“Don’t,” Dante demanded shaking his head violently. “Don’t do that shit. You did that last time.” He pointed the knife at her and jabbed it by her face. “Don’t say anything.”
“Wylie is my son,” she edged out, wincing as the knife waved by her face again. “He won’t remember me. He won’t remember his dad.” She was crying now, too afraid to keep the tears back. They might not help her survive but they were hers to cry if she wanted to.
“Don’t,” he demanded, slashing the knife closer this time and cutting her cheek. She felt her skin break open and watched the top of her white shirt soak with red. Instinctively her hand flew to the cut, knocking the knife from Dante, who looked stunned by the sight of blood. A queasy look washed over him as she pulled her hand down and more dripped off her chin. The second hesitation on his part was all she needed, lunging for the knife that had landed on the pillow. A second later he was on her, his hand clawing for the blade. But she’d already spun it around, and forced it through his hand.
Dante sprang backward off the bed and stumbled to his feet, screaming loudly, his eyes locked on the knife through his palm. Rolling off the opposite side of the bed, Tara made her way out of the room to arm herself with another knife or try to make it to the front door. His thudding footsteps made the decision for her. She’d never make it to the door and get the locks undone before he could reach her. The chloroform, she imagined, would only take a moment or two if he got back full control of the situation.
Dodging into the small kitchen she snatched a knife from the drawer and flung the oven door open. At least it would form some kind of space between them, and he’d have to maneuver to get around or over it. He was still screaming, louder than she had when he first showed himself. Tara’s cheek was stinging, and her face was a mix of salty tears and bright red blood.
Feeling thoroughly underprepared, she hastily grabbed another knife from the drawer. Unsure how it would be to her advantage, she thought some form of surprise would help. She slid the second knife up the sleeve of her free arm and held the tip of the blade with her closed fist. If she opened her hand the knife would slide down. Dante rounded the corner and breathed deep, terrifying breaths through his flaring nostrils. The rag was in one hand, the knife lodged in his other palm.
“Bitch,” he roared, and he closed the gap between them quickly, easily kicking the oven door closed with a crashing thud. She swiped at him with the knife in her left hand and he quickly caught her wrist bending it painfully backward. The chemical rag that would render her unconscious was crushed between his hand and her wrist. She cried out in pain as her arm felt like it might snap. Kicking wildly with her right leg, she forced him to grab hold of her knee before making contact with his groin. His hand with the knife through it was reacting on instinct as it crashed onto her leg and sent the knife popping out and flying to the ground.
Dante bellowed in pain, which only seemed to heighten his anger. His grip on her wrist and leg tightened to a threshold she couldn’t bear. But both her moves had left him where she’d hoped, bent down slightly, both hands busy hurting her. Tara’s right hand, still clenched shut holding the tip of the knife, was free and his neck exposed. With lightning speed, she opened her hand, the knife handle slid to her palm, and she clenched it tightly as she thrust it into the veiny part of his neck, stifling the yell of pain he was attempting. Blood spat up from his mouth and covered the half of her shirt that wasn’t already stained.
“Tara!” a voice called from the other side of the door as Dante’s full weight fell on her. Tara was pinned to the wall, her hand still on the knife that protruded from Dante’s neck as she heard her front door being kicked in. “Tara,” the voice called again.
It took her last bit of breath under Dante’s dead weight to call back. “Reid. Kitchen.”
Chapter 28
Reid wasn’t bothered by blood. Or so he thought. His father had forced him through enough hunting trips. He’d seen his share of gruesome crime scene photos. But there was something wholly different about seeing someone you loved bloodied horror movie style as she lay across her kitchen floor.
There wasn’t enough time to blink before the police were at his back, demanding he get on the ground and show them his hands. Someone must have called when they heard the same screaming he had. Their voices were muted by the ringing in his ears, but he still reacted as he thought he should. Of course they’d assume he was a suspect. Of course they’d need to control the situation.
