Home V: Obsession -- 15/?
by Nan Smith
Previously:
"I just told Lara what Dad told us last night," Lori said. "How's Deirdre?"
"They've got her under heat lamps right now, and IVs and a bunch of other hideous things," Clark said. "They think she'll be okay. I left Barry with her."
"That's a relief. I guess while we're here we'd better go see Carla," Lori said.
"Probably," Clark said. "Thanks for picking up Lori," he told his daughter.
"No problem," Lara said. "Next time it might be helpful if you *tell* me she's being stalked by a killer, though -- although I should have realized something dangerous was going on. It usually is where Lori's concerned."
"Sorry," Clark said. "Why?"
"Lori will tell you about it," Lara said with a slight grin. "I have to run -- or fly. You're coming to dinner with us next week, aren't you?"
"Sure," Clark said.
"We'll be sure to have lots of Lori's favorite foods," Lara said with a wink. "Bye."
She lifted off, and a moment later was gone into the whirling snowflakes.
**********
And now, Part 15:
Clark slipped an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Why did Lara say that?" he asked.
"Say what?" Lori asked. "We'd better go on up to see Carla," she added. "Last I heard, her parents hadn't managed to make it into town to see her yet. Her mom's involved with some kind of scientific group studying the Australian Aborigine's ethnic herbal medicine or something, and she told me her dad's an environmental engineer in Antarctica. I guess they haven't been able to get away yet. She's probably pretty lonely here by herself, especially after what happened."
Clark raised an eyebrow. He might be wrong, but it looked as if his wife was trying to avoid answering the question. "Why did Lara mention that I didn't tell her about the killer?" he asked. "I telepathed her when I took Deirdre to the hospital, because I didn't want to leave you alone at the apartment."
"Oh ... that." Lori sounded uncomfortable. "I went back to be sure Deirdre's door was closed. Her place could have been robbed if people around there realized the place was empty and unlocked."
"What happened?" he asked.
"Clark, it didn't occur to me that the killer could have followed us from the Planet!" Lori said. "Even if it had, why on Earth should I have thought he -- she -- Heck! Whoever it is, to have come after me? I mean, it was an awful risk!"
"I'm not blaming you, honey," Clark said. "If anything, it was my fault. What happened?"
"I *wasn't* your fault!" she insisted emphatically. "I told Lara that, too!"
Clark resisted the temptation to tighten his arm, and thereby let Lori know how much the information that she was inadvertently giving him upset him. She was the center of his world. If something happened to her and their baby it would come as close to killing him as anything ever had. "Never mind whose fault it was," he said. "Just tell me what happened."
Lori shrugged. "I went to shut Deirdre's door and while I was there ..." She went on to describe the events that had happened while he was transporting Deirdre to the hospital. Clark felt his face draining of blood as she talked. The event underlined his belief that whoever their killer was, he must be getting desperate -- or his mental problems were getting more severe as time went on. The kind of compulsion that appeared to drive their quarry never, in his experience, got better by itself, but tended to progress and become more intense until it was the only thing in the life of its victim. Victim was a misnomer, too, he thought. The person they hunted was a killer several times over. It sounded to him as if the obsession with Connor Cooper had come close to all-consuming, and as such, Connor was as likely to be a target now as much as any woman he chose to speak to. As much as Lori already was. Their already-dangerous killer was steadily becoming moreso.
However, his obsession was also driving him to be more careless, to take more chances. It might give them the chance to capture him before he killed somebody else.
He hoped.
Lori was watching him, a worried expression on her face. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to get into a dangerous spot."
"You couldn't have known," he said. "I should have realized it, though."
"No one in his right mind would have thought anyone would take a chance like that!" Lori said. "It wasn't your fault either. Lara expected me to be on the way to the hospital. If I had been, I'd never have been in danger."
"Don't be too sure of that," Clark said. "I think our killer has crossed a critical line. I think he'd have gone after you no matter what."
"What do you mean?"
"I think he -- or she -- is getting worse -- as in losing control of himself," Clark said. "I've seen this before in serial killers. Time goes by, they don't get caught, and eventually they get careless."
"You think that's what's happening?"
