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“Ms. Colton?” It was the nurse she had spoken to when she first arrived at the hospital. “The surgeon expects to be finished in about an hour. It was a difficult procedure, but initial indications are that it was successful. There’s still a long way to go, but Mr. Bennet is through the worst part.”
“Oh...thank God.” Bree slumped forward in her seat, relief hitting her with the same impact as shock.
The nurse, whose name badge read Shirley Cuva, squatted next to her. “Deep breaths. That’s it. Nice and slow.” She rested a hand on Bree’s thigh, her gaze dropping to take in the torn and bloodied knees of her jeans. “I didn’t realize you were injured.”
“It’s nothing.” Bree had barely noticed the ache in her knees. “I fell when Rylan pushed me out of the way of the bullet.” Her lips trembled at the memory.
“Come with me. I can’t do anything about your jeans, but I can clean you up and give you something for the pain.”
Like a weary child following a parent, Bree went with Shirley along the corridor and into an empty room. It was more like a small ward than a treatment bay. There were six curtained-off compartments at one side of the room, each containing its own bed and equipment trolley.
“Take off your boots and jeans, and then get onto the bed.” Shirley indicated the first cubicle. Using a key pinned to the waist of her pants, she unlocked the trolley, opening the top drawer to reveal a number of syringes and packs of medication.
As Bree started to follow her instructions, Shirley’s pager began to beep.
The nurse clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “Can’t anyone do anything around here? Sorry about this.” She pointed to a folded sheet. “Use that to cover your legs. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
Bree lay on the bed and gazed at the ceiling. If the fire alarm went off now, the world would be treated to the sight of her bright yellow underwear with the fruit pictures and the word Peachy on the butt. Skye always sent the craziest birthday presents. She didn’t care. Rylan had made it through surgery.
Perspective. It matters more than dignity.
When the door opened again she was about to comment that Shirley had taken less than two minutes. The words died on her lips before she spoke. From her lying-flat position, all she could see under the bottom of the cubicle curtain was the feet of the person who had entered.
Shirley had been wearing pale blue slip-on shoes that matched her scrubs. This person’s footwear was different but familiar. The sneakers Bree had seen walking up and down the corridor outside the waiting room were now inside the treatment room with her.
Her thoughts stuttered momentarily, before completing the picture. No medical professional would wear those sneakers while working. These were regular high-tops, not providing any padding for someone who would be spending hours on their feet. And they were grubby.
The reason she had seen so much of these feet became crystal clear. They belonged to someone who had been pacing the corridor, anticipating the moment when Bree left the waiting room.
It took moments for those thoughts to flash through her mind. In another few seconds, she was slipping from the bed. Without any conscious thought about how she would use it, she grabbed one of the syringes from the trolley drawer and quietly tore its packaging open with her teeth.
As she ducked into the next compartment, she spared a thought for her cell phone. Although it was in the pocket of her jeans, she wouldn’t be able to use it. Calling Trey would signal her location to the sneaker wearer, and texting wasn’t an option. Although her brother would be alerted by a message from Bree, he wouldn’t be able to make any sense of it. On a good day, she might be able to type the word help. Under stress, even the simplest of spellings eluded her.
Her mind was racing as she stealthily made her way along the compartments. Ducking under the curtains and over the beds. Fast and silent. It was like the deadliest of obstacle courses.
After shooting Rylan, could David have followed them to the hospital in the hope of finishing the job? Or was she about to come face-to-face with his mysterious accomplice? She didn’t have to wait long to find out.
“Come out, Bree. You know I’ll shoot the nurse as soon as she comes back.” David’s voice was moving closer. “You’re a Colton. I don’t expect you to care, but maybe just for once you could take responsibility for your actions. Do the right thing. Don’t be responsible for her murder, as well as Rylan’s.”