Reid was tugged backward, pulled into the living room, and patted down. “Reid?” a familiar voice questioned as a crowd of people thundered into the room. “Dude, is that you? What happened?” Price Olivander was a detective Reid had worked with dozens of times. He was a go-to when Reid needed something he couldn’t get through normal channels. Nothing illegal, just dancing on the line of unethical. He went by Olly to all who knew him, and Reid was relieved to see him.
Blinking hard and trying to balance himself, Reid focused in on the blue eyes of the familiar detective and tried to explain. He was grateful that Olly had shoved the other cops back and told them to lay off.
“You couldn’t have caught this case already,” Olly said in a half laugh. “The blood’s still wet.”
“She’s my friend,” he choked out, taking a few steps toward the kitchen when he realized Tara was still in there and needed help.
“Shit,” Olly said, shaking his head apologetically. “Come on, you can’t be in here. We need to clear the apartment.”
“No,” Reid insisted, shaking him off. “I need to be with her.” The grip on his arms was so tight he knew he’d have to throw some punches if he was going to break free.
“EMTs are already in there. Let them do their thing. You’ll only be in the way. Come downstairs. Tell me what you know,” Olly pleaded desperately.
“I don’t know shit,” Reid argued, trying to shove Olly back. Other officers subdued him, and before he could argue his case they were shoving him down the stairs and into the cold air.
“Chill, bro,” Olly insisted, a hand on each of Reid’s shoulders. “They just called out an ID on the assailant. Dante Yule. He’s a druggy. Looks like he broke in through the bedroom window and waited for her. Lots of information pouring in.”
“No,” Reid said, balling his fists in fury. “That son of a bitch. He must have followed her here.”
“Did she know him?” Olly asked, turning quickly from a friendly questioning to an investigation. Reid was glad to hear it. He wanted answers too and Olly was the right man for the job. Relentless and quick, he’d seen Olly chase down plenty of leads.
“Tara was arrested for child endangerment for overdosing in an alley and leaving her kid alone in the cold,” Reid started.
“I heard about that one,” Olly said, squinting to jog his memory for the details. “They used Narcan on her; I know the officer who did it.”
“I’m representing her. She has absolutely no history of habitual drug use, no evidence that she would abandon her child. I was running down a lead with an investigator, and we worked out that Dante was the one who called 911. Tara and the investigator tailed him today. I don’t know, maybe he got spooked and tracked her here. Damn it.” He punched his clenched fist into his palm. “I’ve got to get back up there.”
“Hey,” Olly said, flagging down another detective. They’d moved to the side of the apartment building, out of the way of emergency personnel and far enough from the ambulance sirens so they could hear each other.
“What’s up, Olly?” the second detective asked, pushing his large glasses up his nose. He looked like a kid, the only thing validating he was a cop was the large badge dangling around his neck. Otherwise he might be confused for a Boy Scout.
“Liam, what do we know about this Yule guy? He’s in the system obviously.” Olly reached for his phone and started typing frantically.
“I already checked him out. This guy’s Teflon. He’s got to be a CI. They found a rag with chlorof
orm on it. So this was planned.”
“An informant?” Reid asked, wondering who would be dealing with this bastard, cutting deals for information.
“Is he in the database?” Olly asked, pacing around.
“Not that I can see,” Liam replied, looking again. “But no one gets arrested this many times and walks. He’s getting off with hardly anything every time. And has been doing it for years.”
“Not possible,” Olly argued, dismissing the kid’s credibility. “If he’d been ratting that long he’d have been killed in the street by now. And there’s no record of him as an informant anywhere or for anyone on the force. Something else has to be up. Stay on it, Liam, and let me know what you find.” Olly gestured with his chin for the young detective to head out.
“This bastard better be dead or I’m going kill him. And she, she better be—” Reid felt like he might be sick if he didn’t get answers soon.
“You can’t help her right now, but you can help me. Tell me what else you know about this guy. Is there a chance she owed him some money? Was he her pimp?”
“She’s clean,” Reid shouted. “I told you that. She wasn’t mixed up with this shit before they found her in that alley.”
