about in magazine and newspaper articles dealing with foreign films. With an actress mother and a director father, Decker briefly wondered why she hadn’t pursued a career in the performing arts.
His eyes went back to Lilah’s visage. At least the injuries seemed superficial, her facial bones appeared to be intact. Lucky, because her features were delicate and would have easily shattered under a well-placed blow. She had an oval face, a thin straight nose, high cheekbones leading to an angular jawline that tapered to a soft mound of chin. Making allowances for the swelling, Decker imagined her eyes to be deep-set and almond-shaped.
He heard footsteps approaching, pivoted around, and saw the paramedics cross the threshold. Two of them—a man and a woman, both wearing short-sleeved blue doctor’s jackets. Decker started to rise, but something immediately jerked him back down. A hand. Her hand! It had shot out of nowhere, clutching his arm with surprising strength. Grimacing in pain, he knelt down again, trying to ease the pressure. She was grasping his left arm—the one still recovering from a gunshot wound. As he tried to gently pry the fingers off, she increased her vise grip, forcing him to use some muscle to pull her hand away. Then he took it and cradled it in his own.
“Do you hear me, Lilah?” he whispered.
There was no response.
The female paramedic knelt beside Decker. She was young and had short, brown curly hair that accentuated the roundness of her moon face. Her name tag said Gomez.
Decker attempted to free himself from Lilah’s grip, but she wouldn’t let go.
“You seem to have made a friend,” Gomez said, as she shone a light on Lilah’s pupils. Then she checked her pulse and respiration.
“She must be conscious at some level,” Decker said. “She’s just not responding verbally.”
“You put the blanket over her?”
“Yeah,” Decker said. “She was cold and gray when I found her.”
“Shock.” Gomez pocketed the light. “Her pupillary response is normal. Her pulse is weak but steady.” She stared at the face. “Isn’t this … you know … the movie star’s daughter? The one who runs the spa?”
“Lilah Brecht.” Again, Decker tried to pull his hand away, but cold fingers had locked around his palm.
“I think she’s trying to tell you something.” Gomez pulled back the blanket, gave the blond woman’s body a quick check-over. “Lilah, can you hear me? Squeeze …” She looked at Decker.
“Sergeant Decker,” he said.
“Squeeze Sergeant Decker’s hand if you hear me.”
No response.
“Maybe it’s something primal,” Gomez said.
Her partner—a skinny kid with sloping shoulders—came in with the stretcher.
“Can you stay with her?” Gomez said to Decker. “I’m going to help Eddie with the gurney.”
“Yeah. Try not to mess things up for me.”
Gomez looked around the room. “You could tell the difference?”
“It’s the perp’s mess, not yours.” His back ached from kneeling. He sat on the floor. “Lilah, I’m Sergeant Decker. I’m here to help you. Can you hear me? Squeeze my hand if you can.”
No response.
“Lilah, Miss Gomez—”
“Teresa.”
“Lilah, Teresa and Eddie are going to take good care of you. They’re taking you to the hospital. Everything is going to be okay.”
There was no hand squeeze, but tears leaked from under closed eyes.
“Lilah, I know you can hear me, but I also know you’re too weak to talk. Don’t even try. I’m going to try to find out what happened to you. When you’re feeling better, I’ll come to the hospital and talk to you. You just hang in. I have to take my hand away now, so the paramedics can get you to the hospital.”
But as he pulled his hand away, she tightened her grip.
Eddie said, “You can hold her hand.” His voice was tinny. “We can work around you.”
Again, Decker tried to extricate himself. “Lilah, I’d like to look around your house. It will help me find out what happened.”
Her hand remained affixed to his, fingers digging into his flesh. “Just hold her hand, Sergeant, while we load her,” Teresa said. “No sense upsetting her.”
Decker cooperated, but felt uncomfortable about it. Such desperation in her grip—and strength. Eerie because Lilah looked so beaten and weak. Maybe it was adrenaline reserve. He whispered, “You’re safe now, Lilah. No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe.”
“Lilah, we’re getting ready to move you,” Teresa said. “I’m just bracing your neck. You’re going to be okay.” She turned to Decker. “As long as you’re here, slip your hand under her back and help us load her.”
Decker nodded.
“Count of three,” Eddie said. “One … two … three, go!”
Like well-oiled machinery, the three of them loaded Lilah onto the gurney, her hand still gripping Decker’s. But at least now he was able to stand, roll his shoulders to loosen his back. Again he tried to take his hand away, but Lilah wouldn’t ease up.
Teresa craned her neck to look up at Decker. “From the grip she has on you, at least we know there’s no spinal break … from the waist up, that is.”
Eddie said. “Lilah, can you wiggle your toes?”
There was a slight response.
“Good, Lilah,” Decker said. “That was good. Can you understand me? Squeeze my hand if you can.”
A light squeeze.
“That’s great, Lilah! The paramedics are going to take you to the hospital now. You’re in excellent hands. The doctors are going to help you, run a few tests to make sure you’re okay. I want them to examine you very carefully for me. Is that all right? Do you understand me?”
Another squeeze.
Decker turned to the paramedics and said, “Where are you taking her?”
“Sun Valley Memorial,” Teresa said. “That okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Ask for Dr. Kessler or Dr. Begin and tell them it’s for Detective Sergeant Peter Decker. They’ve both done pelvics in these types of situations and are familiar with what I need for evidence collection. The usual—all the fluids, a good pelvic- and head-hair combing, nails cleaned, the debris slided for the lab—fingernails and toenails.” He stroked the hand that was clutching his. “Lilah, at the hospital, is it okay if someone takes pictures of your injuries? If I have pictures of your injuries, it will help me catch and convict the monster who did this
