Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [14]
The refrigerated chamber unit. It had been in the room next door. I’d shuddered when I had spotted it, knowing what was stored behind the cubicle doors. Bodies.
Ruthlessly, I crammed back the horror that I was in a drawer where countless corpses had lain. Mustn’t get sick now. There’d be plenty of time to puke my guts out later.
The chamber had a door, but at which end? Had my attacker put me in feet or head first? I prayed the former since I wouldn’t be able to move my arms enough to do a damn thing if the door was behind my head.
I wiggled my feet. No shoes. They either fell in the struggle or the attacker took them off. Don’t get creeped out by the man touching you while you were unconscious.
Inch by excruciating inch I shimmied toward the opposite end. A refrain built in my head. Get out, get out, get out.
How much air was in this chamber? Don’t think like that. It was refrigerated so there had to be circulation to some extent. I had to get out. Who would take care of Mom if something happened to me?
I’d never thought about that contingency, about dying. You’re too young to think about dying, I warned myself.
My feet touched the cool metal. I slid my left one up, tracking the outer edge until my toes connected with a rectangular shape. The latch. Relief shuddered through me. I inched up until my knees were as bent as they could be in the confined space. I kicked out.
Thud. This would not be my tomb. The drawer jostled back and forth. Good, maybe I could get some momentum going to help push against the door. Thud, thud.
Where was Sam? He would come looking when I didn’t show in the administrator’s office…wouldn’t he? A chuckle of half panic, half irony bubbled in my chest. The man did have a habit of showing up when I least needed him. Trust my luck that he wouldn’t show when I did.
Despite the chilled air, perspiration beaded on my forehead. My heels throbbed but still I kicked. This was a hospital for God’s sake. It was filled with people. Someone had to hear me.
Sam, where are you? I gave another vicious kick.
Suddenly the door flew open and light penetrated the chamber. I sailed out along with the drawer being pulled. Strong arms wrapped around me, lifted me up.
“Nicole, honey, are you okay?” Sam’s rough voice rumbled in my ear. For a moment, I allowed weakness and buried my face against his broad chest, craving a lifetime of this sense of security.
Sam’s arms tightened around me and his hand stroked my back. I let his strength flow into me, washing away the last vestiges of fear. When my legs were steady, I released my death grip and pushed away. Sam frowned but let his arms drop. The lines of concern scoring his brow eased, and his cop expression slid into place.
Good. In my current state I could deal with Sam the detective far better than I could Sam the man.
“Miss Sterling.” I looked around Sam to where Dr. Cruz stood beside a gurney. She raised a trembling hand and pointed at the refrigeration unit. Reluctantly, my eyes were drawn to what could have been my coffin. I suppressed a shudder at the small, dark opening.
“What kind of stunt do you think you were pulling?” she demanded. “We could file charges against you.”
Her shrill tirade triggered the little men in my head to resume their hammering. Wincing, I touched the back of my head. “I didn’t crawl in for a lark, Dr. Cruz. Someone knocked me out and put me there.”
Sam gripped my arm and swung me around to face him. “Who?”
The sudden movement caused everything around me to blur. I swayed. With an oath Sam picked me up.
“Hey, put me down. I’m all right.” I meant to give him a sharp whack on the shoulder but managed only a weak thump.
“Shut up, Red.” He crossed to a chair set against a wall and placed me in it. He pressed my head toward my knees and then ran his fingers through my hair. The man had radar. He ran over the spot immediately.
“Ow.” I batted at his hand.