Shadow of Perception (40 page)

“Yes,” Roth blurted with a sob. “We all did. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Aware of the video recorder, Michael shook his head, and kept his emotions under control. Although he wanted to choke the life out of Roth, and kill the others all over again, he also didn’t want to appear as the violent villain, either. Conning their clients out of money, encouraging them to have avoidable and excessive surgeries, had been unethical and criminal. They were the villains.

“I didn’t want to hear that you lied and manipulated your patients,” Michael began. “I didn’t want to give your colleagues their personal procedures, either. But I also didn’t expect to bury my daughter because of your lies and manipulations. You
did
lie to her, didn’t you?”

Chin trembling, Roth nodded. “I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “We knew she was insecure and impressionable, but—”

“Impressionable,” Michael echoed, the fury now slowly bubbling to the surface. “My daughter’s IQ was
eighty
. According to her psychiatrist, she was borderline intellectually functioning. But she pushed herself, and had even enrolled in the community college. Was she impressionable? Absolutely. Did she deserve to be preyed upon…?”

Clenching the scalpel, he turned away before he stabbed Roth in the chest. From the time Eliza had been a toddler, and he and Sarah had realized she would face challenges based on her intellectual disadvantages, he’d warned Eliza to never trust anyone. Especially after Sarah had begun entering Eliza in beauty pageants. With a world filled with sexual predators, Eliza’s naivety, her inability to truly think through a situation and read the pros and cons, he’d worried. When Sarah had divorced him, and he was only able to see Eliza alternating weekends, his worry had deepened. Eliza had always known she wasn’t the brightest kid, but when her mother had filled her fragile, adolescent mind with dreams of a modeling career, his daughter’s insecurities had grown. If she couldn’t be the smartest kid, then she would be the prettiest. No matter the cost.

“Impressionable,” Michael repeated. “Did her mother happen to tell you just how impressionable Eliza was?”

More tears streamed down Roth’s face as he nodded.

“So you knew Eliza wouldn’t understand your instructions regarding her procedure or any of the contracts she’d signed?”

Another pitiful nod. “But her mother was with her when any of us explained the surgeries and when we’d given her the contracts.”

“I don’t doubt that. Trust me. I blame her as much as I blame you.” Michael shrugged.
 

“It’s a shame she put a bullet in her head before I had the chance to show her how much she disgusted me.” He moved toward Roth again. The man had confessed enough, and Michael wanted to move on with his procedure. While he didn’t look forward to the blood and screams, he did look forward to finishing his promise to Eliza.

“Wait,” Roth shouted. “I told you everything you wanted to know. You have it on video. I’m ruined.” He sobbed. “My name, my reputation, I…I’m ruined. Please, think of my wife and my daughters.”

Michael glared at Roth. “Like you thought of your wife and stepdaughters when you took women to your hotel room? Trust me. I am thinking of your family. I’m thinking that they’re better off without you. Even if I did let you go, you’d be worth more dead than alive. Don’t you think?”

 
Roth grew silent. The tears stopped. He no longer struggled against his restraints. Instead, he drew in a deep breath, then said, “You’re right. I deserve to die for what I’ve done. Go ahead and kill me. I don’t want to live anymore.”

The sobbing began again. Amused by Roth’s acting skills, Michael smiled. “Playing the martyr won’t work on me. Besides, I told you I wasn’t going to kill you,” he said as he approached Roth with the scalpel. “The coyotes will, after I fix your nose.”

 
Roth screamed and raged. The veins at his temple and neck bulged. Spittle flew from his mouth. He swore and threatened Michael. Bowed his body against the restraints.
 

Tired of all the noise, and ready to complete his death wish list, Michael ripped a piece of duct tape from the roll. He pressed it against Roth’s opened mouth, then reached for the scalpel.
 

Pinching the bridge of Roth’s nose again, Michael drew the blade close to the man’s flaring nostril. “We’ll just take a little off the tip of your nose.”
 

