by Lakes, Lynde
“You’ll have to lie still, dearie.” The voice sounded far away. “The surgeon will be in to see you soon.”
“Surgeon?” Lisa squinted at the plump nurse, wishing the room would stop spinning.
.The nurse checked the drip tube. “Loma Linda’s best, our Dr. Chelsey.
A dull pain pulsed in Lisa’s neck. She heard footsteps.
“How is she doing?” She didn’t recognize the buoyant male voice.
“Vitals all normal, Dr. Chelsey.”
“You were lucky, Lisa,” he said.
A fleeting image of Perry pointing a gun at her flashed in her mind. She’d been so certain he wouldn’t shoot.
“How bad is it?” Her voice cracked.
“No permanent damage. Like I said, you were lucky.”
Dr. Chelsey came close, and Lisa saw the lines of fatigue around his eyes. Had he been up all night caring for her?
“Stay still,” he said. “Let the wound heal, and you’ll be fine.”
“When can I go home?”
“Depends on how quickly you heal. Dr. Hendricks will do the follow-up. And I’ll drop by tomorrow. He smiled, and then noted something on the chart at the end of her bed. “Dr. Combs and Dr. Hendricks will be in later. You had five men very worried about you, young lady.” He turned and left the room.
“Did he say five men?” Lisa’s tongue felt like cotton.
“Three doctors, a cop, and a dark-haired dreamboat,” the nurse said adjusting the bedsheet. She handed Lisa the call unit. “If you need anything, just punch.”
“I thought the line was ‘just whistle,’” Lisa said weakly.
“I only use Bacall’s line with my male patients,” the nurse said winking. Then she disappeared out the door.
Lisa figured the third doctor was the Emergency Room physician. She didn’t remember him, but it made sense. The cop would be Martin, and there was no doubt that the dark-haired dreamboat was Jay. Did they catch Perry and Gus? At least she hadn’t told those punks where they had stashed Meta. Lisa’s eyelids felt like lead. She didn’t want to give in to the drowsiness, but it wouldn’t hurt to close her eyes and rest a while to gain some strength. After all, everything was all right—she’d uncovered Meta’s attackers. She was safe. Meta was safe.
Lisa awoke with a fuzzy head and the comforting feel of a strong, warm hand holding
hers. Jay, she thought. But when she forced her leaden eyelids open, she was disappointed—it was only Martin.
“Where’s Jay?”
“He fell asleep.” Martin brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “I was too worried about you to sleep.”
“Don’t let him kid you,” the nurse said as she entered the room with a replacement IV bag. “They were both sleeping like babies.” She rolled her eyes at Martin. “Shame on you for fibbing, Sergeant.”
“I wasn’t asleep, just resting my eyes.”
“Just admit you conked out,” the nurse said. “There’s no shame in sleeping. Not after you guys pulled that all-night vigil.”
“Don’t you have other patients to see, Nurse?” Martin asked sharply. “I have police business with Miss Dixon.”
Jay popped his head in the door, his black hair combed into a glossy wave, his arms full of pink and white carnations. As he came close, Lisa saw the shadow of dark stubble on his face. “How are you feeling, Lisa?” he asked in a deep, tight voice.
“Glad to be alive.” And glad you’re here.
The nurse plopped her hands on her ample hips. “Did you buy out the whole florist shop, young man?” she asked, taking the flowers from Jay. “I’ll just put these in water for you.”
Martin pulled a pen and pad from his belt. “Please step outside, Jay. I have a few questions for Lisa about the attack.”
“Let him stay, Martin,” Lisa said weakly. “We’re all a part of this.” She reached out. Jay’s hands closed over hers. Lisa shut her eyes a moment, letting the rough warmth of his hands reassure her that she was really alive.
“Civilians have no business in this. I should never have gone along with—”
“None of this was anyone’s fault,” Lisa told him. “It was just fate.”
Martin’s mouth twisted into a cross between a sneer and a wry look. If he had been going for a concerned, brotherly look, he had failed.
“Did you catch Gus and Perry?” Lisa asked.
