuse to change—ever. Your food demands…well, I won’t starve you, but kiss your snack cakes good-bye. As for your phone and TV privileges, all gone. I own you,
Mama
.”
 

Dorothy stared at the TV remote Pudge held. Without TV, what did she have? Because she had no friends or family worth speaking to, she didn’t have much use for the phone. But her TV…she’d go crazy without it. Panic bubbled from within the depths of her soul. She couldn’t imagine lying in the hospital bed all day, alone, with nothing to do. “Please,” she begged Pudge. “At least let me keep the TV.”

“Seriously? The TV is your only concern?” Pudge chuckled. “You’re pathetic. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about—”

A phone rang. Pudge reached into the bag that had been part of the nurse disguise and pulled out a cell phone. Dorothy thought about screaming with the hope of alerting the caller to her dire situation, but Pudge answered the call in the kitchen.
 

Seconds later, Pudge returned. “I’ve got to leave soon. I don’t trust you to be quiet while I’m showering, or even when I’m gone, so…” Pudge opened the nurse’s bag and pulled out a roll of duct tape and a set of handcuffs.

Her earlier panic morphed into raw terror. “Please don’t do this,” she begged as Pudge tore tape off the roll. “I’ll be good. I promise. I’ll be good.”

Pudge cuffed Dorothy’s hands around the bedrail, then pressed the tape over her mouth. “I know you will. You have no choice.”

Chapter 18

Eden slung the computer bag over her shoulder, then turned to Hudson, “Ready?”
 

He pushed off the wall of one of WBDJ’s editing rooms. “That’s it?”

She smiled. “I told you it wouldn’t take me long to finish this last segment. Thanks for your help,” she said to David.

The cameraman nodded his head. “My pleasure. I’m sure gonna to miss working with you. Don’t forget about us little people when you get all big and famous,” he said, then gave her a hug.
 

She looked over David’s shoulder, and met Hudson’s gaze. While his eyes didn’t hold even a hint of jealousy, the disappointment she saw in them made her stomach drop, and her heart race with indecision. She’d rekindled her relationship with Hudson on the cusp of beginning a new career change—in another state. Now she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to move. Yes, she wanted the Network job. Going national, with the opportunity of syndication, would take her career to a level she’d never imagined. Only her drive to be on top would cost her Hudson. He had a life, and his position with CORE, here in Chicago. What would he do in New York? Would he even consider moving for her? Was she even ready to take their relationship to that level?

As David released her and then spoke with Hudson, she realized she had some serious thinking to do. The realtor had left her a voice message this morning with regards to showing her townhouse to several potential buyers. Plus, her agent had emailed her the itinerary for next week’s trip to New York, along with the Network contract to review. Weeks ago, she’d been ecstatic over the upcoming career opportunity. Instead of enthusiasm over the new move and job, her attention, her excitement now revolved around Hudson and what their future could hold.
 

Damn, him holding her, filling her body, her heart, her soul with the love she’d denied herself for too long. She knew in her gut she loved him. Even when she’d ended their relationship two years ago, she’d loved him. The fear of rejection, of failing, of allowing their relationship to step in the way of her career, had driven her to end things with him. Now she’d trade those lost years, maybe even the Network job, to have the chance to discover what their life together would have been like if only she’d taken the risk.
 

Risk. She’d taken on the pseudonym because she was a risk taker when it came to her career. Could she risk her heart
and
her career for Hudson?
 

Instead of focusing on the uncertainty of what their relationship would eventually become, she forced her attention to something less complicated—the killer and his DVDs. The investigation, while frustrating and gruesome, was straightforward when compared to the complexity of her heart. Find the identity of the third victim, as well as the possible fourth, and stop the killer. Only they didn’t have much time. Another DVD would be on her doorstep by Monday morning.
 

David shook Hudson’s hand, then waved to her. “See y’all,” he said, and left the room.
 

“Do you want to go back to my place, or to CORE?” she asked Hudson.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Rachel sent me a text while you were working. She’s emailing me everything she’s found on the dentist.”

“I’ve been thinking. Now that we have Dr. Brian Westly’s ID, maybe we should go to the police. I know the killer said no cops, but—”

“We still don’t have a body. And according to his receptionist, Westly went on vacation.”

“Permanently.”

He half-chuckled. “That was bad. I’m worried Rachel’s dark sense of humor is rubbing off on you.”

“I wish her smarts would.” The girl really was a brainiac. Nudging him with her bag, she breezed past him and into the hallway. “So, back to my place?”

“Yeah, hopefully we’ll—”

David rounded the corner, his dark eyes bright with excitement. “Feel like reportin’ one more story, ya know, for ol’ time’s sake?”

After she’d received the offer from Network last month, Eden had told the station manger she’d finish the beauty pageant series, but she wouldn’t take on any other assignments. Aside from her relationship with Hudson, when it came to her job, she didn’t like to leave things unfinished, and she’d worried the possible WBDJ assignments might overlap with her move to New York.