"Maybe." He squeezed her hand. "Here's a few facts for you that most people don't realize, Lori. A sociopath isn't normal, but the law doesn't define the condition as a mental illness because sociopaths are in touch with reality. They know right from wrong -- they just don't care. If you go by statistics, out of a hundred people approximately four are sociopaths -- people with no conscience. You probably know a few, personally. That's kind of a scary total, but sociopaths are almost invariably very smart." He smiled without humor. "Most of them have enough sense to blend in, mimic the normal people around them and stay out of trouble, but they're frequently loners who don't quite get along with others. They don't become killers or corporate criminals or anything, but the potential is still there, given the right circumstances."
Lori glanced up at him with a little smile. "I said you could teach a psychology class."
"Well, you can't live for over a century and not learn anything," Clark said. "I've met a lot of non-criminal sociopaths in my time. Most people have. The manipulative co-worker; the nasty neighbor who goes out of his way to cause trouble just for the fun of it; the husband or wife who blackmails spouse and children emotionally; the bullying boss. A significant number of them are sociopaths." He took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. "I've also met more than my share of criminal sociopaths in the course of my job," he continued. "The ones that bring themselves to the attention of law enforcement frequently have other problems besides just the lack of conscience; that's often why they get in trouble with the law. One of the most notorious serial killers of the Twentieth Century was a guy named Ted Bundy. You may have read about him, along with people like Jack the Ripper and so forth. Bundy was handsome, charming, intelligent -- and he killed dozens of women; maybe hundreds. They never knew the real total. He seemed to have a compulsion to kill. He was finally arrested and put in prison, but managed to escape. He had every reason to want to lie low, considering the fact that every police force in the country was looking for him, but he apparently reached a point where he couldn't control the need to kill. He broke into a college dorm and murdered a couple of the co-eds. It was his obsession that led to his recapture, and eventually to his conviction for first degree murder. In the end, he was his own worst enemy. And then, of course, there was the king of them all," he added somberly. "Lex Luthor."
Lori shuddered. "I've never understood why they didn't rename the Lexor," she said. "After what you told me about him ..."
"I know," Clark said. "Luthor had a number of problems, although I didn't realize it at the time, and I'm sure he didn't think they were problems. He was a megalomaniac for one thing. He saw the world only in the way it related to him. He had to be larger than life, and everything else took second place. He was calculating, and a compulsive manipulator. He gloried in breaking the law, often just for the fun of getting away with it. He hated Superman because he was as powerful in his own way as Luthor, but Luthor's overriding obsession was with Lois. He wanted to possess her above all other things and was willing to go to any lengths to succeed. That was what brought him down in the end." He glanced to his left where the tall Lexor Hotel towered above the lesser buildings of Metropolis. Lori couldn't see it, of course, but he could, regardless of the blinding snow. "I suppose the name is a mark of distinction in some ways. Tombstone had the OK Corral, Doc Holiday, Wyatt Earp and the Clanton gang. Billy the Kid still fascinates people. So does Bat Masterson, and historians disagree on whether he was a good guy or a bad one. It's the same with Lex Luthor. He was legendary, and some historians still argue over whether he was really the criminal that he was painted to be, so the hotel kept his name. It's good for business -- but I've never stayed in it even one night since Luthor's death."
Lori squeezed his hand. He looked down at her, shaking off the unpleasant memories. "Anyway, the point of this long dissertation is that our criminal may be a sociopath, but I think his other problems are getting worse. He -- or more probably she," he added with a grimace, "-- is taking more chances and making more effort to get rid of her perceived rivals for Connor, but that's only going to make her more dangerous, not less, until she's taken into custody. I already reported the attempt on Deirdre to Velma, by the way. That was one of the things that delayed me. She assigned a guard to Deirdre immediately. I think she thinks our killer is teetering on the brink of a meltdown, just like I do."
"You think she's going to come after me, again?" Lori asked. There was no alarm in her voice, but her fingers had tightened on his.
"I think the chances are pretty good she will." Clark fought to keep his voice level. "And along the way, I think she's going to try to take out any and all other people she sees as rivals. Deirdre's only crime was that she works with Connor. There are also other women who work at the gym."
"There are three," Lori said, "I got the schedule from the gym's bulletin board yesterday."