“Yeah,” Martin said. “But neither is talking.” He squared his shoulders. “But they’ll sing like canaries when I get through with them.”
“Perry shot me,” Lisa said softly. “But I think it surprised him as much as it did me.”
“What about Gus?”
“He was there to kill Meta.” Lisa paused to catch her breath—talking made her neck throb with almost unbearable pain. “But when I wiped out Gus and pointed my gun at Perry, he panicked.”
“Can’t you question her later?” Jay said. “Talking can’t be good for her.”
“I couldn’t shoot,” Lisa said thickly, more to herself than to anyone else. “He was only a kid.”
Martin’s face hardened. “Remember what you told me at the stakeout that night on the rooftop? When a person points a gun at you, he or she becomes ageless, genderless—a potential killer.”
Lisa remembered that Martin froze rather than shoot the young female gang member. It almost cost him his life. Maybe an occasional moment of indecision proved they were still human. Nevertheless, a person couldn’t survive more than one indecisive moment. Now she’d had hers. She sighed. “I won’t make that mistake again. But thank God Meta’s safe and I’m still alive.”
“And Gus and Perry are in jail,” Martin said. “You can rest easy.”
“Right,” Jay said, his voice seeming far away. “All you have to worry about is getting well.”
She let her heavy eyelids drift closed. She clung to Jay’s hand, hoping he would stay awhile, needing him there. “It’s all over…” Her whispered words trailed away as uneasiness gripped her foggy mind. It was too simple, too pat…
Lisa shifted to ease the pain in her upper back. Five days in the hospital had made her stiff, achy, and restless. Bertha, a stout, flush-faced nurse she hadn’t seen before, briskly wheeled the medicine cart into the room. She handed Lisa a pill in a small paper cup. Still light-headed from the night medication, Lisa automatically swallowed it. Then, having second thoughts, she asked, “What was that?”
“Pain pill.”
Lisa hoped it didn’t make her drowsy. Jay would be there in a few hours to take her home, and she wanted to be ready. She should have refused to take it.
The nurse eyed Lisa’s unfinished breakfast. “You have to eat, or the doctor won’t release you.”
Lisa pulled her plate close again, scooped up a forkful of scrambled eggs, and forced herself to swallow it. She would do anything to get out of there, even eat tasteless eggs.
The nurse smiled triumphantly as she wheeled the medication cart out the door. Lisa thought about dumping the rest of the breakfast down the toilet, but suddenly she was too sleepy to get up. It was easier to eat it. When she finished, she lay back on the pillow just to rest her eyes .
Lisa felt strong arms lifting her roughly from the hospital bed. Pain shot though her neck and her head spun. She tried to focus on the man’s face. A green surgery mask covered it, and a matching cap hid his hair. His only visible features were icy blue eyes sunk into thick lids. Instinct told her that this man was not a member of the medical staff. She tried to grab the call unit as he lowered her to the cold, hard gurney. The smell of chloroform alerted her to the saturated cloth coming toward her face, but her neck was in too much pain to turn away or fight effectively. She held her breath—if she breathed in that stuff, he would win. Lisa went limp. Pretending to be unconscious was her only defense.
He removed the cloth and covered her with a sheet. Unable to see anything, she had only sounds and smells to go on. Her voice was too weak to project very far, so she would have to be sure someo
ne was close by before she called out.
Did her captor have a gun or knife? Would her call for help endanger someone else? Down the hall, Lisa heard a mop pail clang and the sound of someone gathering breakfast trays. The wheels of her gurney thumped rapidly along the floor.
She estimated that by now he had wheeled her directly in front of the nurse’s station and elevators. The repeatedly ringing telephone told Lisa that no one was behind the desk.
Elevator doors slid open. Footsteps quickly passed, and then her captor wheeled the gurney inside. A faint but familiar scent of lime fragrance rose around her. She lifted a corner of the sheet to see if it could really be Jay who had gone by. A glimpse of a familiar broad back confirmed it. “Jay! Help!” she called, using all the strength and breath she had.
“Lisa! Hey you, stop!” He was running toward her now.
