by Ali Franklin
An hour later, the doctor finished examining Nicki. The chief would still need a CT scan on her skull, but everything looked okay.
“We don’t know how long you were unconscious,” he said, “so I’d like to keep you under observation for a few hours. It’s likely just a grade two concussion, but I’d rather be safe.”
“I understand,” Nicki said. “Now will you tell me if my friend is okay?” It was the fifth time she’d asked, and this time she was determined to get an answer.
The doctor chuckled. “I’ll go check with the desk. You just relax until they come get you for your scan.”
Nicki exhaled, relieved to finally be getting an answer about Ryan. She laid her head back on the hospital pillow and squirmed at how uncomfortable it was. It was going to be a long night.
A minute later, Jamie came into the little room. “What’s the word?”
“I have to stay for a while.”
“But you’re okay?” asked Jamie.
“I’m fine. They just want to watch me because of the concussion.”
Jamie laid a hand on her arm. “I just got a call from the Fire Department. They need me to come back to the pub.”
“No worries. I’m in good hands here.”
“I’ll call later and see if you want me to come by.”
“Thanks—and thanks for bringing me.”
Jamie waved and walked out.
Nicki closed her eyes. She was awakened by the bed moving. A young man in navy-blue scrubs unhooked the brakes and positioned the bed for transport.
“I’m going to take you for your CT scan,” he said. “You’ll be done in no time.”
She watched the ceiling as the bed rolled through the halls. She counted twenty-eight light fixtures before the bed stopped and she heard the young man slap a button on the wall. He pushed her through a wide doorway and maneuvered the bed into a dark room.
The scan took only a few minutes. On the return trip, she counted twenty-four light fixtures as she was taken to the second floor and shown into a private room. The transporter locked the brakes and wished her a speedy recovery before disappearing into the hall.
Nicki was counting the ceiling tiles when a nurse came into the room wheeling a computer on a stand with one squeaky wheel. “Hello, Ms. Statton. I understand you’ll be staying with us for a few hours.”
“Do you have the results of my scan already?”
The nurse shook her head as she looked at Nicki’s chart. “No, but your neurological exam looks good overall. The doctor has ordered observation as a precaution.”
“I’ve been asking about my friend Ryan McCabe. She was hit by a car and they told me a friend brought her here. Can I find out how she’s doing?”
The nurse frowned. “I can’t give you much information on another patient.”
Nicki squeezed her eyes shut. “Can you just tell me if she was brought in?”
The nurse typed text into a few fields. “You say someone brought her? Not an ambulance?”
“That’s right. I don’t think they called an ambulance. A friend said he was going to bring her here.”
The nurse asked Nicki to spell Ryan’s first and last names. Then she asked for Ryan’s age and a physical description. She made faces at her screen, then typed another few commands.
“Is there any chance your friend would have used a different name? Like a maiden name?”
“McCabe is her maiden name. She’s not married.”
The nurse typed again.
“I’m sorry. We have no record of any patients from motor vehicle accidents coming into the hospital today.”
Nicki’s blood turned cold. Someone had cleared out O’Leary’s using the fire alarm. Dexter Arrington had knocked out Nicki with a punch to the jaw. And Ryan had gone off in a car with Dexter, sporting who-knew-what kinds of injuries.
Nicki sat up, trying to make the pieces fall into place. She winced as her vision swam. Then she lost consciousness.
Chapter 20
It was dusk when Ryan opened her eyes again. Her head ached. Every muscle in her body was stiff. Even her eyelids hurt. But most of all, she had to pee.
Fortunately, Ryan knew her way around. It took her a full minute to get out of the chair and it hurt like hell, but she persevered until she was mostly upright. She limped toward the hallway with the bathroom, favoring her aching left ankle.
“Dexter?” Her voice came out like a whisper. “Chase?” There was no answer.
She took care of business in the bathroom. On her way out, she glanced into the mirror above the vanity. A large purple bruise covered most of her left jaw. The skin on the left side of her neck was scraped raw and had scabbed over. She winced, knowing she needed to clean it. She opened her mouth and checked her teeth. All seemed well there.
She turned on the water and stuck a hand beneath the flow. It felt like shards of glass were embedded in her skin. She didn’t dare use the soap.
As she turned to leave, she gasped as she caught her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her clothes were filthy. Her pants were ripped at the left hip and were stuck to her skin with blood. She looked like she’d been run over, not just thrown to the ground by the little sports car.
She was making a bit of noise now and was surprised that Dexter hadn’t come to check on her. Her spirits ticked up a notch. Maybe he’d left her alone.
She took a few tiny, painful steps out of the bathroom and listened for the sound of anyone else in the house. Then she heard it: voices from the kitchen. Chase was home.
She couldn’t hear what the brothers were saying, but she knew they’d been confident enough to leave her alone in the living room. Again, the voice in her head told her she needed to escape. She tried talking back, but she knew it was right. Chase—and probably Gus—had already killed two women. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill her as well.
I need to run for my life.
