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I shouted out over the now crowded lot, “Where’s the ambo?”
It had been only minutes since I’d called them but Cindy’s breathing was irregular, her pulse feeble.
Rich said again, “Cindy, open your eyes. It’s Richie. I’m here.”
She cracked open her eyes, looked at Richie, and closed them again. Cindy wasn’t speaking. She took in air through her mouth and sometimes she didn’t seem to breathe at all.
The small parking lot was filled with squad cars when finally, the ambo’s siren reached us. I don’t know from which direction it had come, but the EMTs were here. Doors opened and running footsteps came toward me. I heard the wheels of a gurney rattling over asphalt and when I looked up, I saw white uniforms. I was asked to step aside, and I scrambled up.
Two EMTs lifted Cindy onto the gurney and wheeled her to the rear of the ambulance. Rich climbed in after it and seconds later he called out to me, “We’ll be at Metro.”
Doors slammed and the ambulance went Code 3, its sirens screaming, lights blazing as the bus edged out of the lot and into the dark street.
Brady came up to me.
“Report from the EMTs?”
They weren’t saying if Cindy was a DOA or if a twenty-four-hour saline drip would bring her back to life.
I said, “She’s still breathing. Just. I saw bruises around her neck and eyes and that’s all I could see of her body. Brady, he left her in a plastic shroud inside a dumpster. God, I hate him so much.”
“Are you hurt, Lindsay?”
“You mean physically?”
He nodded.
I looked down. My hands were sticky with Catton’s blood. His blood was on my shoes, and there was a good chance I’d smeared some across my face.
“It’s his. Catton’s. From the gunshot. Is Richie going to be okay for shooting that scum?”
“You would have been dead if he hadn’t. Conklin’ll be behind a desk for a week or two, but that’s what he needs.”
“That, Brady, is the truth.”
I felt tears I’d been holding back for hours and days welling up. I turned away from my friend. Took some breaths. Then said, “I’m glad Rich didn’t kill Catton. That would be too easy an out for that psycho. And too much added stress on Rich.” I turned back and looked into Brady’s face.
I swear he’d aged years since this morning.
I asked him, “How are you?”
“Better now. We got the bad guy. Cindy’s in good hands and I say she’s going to make it. There were a hell of a lot of pieces to this case, but I’m proud of how well alla y’all worked together. Will you burst into tears if I tell you that you did afan-tastic job?”
I nodded yes, and he put his arms around me and patted my back and let me cry against his coat. I tried to apologize but he wouldn’t hear of it. I was cooked, done, ready to call home, where Joe was watching Julie.
While Team Blackout was searching the basement, I had phone calls to make. Richie at the hospital first and then about ten other people who’d been going through hell out of fear for Cindy.
I was about to tell Brady I’d see him in the morning whenhe said, “Before you leave, we found something you’ll want to see. Take a minute.”
“What kind of something?”
“You’re going to want to see it,” he said again.
“Then show me. Show me now.”
CHAPTER 96
I FOLLOWED BRADY through the bulkhead and down the stairs to the cellar. Under CSU’s klieg lights, the dark and gloomy room was now bright and gloomy in shades of gray and brown. The floor and a worktable were littered with pipes, partial rolls of wire, and broken parts that were of no use to Bob Brooks when he’d abandoned his business.