Although prone and secured to the surgical table, Roth fought, jerked his body and head. The scalpel slipped, and Michael sliced through Roth’s nostril. Even with the tape over his mouth, Roth’s scream reverberated off the steel walls.

Wincing, Michael shook his head. Roth already leaked a lot of blood. This could be extremely messy, and he didn’t feel like dealing with a mess. Then again, what did he care? After he delivered the DVDs to Eden, he would not return to the farmhouse. He had bigger, better plans for his future.

“Look what you made me do,” Michael said. “I guess I’ll have to take off the other nostril as well. We can’t have you all lopsided.”

After removing the other nostril, Michael began to cut into Roth’s nose. As the man screamed and cried, sick satisfaction bled into self-loathing. Torture, mutilation, murder…never in his life had he thought he could sink to this level of depredation. He might not have been a saint, but he’d always upheld high, moral standards for himself. When Eden watched this DVD, when she heard Roth’s confession, would she understand? Would the rest of the world? Or would everyone think he was insane?
 

His sanity had never been the issue. His sorrow, his need for retribution had been what had fueled him. Everything he’d accomplished in his OR had been for Eliza.
     

He didn’t expect many people to comprehend the depths of his grief, or his need to right the wrong committed against his daughter. He also understood that what he’d done to the other men, and what he was currently doing to Roth, would be construed as monstrous. But in his OR, monster or not, he was judge, jury and executioner.
 

Today marked the end of seven years of planning, researching, and preparing. The day they’d touched Eliza, Roth and the others had unleashed a dark, sinister hatred Michael hadn’t realized he’d been capable of carrying. The others had paid for their crimes, and so would Roth.
 

As he was about to finish removing the cartilage from Roth’s nose, he realized the man had passed out.
 

Thank God.
 

Slicing Roth’s face had been beyond grotesque. Like with Westly’s dental surgery, Michael had been too close to Roth, had been able to see the pain, misery and regret in his eyes. While he didn’t feel sorry for Roth, or any of them, he mourned for not only Eliza, but for the honorable, moral, respected man he’d once been.
 

He couldn’t allow himself to dwell on what he’d done, or all that he’d lost. Time was ticking, and he had an agenda to keep.

After quickly undoing Roth’s restraints, he flipped him over, then hogtied him. He retrieved the wheel barrel, shoved Roth’s unconscious body inside, then grabbed his varmint rifle. Wheeling Roth through the wide service door, he scanned the gravel driveway.
 

In the distance a coyote bayed.
 

He pushed the wheel barrel over the gravel, then onto the dirt path leading deep into the woods. With each step he made, the hatred that he’d carried for seven long years began to dissipate. He imagined that hate scattering amongst the naked trees, or being carried into the distance on the cold wind.
 

And smiled.
 

Chapter 22

Staring at the closed bedroom door, Hudson ran a hand through his hair, then scratched the back of his head. He’d messed up—big time.
 

Riding on a high from when Eden had admitted she loved him, he’d barely paid attention to John or the football game they’d been watching. When John had mentioned the whole ‘another walk down the aisle’ thing, Hudson hadn’t thought anything of it. The only thing he’d been thinking about was Eden, how they were going to make their relationship work. Well, and that omelet she’d promised him.

Now the only thing on his mind was trying to find a way to make things right.
 

Heading toward the living room to open the files Rachel had sent them, his stomach tightened into a ball. He couldn’t wipe away the image of Eden—the hurt and disappointment that had clouded her eyes with tears and sadness. He couldn’t remove the dull ache that had taken root in his chest, the moment he’d realized he’d hurt the woman he loved.
 

When she’d said she loved him, he’d been stupid to not tell her that he loved her. But he’d been overwhelmed and ecstatic that Eden—one of the smartest, strongest, sexiest women he’d ever had the pleasure of knowing—actually loved him. His family certainly hadn’t, his ex-wife had, just not enough. But Eden
did
love him, flawed, scarred, she loved him. She’d showed him with her body, with her trust. What did he give her in return?
 