Ryan was grateful for the time she’d spent at the house the previous week. Veronica had insisted on taking each member of the committee through her home, explaining every detail at length. Most of the tour included telling visitors how much she’d paid for each piece or art and furniture. It had been a nauseating display of excess. Ryan sent up a silent prayer of thanks for that display, as she now knew the layout of the large house.
The back door wasn’t far away. If Ryan could get out while the brothers thought she was asleep, she might get away before they even realized she’d opened her eyes. She reached the door and slowly turned the lock, grimacing at the pain in her wrist. The lock shifted. Likewise, she took care with the door. It opened without a sound.
She wobbled painfully out to the back patio and closed the door behind her. Her mind kept screaming, Run! Run! But her body simply couldn’t do it. Every step was excruciating; the smallest motion unleashed lightning bolts of pain through her muscles and joints. And worst of all, it was hardly worth it. Each step only moved her forward a few inches.
But she kept going, knowing it was her only chance. For a moment, she wondered why they hadn’t killed her already. Maybe they wanted to know what she knew and who she’d told. They would kill her once they had those answers. After all, there was nothing stopping them.
Her mind raced while her body plodded. As she neared the bushes that marked the boundary between the Arringtons’ house and their neighbors, she hazarded a peek backwards. She prayed she wouldn’t see a face at the window. There was no one. She breathed a sigh of relief.
As she turned back around, her foot came into contact with something stuck into the ground. She stumbled and fell, her right shoulder landing on a sprinkler spigot. She slammed her hand over her mouth to cover a scream. This action brought more pain.
She didn’t dare look back at the house. With her body screaming in agony, she crawled on all fours through the hedge into the neighbor’s yard. She sat on the ground for a moment, breathing hard. Holy crap.
No sound came from the Arringtons’ house, but that didn’t make
her feel any better. She forced herself back onto her hands and knees. Pulling her right leg under her body, she pushed up and righted herself on both legs. Then she took a few deep breaths and started walking again.
The pain had intensified, but now it strengthened her resolve. She was going to get away, get help, and bring Chase and Lipinski to justice. She set her jaw—ouch.
It didn’t matter. With every step, she got farther away from the danger. With every step, she grew stronger. With every step, she became more certain she was going to get out of this situation alive.
She made it through the neighbor’s backyard without being spotted. Then she made it through the next backyard. At the far end of that house, she turned and shuffled toward the street.
The neighborhood was ritzy but not far from the more crowded parts of town. If she could make it past a couple more houses, Ryan would make it to a main street and be able to flag down a motorist. She stayed close to the front of the next house, using the landscaping for cover. Each time a car came close, she hid behind the nearest bush or rock.
She finally made it out of the Wild Bird Estates and turned left. The road had a broad sidewalk she could use to get to the next intersection, a place sure to be populated with motorists. The problem was that the next few blocks were uphill. She looked at the incline.
You’ve made it this far. You’re almost home free. Get up that damn hill.
She started walking. Every step was agony as her hip and ankle resisted. Even worse, the painful movements resulted in almost no discernible progress toward her goal at the top of the hill. At regular intervals, she stopped and leaned against the fence separating the nearest house from the street. After allowing herself only a few breaths, she would push off of the wall and continue her climb.
Her body screamed that each step had to be her last. She had to stop. She had to lie down, to let her body recuperate just for a few minutes. But she ignored the messages. She couldn’t give up now, when she was so close to safety. With every muscle and joint screaming, she forced herself to keep going. One more step. One more step. One more step.
A car rushed by a few yards ahead of her, making her look up in surprise. She’d made it to the intersection! She staggered to the corner and leaned against the traffic light.
Ryan looked around. The sky was now dark. She watched pairs of headlights go by while she gathered her strength again. Her body pleaded with her to stop while her brain argued that danger was still far too close. She held onto the light pole while she stood up straight, then limped to the edge of the corner.
She raised her arms above her head and shouted as loud as she could. No one heard her above the traffic. She waved her arms and yelled louder. She needed someone to stop. She needed to get to the authorities.
On TV, people always stepped out in front of traffic to flag down help. But Ryan had already stepped into traffic once that day. She wasn’t going to risk it again. She took a deep breath and renewed her arm-waving.
A sedan screeched to a halt in front of her, bathing her in its light. A man jumped out and yelled into the darkness, “Do you need help?”
Ryan closed her eyes in relief. “Yes. I need to go to the Sheriff’s station.” She collapsed into the man’s arms. He lifted her and placed her into the passenger seat of his car. It was the second time that day that a man placed a seatbelt over her body and buckled it.
She leaned back against the headrest and let out a breath as the man buckled himself into the car. Ryan frowned. Why weren’t they moving?
She turned her head to look at the driver. It was Gus Lipinski.
Two hours after she’d passed out, Nicki felt strong enough to try to walk around her hospital room. She was supposed to ring the nurse if she wanted to get up, but she decided to try it on her own. If she could get to her bathroom, she could get out the door and down the hall.
She shuffled slowly across the tile floor, her hand on the wall in case she needed extra support. She reached the bathroom without incident and used the toilet. Then she stood, both hands gripping the sink for support. She made it to the fully upright position without too much lightheadedness. She smiled into the mirror. She had a plan.