"I called Connor," Clark said. "I told him about Deirdre, and warned him not to go off alone with *anyone*. He assured me that he wouldn't. I think you impressed him yesterday when you pointed out that his strength is no match for a stunner."
"Connor was never stupid," Lori said. "A little naïve, maybe, but not stupid."
Clark disengaged his hand from hers so he could wrap an arm around her as they approached the main doors of Metro General. Logically, he knew that it was unlikely that their killer would be waiting for them at the hospital, but logic wasn't foremost in his mind right now. If he had his way, he would take Lori to France or some other foreign country and install her safely in a hotel there until their quarry was caught, but he knew very well that she wouldn't consent to any such thing. Lieutenant Chow had emphasized to Superman a short time earlier that their profiler had described an individual who was approaching the brink of a crisis, and once that crisis was reached, their killer, with all restraints gone, could do literally anything. He was going to stick to his wife like glue today, he promised himself silently, and had already passed the word to the other supermen and women in Metropolis. If anyone made another attempt on Lori, Clark was perfectly willing to betray his own secret, if necessary, to protect her. That wasn't even a consideration.
**********
Carla's bed was tilted into sitting position when Lori knocked on the doorframe of her semi-private room some five minutes later. The Daily Planet's intern switched off the vidscreen and her face lit up in a smile when she saw who her visitors were. "Ms. Lyons! Mr. Kent! Come in!"
"Hi, Carla," Lori said. "How are you feeling?"
The intern grimaced. "A little sore," she admitted, "but the doctors did a good job on me. They said there won't even be a scar by the time I'm finished healing, and they're going to release me tomorrow morning."
"That's a relief," Lori said. "We were worried."
"I'll be fine," Carla reassured her. "If *you* can stand up to muggers and guys who try to kill you, *I* sure can. I'm going to be an investigative reporter someday, too."
"Standing up to muggers and murderers isn't usually considered part of my job description," Lori said. "I'm awfully sorry this happened to you."
"Why?" Carla asked. "Just because I ran into a mugger in the parking lot? It could happen to anybody."
"We don't think it was a mugger," Clark said. "We think it was a case of mistaken identity."
"Oh?" Carla's eyes widened. "Who?"
"Well -- you look a bit like me," Lori said. "Your coloring and your hairstyle are the same as mine, and we're about the same size."
"You mean it was someone who was after you?" Carla asked. The hero-worship in her face, contrary to what might have been expected, intensified. "They told me you scared the guy away."
"Well, kind of. I was in the elevator that arrived and probably scared him off," Lori said. "Superman actually saved your life."
"Wow," Carla said. "I knew the Daily Planet was going to be a great place to work!"
"Carla, you were nearly killed!" Clark said. "We don't want that to happen!"
"Neither do I," Carla said. "Don't worry, Mr. Kent. I'll change my hairstyle before I come back to work, and after this when I go into the parking lot, I'll be sure I'm with someone. I'll just be more careful from now on, that's all. I don't want to get stabbed again, that's for sure." She waved at the bouquet that sat on her nightstand. "Thanks for the flowers," she added. "They're really nice. Mr. Olsen sent the ones on the windowsill," she added, "and the yellow roses over there are from somebody else; the card's signed by somebody named Connor Cooper. I don't know him, but he sent a very nice note. I guess he's somebody at the Planet, but I sure don't recognize his name."
"Connor's a friend of ours," Lori said. "He's an instructor at the Hobs Fitness Center. We got into our current investigation because of some information he gave us. He felt really bad when he heard you'd been hurt because of it."
"Oh," Carla said. "Well, that was really nice of him. Tell him I said thanks, would you?"
"Sure," Clark said. Lori could tell from the way the corners of his mouth twitched that he found Carla's intense enthusiasm amusing.
"I just wish I had something to do besides watching the vids," Carla continued blithely. "It's boring just watching the morning soaps. It's all the same. Everybody's cheating on everybody else or plotting to murder their husbands or wives. There's this one husband and wife that are cheating on each other with each other." She shook her head. "You don't want to know. Anyway, I've got a computer here. I feel like I'm goofing off, not doing my work, you know?"
"You're on sick leave until you've recovered," Lori began. "You're not goofing off."
