Page 107 of Secrets in the Dark
“Yes!” Donavan said, suddenly looking up at him. The man had tears in his eyes. “Yes, I will help you. I am so sorry. I—I was a wretched alcoholic. I didn’t want to kill anyone, but when I didn’t drink, the shaking and the headaches got so bad. Up until I was in here...up until the doctor... I...” He stopped speaking and looked Mason in the eye. “I will help you. I don’t know everything, but I will help you.”
“Libby Larson has two small children,” Alexandra—Alex—Beaufort told Della. “Her poor husband—he’s beside himself. I don’t think that Libby will be returning to work with prisoners, not after this! In this unpredictable day and age, the woman has a beautiful home life, people who truly love her, and now this...”
“She’s still touch and go?” Della asked.
“The doctors believe she will make it. We were just fighting different situations. He hit her with a needle filled with sedation, stabbed her in the side—luckily missing major organs—and knocked her on the head with something...no one was even sure what he grabbed. But we’ve been giving her constant transfusions and done everything possible to clean out her system from the overdose of morphine. Such a good person!”
Della smiled and nodded at the young nurse speaking with her. “Did you know her before she came in after the attack?”
“I did. We went to nursing school together. She believed everyone deserved a second chance. That human beings were basically good, and that...”
Her words trailed.
“I still believe, just like Libby, that most people are good,” Della told her ruefully. “It’s like anything—we hear the most about the bad. And sometimes we’re unfortunate enough to see it. But I’ve been at this a while, and I can tell you most people are good and want to help when help is needed. We know about the bad—which I believe is the fringe—because the bad is always loud and makes us question all else. Anyway, sorry, I understand her—and understand if she doesn’t go back to work at the facility. I didn’t come to cause further problems. I don’t want to upset her anymore. But if possible, I would like to talk to her.”
“She wants to see you,” Alex said. “She heard the FBI had brought him in, and she wants to help catch him again. Still...for her safety and well-being, five minutes?” Alex asked.
“Five minutes,” Della promised.
Libby Larson was in a private room. An IV ran fluids into her arm while the tubes in her nostrils provided oxygen.
Even in a hospital bed with wires all around her, Libby was a beautiful young woman. Her eyes were closed when Della entered the room, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Dante had been furious he couldn’t tend to her as he did his victims—dressing her up to lie in “sleep” like a fairy-tale princess just waiting for true love’s kiss.
Her hair was dark black and swept across the whiteness of the hospital sheets. When she opened her eyes, they were an incredible deep brown.
“FBI?” she whispered.
Della nodded, smiling, drawing up a chair. “And so grateful to see you alive and on your way to recovery.”
“I knew who he was. And still...we thought he was going to die. The doctor...oh, God, we were even discussing the fact that we were compelled to do everything we could to save his life. He should have been dead! I was one of the medical personnel who rushed into the cafeteria when the guards had it under control, and I saw the blood... He shouldn’t be alive! But he is, and Dr. Henson is dead and others and... I’m so sorry!”
“What happened?” Della asked. “Do you remember anything at all?”
“Yes. When Dante came in, naturally, he wasn’t cuffed. I don’t remember exactly, but one of us figured he needed to be restrained and the doctor went out to see the guards. Then I felt a stab, a little prick, and I was bleeding and confused and then I think something hit me on the head but I barely even felt it... He was so fast. I—I don’t remember more!”
“Did he say anything at all?” Della asked. “We’re trying to ascertain where he might be heading.”
“No. Not a word. But...”
“But?”
“I’d seen him before,” she said softly. “Prisoners get vaccines, checkups. He was always so polite, friendly to those around him. And prisoners...talk. When they don’t think others can hear them. He made friends with everyone in here—the worst of the worst.” She paused, wincing. “The only hard-core people he seemed to ignore were pedophiles—he had no interest in them.”
“To the best of my knowledge, he doesn’t kill children,” Della said.
“How can a man appear to be so decent, polite—even charming—and be such a monster? And I can’t help but feel it’s partially my fault—”
“Never think that. Never. Saving lives is a beautiful thing. Trust me. Stephan Dante has fooled just about everyone he’s ever met. Don’t let him succeed. Don’t let him change you,” Della said softly.
“He whistled sometimes.”
“What did he whistle?”
“I can’t quite put my finger on the tune, but...”
“Yes?”
“It seemed as if he was taunting people with it. A lot of what I’m saying is hearsay. I only saw him a few times while he was incarcerated, I just...” Tears stung her eyes. “The doctor is dead. A guard... That man is a monster!”
