When word got out that Avery was alive and well, the list of visitors increased. Finley came by in the afternoon, along with Captain O'Malley and Connelly, who waited by the door with his head low.
"Crazy bastard," O'Malley said. "Had a whole garden in that basement of his, on the other side of that medical room. Guy was growing every kind of hallucinogenic plant you can imagine. Had a few contacts lying around too, so we're going to put a stop to that trade route immediately. Great work, Avery."
"Found out about the bodies, too," Connelly chimed in. "He might have worshipped 'The Three Graces' from Roman myth. They were followers of the goddess Venus: three young girls that worshipped beauty. We think maybe that's why he kept them so lifelike in death. Had a bunch of drawings around the house."
Finley kept touching the gifts piled up on the windowsill.
"God damn," he said, "the mayor sent you flowers? I never got nothing from the mayor. I bet if you'd have called me for backup, the mayor would have sent me flowers, too. Fuckin' Ramirez," he said. "I was your partner. Me."
O'Malley scrunched his face at Avery.
"We'll talk about your lack of protocol when you're ready," he said. "For now, rest up and get better."
* * *
Randy Johnson came to visit Avery later that night. The spunky, short forensics analyst had her hair poofed out into a wild afro. She wore a red polka-dot dress and brought flowers and a newspaper. Avery had just finished her dinner and was already exhausted.
"Hey, girl!" Randy said. "Heard you were up."
Avery attempted a smile.
"Don't try to talk. Don't try to talk," Randy insisted. "I know you've had a busy day already. Just came by to make sure my girl was alive and kicking." Her eyes went wide. "And gossip!"
She sat down beside her.
"First of all, I think Dylan Connelly definitely has a crush on you. No joke. He came by a few times to check on the case and twice he asked about you. First time was like 'Hey, have you gone to visit Black yet?' Real casual and all. And the second time was today. He was like 'How's Black doing?' I don't think that man has ever spoken to me outside of case-related questions. Seriously!? You got yourself a boy toy if you want it."
A disapproving frown lined Avery's face.
"Yeah, he's not for you," Randy said, "but Ramirez? Now he's dreamy. You go and get that boy, girl. He saved your life!"
She smiled, then slowly her smile faded.
"Can we please talk about that lady killer?" she added. "Is it too soon?"
Avery gave her the thumbs-up.
"Thirty-six cats," Randy huffed in disbelief. "Thirty-six! Who has thirty-six cats? And three dogs? And you want to know what was even crazier than that? They were all female. Not a single male among them. And all those pictures on his wall in the basement? I don't know if you remember that but he had lots of sick pictures of all these cats and dogs and the girls he killed, and each picture showed a different stage of their conversion into stuffed animals, you know? All girls. Crazy white man had a little girls' club all his own. Connelly said it had to do with Roman mythology and Aphrodite and all these women, but I just think the man was nuts."
A sound escaped Avery's lips.
She cleared her throat and focused on a single world.
"Family?"
"Did he have any relatives?" Randy asked to confirm. "Is that what you want to know? Oh, yeah. That guy that shot himself was his uncle. I thought you knew that. It's all here in the paper," she said. "Uncle hired the killer about a year ago. Killer met all those girls at a job fair. Got to know them when they came to the office."
She placed the paper on Avery's chest.
The headline read "College Killer Captured" with a picture of the crime scene. A smaller burst read "Disgraced Attorney Turned Cop in Critical Condition" with an article about how she left a viable crime scene to find the actual killer.
"You're a hero!" Randy cheered.
It was hard for Avery to think of herself as a hero or anything else. Her mind was too groggy to focus on anything for very long, and her body remained in a post-paralysis shock that made movement difficult.
Hero. That was not what she wanted. That was never what she'd wanted. She'd just wanted to set wrongs right, to put these bastards away forever.
To make amends, she realized, for something for which she would never be able to make amends.
Her eyes grew heavy, and as sleep fell on her, it was hard for her to believe that she'd ever be able to walk again.