"Oh I know," Carla said, airily. "I still wish I had something more to do. Do you have anything you'd like me to research for you, maybe? I could do that for a while."
Lori glanced at her husband. It was obvious that Carla was made of resilient stuff. "Well, I guess -- if your doctor doesn't mind ..."
"He said I could do just about anything I like," Carla informed her. "I'm just supposed to take it easy one more day until the places that he repaired are mostly regenerated. That's why they want me to stay here until tomorrow -- just for observation."
"Oookay," Lori said. Carla's enthusiasm was contagious. She couldn't help but be amused, even through her concern. Maybe she could come up with a compromise that would keep Carla in bed and relatively quiet, and at the same time let her feel that she was helping with the investigation. "Well, if you really want to help us, do you think you could research the employees and current members of the Hobs Fitness Center -- specifically the ones that used to either work at or belong to the Metropolis Fitness Center? We're looking for in-depth backgrounds, and particularly any run-ins with the law. No time frame on that, by the way. Is that enough research for you?"
Carla nodded. "Is this about the creep who's after you?"
"As a matter of fact," Clark said, "it is."
"Great," Carla said. "I'll do my best. I'd like to help catch him."
"Well, this should help," Clark said.
"You got it, Mr. Kent!" Carla's smile widened. "I'll pull up the list of the people at the Metropolis Fitness Center and compare the names with the employees of Hobs Fitness, and then start digging. I'll get it for you."
"Just don't tire yourself out," Lori cautioned.
"Oh, I won't," Carla said. She turned to swivel the arm that held the personal bedside computer over her lap. "I've got a personal stake in this, now! I'll email you if I find out anything, okay?"
"Okay," Lori said.
**********
A short time later, Lori and Clark took off into the swirling snowflakes, bound for the Daily Planet. The flashing light of the giant globe atop the building came into view through the dancing flakes and Clark dropped to a landing in its shelter. Lori pulled the hood of her coat further forward, squinting her eyes against the tiny stinging grains of ice that accompanied the softer snowflakes. "It's getting worse," she said.
Clark took her hand and guided her to the stairwell. They stepped inside and Lori pushed back the hood, brushing at the snow that had collected on her shoulders. "This is just great," she said. "Mom and Dad's last day in Metropolis and we're snowed in."
"It shouldn't make any difference for the theater tonight," Clark said, "and we're going to dinner and dancing afterwards. There's going to be a lot of people out tonight anyway. Tomorrow's a holiday for most people, since it's Valentine's Day." He lifted her in his arms and the stairwell blurred around them until they reached the level of the newsroom.
As they stepped into their place of business, Clark lifted his head. "John wants us," he said. "There's been a new development."
"*Another* one?"
"Yeah. Let's go see what it is."
John, as usual, was propping his heels on his desk when they entered the editor's office. He had swiveled the screen of his computer around so that they could see it when they walked in, and Lori noted that an email was prominently displayed for their benefit.
"Look what I found in my email this morning," John said.
Clark picked up one of the armchairs in an unusual display of strength and set it down in front of John's desk. "Take this chair," he said to Lori, reaching over to appropriate a smaller, harder wooden one for himself. Lori saw John's eyebrows fly up in a gesture identical to her husband's when he was surprised at something. She didn't comment, but took the seat and leaned forward to read the email. John was silent while she absorbed its contents.
"Inventive rant," Clark said after a moment.
"Wow," Lori said finally. "I've done everything but murder this guy's mother."
"Yes, I sort of got the idea that he doesn't like you," John said.
"Shh. I'm just getting to the best part," Lori said. "This is interesting." She ignored John's mumble about there not being any part of it that wasn't interesting. "Let's see -- apparently Connor sneaked into our apartment last night to be with me, and this person expects the Planet to fire me for conduct unbecoming a journalist -- I wonder what that is? -- and if you don't he's going to assume you're part of the plot and take steps. That doesn't sound good. This guy has completely lost it."
"I don't think that's even in question," John said. "Did Cooper come to your place last night?"
"Yeah," Clark said. "He stayed for dinner. Whoever sent this must have seen him enter the apartment house. He's either watching Connor or you, Lori."