“All right,” Olly said, putting his hands up apologetically. “I just want to get to the bottom of why he felt the need to attack her.”
“Promise me something,” Reid pleaded desperately. The look on Ollys’s face spoke volumes. Reid was an even-keeled man who kept his temper in check. Every interaction these two had was always rooted in professionalism. But now Reid was unapologetically begging.
“I’ll do what I can,” Olly said, thoroughly uncomfortable by the show of emotion.
“If you hear anything about this guy call me right away. I think he’s the one who drugged her the first time, and he came back to finish the job. But I have no idea why. I need the answer.”
“You can’t quote me on anything. Nothing on the record, but I’ll make sure you stay in the loop. Just don’t screw me over.” Olly jabbed one of his fingers into Reid’s chest and gave him a fiery threatening look. “This is off the books. But I want the same courtesy. If you find something, you give me a heads-up.”
“Got it,” Reid said, nodding his promise emphatically.
“If she pulls through, I can have a detail put on her. Make sure she’s covered at the hospital. If what you say is true, and this is the second attempt on her life, odds are someone is determined. If it’s just this Yule guy, maybe she’s fine, but if it goes deeper she may not be out of the woods.”
Reid nodded, not wanting to address the idea that she may not need the protection. What if she didn’t make it to the hospital? What if Yule had been successful? “I’ve got to be with her,” he argued again.
“Both ambulances left already,” Olly said, leaning back so he could see around the side of the building again. “You need a ride to the hospital?”
Reid stepped to the back of the apartment and saw Josh calmly negotiating with a uniformed officer who was persistently trying to turn him away.
“I’m good,” Reid said over his shoulder. “I have a friend here.”
Chapter 29
“What’s going on?” Josh asked in a panic. His brows furrowed together as Reid yanked him back toward his car.
“Tara was attacked.” Reid spun, trying to figure out how long he’d been here, how long it had been since Tara had been hurt. “What are you doing here?”
“I told Willow I’d come by and check on Tara to see how she was doing and make sure her heart wasn’t giving her anymore trouble. Willow had just left a little while earlier. She was taking the kids to the movies so I figured I’d come now. Then I saw all the cops and the ambulance, but no one would tell me what happened. Is Tara injured?”
“She was on the floor under the guy, covered in blood and not conscious. I got pulled out of there by the cops and I didn’t get an update before the ambulance left. We need to get to the hospital now. Have Willow meet us there.”
“But she has the kids,” Josh argued as Reid practically pushed him into the driver’s seat.
“I know a girl who works the daycare for the doctors’ kids. She can watch the boys for a little bit. I need Willow there. If Tara wakes up—when she does—I need Willow to hear what she has to say. It was Yule who attacked her. They were tailing him today. I need to know everything, and so does Willow.”
“I can go switch with her if it’s easier. I’ll just take the kids,” Josh said, backing out of the area flooded with cops.
“No,” Reid said quieter now. “I need you too. The doctor stuff, whatever they have to say, I want you there. You,” Reid stuttered, “you’re good with this stuff. I’m just not.”
“Okay.” Josh understood, nodding. “I’ve got you, man.”
It didn’t take long to convince Willow to come. The moment she heard it was Yule she sounded crushed by the idea that this could be her fault. She ran through the gamut of reasons why she was sure she hadn’t been spotted. She knew no one had followed her back to Tara’s.
When they pulled up to the hospital, Reid ran in first. Calling over his shoulder he instructed them, “Go to the pediatric wing and ask for Susan McMillian. She’s waiting for you. The boys can play there. Then meet me wherever the hell Tara is.”
“Go with him,” Willow instructed Josh. “He needs you. I’ll be right there.”
Josh quickly caught up and met Reid at the nurses’ station in the emergency room. “I’m looking for Tara Shiloh. She was brought in by ambulance; where is she?”
The tall thin nurse glared at him, unimpressed by his urgency. “Are you family?”
