Неизвестный - 5. Justice Served

Sloan nodded. “All okay.”

“Good. Good. I have to go.”

v

The Þ rst thing she saw when she exited the stairwell was Watts pacing in a tight circle with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

Then she saw Mitchell, arms crossed, face pale, leaning with one shoulder against the wall next to the entrance to the radiology suite.

Still in her tight black jeans and motorcycle jacket, with the curves of her face shadowed and dark, she looked like a dangerous young animal.

But her eyes, when they met Catherine’s, were drenched with pain.

When he saw her, Watts hurried forward. “I woulda come to get you, but Sloan wanted to.”

“It’s all right,” Catherine said gently. “It’s good that you’re here watching over her.” Her gaze moved to the closed doors. “Is she still in there?”

“Yeah, and they won’t tell us a goddamn thing.”

• 295 •

RADCLY fFE

“Well, they’ll tell me.” And then she pushed her way through the doors.

She saw Ali Torveau immediately, leaning over the shoulder of an X-ray technician who was scrolling through a series of images on a computer screen.

“Let me see the cranial cuts again,” the trauma surgeon instructed.

“Ali,” Catherine said, “how is she?”

Ali Torveau spun around in surprise. “Catherine. Lucky, I think. We’re not done with the head CT. When she came in, she was unconscious, but I’m not seeing anything other than some occipital swelling.”

“Where was she…shot?” Catherine found it almost impossible to get the words out, but she forced herself. As she asked the questions that were so hard to even conceive, she glanced through the viewing window into the room where the huge machine even now shrouded her lover’s body.

“The vest took the brunt of it,” Ali said. “We haven’t scanned her chest, and there was considerable bruising over the mid-thorax.

She may have a fractured sternum, but my main concern is her head.

She’s got a deep temporal scalp laceration that looks to be from a bullet wound.”

For a few seconds, Catherine’s vision wavered and she pressed her Þ ngertips to the countertop to steady herself. “Can I see her?”

Ali pulled over a rolling chair and guided Catherine into it. “As soon as the scans are done. I need this information, Catherine.”

“But she’s going to be all right?”

“Let me Þ nish my evaluation, and then we’ll talk, okay?” Ali’s tone was gentle but Þ rm, and her attention was once again on the monitor. “Peter, run that series again, will you?”

v

Hand in hand, Michael and Sandy pushed through the crowd of police.

“There!” Michael pointed, having caught sight of Sloan and Jasmine standing off to one side in the hallway by the elevators.

Sloan looked in their direction at the sound of Michael’s voice,

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Justice Served

and some of the tension drained from her face. Both she and Jasmine hurried to meet them.

“Hey,” Sloan murmured, kissing Michael quickly.

Michael rested her palm on Sloan’s chest, her eyes roving over her lover’s body. “You’re all right?”

“Yeah, Þ ne.”

Threading an arm around Sloan’s waist, Michael turned to Jasmine. “Sarah will be here any minute. I called her on the way over.

She’s bringing a change of clothes in case you want them.”

“At the moment, no one is paying any attention to me,” Jasmine replied. Gesturing to her skintight red dress and stiletto heels, she added, “But it won’t be long before they do. I think tonight I could do without the attention.”

As if on cue, Sarah emerged from the elevator, a canvas tote under one arm. When she saw the group, she approached with her usual composed expression. “Here you go,” she said as she kissed Jasmine brieß y on the mouth. “How’s Rebecca?”

“No word yet.” Jasmine squeezed Sarah’s hand. “I’ll be right back.

I just need to Þ nd a phone booth.”

“Where’s Dell?” Sandy asked sharply. Michael had come by to pick her up after Sloan called. When the phone had rung, she hadn’t been asleep. She’d been waiting. Waiting and trying not to think about where her girlfriend was or what she might be doing. She’d been entertaining visions of hunting down Irina and tearing her limb from limb. Now all she wanted was to see for herself that Dell was all right. She couldn’t have cared less what she might have done with Irina.

“She’s downstairs with Watts…where they took Rebecca.”

“Okay, thanks.” Sandy did a quick 360, spied the stairwell on the far side of the elevators, and headed for it. When she pushed through the Þ re door on the basement level, she saw Dell immediately. The rush of relief made her weak. That was nothing, though, compared to the way the look on Dell’s face made her feel when their eyes met. Warm and shaky and strong all at once. She took three steps forward just as Dell moved to her, and they ended up in the center of the hall with their arms wrapped around one another in a Þ erce embrace.

“You okay, baby?” Sandy whispered, running her hands up and down Mitchell’s back.

• 297 •

RADCLY fFE

“Rebecca’s shot,” Mitchell said, her face in the curve of Sandy’s neck. “God, Sandy. God.”

The tremor in her lover’s voice almost broke Sandy’s heart. “She’s gonna be okay, rookie. She’s always okay.”

“I’m so glad you came.” With effort, Mitchell straightened up.

“It’s like…everything is coming apart.”

“Look, rookie,” Sandy said, her voice Þ rm. “Frye will be okay.

She’ll be okay because…” She shrugged. “Because she’s what holds all you guys together, and that’s not gonna change. You need her, and she knows it, and she won’t let anything screw that up.”

“You think?” Mitchell whispered, needing desperately to believe.

Sandy smiled and stroked Mitchell’s cheek. “I know. ”

From a few feet away, Watts heard the words and whispered a silent prayer that Sandy was right.

v

GunÞ re echoed in Rebecca’s head. The smell of adrenaline and fear and hot metal permeated her consciousness. And somewhere, somewhere, struggling for dominance over all the other sensations, was the urgent need to reach Catherine. Catherine. She had to see her. Touch her. Tell her not to worry.

“Catherine,” she murmured.

“I’m here. Rebecca, darling, I’m here.” Catherine caressed trembling Þ ngers over Rebecca’s forehead, gripping Rebecca’s hand hard with her free hand. “You’re all right, darling.”

“Sorry.” Rebecca forced her eyes open, then blinked, even though the lights in the intensive care room were dim. After a few seconds of trying, she was able to focus on Catherine’s face. There was so much anguish in her eyes, Rebecca shuddered. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I know.” Catherine lifted Rebecca’s hand and kissed her knuckles one by one. “I know that. Don’t worry, just rest.”

“Sloan…Mitchell…my team…hurt?”

“No, darling. All okay.” Catherine kissed her gently. Only you.

Will it always be you here like this?

Rebecca frowned. There were things she couldn’t remember. She saw the dark, narrow alley and the back door of the row house, saw

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Justice Served

herself climbing the pitch-black stairwell and inching down the hallway, saw herself crouching in the doorway and the ß ash of movement from her right. She jerked slightly, hearing the gunÞ re again.

“What is it?” Catherine exclaimed as the heart rate readout on the screen over Rebecca’s bed jumped twenty points and alarm bells rang.

“Are you in pain?”

“He must’ve been sitting there watching TV with the automatic in his hand.” Rebecca grimaced. “Careful bastard.”