“It was easy,” he said. “Hospital types are so smug, so stupid ... think they’re in some kind of fortress. Don't you people know everything's reachable, and anyone is get-able?”
She yanked again at her bindings, stretching, turning. “Chapman was in reverse isolation.”
“Big, fucking sweat,” he said, sneering at her. “I used to clean those rooms. Special to you ... nothing to me. Just another place to get in and out of. Popped a little of this stuff into his IV and no one ever knew I'd been there.”
“It was you in Pathology chasing me, wasn't it?”
“Almost had you, too.” He turned to look at her, smiled sweetly. “But what matters is, I got you now, darlin'.”
She felt one of the belts loosen slightly. “What's in that bottle?”
He threw his head back and roared with laughter. “Why, darlin', this here’s my own special mixture.” He winked at her. “Got to admit, though, it sure don't smell too good.” He dipped the needle into the bottle and pulled back on the plunger, filling the syringe with the dark, viscous fluid.
Gina turned her head from the stench. “What is it?
“Well, now, you people might call it a coliform special,” he said, setting the syringe down, and putting the cap back on the bottle. “But truthfully, it ain't nothing but plain old shit 'n water. Not sweet, but pretty damn simple.” He gave her a mock solemn nod. “And you gotta admit, there ain't no shortage of it, either.”
He put the syringe on the bedside table and removed the belt from one wrist. She pulled and twisted her arm once more. It came free and she punched wildly at him. He caught her fist in one hand, trapped it under his arm, and held it there while he looped the belt around her biceps.
She watched her vein rise, bulge beneath the skin. He sat there smirking at her, looking from her breasts to the crotch of her panties as he retrieved the syringe and held it in front of her face.
“After this, we should have some time for an intimate moment or two. I'll bet Faye's already told you how well I can use a woman.”
Gina watched the needle inch toward her arm. She yanked violently at her bound wrist, but the leather only cut deeper into the abraded skin.
“Help me!” she screamed. “Somebody, help me!”
Nellis laughed. She looked at his twisted features, blinked, and saw a second head floating above him. She blinked again—Faye's broken face hovered there, one side of her skull caved in, mashed almost beyond recognition; the lower half of her face had become a gelatinous mass of fibers, flesh, and displaced teeth.
Gina strained harder to free herself, yanked relentlessly at taut leather as she saw the switchblade poised in the air.
Faye plunged the knife into Nellis’ neck; the tainted needle fell from his hand. He howled, released Gina’s arm to claw at the wound.
“What the fuck?” He jerked the knife from his neck, flung it down onto the bed, fingered the oozing blood. “How could you, darlin’? All I’ve done for you?”
Gina quickly freed her other hand, released the tourniquet.
“Bitch!” Nellis snarled, grabbing Faye by the neck and pulling her down onto the bed across Gina's legs.
“Frankie!” Faye moaned. “Sorry ... my fault ... all I wanted ... was ... to love ... you. Take care of...”
Nellis drove his fist into her throat, crushing her larynx. He paused, fist raised, ready to strike again, but there was only deadly silence. His anger shifted back to Gina.
“Get off me, you bastard!” she screamed, scooping up the switchblade. She held it point-first out in front of her with both hands.
Nellis lunged forward, hands extended toward her throat.
Gina drove the knife between his ribs and up into his heart. He stared at her, hands falling limp on her shoulders. She shoved him aside, struggled to pull her legs from under him and Faye.
The eerie silence was broken by a mournful, animal cry of pain. Then another and another. It was several seconds before she realized the sounds were coming from her. She sat there, on the edge of the bed, rocking to and fro, her arms wrapped tightly across her chest.
Nellis’ breathing was loud, stertorous. He stared at her; a smoldering anger sparked for a moment, then diminished to bewilderment as his eyes glazed over with the defeated look of a beaten child.
She looked back at Faye and quivered. Poor Faye. Poor broken, dead, Faye.
Gina covered her mouth with both hands and cried.
Epilogue
Gina and Harry lay sprawled across a ratty blanket she’d taken from the trunk of the Fiat. As they watched wave after wave curl lazily onto Muir Beach, a summer fog started building above the chilly offshore waters. The warmth of the day was rapidly dissipating, yet neither made a move to leave.
“Poor, misguided Faye,” Gina said. “I feel sorry for her.” She swiped at a tear that escaped from behind her sunglasses. “People do such incredible things in the name of love.”
The fog grew thicker, creating white puffs across the surrounding hills. Gina and Harry huddled, watched others gather families, leash dogs, and disappear from the beach.
Harry gently touched the large, ugly bruise on Gina’s cheek, then carefully lifted the dark glasses that not only masked her tears, but also hid her bloodshot eyes – a souvenir from Frank Nellis trying to strangle her.
“How easy it is to point a finger at the other guy from a comfy seat on the sidelines,” Harry said, his voice lowering to a whisper. “But she could have walked away at any time.”
“Not Faye. To her it was a simple equation – she’d found someone to love and she was going to hang on to him no matter what.” She took Harry’s hand and pressed it tightly to her chest. “It’s so horrible – all she could think about was pleasing Nellis.”
“And in return, he beat her to death,” Harry said.
