Читать книгу Cold Case Justice - Sharon Dunn - Страница 11

TWO

Pain shot through Rochelle’s bruised rib cage as the taxi pulled up to her house. Cradling her fractured arm in a sling, she leaned to the side and studied the street. She recognized all the cars as belonging to people in the neighborhood. Hopefully, she’d been right about Corben only knowing where she worked. She’d been careful through the years not to list her address publicly, instead using a PO box. How Corben had found her was anyone’s guess. Something connected with her court-reporting work and a picture of her must have appeared somewhere online that a detective could track her down.

The cabdriver turned his head. “This is the place, isn’t it, lady?”

“Yes.” Her purse and her phone were still back at the courthouse. “Can you wait here? I’ll have to go inside to get the money to pay you and then I’m going to need a ride to the airport after we pick up my son.”

The taxi driver shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your dime, lady.”

Bracing herself against the pain, she pushed open the door and headed toward her house. She stepped with care on the icy sidewalk. At least Jamie was safe for now. The kind paramedic had kept his word and made sure she had access to a phone as soon as she was able to talk. She’d called her friend Louise to pick Jamie up from school and keep him at her house. If she had her cell phone she would have called just to make sure he was still okay.

As she made her way up her sidewalk, she could still feel the aftereffects of the painkillers she’d been given. She was groggy and weak. With one more glance up and down her street, she entered her house. Even if it was a risk, she had no choice in coming back here. She and Jamie would not survive without that money, and she needed to grab another form of ID to get on the plane.

There was no time to pack. She’d get clothes for her and Jamie later in whatever city they ended up in. After finding a ski jacket for herself, she grabbed Jamie’s favorite book and then went to her own closet to dig out a shoe box filled with the money she’d saved over the years. She’d stored the cash at the bottom of her closet, knowing that this day might come. Rochelle placed the money in a fanny pack and clicked it around her waist, hiding it under her shirt. Out of breath and in intense discomfort, she sat on the floor using her bed as a backrest. Though the medication took the edge off the pain, she still felt the effects of the accident. The effort it took to kneel and find the box had exhausted her. But she had to push through. She could sleep when she was on the plane.

She hurried through the house, stopping only for a moment to grab a passport and to look at the pictures Jamie had drawn that were plastered all over the refrigerator. Deep sorrow washed over her. She’d made this place a home for her and her son. Now she’d have to say goodbye. She grabbed Jamie’s drawing of a rocket ship and put it in her fanny pack. The house seemed eerily quiet as she closed the door.

Once outside, she headed down the sidewalk and toward the taxi that waited for her across the street. She’d taken only a few steps when a broad-shouldered man stepped out from behind the neighbor’s hedge. The look on his face was menacing. He had a two-inch scar underneath his eye that made him look even more threatening. He lunged toward her, grabbing her good arm. She screamed. The pain as she tried to wrench away nearly made her crumple to the ground. She looked toward the taxi, but seeing the trouble, the driver sped away.

“Elwood wants to talk to you.” Her attacker’s gruff voice spiked the fear she felt.

With her heart pounding, she struggled to break free. White-hot pain exploded from her rib cage. The man grabbed her injured arm as black dots filled her field of vision.

As she fell to the ground, the last thing she heard was pounding footsteps.

* * *

“Get away from her.” Matthew ran up and knelt on the ground beside Rochelle.

The man reeled backward, panic evident in his expression as he stared down at Rochelle. “I barely touched her.”

“This woman is injured. She needs to be in a hospital.” Matthew pulled out his phone.

“You calling the cops?”

He glared at the man. “You assaulted her.”

The thug shook his head, turned and ran down the street. Matthew returned his attention to Rochelle. He’d deal with getting the police onto that guy later. His primary concern was for Rochelle. As he gathered her into his arms, her eyes fluttered open.

“I know that something terrible must be going on for you to leave the hospital when you did,” he said. “But you make your injuries worse by running around like this.”

She nodded as though she understood and then closed her eyes. He laid her gently on the grass and ran to get his car. After pulling up to the curb, he gathered her into his arms and positioned her in the passenger seat. She stirred slightly when he reached over and belted her in.

“You don’t understand.” Her voice was groggy. “I have to leave now.” Even in her weakened state, he heard the determination in her voice.

“You’re too weak to go anywhere, Rochelle.” She still hadn’t let go of that idea. Judging from the behavior of the man who had come after her, she was in some danger. Still, the best place for her was the hospital. He’d call the police and see if he could get their help. As he drove, he phoned the hospital to let them know he’d found the missing patient and was coming in.

Maybe if he knew what was going on, the police would be more likely to help. “Who was that guy anyway? An ex-husband or something?”

She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead. “I wish it were that simple.” Anguish colored her words.

Daniel met them at the door with a wheelchair. Rochelle got into the wheelchair without much protest.

“She was in room 112. I’ll go down to the Admitting and make sure her paperwork is still in place,” Matthew said.

“Got it,” said Daniel.

Once inside, Daniel pushed the wheelchair in the opposite direction that Matthew went. Matthew made his way down the hall and turned the corner where the admitting desk was. A muscular blond man stood at the high counter. Matthew couldn’t hear all of the hushed conversation, but he heard Rochelle’s name. The administrator clicked the keys on her computer and responded to the man.

