by Regan Black
“What do you know?” he asked, easing his boss into the wheelchair. She roused a little, mumbling something they couldn’t make out.
“Not much,” she replied. “Only minor injuries are visible. Shock definitely. She mentioned a gunshot and then dropped off on the way over.”
“Any other blood?” Keller asked, wheeling Ana through the front door and straight back to the urgent care room, complete with a hospital bed, and state of the art diagnostic tools.
“Only what you see.” Laney’s stomach pitched. Just a few hours ago Ana had been at the station with the tip about Heidi’s cocaine supplier. That moment of relief seemed a lifetime ago now. “Should I call someone?”
Keller was trying to rouse Ana. “Get in here and assist.”
“Oh, um.” Give her a crime scene over a medical crisis any day. She started to reach for her phone to call the paramedics over from the fire department when he cut away Ana’s sweater. Laney cringed and Keller swore.
Most of Ana’s injuries seemed to be along her right side. To Laney’s untrained eye it looked as if someone had loaded a shotgun with wood chips and fired point blank. The sweater had been little defense against countless splinters imbedded in her skin. Her right hand, cheek, and neck bore the most damage and there were smaller scrapes and scratches.
Blood dripped slowly from the open cuts and deeper wounds. Laney glanced back, seeing the trail of red splotches on the floor, knowing it led right back to her car.
Ana had said gunshot. Was this an accident from a hunter in the woods behind her house? Laney would much rather be out processing the scene with McCabe than here.
“Deputy Chief Holt,” Keller snapped. “You’re here. I need your help.”
It was the tone of command that caught her attention. “Right.” She stepped up beside him. “Tell me what to do.”
He guided her through finding and assisting with supplies as he started an IV for fluids and a painkiller. He expressed concern about her disorientation and it took Laney several moments to realize he’d activated a voice recorder in the room. The similarity to a coroner’s office procedure created a lump of dread in her gut.
Minute by minute she followed Keller’s instructions as he treated Ana. He cut away all but her bra and panties. He cleaned up her injuries splinter by splinter, washing away blood and applying bandages or stitches where required. After checking her abdomen and giving her left knee a thorough assessment, he declared the next steps were rest and observation.
He ended the recording and covered Ana with a gown and a warm blanket, dimming the lights as they stepped into the hallway. “You don’t have any more information about how she got hurt?”
Laney shook her head, frustrated. Helpless didn’t sit well with her. “Chief McCabe and Officer Trask will collect any evidence. Hopefully she’ll have more to say when she wakes up.”
“No visible head injuries,” Keller said, mostly to himself.
“Should you do an MRI or something to be sure? Why is she so loopy?”
“Shock. Her body temperature was a bit low, so she must have been out there a long time. I’ll monitor her for a concussion through the night.” He shrugged a shoulder. “In the morning she’ll tell me it was overkill, but I’m not taking any chances with her.”
“Thanks.” Laney checked her phone, saw the text message from McCabe that he was staying to secure the property. He’d found one bullet buried in the brick of her fireplace and suspected at least two more were out there. They’d have to wait for the better light of morning.
She was primarily grateful he’d been sober enough to drive himself to the scene. Had the chief finally decided to dry out? He’d certainly chosen the right time, in Laney’s opinion.
“I’ll stay too,” she stated. With two women dead already and another man missing, she didn’t feel confident labeling this as an accident or coincident. “I’ll move my car to the parking lot and be right back.” Whoever had fired that gun at Ana wasn’t going to get another easy shot.
When she entered the clinic again, she had Keller lock the door behind her and then she made sure the two emergency exits were secure.
“You can have the bed,” he said.
Ick. “No, thanks. I make it a rule not to sleep in a hospital bed unless I’m a patient.”
He laughed. “The overnight suite here is the best staff bedroom I’ve ever seen.”
He gave her a quick tour, but still Laney declined. “You take the bed.” She dragged a chair from the waiting room down the hall, right up to Ana’s door. “I’ll keep watch.”
Chapter Seven
Tuesday October 16
Ana came awake in a rush, immediately aware she wasn’t at home. The muted light, clinical smells and soft beeps of monitors gave her little comfort. She remembered the gunshots, the hiding. Remembered Griff and Laney asking questions and her struggle to give them answers. Had they taken her to the hospital?
Cautious, she sat up in the bed, relieved to recognize the décor. She was in one of the two exam rooms the clinic outfitted as full hospital rooms for patients in need of observation or extended immediate care. She took inventory of the bandages on her hand and arm, the tightness in her face and neck that indicated other small wounds and the familiar throb in her knee that occurred whenever she pushed the range of motion.
Based on the jumble of images in her mind, she supposed observation had been called for. Closing her eyes, she tried to put the pieces in the right order. Gunfire and a burst of pain had been followed by abject fear of her past crashing down to destroy her present. She’d always thought she’d be strong enough to resist, to fight. Instead, she’d curled in on herself and willed the crisis to end.
Laney would ask tough questions today and she deserved complete answers. Despite Troy’s advice, Ana wasn’t sure she could do this without giving up the full truth of her past.