Jack shit.
 

While he honestly believed their pasts didn’t matter, Eden had thought otherwise. She’d given a part of herself the night she told him about her assault. She’d given him her trust. Instead of returning the gift, he’d unintentionally trashed it. Knowing Eden, her need to control, her need to have a plan of escape, he worried that if he didn’t rectify the situation, she’d leave for New York and never come back to him.
 

He’d fight for her this time. Loving her, being a part of what they had together, was the best thing he’d ever done. Letting her go wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t beg her to stay. He’d told her that before, and had meant it. She needed to explore her career opportunities and make her own choices. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t continue to support and love her.
 

When she’d told him she loved him, his plans to move to the suburbs and take a different, safer job had suddenly sounded…boring. While he’d been ready to take a less chaotic route, he realized that if Eden wasn’t along for the ride, his life wouldn’t be the same. He would rather have the chaos that followed her busy career, and even the hectic lifestyle of New York, than live without her. Now he had to find a way to make her understand his mistake, and believe in him again.

Her slippered feet brushed against the hardwood. He turned and caught the contempt and hurt in her eyes before she bent and picked up Brutal.
 

“Have you opened the files yet?” she asked, then sat on the couch next to him.
 

“Eden, honey, I—”

“Don’t.” She glared at him. “Let’s just work on the clientele list.”

With a nod, he opened the file. She wanted to stick to business. He could do that…for now. Eventually she’d have to listen to him, and when he was given that opportunity, he’d lay everything on the line and hold nothing back.
 

“Rachel sent us the clientele list from the approximately three years Med Spa was open, along with before and after photos. We’ll review A through M, and she’ll work on N through Z.” He sighed, and shook his head. “I’m still not sure what good this will do without a name though.”

She scratched Brutal behind the ears. “The killer mentioned two women that he’d loved. I think we should keep our focus on the female clients who had both liposuction and breast implants.”

He stared at the list that contained over three thousand names. “It’s too bad Rachel couldn’t use her computer magic to narrow the list by procedure.”

“She tried?”

“Yeah, with the way the files were set up, she couldn’t. As it stands, we’re lucky she was able to download the list and pictures.” As he opened the file with the before and after photos, a thought occurred to him. “When the killer called you, he said you reminded him of one of those women. That you even looked like one of them. Maybe we should look for someone who resembles you, too.”

Setting Brutal on the cushion next to her, she leaned forward and hugged herself. “It’s a long shot, but you’re right. I just hope we’re not chasing our tails. There might still be a chance to save Dr. Roth.”

“Rachel checked to see if the wife filed a missing persons report.” He shook his head. “Nothing yet.” He stood, and moved toward the kitchen. “I’m going to call Rachel again and tell her how we’re going to attack the list and photos.”

After he talked to Rachel, he returned to the living room. Eden had already started looking through the photos. When he sat next to her, she didn’t look at him. He glanced at the clock on the screen. Already close to ten, he planned on pulling a late night. “If you want to go to bed, I’ve got this,” he said, and hoped she’d take him up on the offer. Spending hours sitting next to a severely pissed off Eden didn’t appeal to him. He’d rather work alone than deal with the complication, or the reminder that he was an asshole.

“I’m not going anywhere. Let’s just get this done.”
   

By one in the morning, they’d found thirty-four female clients who had a slight resemblance to Eden, and had had both liposuction and breast implants. And that short list had been made from clients A through C. They still had thousands of more names and photos to review.
 

Stretching, he glanced at Eden. Although she sat upright and facing the computer, her head rested against the back cushion of the couch, and her eyes were closed. Good, he’d rather she slept. Sitting next to her during the past three hours had been hell. Not once did she look at him, or make any conversation other than to point out a client. She acted as if they’d never kissed, touched, made love. The way she’d detached herself from him, treated him as if he were a stranger, cut deep and reminded him of what a fool he’d been. The memories of their last break-up surfaced, along with the anger, pain, and regret that had followed.