When Reid curled his hand into a fist and ground his teeth together, Josh jumped in. “I’m a doctor. I have pertinent medical information regarding Miss Shiloh’s heart condition, and I’d like to pass that on to the doctors treating her. I don’t believe they’ll be able to find it in her medical records.”
She looked him over, still unimpressed but mildly concerned. “We have specific instructions not to let anyone in to see her. There are officers at her door.”
“I’m sure I know them,” Reid insisted. “Tell us where she is and I’ll deal with the cops there.”
“Yeah that’s helping,” Josh said, edging Reid back toward the chairs. “Sit. Shut up.” There were very few people in Reid’s life who could successfully order him around like that. Luckily for Josh he was one of them.
After a bit of negotiation that Reid couldn’t make out, Josh disappeared with the nurse. Left there sitting, doing nothing and feeling useless, was crushing. Just as he was about to shoot to his feet to go another round with an unhelpful nurse, Willow came bounding down a hallway.
“Is Josh with her?”
“I think so,” Reid said, looking helplessly at the double doors leading back to the emergency room that could only be opened by someone with a hospital badge. “I’m going to lose it, Willow. I’m going to kick in that damn door in a second if I don’t—”
“Reid,” Josh called, swinging the doors open. “Willow, come on back. You can see her.”
Reid took a deep breath, knowing at least she was alive, able to be seen.
Josh started doling out information in rapid succession, and Reid only picked up the pieces that mattered. “She was slashed in the face, and her wrist has multiple fractures. Due to the stress on her heart she had major palpitations and passed out. They’re stabilizing her now. Putting a cast on the wrist, stitching the laceration on her face. But she’s okay. She’s going to be all right.”
Not realizing he’d been holding his breath, Reid finally gasped out the air trapped in his lungs. “All right,” he said, repeating the words. “She’s okay.”
“She’s exhausted, but I told the doctors you needed to see her, that it was crucial for her safety that she tell us what happened. Detective Olly, I think his name was, is here too.”
“Tara,” Reid called in a childlike voice as he barreled thr
ough the curtain toward her hospital bed. “I’m so sorry.” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“You need to back up, sir,” a doctor demanded, forcefully pulling Reid back. “Those stiches are fresh; we still need to cover them.” A long line pulled together by black knotted thread ran from just under Tara’s eye down to her chin.
“I’m fine,” she lied, wincing as someone began wrapping her arm tightly with some sort of bandage. “It was Yule,” she said, seeming to remember the importance of the information. “He was the one who drugged me that night, and he was going to kill me.”
“Why?” Olly asked as though the answer could be that easy.
“He said I was scum and he had to rid the world of it. It was like he was crazy. He said he knew TJ,” Tara said, wincing again in pain.
“Who’s TJ?” Olly asked, sounding annoyed to be late to the game on this one.
“He’s my son’s father. He died of a drug overdose eighteen months ago. Heroin. This guy Yule was on it, too, I think. He was crazy.” Her lip quivered at the memory, and she couldn’t right herself before the tears came back. “He was just throwing me around.”
“Sounds like some kind of drug-fueled psychosis or something. If he has it in his head that he’s a vigilante, cleansing the world, he’s probably lost it.” Olly grabbed his ringing phone from his pocket. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he explained as he dashed through the curtain and started jabbering into his phone agitatedly.
“No way he’s just some nut job,” Willow dissented in a low voice. “It has to be bigger than this. Something with TJ, some kind of vendetta or something. Did TJ owe anyone money?”
A spooky look washed over Tara’s face. “Money,” she said, using her uninjured hand to wipe her eyes, gingerly avoiding the stitches. “He said he didn’t need money. That he wasn’t there for money, he had plenty. I figured as a drug dealer he must.”
“No,” Willow said firmly. “Dealers with a business mentality have money. Users like Yule, who also happen to sell, are broke. They use up half the product themselves. They can never turn a profit.”
Three Seconds To Rush (Piper Anderson Legacy Mystery Book 1) Page 16