The door opened and Donovan strode in. “Good morning, Dr. Perez. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” She tried to smile. “Mostly embarrassed that a few splinters sent me into shock.”
He aimed an amused glance her way as he checked the information on the monitors and IV. “Being shot at is probably more intense than say, a picnic.”
Snark 101. Her newest P.A. was a master. The younger patients in their care adored him. “What’s my prognosis?” she asked.
“You’ll live.” He winked. “Keep the stitches in your palm clean and dry. One of us can take those out for you next week.”
She looked at the bandage across the base of her hand.
“You can peek at it later,” he said. Donovan checked her pulse and her eyes. He listened to her heart and lungs and then removed her IV. “You gave Holt a serious scare by passing out on her. Any other complaints or concerns I should know about before I declare you fit for duty?”
Her body ached, her knee especially. Would she ever know how long she cowered in that dark corner of her deck? “Nothing special.”
“You were in shock.”
“As you said, gunfire is no picnic. I’m sorry I freaked out over a mishap. Thankfully, I had excellent care to get me through. I’m glad you were here, Donovan.”
“The flattery’s a nice touch, but I’m no pushover.” He looped his stethoscope around his neck. “Holt spent the night guarding your door. What else is going on?”
Guarding or waiting for Ana to be alert enough for an interrogation?
“You gave me a scare,” Donovan admitted. “Coming in all loopy and muttering nonsense.”
What had she said? “Over splinters. That won’t do my reputation any good.” The IV removed, she tossed back the blanket, belatedly realizing she was in a hospital gown. “You cut off my clothing?”
He narrowed his gaze. “I did a professional exam. Your obvious injuries didn’t add up to the disorientation. Although you’d clearly been outside without the right gear for a long time, I didn’t think it was all caused by the exposure.”
She held up her hands
in surrender. “Fair enough. You’re right.” The hospital would have done the same thing, likely without the ideal bedside manner. “Did you run an MRI?”
“You didn’t show signs of concussion.” He studied her another long moment. “I was waiting to see when and how you woke up today.” He rapped his knuckles lightly on the bed rail, giving her time to respond. “All righty. Whatever happened out there isn’t my business,” he said after a few loaded beats of silence. He crossed to the cabinet and pulled out scrubs for her to wear.
“Thanks.” The clock next to the door showed the clinic would open for patients in about an hour. “I’ll clean up and be ready for the first patients on time.”
“No worries. We’ve got you covered.”
Ana groaned. “Don’t tell me everyone knows a few splinters sent me into shock?”
Donovan’s gaze filled with more compassion than she deserved. She preferred the snark.
“No,” he said at last. “I only planned to let today’s staff know you had a rough night.”
“Thank you, Donovan. I mean it. I’m glad you were on call.”
“Save it for when you see a mirror,” he said, a twinkle in his eyes. “If you’re not ready to deal with questions, I can tell Laney to go.”
“I’ll be fine.” One way or another. Her escape routes weren’t as polished as she would like, but she’d shifted her funds around to make an escape possible.
And if they send you back?
She wished there was a mute button or even a cure for that annoying voice in her head. Of course, a cure for an internal conscience would open the door for her to become as ruthless as her father and his monstrous associates.
Dressed in the scrubs, she opened the door to find Laney exactly where Donovan had said she’d be. “You stayed all night?”
“Keller roped me into assisting with splinter removal, so I was here. Then McCabe found a bullet buried in your fireplace. After that, staying seemed prudent.”
The shot that had taken out the glass door. “Thank you.”
“Do you feel up to giving me a statement?”
Clearly, events were escalating. To keep silent only gave the killer more room. “I just need a moment to freshen up, if you don’t mind waiting in here.”
“What? You don’t want an armed cop sitting in the hallway?”
“Even in plain clothes I think it sends the wrong message.”
To her credit, Laney grinned and grabbed a tote bag before joining Ana in the room. “You’re irritated now, but you’ll love me in a second.” She dropped the tote on the bed. “I asked Dana to stop by your place and pack a bag for you.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes at the kindness and she quickly ducked into the bathroom. The idea of having Dana in her home was like a splash of cold water, snapping her thoughts back into focus. Thank goodness she wasn’t in the habit of leaving incriminating documents lying about.
She covered her bandaged hand and stepped under the spray of the shower. Leaving her friends would be the worst, when she did run. She didn’t trust easily, for good reason. Lonely was always better than vulnerable and exposed.
Turning off the taps and toweling dry, she couldn’t avoid the mirror any longer. Donovan had done good work, though it was startling to face the damage. She imagined it had looked quite a mess last night.
There would be some mild bruising around her eyebrow and cheek. The scratches on her jaw would be the first to heal and the easiest to cover. Patients or no patients, she wondered, turning her face from side to side.
Donovan and the team could cover for her without much inconvenience or worry. She could review the patient load and decide after her visit with Laney.
Combing the tangles from her hair, she managed to get it pulled back into the long ponytail she preferred for office hours.
Emerging from the bathroom, she found Laney dozing in the big recliner near the window. It was tempting to let her rest, though it only delayed the inevitable.