Elevator doors slammed shut. Hard pounding against the doors echoed around her as she felt a jerk, then a downward sensation. Her captor clamped that noxious cloth over her face. This time he held it there, pressing it hard against her mouth and nose until darkness took her.
“A man in surgery garb and mask is kidnapping a patient!” Jay shouted to anyone who might hear him. “Call security! Cover the exits!” Damn, where is everybody?
Jay ran to the stairs and descended two steps at a time. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Lisa. His heart pounded in frantic beats. He had to be on the ground floor waiting when that elevator got there! But how could he race an elevator? It had a direct descent—he had eight floors of stairs.
By the time he got to level three, adrenaline charged through his veins, and his breath burned in his lungs. When he reached the ground floor, he ran toward the elevator and skidded to a stop in front of it. The doors opened. Three old ladies got off.
The kidnapper had made it ahead of him.
Parking lot! He ran to the front exit and out the door, into warm air. Where the hell was security? Jay paused, scanning the lot. People and cars were coming and going. Emergency exit! He raced around the building, looking over the surrounding parking areas as he went. Paramedics were wheeling someone into the hospital. Farther away, a uniformed man was loading a laundry truck. Jay ran forward and grabbed him by the shoulder. “What’s in those sacks?” he asked gruffly.
“Laundry,” the man said. “What’s it to you?”
Jay quickly lifted each bag, testing for weight. “Sorry, fella,” he said. “I’m looking for someone.”
The guy scratched his head. “In a laundry bag?”
Jay didn’t take time to explain—he was already running toward the rear entrance.
A man dressed in gray coveralls, sunglasses, and a baseball cap tilted low on his forehead carried a rolled-up carpet toward a U-Haul truck. Carpet? In a hospital? Something was wrong with that scene. Jay ran toward the truck. The man shoved the carpet inside and was closing the doors. “Hold it!” Jay said.
The man spun around and jabbed Jay in the stomach with a hypodermic needle.
“What the hell?” He froze. But only for an instant. Then he swung, caught the man in the jaw, and knocked off the guy’s sunglasses. Unfortunately, Jay couldn’t see him because his eyes had blurred. The man was only faded color and shape. Jay punched him in the center of the blur. The soft flab told Jay he had hit the guy in the gut. Suddenly Jay’s arms and legs felt like rubber. He had been drugged! Even though he fought it, he sank to the ground on his knees. He clamped his arms around the guy’s legs, but before he could yank him off his feet, something heavy came down hard on his head.
Pain throbbed in Lisa’s neck. Groggily, she struggled to open her eyes. She squinted at the glaring lightbulb hanging from the center of the ceiling and raised a hand to block out the brightness. She blinked several times to bring her surroundings into focus and then scanned the windowless, unpainted concrete-block room. Pipes hung from the ceiling, and a crumbled fragment of what used to be a concrete stairway dangled in space, going nowhere. In a corner, wine racks held about fifty bottles. She was in a cellar.
She shivered. The dampness in the hushed, musty air chilled her to her bones. The cold silkiness against her skin verified she still wore the pajamas and bed jacket that Jay had brought to her from home. She was on a lumpy mattress. She shifted positions to ease her aching back and bumped into something warm. She moved toward it, easing onto her side to see what had given her relief from the chill. It was Jay! His eyes were closed. How did he get here? His face looked so still. Oh God, was he alive? She forced herself upright. Pain shot through her neck. Fighting dizziness, she curled her fingers around his wrist. He had a strong, steady pulse. Thank you, God.
“Jay,” she shouted. He groaned, but his eyes remained closed. She shook him. “Jay, please!” Weak and dizzy, she lay down a moment. Then, angry at her weakness, she turned and pinched his arm. “Wake up, damn it.”
Jay jerked his arm away. “What the hell?” He slapped at the pinching pest and felt silkiness. His eyes sprang open. Then he saw her lying there on the mattress, her hair spilling over it like spun gold. “Lisa, my God!” He gently gathered her shivering body into his arms, hoping to share his warmth, his protection. She was an armful of slippery pajamas and curvy woman. It unnerved him that desire mingled with his concern for her bullet wound. “Are you in much pain?” The raggedness in his voice echoed back at him from the concrete walls.