He poured a cup of steaming coffee from a Thermos, and handed it to Gina, who took a sip and set it down next to her.
“It was my fault. I blame myself for what happened to her.”
“That’s not fair. She went with you because she really wanted to save Vinnie.”
“Detective Mulzini wasn’t convinced of that,” Gina said. “He insisted that without Faye, Nellis’ whole scheme would never have gotten off the ground.”
“Nellis needed an inside person,” Harry said. He reached for Gina’s cup and gulped down the rest of her coffee. “He found Faye, seduced her, and turned her into his slave.”
“I wish the police hadn’t made me sign a formal statement. Faye thought I was her friend. It felt like a betrayal.”
“Yeah, well, the police operate like any good business – all the tees have to be crossed; all the eyes have to be dotted.” He rested his head against her shoulder and sighed. “Mulzini said it was a nasty scene at Nellis’s place. I’m grateful you’re alive.”
Gina rested a hand on his head, ran her fingers through his hair. The only sound was the lapping of the waves and a whistling breeze moving through the shrubs.
“I killed a man, Harry,” she whispered. “How will I live with that?”
He pulled back, lifted her chin, and stared into her eyes. “He would have killed you.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But it still hurts. I can’t explain it. I only know it hurts like hell.”
“And that feeling probably won’t ever go away.” He pulled her into his arms and whispered, “Give it some time, Gina.”
“Mulzini said pretty much the same thing.”
“At least there’s a bright side to all of this,” he said. “You saved Vinnie’s marrow. That’s a big plus.”
She nodded. “I was sure the cells had been trashed, then Kessler gave me a thumbs-up. It looks like things are going to work out okay for the kid.”
“So when do we set the date?”
She smiled, a spark returning to her eyes. “What date are you talking about, big boy?”
“Don’t play innocent with me, lady. You damn well know what date I’m talking ab
out – our wedding.”
Gina struggled to her feet, held onto her sore side as she grabbed for her shoes, and limped toward the parking lot. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Harry shuffling through the sand, dragging the blanket behind him.
She eased herself into the driver’s seat and waited while Harry dumped the blanket into the trunk and plopped down beside her.
“I didn’t get an answer,” he said.
“What was the question again?”
“Has anyone besides me called you a terror?”
“Almost everyone, and at least a zillion times.” She pushed the key into the ignition. “How about this weekend?”
“What about this weekend?”
“Do you want to get married or not, Harry Lucke?”
He covered his eyes and shook his head, a big grin spreading across his face. “You are too much.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Gina said, adjusting the side mirror. “Let’s get out of here.”
The Fiat’s engine gronk-gronked, sputtered, and fell silent.
“I’ll be damned,” she said and struggled out of the car. She flung open the hood and started tugging and pushing at every wire and hose she could reach, all the time swearing in Italian.
“Never, never, never, never will I ever buy another one of these spaghetti burners,” she yelled.
Harry vaulted over the closed door of the convertible and walked around the car, laughing and pointing a finger at Gina.
“Is everyone from the Bronx as cuckoo as you are?”
Gina’s glare melted into an evil grin. She tried to move with a vamp-like strut, but tripped on her own feet and tumbled into Harry’s arms. She held on tightly, snuggled into his neck, and whispered, “You bet your sweet ass.”
-The End-
AUTHORS’ NOTE
ONCOLOGY is a fast-moving field of medicine, with on-going research finding new treatments and techniques on an almost daily basis. As a result, an autologous bone marrow transplant (ABMT) may no longer be a leading form of treatment for some of the types of cancer in this book.
Acknowledgements
We gratefully acknowledge all those who provided us with information, guidance, and encouragement: “The Group” —Theo Kuhlman, Margaret Lucke, Laurel Trivelpiece, Mary Walker, and Judith Yamamoto; for technical details—Melody Childs, RN and the University of California Oncology Department; and for unselfish giving of their time—Marcia Miller, Bill Pronzini, and Marilyn Wallace.
Novels by Bette Golden Lamb & J. J. Lamb:
Skin & Bone
Heir Today…
Sisters in Silence
Bone Pit
Bone of Contention
Bone Dust
The Killing Vote
By Bette Golden Lamb
The Organ Harvesters
By J. J. Lamb
A Nickel Jackpot
The Chinese Straight
Losers Take All
No Pat Hands
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
BETTE GOLDEN LAMB, a registered nurse, has developed parallel careers as a painter, sculptor, and ceramist. Her art works can be found in a number of galleries and private collections.
BONE DRY is the first book in the Gina Mazzio, RN medical thriller series, which also includes SIN & BONE, BONE PIT, BONE OF CONTENTION, and BONE DUST. These, along with SISTERS IN SILENCE, HEIR TODAY… and THE KILLING VOTE were co-authored with husband J.J. As a single author, she has written a near-future medical thriller, THE ORGAN HARVESTERS.
J. J. LAMB is a career writer – novels, short stories and journalism. In addition to the novels co-authored with Bette, he is the creator of the Zachariah Tobias Rolfe III private eye series, the latest of which, is NO PAT HANDS.
THE LAMBS live in Northern California and are members of International Thriller Writers, Mystery Writers of America, and Sisters in Crime.
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Bone Dry: An Action-Packed Medical Technothriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 1) Page 21