As she was zipping her tote closed, Laney woke. “You’re speedy,” she noted.
“Medical school,” she explained, easing to the side of the bed. Her knee could use a brace and some extra care over the next few days.
“Sore?”
“A little,” she admitted. “Mostly stiff. It will loosen up as I get into the day.”
“You’ve never mentioned how you injured it.”
“It was dumb luck. I tripped and fell in a stairwell when I was a kid.”
It was mostly true. Her father had stomped on the knee when he caught her giving ibuprofen to one of the girls who’d been beaten by a client. He’d issued an ultimatum: she could either join their ranks or haul herself up the stairs. She’d made it out, barely, and he rewarded her tenacity by forcing her to work in his office until she could walk normally again.
She swallowed the familiar, bitter hate and offered up an apologetic prayer to her childhood priest. All these years later and she still hadn’t found forgiveness.
“Ana? You okay?”
“Yes, yes.” She shoved the memories back into the box where they belonged and shied away from the concern in Laney’s gaze. “How can I help?”
“Let’s start with what you remember about last night.”
She could do this. “After I dropped by the station, I went home to unwind. I was out on the deck, thinking, sipping a glass of wine. Feeling melancholy I suppose after the confirmation about Josie and announcement of Sylvia’s services.”
When she paused, Laney only waited, patiently.
“There was some noise. An owl called.” She took a deep breath. “Then the gunshots.”
Laney sat forward. “Plural?”
“Yes.” Surely they knew that by now. “Three.”
“You’re sure?”
She closed her eyes, thinking it through again. “Yes. The first shot hit the deck railing. The noise, my first thought was gunfire, but when the deck rail flew apart I knew for sure. The next shot followed quickly. I moved toward the house and then the glass door exploded in front of me.”
“Three shots,” Laney echoed. “Nothing more?”
“Three shots, yes,” Ana confirmed.
“How do you know what gunfire sounds like?”
Ana paused, swallowed the uncharacteristic urge to snap at her friend. “There have been hunters out there before.”
“And no prior mishaps with bullets finding your house rather than the wildlife?”
“No.”
Laney’s head bobbed slowly. “One misfire I understand, not three.”
“I agree,” Ana said. “I took cover in the corner of the deck, cursing myself for leaving my phone inside.”
“Can you think of any reason someone might be firing a gun at you?”
Two. At least. Recalling Troy’s advice, she gave Laney the most likely reason. “The person who killed Sylvia may see me as a threat as well.”
“You know who killed Sylvia Cole?”
“Of course not.” Ana bristled. “I would never have kept that to myself.”
“Sylvia was strangled.”
“Yes. Most likely by a known assailant.” Ana met and held Laney’s gaze. “I read the report.”
“Me too. Repeat killers usually stick with one method.”
Ana nearly argued, having seen killers use whatever was at hand to dispose of unwanted witnesses or underperformers. It took a moment for her to quiet her thoughts and gather her composure.
“Sylvia and I believed someone in Shutter Lake lured Josie away with the intent to use or harm her. We may have rattled the wrong cages in our effort to find the girl and a possible connection to other missing teens.”
Laney sat forward. “Why not make a report?”
“At the time, she and I were the only two people who believed Josie was missing. Her parents hadn’t heard from her, but communications in Venezuela are sketchy.”
“You should have come to me or Griff.”
“And how would you have proceeded
on our flimsy concerns or suppositions?” Ana’s temper was fraying around the edges. “There wasn’t enough to file a formal report. We didn’t have names or even a hard trail to follow. We had a story that didn’t quite add up and a young girl whose parents were in need of the utmost discretion.”
Laney subsided, drumming her palms on her thighs. “I’ve met Josie’s parents. Sylvia made sure their paperwork is in order.” She pursed her lips. “Are you trying to tell me you think the shooting last night was a coincidence?”
“No.”
“So three gunshots and you wisely took cover. When did you decide it was safe to move?”
Ana massaged her left knee before she could stop herself. “I waited and waited, refusing to give the shooter a target. I heard a car on the road out front and eventually went to call for help.”
“You didn’t go inside?” Laney queried.
“That would have put me in the light.”
“True,” Laney agreed.
“And the glass.” She twisted her wrist, flashing the bandage. “My hand was throbbing and I didn’t want to crawl through it, so I went around to the garage where there would be something I could use for a weapon in case I hadn’t waited long enough.”
“You picked up a hammer,” Laney said absently. “And you have no idea how long that was.”
It wasn’t a question, so Ana didn’t reply.
“The alarm from your security company came through just after midnight.” She flicked the tab on the front zipper of her running jacket.
Ana must have cowered for nearly two hours, risking her health in the cold October night. No wonder her knee ached like the devil himself held it in a vicious grip.
“How long?” Laney pressed.
Ana shrugged. “Two hours? I went out around ten, before bed.”
“Two hours? You left a blood trail from my car to the exam room.”
“Slices and scrapes of the face and hands are like that.” She prodded the bandage on her hand. “This one likely would have opened again when I moved to the garage.”