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“You’d be doing me a huge favor if you’d let me go with you,” he called out after her.
What did he just say? She’d be doinghima favor?
He was beside her again, looking a bit flustered and unsure of himself. Marin wondered what he was up to because she was sure there wasn’t ever a moment when this gorgeous man was unsure of himself, not to mention flustered.
“At least hear me out. Please.”
She blew out a breath. “Suit yourself. I get off at Dupont Circle. It’s the next stop, so you’d better make your case quickly.”
The corners of his mouth turned up in a conqueror’s grin, his dimples so potent Marin saw the woman next to her clutch her chest in delight. The lights on the edge of the platform blinked to indicate an incoming train and the crowd pressed closer together. When the train arrived, and the doors opened, Marin and Griffin were lucky to get the last two spots against the doors. Just as they began to close, a young black woman leaped aboard the train. She smiled gleefully before she accidentally shoved into Marin.
“Sorry,” the woman said.
There was a shout from the platform, but the doors had already closed. The train lurched forward. Marin had to move in closer to Griffin to make room for the latecomer. He braced his arm above her head, holding them steady in the crowded car.
“The train ride is barely three minutes,” Marin said.
“I’ll have you agreeing in less than two.”
She rolled her eyes at his arrogance and forced herself to look away from his compelling stare. That was when she saw the blood. Lots of blood. The young black woman’s chin was tucked to her chest. She seemed to be gasping for breath. Her hands clutched the front of her white shirt that now had a dark red stain seeping out from her flat abdomen.
“Griffin!” Marin cried, but he’d already seen it.
He pushed Marin flat against the wall and edged himself over to the woman.
“I’ve got you,” he told her. “When the doors open, you just lean on me.”
He looked desperately toward the back of the car.
“Hey!” he yelled. “Someone pick up that phone and tell them we need an ambulance at Dupont Circle!”
As the train slowed, a man made his way to the emergency phone near the doors that joined the cars together.
“She’s barely conscious,” Griffin said. “I’m going to have to carry her out.”
Marin maneuvered her arm around enough to pull her dirty chef’s jacket out of her backpack. She handed it to him. “Use this to apply pressure.”
The doors opened. The woman would have collapsed on the platform had it not been for Griffin’s hold. Marin wadded her jacket up and thrust it between him and the woman. He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the stone bench along the back wall. Many of the passengers stampeded out behind Marin, some fearful, while others remained in the Metro car, oblivious that a stabbing had even occurred. Two Metro transit officers charged down the escalator.
“Did anyone see what happened?” one of them asked the assembled crowd.
The woman on the bench moaned. Marin crouched down next to her. “She was smiling when she got on the train.” Marin swiped at the tears she hadn’t realized were streaming down her face. “She has such a pretty smile,” she whispered.
There was a sudden frenzy of activity when the EMTs and DC police arrived on the scene. The woman, still unconscious, was quickly whisked away to the hospital. Marin barely remembered the seven-block trip up New Hampshire Ave to the police station. Griffin hovered over her like a sentry as they both told, then retold, their account of the incident to police detectives.
“Surveillance video at the McPherson Square station shows a figure running from the train as it was pulling away. The perp could be a man or a woman. Hard to tell,” one of the detectives told them. “He or she was dressed in a giant hoodie and baggy pants. Typical gangbanger garb. Of course, that only narrows our search area down to most of Southeast DC and half of Baltimore,” he added sarcastically.
“Any chance I could get a look at that video?” Griffin asked.
“Any chance you’ll tell me why you’re so interested?” the detective responded.
“Professional curiosity,” Griffin said. “Maybe seeing the video will jog something in my memory. Years on a protective detail gives you a different perspective. We’re trained to spot things in the crowd.”
The detective sighed. “Just as long as you promise to share if you do see anything.” He got up from his desk. “I’ll download a copy to a disc for you.”
“The victim is a student at Howard University,” the female detective said. “But her brother is a known member of the Deuce Deuce gang. He’s currently serving time for drug dealing. We’re probably looking at some sort of retaliation crime here.”
A young, innocent woman, brutally stabbed because of who her brother was. The thought made Marin physically ill.