Nicki moved to the closet and found her clothes, then sat in a chair to put them on. The emergency room staff had placed her uniform and duty belt into the large plastic bag when she’d changed into the paper-thin down they given her when she arrived. The uniform and belt were still in the bag, but they’d removed her service weapon. If she wanted to get out of here tonight without anyone stopping her, she was going to have to leave the gun behind.
She tied her shoes, then straightened up and took a few deep breaths. Then she rose and walked haltingly toward the door of the hospital room.
She let out a sigh of frustration at her pace. At this rate, she might make it out of the hospital before morning. She forced herself to take a bigger step, then another. As long as she kept her hand on the wall, she made pretty good progress. She slipped through the door and into the hallway, looking around to find the nurses’ station. It was empty—and all the way at the other end of the hall.
Act like you’re just another visitor, she told herself. She used the phrase as her mantra as she pressed the button for the elevator and stepped in. A doctor in a lab coat with booties over his shoes smiled and nodded at her. She smiled back and pressed the button for the ground floor.
She got off the elevator and spotted the front door. Her eyes never left her target as she traversed the waiting room floor. She stopped just inside the door and donned her aviator sunglasses, smiling at her reflection in the door’s glass. People always commented on what a badass she looked in her uniform and shades. She hoped no one would try to stop a badass from leaving the hospital premises.
Nicki stepped out into the warm air and reached for her keys. Then she remembered her car was back at O’Leary’s. She’d have to find another way to get back to campus. She lifted her phone and tapped her rideshare app. The car was there in less than two minutes.
The driver took Nicki to O’Leary’s, but Nicki stopped him before he turned into the parking lot. Jamie was standing outside the front door, talking with a handful of firefighters. She wouldn’t be pleased to find Nicki out of the hospital. But Nicki still had to find Ryan.
She told the driver to go around the east side of the campus and drop her off close to the SUB. As they neared the building, Nicki dialed Jack’s number. He didn’t answer, so she left him a voicemail:
Jack, it’s Nicki Statton. Something’s happened to Ryan and I may need your help. Please call me as soon as you can.
As she clicked to end the call, she noticed a message alert. She clicked the button. It was from Ryan:
Nicki, it’s Ryan. I’m in the bathroom and I need to talk to you about Gus right now. Please come get me.
Nicki could hear the O’Leary’s fire alarm in the background of the message. So Ryan had tried to contact Nicki while the alarm was going off. And she wanted to talk to Nicki about Gus? Nicki frowned.
She listened to Ryan’s next message, the one about being outside on the sidewalk. Ryan must have had her accident soon after leaving it. Nicki huffed in frustration. She had to find out where Dexter had taken Ryan. Once she knew that, she could make sure Ryan was all right.
The driver let Nicki out in the east parking lot. She walked toward her office as quickly as she dared with her throbbing head. She reached the SUB without incident and rode the elevator to her office in the basement.
In the office, Nicki told the dispatcher and two officers about the incident at O’Leary’s. The dispatcher put out a campus-wide APB on Dean McCabe and Nicki sat at her desk to make some phone calls.
“Chief, is there anything we can do to help?” asked Smith, one of the patrol officers.
“You can help me call area hospitals to see if Dean McCabe has been admitted after her accident.”
Smith frowned. “Did you already call County General?”
Nick
i took a deep breath, reminding herself Smith was just trying to help. “I just left there. They haven’t seen her.”
“Dang, Chief. I can’t imagine why anyone would take the dean to a hospital that was farther away.”
“I can’t either,” said Nicki. “But we need to find her.”
“I’ll get Patel to help. I’ll call Johnson and Ellis Counties. Patel can do Navarro and Limestone. That leaves you with Hill and McLennan.”
Nicki was so exhausted that she took the orders from her patrolman with a nod. He left her office and she reached for the phone.
Thirty minutes later, Nicki and the two patrolmen regrouped to learn that no one had found Ryan.
“We’ll expand the search,” Smith said. “Keep calling until we figure out where she is.”
Nicki laid down the protein bar she was eating and took a long gulp of water from a bottle.
“Hang on,” she said. “I have an idea where Dexter took her. I’m going to go check it out, but I need to borrow a car.”
Both men reached for their keys.
“Wait,” said Patel. “One of us should come with you.”
“No, it’s just recon. I’m going to call for some sheriff’s deputies to meet me. You guys are on duty, and you can alert me if she turns up.”
Patel tossed his keys on the desk. “Smith can give me a ride home if you’re out late. He still owes me for the time I scared away that big goose that was chasing him at the pond.”
Smith smacked Patel on the shoulder. “You swore you’d never tell her about that.”
“Extenuating circumstances,” said Patel.
“Listen,” said Nicki. “I’ve been trying to contact Jack Prieto but haven’t reached him yet. I’m going to try his partner, Lipinski. In the meantime, Patel, keep calling Jack. I won’t be able to do much without backup.”
“Affirmative, Chief,” said Patel. “We’ll find him. You stay safe.”
