Catherine Coulter: Split Second

“Are you okay, Liz?”

“Something hit me—I felt like I was going to fall over. Sorry, Todd, it’s been a long day.”

She dialed for a taxi. Ten minutes, she was told, and smiled up at Todd. “I think I’ll go back into Chilly’s and stay warm, wait there.”

“Let’s stay out here. I’ll keep you warm.”

She felt nausea roil in her stomach, threaten to come up into her throat. “I’m going to be sick, Todd. I’ve gotta get to the bathroom.”

But he had his hand on her arm, pulling her back. The streetlight was ten feet away, and shadows were hanging long and deep, and as black as the lacy underwear she’d just bought on sale.

Why was she thinking about her underwear? She felt another wave of nausea and jerked as hard as she could, but he didn’t let her go.

“Look, Todd—” Her words were loud and slurred. Clear as a bell, she heard her mother’s dead-drunk voice slurring insults at her—mean, vicious insults—and it scared her so badly it gave her focus, sharpened her brain, and she saw everything very clearly. She said slowly, on eye level with him, “You son of a bitch, you drugged me.” She slammed her fist into his face. He didn’t have time to duck the blow, but it didn’t have much punch because she was weaving around like a drunk, wanting to puke but too scared, too furious with this jerk, to get sick yet. Todd grabbed her hand and pulled her arm down to her side. “No, Lizzie, it’ll be all right, you’ll see. I wouldn’t drug anybody. Let’s walk, okay? You’ll feel better, you’ll see.”

Not on your miserable life. She pulled her arm free and dug her nails in his cheek as he tried to jerk his head out of the way.

He yelled, stumbled back, and clapped his hand to his bleeding face. He screamed an obscenity at her and came toward her. What was he doing? She saw him pull a length of wire out of his jacket pocket. Wire? Liz threw back her head and screamed until she vomited. Then she swiped the vomit from her mouth and kept screaming. She felt like she was dying, her stomach twisting in on itself, and her head was spinning, but thank God, Todd was running away now, holding his hand to his face. She sank to her knees and saw the bartender from Chilly’s running toward her and shouting, “Hey, what’s going on? Liz, you all right? I knew it; I knew that guy wasn’t right. I called the cops; they’re on their way.”

Liz didn’t answer him. She fell onto her side, unconscious.

Philadelphia

Sacred Heart Hospital

Wednesday

“Ms. Rogers, I’m Agent Lucy Carlyle and this is Agent Cooper McKnight, FBI. First I’d like to say you’re a very smart woman.”

Smart ? Liz didn’t feel smart, she felt like she’d had a boulder dropped on her. Her stomach felt like the lining was burned through, but hey, she was alive, and she’d hurt that creep who’d drugged her, sent him running, so maybe that was smart. She found herself smiling up at the woman with her gorgeous hair in a thick French braid. So many shades, what was the color? Chestnut, that was it.

“We’d like to hear exactly what happened, if you feel up to it.”

“I already spoke to a police officer this morning.”

They heard a man clear his throat in the doorway. Coop looked over to see a guy about his own age, his dirty blond hair standing straight up, his light blue eyes bloodshot, but he looked near to snarling. Coop raised an eyebrow.

“I’m Dr. Medelin. I wasn’t told Ms. Rogers had visitors. The police have already questioned her, so I don’t see any reason for you to hassle her more, it’s too soon, and she needs to rest.”

Coop flipped out his creds. “We’re FBI, not local police. We, ah, don’t hassle people, and we only shoot them when we have to.”

Lucy grinned, but Dr. Medelin didn’t. “FBI? For a mugging? Come on now, give her a while, she needs rest after what she’s been through.”

Liz was appalled when her voice came out as a skinny little whisper. “Dr. Medelin, it’s okay. I’m fine. I want to tell them what happened. Hey, they’re federal, it must mean I’m really important.”

Dr. Medelin paid no attention to either Lucy or Coop, simply walked to Ms. Rogers and examined her eyes, then laid two long thin fingers over her pulse, listened to her heart. “If you’re sure, Ms. Rogers?”

“Oh, yes, I want this jerk nailed, and these guys look like they’re the ones to do it.”

Dr. Medelin left, saying over his shoulder they could have five minutes, no longer. Lucy smiled. In her experience, doctors were more territorial than monkeys.

Liz looked up at Lucy. “I’m not all that smart. You want the truth? It was my mom’s voice that saved me.”

Lucy cocked her head to one side. “Tell us,” she said.

“. . . I was so appalled that I was slurring my words like my mother when she’s drunk, which is usually every day, it snapped me back into my brain for a minute and I realized he’d drugged me. I went after him, got him good that second time and drew blood. I couldn’t believe he came at me with some kind of wire. I screamed my head off.” She gave them a big grin, then swallowed. “I was throwing up, and screaming. The bartender, Ruley, came running. Then I passed out.”

Coop leaned over. “That was very well done of you. Not only did you save yourself, you’re going to help us nail this guy when we catch him. You’ve given us DNA from the skin you scored off his face with your fingernails. You’re a heroine, Ms. Rogers, a big whopping superstar.”

Liz studied their faces. “Why? This wasn’t a stupid mugging? Hey, you’re FBI, and that means something really heavy is happening here. What?”

Coop said, “The man, Todd, who bought you the drinks and wanted to walk you home, has murdered five women that we know of to date. Have you heard the news stories?”

Liz swallowed, nodded. “But—that was him? Oh, my.”

“But you saved yourself,” Coop said, and patted her hand when it looked like her eyes were going to roll back in her head. “You’re going to be okay.”

After another fifteen minutes of running her through what had happened again, asking questions every way they could phrase them, asking them again, and waving away Dr. Medelin when he came back to the room and frowned at them, they knew her bucket was empty. Lucy said, “We understand you gave an excellent description of this guy to a police artist. We’ll get back to you on that.

“You did really good, Liz. With the lovely DNA you got for us, we’re closer to bringing this monster down.”

“Weird thing is, like I told you, it was my mom who really saved my bacon. She’s so messed up, and now—what’s a daughter to do?”

“Keep bailing her out, I guess,” Lucy said, and smiled down at her.

“Nah,” Coop said. “You owe her something better. It’s time for some tough love. Send her to rehab, tell her it’s that or jail time.”

They left Liz Rogers humming in thought. They passed Dr. Medelin coming out of a patient’s room on a dead run. A nurse, Nancy Conklin according to her name tag, said, “Poor Mark, the E.R. called a code. He’s been on call for twenty-six hours now.”

“I didn’t know doctors still had such grueling schedules,” Lucy said.

“He’s a first-year resident,” and Lucy supposed, that said it all.

“He looks sleep deprived,” Coop said.

Nurse Conklin said, nodding, “Imagine how many patients suffer from that fact. Liz Rogers now, Mark’s been hovering over her even though he knows now she’s going to be okay. I think he’s interested in her, not that he’s got a second to spare away from this place. Sometimes life’s a bummer.”