Free Wicked Lies by Lisa Jackson, Nancy Bush

Harrison repeated, remembering. Yeah, there had been something about that. He needed to get to a computer and log on to the Internet, refresh his mind about what had happened a few years back.
    “I know he killed some of ’em.” She paused, frowning and biting the edge of her mouth as she remembered. Now she didn’t seem so worried about speaking with him. “Well, he killed a bunch of people, and they caught him at that motel that’s still boarded up.”
    “You recall the name of that motel?”
    “It’s . . . I don’t know. They took the sign down. It’s the one that’s boarded up just outside Deception Bay. On the cliff above the water. It was a wreck then, and it’s been closed and boarded up ever since. Like the lighthouse. You know, the one where that psycho lived!”
    “Ahh, right. The lighthouse.” Harrison nodded, some of the story coming back to him.
    “It’s boarded up, too. Ever since they caught him, it’s been totally off-limits, not that it wasn’t before. But to think he escaped . . .” Fear shined in her eyes. “He’s nuttier than a fruitcake, you know. A real scary dude.”
    That much Harrison did remember. “So, how extensive are the injuries to the two men he attacked?”
    “Extensive enough. He beat Conrad’s head in, and the doctor got stabbed in the throat with a pen.”
    “Was this his doctor? The one he attacked?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Are they in surgery now?”
    “Recovery.” She moved away from the wall. “Are you going to quote me?” she asked, torn between excitement and trepidation. Fifteen minutes of fame or the loss of her job. “Remember, I said I didn’t want you to use my name.”
    With a quick nod, Harrison said, “How about if I just say ‘a source at the hospital’?”
    “Yeah, fine—”
    The other nurse came back, and spying Nurse Solano, she beelined toward them with her mouth a grim line. “Carlita,” she snapped.
    With a last beseeching glance his way, Nurse Solano shifted away.
    The new nurse demanded, “Can I help you?”
    He read her name tag: Nurse Nina Perez. “I’m Harrison Frost—”
    “With Channel Seven?” she interrupted.
    “No.”
    “I recognize you,” she snapped back, as if he’d lied to her.
    “Not from Channel Seven, you don’t.”
    “But I—”
    Before she could go on any further, a doctor strode from the ER in their direction. In scrubs, his hair rumpled, as if he’d just ripped off his surgical cap, he was tall and lanky, his expression sour. His authoritative manner stopped Nina Perez in mid-syllable. She snapped her jaw shut and turned to him carefully.
    “Where’s Laura?” he demanded, running a hand over his hair, trying to tame it.
    Nurse Perez visibly bristled. “She left. Her shift was over.”
    “Well, get her back here. We’re under siege from the damn media, and we’ve got another ambulance coming in. My shift is over.”
    “You’re leaving?”
    He didn’t argue.
    “Who’s on duty in the ER?” she asked, alarmed.
    “Somebody else.” He was weary and self-important, as if he just didn’t give a damn. With an I-don’t-have-to-answer-to-you look of superiority, he headed through the doors.
    “Jackass,” Perez breathed, her words barely audible.
    “A surgeon?” Harrison guessed idly after the self-important asshole had gone.
    He’d memorized his name: Dr. Byron Adderley.
    “Orthopedic,” she said, lips flattening. Then, as if she understood she was saying more than she intended, added, “He’s very good at what he does.”
    And lets everyone know it, Harrison silently added. “He’s heading toward the front, where Pauline Kirby lies in wait.”
    “I think he knows that,” she said tartly, then turned away.
    Harrison, deciding the story had just moved, sauntered back toward the front doors to see what was about to take place.
     
     
    Laura had missed dinner, so she made herself a sandwich. Sliced hard-boiled eggs, pickles, a dab of mayonnaise on wheat bread. She had taken