Split Second
Page 14
But he had his hand on her arm, pulling her back. The streetlight was ten feet away, and shadows were hanging long and deep, and as black as the lacy underwear she’d just bought on sale.
Why was she thinking about her underwear? She felt another wave of nausea and jerked as hard as she could, but he didn’t let her go.
“Look, Todd—” Her words were loud and slurred. Clear as a bell, she heard her mother’s dead-drunk voice slurring insults at her—mean, vicious insults—and it scared her so badly it gave her focus, sharpened her brain, and she saw everything very clearly. She said slowly, on eye level with him, “You son of a bitch, you drugged me.” She slammed her fist into his face. He didn’t have time to duck the blow, but it didn’t have much punch because she was weaving around like a drunk, wanting to puke but too scared, too furious with this jerk, to get sick yet. Todd grabbed her hand and pulled her arm down to her side. “No, Lizzie, it’ll be all right, you’ll see. I wouldn’t drug anybody. Let’s walk, okay? You’ll feel better, you’ll see.”
Not on your miserable life. She pulled her arm free and dug her nails in his cheek as he tried to jerk his head out of the way.
He yelled, stumbled back, and clapped his hand to his bleeding face. He screamed an obscenity at her and came toward her. What was he doing? She saw him pull a length of wire out of his jacket pocket. Wire? Liz threw back her head and screamed until she vomited. Then she swiped the vomit from her mouth and kept screaming. She felt like she was dying, her stomach twisting in on itself, and her head was spinning, but thank God, Todd was running away now, holding his hand to his face. She sank to her knees and saw the bartender from Chilly’s running toward her and shouting, “Hey, what’s going on? Liz, you all right? I knew it; I knew that guy wasn’t right. I called the cops; they’re on their way.”
Liz didn’t answer him. She fell onto her side, unconscious.
CHAPTER 10
Philadelphia
Sacred Heart Hospital
Wednesday
“Ms. Rogers, I’m Agent Lucy Carlyle and this is Agent Cooper McKnight, FBI. First I’d like to say you’re a very smart woman.”
Smart? Liz didn’t feel smart, she felt like she’d had a boulder dropped on her. Her stomach felt like the lining was burned through, but hey, she was alive, and she’d hurt that creep who’d drugged her, sent him running, so maybe that was smart. She found herself smiling up at the woman with her gorgeous hair in a thick French braid. So many shades, what was the color? Chestnut, that was it.
“We’d like to hear exactly what happened, if you feel up to it.”
“I already spoke to a police officer this morning.”
They heard a man clear his throat in the doorway. Coop looked over to see a guy about his own age, his dirty blond hair standing straight up, his light blue eyes bloodshot, but he looked near to snarling. Coop raised an eyebrow.
“I’m Dr. Medelin. I wasn’t told Ms. Rogers had visitors. The police have already questioned her, so I don’t see any reason for you to hassle her more, it’s too soon, and she needs to rest.”
Coop flipped out his creds. “We’re FBI, not local police. We, ah, don’t hassle people, and we only shoot them when we have to.”
Lucy grinned, but Dr. Medelin didn’t. “FBI? For a mugging? Come on now, give her a while, she needs rest after what she’s been through.”
Liz was appalled when her voice came out as a skinny little whisper. “Dr. Medelin, it’s okay. I’m fine. I want to tell them what happened. Hey, they’re federal, it must mean I’m really important.”
Dr. Medelin paid no attention to either Lucy or Coop, simply walked to Ms. Rogers and examined her eyes, then laid two long thin fingers over her pulse, listened to her heart. “If you’re sure, Ms. Rogers?”
“Oh, yes, I want this jerk nailed, and these guys look like they’re the ones to do it.”
Dr. Medelin left, saying over his shoulder they could have five minutes, no longer. Lucy smiled. In her experience, doctors were more territorial than monkeys.
Liz looked up at Lucy. “I’m not all that smart. You want the truth? It was my mom’s voice that saved me.”
Lucy cocked her head to one side. “Tell us,” she said.
“. . . I was so appalled that I was slurring my words like my mother when she’s drunk, which is usually every day, it snapped me back into my brain for a minute and I realized he’d drugged me. I went after him, got him good that second time and drew blood. I couldn’t believe he came at me with some kind of wire. I screamed my head off.” She gave them a big grin, then swallowed. “I was throwing up, and screaming. The bartender, Ruley, came running. Then I passed out.”
