The Sisterhood - Michael Palmer [101]
Pain shot up his leg from where Weiss was examining his ankle. David groaned and fought to sit up. The leather restraints held fast. “Sorry,” Weiss said gently. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Dr. Shelton, can you understand me? Can you tell me what happened?”
Yes, yes, David thought. I can tell you. Just give me a minute. Don’t rush me. I can tell you everything.
Harry Weiss saw him nod and waited for more of a response. Finally he said, “Well, you’re beginning to feel warmer. I’ve ordered some tests. We’re going to get X-rays of your ankle, your arm, and, just in case, a set of skull films. I think everything’s okay, but I can’t say for sure about your ankle. Understand?”
“Joey,” David said. “Where is my friend Joey?” For a moment he was unsure of whether he had actually said the words or only thought that he had said them.
The resident’s face brightened. “Joey? Is he the one who brought you here?” David nodded. “Great, well, it sounds like you may be coming around. I’ll go talk to your friend. Then I’ll send him in to stay with you until X-ray is ready. We’re very busy tonight, so there’ll probably be a bit of a wait. I’m going to turn off the overhead light. Try to get some rest and don’t shake this blanket off.”
“Thank you,” David whispered. “Thank you.” Weiss looked down at him briefly, shook his head, and left the room, flipping the light off on his way.
David tested the restraints one at a time. No chance. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then settled back. The shaking had stopped and much of the deep chill had disappeared. There was something soothing about the dim quiet of the room and the familiar clamor from outside. “Time to rest,” he told himself. “Rest and get your strength back. When Joey gets here we’ll go after Christine. When Joey gets here …” Slowly his eyes closed. His breathing became more shallow and regular.
Through a peaceful, twilight sleep David heard his friend enter the room. Don’t wake me up, Joey, David thought. Give me another minute or two, then we’ll get going. Well, okay, I know you’re worried about me. I can sleep later. His eyes blinked open an instant before Leonard Vincent’s massive hand clamped down over his mouth, pinning him roughly against the litter.
Dressed in the orderly’s whites Hyacinth had provided, Vincent had encountered no problem in making his way from a rear entrance to Trauma 12. He grudgingly acknowledged Dahlia’s wisdom in ordering him to wait by a phone near Doctors Hospital. “A hunch,” she had called it. He had balked at the prospect of strolling into the emergency ward, but assurances that the emergency ward police were all occupied and the promise of a bonus had convinced him to try. Now he silently applauded himself for the decision.
“You’ve been a great pain in the ass, Dr. Shelton,” he growled. “I have half a mind to make this hurt more than it should. But because at least you tried, I’m gonna make it quick and easy.”
David watched helplessly, his eyes spheres of terror as Vincent raised a knife over his face, giving him a clear view of the ugly tapered blade.
With his hand still pressed over David’s mouth, the killer hooked two thick fingers beneath his chin and pulled up. “One slice, just like a surgeon,” he whispered, drawing the dull side of the blade slowly across David’s exposed neck.
“For God’s sake, wait! I didn’t do anything,” was all David could think of in that final moment. Eyes closed, he listened for his own death scream.