“I’m okay,” she murmured with trembly lips.
He stroked her hair. It felt satiny, tantalizing, like the rest of her. He shouldn’t be enjoying the feel of her pressed against him, yet he couldn’t bear to let her go.
She looked up at him with such caring in her eyes. “What about you, Jay?”
He forced a laugh. “No problem. The guy hit me on my hardest place, my head.”
“He left us here to die. Did you see him?”
“I wish.” Jay rubbed his forehead, trying to remember anything that would help identify the bastard. They had been in the hospital… “As I got off the elevator, I heard you call out for me.” Jay’s throat tightened. He drew her closer. “Those doors closed—I couldn’t get them open.” Jay paused. “I felt so frustrated, so helpless.” He had to get a grip. “I felt desperate, crazed, running, looking everywhere for you. I finally found this guy in the hospital parking lot, loading carpet. I just knew you were rolled up inside.”
“No wonder I feel like a pretzel.” Her smile was small but courageous.
He kissed her forehead. “I’ve always been fond of pretzels.”
She scowled. “So you saw the guy,” she said, her voice tinged with impatience.
“Yes and no. He had his back to me and wore a baseball cap tilted low over mirrored sunglasses. He whirled to face me and jabbed me in the stomach with a hypodermic needle. Then, like I told you, something came down hard on my head.”
“That’s it? You saw nothing.” Her voice dropped in disappointment.
He nodded. “What about you? Did you get a look at him?”
She shook her head. “All I know is he was big with steely blue eyes.” Lisa gestured around the room with her hand. “Do you recognize this place?”
He dragged his gaze from her and for the first time scanned the layout, taking in the missing stairway, the familiar wine racks, and pipes painted battleship gray. “Oh my God. We’re in Grandma’s cellar!”
Lisa’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding! I’ve never been down here. Meta said it was unsafe, so I just padlocked the door. Do you know a way out?”
Jay looked up at the thick fire door about fourteen feet above them. With the stairway gone, it would be impossible to reach without a ladder. He scanned the windowless concrete walls, but failed to find anything they could use to climb up there. He didn’t want to take away her hope. Maybe if he fed her the truth a little at a time, salted with a touch of humor, it would make the seriousness of their situation easier to swallow. “You want the bad news now or after we finish off one of those bottles of wine?” He gestured toward
the wine racks.
She lifted her chin. “Give me the bad news up front. Then I can cry in my wine.”
“People cry in beer, Lisa, not wine.”
“I don’t know your drinking rules, but I’ll bet I could cry in wine as well as in beer at this point.” She paused. “Now, answer my question.”
“We’d better have the wine first.”
“That bad, huh?”
He stood and walked the length of the wine racks. He knew what he was looking for. “Ah, here it is,” he said as he spied the old aluminum corkscrew. It was on its hook at the end of the racks where it had always been.
“Come on, is there a way out or not?” she asked.
“Even if we could get up to that door,” he said, twisting the screw into the cork, “being the diligent bodyguard, you padlocked it.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “And even if you hadn’t, it’s so thick that without a key, only a charge of dynamite will blast it open.”
She squared her shoulders and sat up straighter. “Okay, so this isn’t going to be easy. What else is new?” She eased herself to her feet.
He heard her soft groan. “Maybe you should just stay put.”
“We have to get out of here, so staying put isn’t an option.” She picked up an old broom handle and began to poke around in corners and along the perimeter of the wall.
“What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know. I only hope I recognize it when I see it.” Her face paled, and she swayed. She grabbed on to the support of one of the wine racks to keep from falling.
Jay slammed down the bottle he was opening and rushed to her side. “You’d better sit down,” he said, leading her back to the mattress. He helped her ease herself down, took off his jacket, and draped it around her shoulders.
“Thanks,” Lisa said softly. Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them away. The way she had pressed her lips together told him she was fighting pain.