up from her chair and frowned. “Well, he was sitting right over there last I checked, but I’ve been busy so I haven’t paid much attention.” She sat back down with a shrug. “Maybe he’s using the restroom.”
“Maybe.” Though the itch at the back of Audrey’s neck was saying no. Something was wrong. She paused outside John Doe’s door, withdrew her weapon, took a calming breath and then pushed the door open.
* * *
Lying in the hospital bed, the man blinked at the dark figure towering over him.
The stranger grabbed a pillow, his intent clear as he held the white fluff in both hands and brought it toward the man’s face, clearly meaning to smother him. Why would he choose that method of elimination? The answer came with lightning speed. Suffocating him was soundless, providing the goon more opportunity to get away cleanly.
Fear, stark and vivid, flooded his system, short-circuiting his brain in a shower of pain. The patient in the bed lifted his arms to ward off the attack, but his limbs felt heavy. His body responded sluggishly, as if he were fighting to move through mud.
There was no way he could defend himself.
He was about to die. He didn’t know why.
His mind reeled. The world receded. His limbs flopped back to the bed at his sides, and darkness claimed him once again.
* * *
Several things registered at once for Audrey as she stepped into John Doe’s room. Deputy Gregson’s prone body just inside the doorway. Blood from a gash on his head.
The same tall, muscular man dressed in dark clothing, with sand still clinging to his boots, stood holding a pillow in his hands, about to suffocate the unconscious man lying in the bed, hooked to a heart monitor and an IV.
“Stop, police!” she shouted.
The intruder spun to face her. The fury in his dark brown eyes, the only thing visible between his black beanie and the black neoprene half mask, was unmistakable when his gaze locked with hers. “You! Not again!” His voice was deep, gruff, muffled by the mask. “Stop interfering.”
“Drop the pillow. Put your hands in the air,” she commanded, bracing her feet apart in case she had to fire.
He threw the pillow, hitting her in the face and blocking her view for a split second, just enough for the man to use his shoulder to slam into her like a battering ram and knock her off her feet.
“Hey!” She landed on her backside with a jarring thud, her weapon hitting the tile floor and skidding away. The man jumped over her. She grabbed his ankle and hung on, tripping him. He went down, landing on his knees and hands with a grunt. He kicked her with his free foot, his heel smashing into her shoulder.
She ignored the blast of pain and scrambled for a better hold, but he twisted and jerked out of her grasp to race out of the room. She jumped to her feet, grabbed her gun from the floor and dashed after him. He disappeared down the stairwell.
“Call nine-one-one,” Audrey shouted to the startled nurse as she raced passed the desk. “Check on Gregson and the patient.”
Using caution, Audrey opened the stairwell door and peered inside. She heard the man’s pounding footfalls going downstairs. She chased after him, leaping down the last few steps and careening out of the stairwell onto the first floor. Up ahead, the man slammed into an orderly, knocking him sideways, then the assailant hit the exit. Audrey ran outside but lost sight of him.
Not far away an engine turned over, and then tires screeched on the pavement.
Heart pumping with adrenaline, she rushed back inside and up to the second floor. She checked on Gregson, who now was sitting up. A nurse tended to the wound on his head.
“What happened?” Audrey asked the dazed officer.
“I was reading a magazine when someone came out of the room across the hall and attacked me,” Gregson replied. “It was a blur. The guy had on a mask, and he hit me in the head with something hard. I didn’t see what it was.”
With her hand on her gun, Audrey stepped out of the room and pushed open the door to the unoccupied room across the hall. The window was open. She stuck her head out.
Footprints in the dusting of snow on the ledge gave Audrey a pretty good idea of how the perpetrator had gained access—he’d climbed the fire escape and shuffled along the ledge to the window. The lock had been broken. She slammed the window closed and made a mental note to have someone fix the latch as soon as possible.
Audrey returned to John Doe’s room and addressed the nurse helping Gregson. “Is he going to be okay?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “He’ll need a couple of sutures. Dr. Martin will want to examine him to be sure he doesn’t have a mild concussion.”
“Okay, see that he’s taken care of,” Audrey said. She put her hand on Gregson’s shoulder. “I’ll take over the watch tonight. The sheriff should be here any moment. He’ll want a full account.”
Gregson nodded and looked a bit green around the edges as the nurse helped him to stand and led him out of the room.
Once alone with the unconscious man in the bed, Audrey checked the window, making sure the lock was intact and secure. She took several deep, calming breaths and let the adrenaline ebb away. She’d had more excitement in the past twenty-four hours than since graduating from the academy. She positioned the chair so she had a clear view of the door and the window in case the masked attacker decided to return.
“You’re beautiful.”
Startled, Audrey whipped around to find herself staring into the dark eyes of John Doe. His lopsided grin sucked the breath from her lungs. She’d never understood the term roguishly handsome until this moment. Even groggy and on pain meds, he affected her on an elemental level. Which made her extremely uneasy. What would he be like fully conscious?
Heart pounding, she stepped closer to the bed. “Who are you? What’s your name?”
His eyelids fluttered, and he said something unintelligible.
She reached for the button to call the nurse when his fingers closed over her wrist, pressing against her skin where the sleeve of her uniform rode up. His touch was firm but gentle. Strong hands, and calloused, she noted in a bemused way that made her twitchy. She tugged on her arm, hoping he’d get a clue and release his hold. He didn’t.
“You look like a Christmas ornament.” His words were slurred. “Shiny. Pretty.”
His hand dropped away as if he could no longer hold on. His head lolled to the side, and his eyes closed.
“Hey,” Audrey said, giving him a slight shake. “Mister, I need you to wake up.”
But he’d gone out again.
Okay, that was weird. He’d likened her to a Christmas ornament. Shiny—that was a new one. If she hadn’t known he’d been conked on the head and was on mild painkillers, she’d have thought he was on some sort of hallucinogenic. Maybe he was on something stronger than the medical grade medicine. She’d have to ask her mother.
She