Why was she thinking about her underwear? She felt another wave of nausea and jerked as hard as she could, but he didn’t let her go.
“Look, Todd—” Her words were loud and slurred. Clear as a bell, she heard her mother’s dead-drunk voice slurring insults at her—mean, vicious insults—and it scared her so badly it gave her focus, sharpened her brain, and she saw everything very clearly. She said slowly, on eye level with him, “You son of a bitch, you drugged me.” She slammed her fist into his face. He didn’t have time to duck the blow, but it didn’t have much punch because she was weaving around like a drunk, wanting to puke but too scared, too furious with this jerk, to get sick yet. Todd grabbed her hand and pulled her arm down to her side. “No, Lizzie, it’ll be all right, you’ll see. I wouldn’t drug anybody. Let’s walk, okay? You’ll feel better, you’ll see.”
Not on your miserable life. She pulled her arm free and dug her nails in his cheek as he tried to jerk his head out of the way.
He yelled, stumbled back, and clapped his hand to his bleeding face. He screamed an obscenity at her and came toward her. What was he doing? She saw him pull a length of wire out of his jacket pocket. Wire? Liz threw back her head and screamed until she vomited. Then she swiped the vomit from her mouth and kept screaming. She felt like she was dying, her stomach twisting in on itself, and her head was spinning, but thank God, Todd was running away now, holding his hand to his face. She sank to her knees and saw the bartender from Chilly’s running toward her and shouting, “Hey, what’s going on? Liz, you all right? I knew it; I knew that guy wasn’t right. I called the cops; they’re on their way.”
Liz didn’t answer him. She fell onto her side, unconscious.
CHAPTER 10
Philadelphia
Sacred Heart Hospital
Wednesday
“Ms. Rogers, I’m Agent Lucy Carlyle and this is Agent Cooper McKnight, FBI. First I’d like to say you’re a very smart woman.”
Smart? Liz didn’t feel smart, she felt like she’d had a boulder dropped on her. Her stomach felt like the lining was burned through, but hey, she was alive, and she’d hurt that creep who’d drugged her, sent him running, so maybe that was smart. She found herself smiling up at the woman with her gorgeous hair in a thick French braid. So many shades, what was the color? Chestnut, that was it.
“We’d like to hear exactly what happened, if you feel up to it.”
“I already spoke to a police officer this morning.”
They heard a man clear his throat in the doorway. Coop looked over to see a guy about his own age, his dirty blond hair standing straight up, his light blue eyes bloodshot, but he looked near to snarling. Coop raised an eyebrow.
“I’m Dr. Medelin. I wasn’t told Ms. Rogers had visitors. The police have already questioned her, so I don’t see any reason for you to hassle her more, it’s too soon, and she needs to rest.”
Coop flipped out his creds. “We’re FBI, not local police. We, ah, don’t hassle people, and we only shoot them when we have to.”
Lucy grinned, but Dr. Medelin didn’t. “FBI? For a mugging? Come on now, give her a while, she needs rest after what she’s been through.”
Liz was appalled when her voice came out as a skinny little whisper. “Dr. Medelin, it’s okay. I’m fine. I want to tell them what happened. Hey, they’re federal, it must mean I’m really important.”
Dr. Medelin paid no attention to either Lucy or Coop, simply walked to Ms. Rogers and examined her eyes, then laid two long thin fingers over her pulse, listened to her heart. “If you’re sure, Ms. Rogers?”
“Oh, yes, I want this jerk nailed, and these guys look like they’re the ones to do it.”
Dr. Medelin left, saying over his shoulder they could have five minutes, no longer. Lucy smiled. In her experience, doctors were more territorial than monkeys.
Liz looked up at Lucy. “I’m not all that smart. You want the truth? It was my mom’s voice that saved me.”
Lucy cocked her head to one side. “Tell us,” she said.
“. . . I was so appalled that I was slurring my words like my mother when she’s drunk, which is usually every day, it snapped me back into my brain for a minute and I realized he’d drugged me. I went after him, got him good that second time and drew blood. I couldn’t believe he came at me with some kind of wire. I screamed my head off.” She gave them a big grin, then swallowed. “I was throwing up, and screaming. The bartender, Ruley, came running. Then I passed out.”
