AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“So…a cracked rib and a couple of stitches. I really wish Seattle had treated you better.”
Rachel shrugged. “Eh, I invited myself into a murder case that wasn’t mine. I guess it sort of comes with the territory.”
“All the same,” he said, extending his hand. “It was a pleasure to work with you. And I hope you have safe travels back home.”
“Thank you,” she said, shaking the offered hand. “Thanks for tolerating me.”
“Oh, it was my pleasure.”
She drew him in and hugged him, which seemed to shock him. But he returned it with a little chuckle.
“Take care, Detective Sullivan.”
“You do the same.”
She watched him walk back across the lobby out into the night. She took the elevators upstairs, and in the silence and isolation of the space on her way up, she allowed herself to get slightly emotional. Maybe she'd been foolish today. Maybe she'd unnecessarily risked her life. The idea of Paige losing her mother when she wasn't even near home was heartbreaking, and she wondered if she would have gone into that building so determined if that thought had crossed her mind just before entering through that back door.
She didn’t know…and she didn’t want to spend the time and energy dwelling on it.
When she got to her room, she realized that she hadn’t even bothered trying to fill the prescription for pain meds the doctor had given her for her rib. She had the spare packs of bandages they’d given her stuffed into her pocket, and she figured she’d need to change into the new bandages following her shower.
She was about to slide out of her shirt and do exactly that when there was a knock on the door. Rachel paused, wondering why anyone would be knocking on her door in Seattle. Maybe it was Sullivan, she thought. Maybe there was something he’d forgotten to tell her. Maybe there was some paperwork she needed to take care of as part of Carl Weber’s arrest. With a sigh, she walked to the door and looked through the peephole.
Sullivan wasn’t on the other side. Instead, it was a woman with an ice bucket. Another hotel guest. Curious, she opened the door and smiled at the woman in a way that was mostly polite, but also showed a bit of inconvenience.
“Hello?” Rachel said.
“Hi,” the woman said. She looked to be in her forties—a mousy little woman with blonde hair, a cute face and a slightly pointed chin. “I’m so sorry to bother you. But I was wondering if you know where the ice machine is.”
“Oh, um…I’m not sure. I think if you go down the hall and—”
In a move that seemed almost surreal, the woman suddenly threw the ice bucket at Rachel. Rachel was so unprepared for this odd attack that she couldn’t even bring herself to swat the bucket away. It hit her right in the face, bouncing off of her chin.
“What the h—”
The woman came rushing into the room, and just as Rachel's brain understood what was happening, she saw the knife. For a strange and terrifying moment, she thought she was back in that old research center and Carl Webber was coming at her with the knife. But no…she was in her hotel room, and this strange woman was attacking her. Why? Who was she? What the hell was going on?
It all ran through her head as she acted instinctively. She took a lunging step back to avoid to full extent of the woman’s stabbing motion. She then reached out and grabbed the woman's arm. She intended to use one hand to grab the wrist and one to grab the forearm; with a single twist, the woman would drop the knife.
But as she attempted to get a good grip on the woman's arm, the pain in her ribs roared, reminding her that she was hurt. She cried out, and the woman yanked her hand away. The attacker then drew back to follow through with another stabbing motion. But before she could even get the movement going, Rachel delivered a vicious right-handed blow. Even though her aching rib wouldn't let her get her full power behind it, the punch nearly knocked the woman right off her feet. She stumbled backward, colliding with the doorframe. Her nose had been busted open; she seemed to feel the blood coursing down her face as her eyes went wide.
“Who are you?” Rachel demanded, drawing back for another punch.
But the woman, suddenly not so brave now, turned on her heel and ran back through the door. Rachel gave chase, but right away, her entire left size seemed to seize up in pain. She gasped at it, taking a few staggering steps toward the door. She tried once more to chase after the woman but knew it would be useless.
Confused, startled, and amazed at just how badly her side was hurting, Rachel hurried over to the landline phone on the bedside table. She picked the receiver up, pressed 0 for the front desk, and sat down on the bed. She was furious, she was confused out of her mind, and she was in pain. Her anger only increased as the line rang and rang downstairs. Finally, on the fifth ring, someone answered. Before they could even say “front desk,” Rachel cut them off.
“This is Rachel Gift in Room 406. Someone just attacked me…tried coming at me with a knife. They ran away, down the hall. Send security to the doors, to every exit and—”
“Ma’am, are you sure you—”
“Please just do it!” she yelled.
She had no idea if he did or not because she was already reaching for her cell phone, wondering who else to call. Anderson? Sullivan? Jack?
In a rare moment of weakness not brought on my chemo or experimental treatments, Rachel felt tears welling up in her eyes. She knew if hotel security couldn't stop the woman, she'd likely go free. Rachel could give a description to the cops, and that might help in unison with hotel security footage. But for now, as the absurdity of the moment truly settled upon her and she realized that she’d nearly been killed twice today, there was only one person she wanted to speak to.
She called Jack, and when he answered, Rachel told him everything.