"I figured out that part." She glanced at his worried face. "Do you want to see if I can trace the email, John?"
John shook his head. "I've already contacted Lieutenant Chow. She's got her people on it. She told me to tell you to watch your step."
"Yeah," Lori said. "I'd already decided that." She looked at Clark again. "I guess we'd better tell him what happened a little while ago."
"Go ahead," Clark said. "You were there."
For the third time in two hours, Lori sketched the events at Deirdre Monitor's apartment house. John listened without comment until she had finished.
"So," he said, "this is getting better and better. What are you going to do?"
Lori shrugged. "Try to figure out who he or she is. What else *can* we do?"
"I'm tempted to send you on assignment to Fiji until this guy is in custody," John said darkly. "I'd do it too, if I didn't think you'd ignore me."
"She'd probably find out somehow and follow me," Lori said. "We have to deal with it now, before it gets any worse. Does Connor know about the email?"
"I think Lieutenant Chow warned him," John said.
"I'm going to call him," Lori said. "I want to be sure he's kept in the loop."
"It can't hurt," John said.
Lori lifted her talker to her lips. "Call Connor," she said. "I put Connor on speed dial after I realized what we were up against," she added. "It seemed like a good idea."
"Cooper," Connor's voice said. "I'm unable to answer right now. Leave your name and a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."
"Great, an answering machine. Connor, this is Lori. We've had another development. Call me back when you get this message." She shut off the device. "He's probably teaching a class at the gym." She looked back at the computer screen. "John, I don't want to be an alarmist, but I think *you* should be careful, too. You could be a target. He's sort of making threatening noises about you."
"I noticed that," John said. "How are we supposed to know exactly who he's after, though? We can't get everybody in one place and surround ourselves with guards until he's caught. We might miss someone."
"Yeah," Lori said. "This is scary."
John nodded. "I'm not particularly worried about myself," he said. "I've been threatened before. I think the threat for me was just an attempt to frighten me into action."
"Maybe," Clark said. "I don't want to count on anything. John, I want you to take Marilyn and go visit Rhonda in Texas, or something, at least until we have her in custody. Marilyn would never forgive me if something happened to you. I'd never forgive myself."
"Uh huh," John said, unimpressed. "I've never turned tail before, and I don't intend to now."
"Well, at least take the same advice I gave Connor earlier today," Clark said. "Stay with a lot of other people until we've got the killer under wraps. Is that too much to ask?"
John grinned slightly. "I'm not completely stupid, Grampa. I'll be careful. I don't know how much of my nervous system is Kryptonian, and I don't want to take chances with a stunner, but we know for sure that Lori isn't immune to stunner fire. I hope you're not planning on leaving her alone."
"Not a chance," Clark said. "I don't think it's going to take too long, to tell you the truth. Whoever this is seems to be reaching a point of crisis."
"Yeah, I sort of got that idea," John said.
Lori's wrist talker beeped softly. She lifted it to her lips. "Lori Lyons."
"Lori!" Connor Cooper's voice emerged, and it was shaking. "We've got a problem at the gym. I don't know -- I mean, since all this stuff has been happening, I don't know if it's connected, but something's happened, and --"
"Calm down," Lori said. "What's happened?"
"Jake Prince just took a high dive out the upper window," Connor said. "He's on his way to the hospital. They don't know if he'll make it."
Lori stared at Clark. Jacob Prince, the assistant instructor for their maternity fitness class? "Is there any reason you can think of that he might be connected with this business?" Lori asked.
"Well -- you said that the killer could be a woman or a gay male. Jake is gay," Connor said. "I admit it's a stretch, but --"
"Call Lieutenant Chow," Lori said. "No, scratch that. I'll call her. And stay with a lot of other people. Clark and I will be there as soon as we can."
**********
tbc* (see below)
*Just for general academic information, the dissertation on the sociopath is courtesy of my courses in abnormal psychology, in which I did frighteningly well, and the information on Ted Bundy is taken from several sources, the most prominent of which is the book "The Stranger Beside Me" by Ann Rule. Stuff like that fascinates me, which is interesting because I positively hated my psychiatric rotation while in LACUSC Medical Center, School of Nursing, and reading about Bundy gave me nightmares for a week. Go figure.
Nan
