The Storm - S. Roche & L. Wise

Lightning seared Felicia's eyes as she stared at the cityscape
outside her office window. She glanced at her watch, Peter was already
two hours late and the storm would not help the schedule. The expensive
leather office chair caught her weight as she collapsed onto it and let
its vibrations soothe her stress and fatigue. It had been such a long
day already and with the tasks still looming ahead, the night would be
even longer.

The intercom on her desk crackled, "Dr. McKay, your last
appointment finally showed."

Her finger pushed the reply button and Felicia replied, "Give me
one minute and send him in." She pulled a white legal pad from a desk
drawer, made sure that her Mont Blanc was at hand, and started the
concealed tape recorder with its foot switch. Quickly pulling out a
small mirror, she checked her hair and makeup.

The oak door to her office swung open quietly admitting Ryan
Younger, homicidal maniac and her newest patient. He strode across the
room like a panther, the soles of his patent leather shoes barely making
a sound.

She stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her skirt and extended a
hand. "Good evening, Mr. Younger," she said while forcing a smile.
He returned the smile and she could immediately see why he had
been able to win his way into the houses of each of his seventeen
victims. He was devastatingly handsome, broad-shouldered and had the
manner of a natural charmer.

"Hello Dr. McKay, I apologize for being late."

"It is quite all right," she said, withdrawing her hand and
concentrating on maintaining her composure.

"I feel like quite the cad and want to make it up to you."

Felicia kept her smile as her trained mind reached back to her
classes, particularly old Dr. Dwyer who lectured the students on always
being calm and controlled in front of a patient. "Not necessary in the
least I assure you, but if you insist you can have a seat and we can get
started." Outwardly, she kept up the façade while inside she thought,
where is Peter?

He sat in one of the two overstuffed chairs that faced her desk.
Felicia sat with the legal pad in her lap and said, "So do you remember
where we left off last time?"

"Of course doctor, we had just gone over my family history and
the usual first visit rubbish that members of your profession find so...
tantalizing."

"I believe we went a little farther than that," she said, pretending to look over notes on the blank legal pad.

"Lies, lies, lies, everything that comes out of that pretty
mouth of yours is a lie." His voice gained a harsh edge, so unlike the
suave debonair Ryan Younger she saw on the first visit, in fact he
sounded more and more like the man Peter warned her about.

Her foot hovered near the alarm button on the floor, but she
would wait until she felt absolutely certain that her life was in danger
to use it.

"To tell you the truth Doctor," he began, and Felicia noticed
for the first time that Younger's left hand had never left his tailored
pants pocket, "I have not exactly been honest with you either."

Vainly, she tried to remember those silly self defense
techniques that Peter had insisted she learn. Peter, an ex-SEAL and her
boyfriend of three years was big on self-defense, but where was he now
and how could he not be here after they had agreed that he would be
hiding in the closet while she kept her appointment with Mr. Younger?

"You see Felicia, I have been sent here on a very special
mission by someone you know very well and that mission involves you."

"And what would that mission be, Mr. Younger?" Felicia said, now
feeling the alarm button through her shoes, the button that would send
an emergency signal to her receptionist just outside the door.

His hand whipped out of his pocket faster than she could blink,
a switchblade appearing as if by magic. Felicia pressed the button with
her toes, repeatedly, frantically, until she noticed a shard of cloth
hanging from the red-stained blade, a cloth that looked like part of the
scarf her receptionist was wearing earlier.

He followed her glance and smiled, "I let your secretary go for
you, she looked tired."

Felicia had one more chance if she could stall for time, "Mr.
Younger, did you hurt Maria?" she asked while she felt behind her desk,
reached in her purse for her cell phone and pressed Peter's speed dial
number.

"I'm sure she's not," his sentence was cut short by a musical
tone from behind the only entrance to the room. "It seems that we have a
visitor, Dr. McKay," he said coldly, "Why don't you see who is at the
door?"

She stood, her knees threatening to fail her at any minute, and
went towards the door. She felt as though she were in a dream as she
neared the giant oak door, the lighting flashing outside, until she
finally grasped the cool knob in her sweaty palm.

The plane of wood shoved into her, knocking her onto her back.
Her head banged against the floor as she sensed, something, rushing into
the room. Thunder boomed and lightning flashed, but that couldn't be
right. She turned her head, in a daze, and saw someone (Peter?) walking,
no stumbling, across the floor and then falling onto his knees.
The gun in Peter's hand fell to the floor and she saw Ryan
stretched across her desk bleeding onto her legal pad.

"No!" she yelled, trying to get to her feet.

Peter stood and managed to cross the room making it to the
sliver of steel on the floor. Ryan stayed motionless across the desk,
blood running in rivulets over the legal pad, while Peter picked up the
switchblade and said, "Are you okay, Felicia?"

She began to sob and ran to him, crying into his chest. As she
pressed her cheek into his body, his chest felt... Wet.

As she reeled back, he lifted the knife to chest level and spoke
words that chilled her to the core. "Ryan was number eighteen."
She took two steps back and tripped over her heel, her hand
hitting something cold and hard. Her mind screamed, the gun!, she
grabbed it and aimed it at Peter.

He stopped and smiled, "You wouldn't."

"Oh yes I would," she said in a cracking voice, vainly trying to
sound brave, while her eyes caught a hint of movement on the desk behind
Peter.

Ryan rose from the desk and screamed like a banshee, launching
himself at Peter's back. He plunged Felicia's bejeweled letter opener
hilt deep in Peter's flesh and pulled violently downward, ripping a
bloody gash.

Peter grunted under the assault and returned the strike with a
slash of his own while she looked on horrified. The two men grappled,
blood splattering from their wounds. Peter had training on his side,
but Ryan's own maniacal strength eventually overcame it. Ryan gained the
upper hand long enough to choke out the words, "You said nobody would be
hurt..." After one more titanic struggle and a horrible cracking sound,
he rolled off of his assailant and looked at his doctor, "I guess he
lied too."

An especially bright flash of lightning illuminated the room as
Felicia relaxed her grip on the pistol and muttered, "In more ways than
one."