Shades of Passion

CHAPTER TEN

LESTER DAVENPORT PICKED up his pace as he walked down the hospital corridor. In one hand, he held a bouquet of flowers. In the other, a stuffed puppy doll. He smiled as he imagined Beth’s joy upon seeing his gifts. He imagined her throwing her arms around him. And he imagined her telling him she loved him.

“I love you, Daddy.”

She hadn’t said the words in so long. Not since she was a little girl. Certainly not since her mother had left him. And especially not since her mother had died.

She’d blamed him for that. Even though Nadia had been diagnosed with cancer well after she’d divorced Lester, Beth had still blamed Lester for her mother’s illness. She’d told him so herself and she’d said other hateful things. Things that had made Lester say hateful things back. Things that, at one point, had even goaded Lester into slapping her.

But he’d apologized for that. Over and over again, he’d apologized. Beth had never said she’d forgiven him. Before she could, Nadia had died. And after that, Beth had gotten sick, too. She’d begun to hurt herself, saying she wanted to join her mother. Then she’d been admitted here. To this hospital.

At first, Lester hadn’t liked it. Hadn’t liked the staff, especially Beth’s doctor, who’d asked questions suggesting Lester was to blame for his daughter’s illness. But eventually, Beth had started talking to him again, and Lester’s feelings about the hospital and Beth’s doctor had changed.

When Beth’s doctor told him Beth was doing better, he started making plans to bring her home. He was going to throw a big party for her, to celebrate their fresh start. They were going to be a family again and Beth would forgive him for everything. She’d tell him she loved him again, he just knew it.

He was still smiling as he approached the nurses’ station outside Beth’s room. As he got closer, however, his gait slowed. People were shouting. Medical personnel were scrambling around. There were police there, too. And was that...?

Yes. Yes, it was. Leo. Beth’s boyfriend. But what was he doing here?

The punk was sitting in a chair, sprawled out disrespectfully. When he caught sight of Lester, he grinned, waved and then pointed his finger at something.

With a feeling of dread, Lester’s gaze followed the line of his finger.

Shock slammed into him like a ton of bricks. His stomach heaved with nausea and his fingers grew numb. The bouquet of flowers and the stuffed puppy doll fell. As soon as they hit the ground, the flowers withered and died, but the puppy doll came to life. The puppy began running around Lester’s legs. Barking. Nipping. Trying to get his attention.

But Lester’s attention was too focused on the horrific sight before him.

Beth hung right in front of him now, suspended by a pink ribbon tied to the ceiling. Her eyes were open but empty. Her head lolled to the side as if she no longer had the strength to hold it up. As if she no longer had the life...

She was dead, he realized. She’d hung herself with that pink ribbon. But where had she gotten it?

Lester tore his gaze away from his daughter and looked around for help.

The nurses. The police. Even Leo. Everyone was gone.

Where had they all gone?

“Dr. Whitaker?” he called out even though he had no reason to believe she was here. But she was Beth’s doctor, after all. She’d said Beth was getting better. So where was she?

She needed to cut Beth down. Needed to bring her back to him, just like she’d said she would.

“Dr. Whitaker, where are you? Beth’s tried to hurt herself again. You need to help her.”

He started running, or at least he tried to, but no matter how fast his legs pumped, he gained no ground. It was as if he was running in place or on some kind of treadmill and Beth’s body stayed exactly where it was, swaying in front of him.

Suddenly the pink band around his daughter’s neck lengthened. Like the stuffed puppy doll that Lester had dropped, it came alive. It swirled through the air, reaching out, winding itself around Lester’s body and throat, hissing like a snake.

It was going to kill him, Lester thought, but as much as he wanted to be with Beth, he didn’t want to die. No, no, his mind screamed, he didn’t want to die. But he couldn’t escape, either.

“Dr. Whitaker,” he screamed again. “Dr. Whitaker!”

A shrill ringing sound ripped through the air, jolting Lester Davenport out of his nightmare. For a second, he continued to struggle for breath. Continued to believe he was being choked by the same ribbon that had taken Beth’s life. Then he realized he was simply trapped by bedding. That during his struggles, he’d pulled the twisted sheet tight against his neck until it felt like a noose. Desperately, he untangled himself from its grasp and scrambled out of bed.

The phone rang again, but he didn’t even look at it.

He covered his mouth with his hands and sobbed. Then he ran into the bathroom and emptied his stomach into the toilet.

Long minutes later, he staggered out, returned to the bed and sat down. His bleary eyes took in the empty beer bottles littering the floor. He grabbed one that was half-empty and chugged down the contents. He swiped his hand over his mouth, then fell back. Just as he did, however, the phone rang again.

Flinging his hand out, he grabbed the receiver and dragged it to his ear.

“Hel—hello,” he croaked.

“Mr. Davenport?”

He frowned at the unfamiliar male voice on the other line. “Yes, this is Lester Davenport.”

“Mr. Davenport, this is Rick Shannon with the San Francisco Reporter. I’ve been trying to contact you about your daughter, Elizabeth.”

Images from his nightmare once again swirled around him, making his stomach heave again. He swore he could actually hear that damn dog yapping. The pink ribbon hissing. He pulled himself up to a sitting position. “My daughter is dead,” he said.

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Mr. Davenport, and I’m very sorry for your loss. I’ve read the articles from three years ago. I know what happened.”

“Then why are you calling?”

“Because I was hoping you could give me some additional information that wasn’t in the papers. About what happened to your daughter. And about your daughter’s doctor at the time, Dr. Nina Whitaker. You told reporters that you blamed her for Elizabeth’s death.”

“That’s right,” he spat out. “She is responsible. I’m not retracting that statement, so if that’s why you’re calling you can—”

“Actually, that’s not why I’m calling. I’m calling because I believe you. And I’m afraid Nina Whitaker is going to hurt someone else. Because of her actions, a little girl named Rebecca Hyatt almost died the other day. The police are trying to make it seem like she actually helped the girl, but I think we both know that’s a lie. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, even though he had absolutely no idea what the guy was talking about. But of course Nina Whitaker had endangered another girl. After Beth, it had only been a matter of time. “Absolutely I agree. Tell me more.”

By the time Lester hung up the phone, he felt stronger. Between the drinking and his grief, he’d barely managed to hold on to sanity. But now things were different. The dream had been a sign, as had that phone call. He had a purpose now.

Damn Nina Whitaker. She obviously wasn’t taking his cards seriously.

She’d let Beth die. According to the reporter on the phone, she’d let her own sister die, too. Lester wasn’t going to let her endanger another girl.

Even if that meant he had to go to California to stop her.