Something about the man was just as menacing as the one with the scar on his face, the man who had attacked Rochelle in front of her house.

Trust your gut.

With adrenaline surging through his veins, Matthew turned and ran back down the hall.

When he looked into room 112, it was empty. They must have assigned her a new room. At least that bought her some time. He had no idea what kind of threat Rochelle was under or who the men were. He only knew he wanted her to have a chance to recover from her injuries. He scanned the hallway wondering where Daniel would have taken her. When he glanced over his shoulder, the blond thug stalked down the hallway toward room 112. The paperwork must still say she was in that room.

Matthew ran toward the nurses’ station. Lindy was no longer on duty. Instead, a perky young nurse named Tina smiled up at him.

“Did Daniel the EMT come by here with a woman in a wheelchair?”

“He turned her over to the nurse to get her settled in room 125.” Tina pointed down the hallway.

“Thanks, Tina.” Matthew glanced over his shoulder.

Blondie came out of room 112 and made a beeline toward the nurses’ station, stopping to glance into the rooms with open doors.

Matthew hurried down the hall and opened the door to room 125. Rochelle was pushing herself out of the wheelchair, reaching for the wall for support. She lifted her head. She looked more coherent than she had previously, though her face was still pale.

“Where’s the nurse?”

“She went to get some medical supplies. Matthew, I know you’re only trying to help me, but I need to go.”

“I agree with you.”

A look of surprise and confusion crossed her features as she shook her head.

“You’ve got company in this hospital,” he said.

Her eyes grew wide. “They found me already.” Fear made her voice falter. She shot toward the door, then stopped, swaying slightly.

“Unfortunately, I think I led them here. I told that guy at your house you needed to be in a hospital. He must have phoned his muscular friend. Get back in the chair.” This was his fault. He needed to make it right. “He’s checking the rooms. Let’s move you to a safe place and then we’ll call the police and get some help for you.”

“I’m not sure if the police can help.” She wobbled and reached out for the wall.

He touched her arm lightly. “Get back in the chair. You’re in no condition to do this alone.” He realized in that moment that he was making a commitment to keep her safe until he could hand her over to the police. It was a commitment he was willing to make for Jamie’s sake. Matthew’s mother had been his saving grace growing up without a father. He sensed Rochelle possessed the same maternal strength. Without at least one parent, Jamie didn’t have any kind of a shot. Matthew couldn’t let that happen to a child when he had the power to prevent it.

Her shoulders drooped, and she turned back toward him, nearly falling into his arms. He lowered her into the chair. At the door, he peered up and down the hall. When he saw Blondie lean in to check a room a few doors down, he pushed the chair into the hallway. He quickened his pace but not so much as to call attention to himself.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Rochelle’s voice came out in a harsh whisper as she bent her head down so her long brown hair hid her face.

Matthew spoke under his breath. “He’s behind me. He can’t see you, and he doesn’t know who I am.” Matthew slipped into a supply closet and pulled his phone off his belt. He dialed the police station. “I need to talk to a police officer.”

A crisp female voice came on the line. “This is Officer Bridget O’Connor. How can I help you?”

“Listen, this is Matthew Stewart over at the hospital. I’ve got a woman who needs to be hospitalized, and I believe there is a physical threat against her. She was assaulted earlier today at her home and now there is a different guy searching the hospital for her.”

“We can send an officer over to talk with her and take it from there,” said Officer O’Connor.

“That sounds good. If he could meet us by Admitting, that would be great.”

He hung up the phone.

Rochelle looked up at him in earnest. “He’s going to meet us here?”

He was struck by how helpless she seemed sitting in the wheelchair. “We’ll be in Admitting. There’s lots of people around. I’ll stay with you until we’re sure you have the protection you need or that guy is taken into custody.”

“But that man hasn’t technically done anything to me, and he’s not the real problem,” she said.

“Maybe, but they can stop him and question him. And you can at least give them the description of the guy who grabbed you at your house, the one with the scar.”

“What if the police say that there is no reason to provide protection?” Her voice filled with anxiety. “Taking those two men into custody won’t make it stop. There is a different man behind all of this.”

Again, he wondered exactly what she was up against. She looked as though she might cry. Compassion flooded through him. Lindy the nurse was wrong. He didn’t have a rescue complex. Rochelle needed his help. He couldn’t abandon her and that kid now. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Let’s see what the police say. I’ll stay with you until we get this taken care of. You need to focus on your recovery.”

She looked up at him for a long moment, probably trying to figure out why he was going to all this trouble. “Can I have your phone so I can call my son? I need to know that he’s okay at my friend’s house.”

He placed the phone in her hand, opened the door to the supply closet and backed the wheelchair out. “Everything is going to be all right. I’ll see to it that you get well so you can take care of that kid of yours. It would help if you told me why these men are after you—”

Matthew heard the thud of a single footstep. The blow to the back of his head caused an explosion in his brain. The last thing he heard as his cheek collided with the floor was Rochelle’s anguished scream.