Primary Suspect. Laura Scott
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hand.
Was that a knife?
She opened her mouth to scream but no sound escaped from her tight throat. Mitch reacted instinctively, grabbing the metal tray beside him and bringing it up to block the knife in the nick of time. Discarded supplies flew everywhere. The tip of the blade deflected harmlessly off the metal surface, making the man stumble.
Mitch used the tray as a weapon, bringing it down hard on the guy’s head with a loud thunk. The man went down, sprawling inelegantly across the foot of the gurney. Mitch instantly yanked his feet out from beneath the guy’s frame, rolled off the cart and staggered upright. He moved swiftly toward Dana, latching onto her arm.
“I need the closest way out of here,” he said in a low, harsh voice.
She was just as anxious to get away from the man moaning in pain on the gurney. “This way.” She ducked out of the room, glancing around the ER. There were a couple of security guards gathered around a room where some patient was screaming in pain, loud enough to have muffled the noise from Mitch’s room. She directed Mitch to the stairwell located just a few feet from his room.
The stairs only went up, because the ER was located on the street level.
“Who was that man?” she asked, leading the way up to the second floor.
“I don’t know,” Mitch said. “I didn’t get a good look at his face, did you?”
“No, he was wearing a mask.” She reached the top step just as they heard the doorway crash open from below and the sounds of heavy footsteps thudding against the stairs.
The guy was following them!
“Hurry,” she urged, grasping Mitch’s arm. “This way.” She picked up the pace, running along a darkened hallway heading toward a stairwell on the opposite side of the building that she knew would lead them outside.
Where were the hospital security guards? She knew they had cameras posted in dozens of locations, mostly in the main thoroughfares, not in patient rooms. Still, someone must have noticed them fleeing from a guy with a knife.
But the only sounds echoing around them were their own footsteps and their own heavy breathing.
If she was on speaking terms with God, she might have prayed, but the words wouldn’t form in her mind. Instead, she focused on moving as fast as possible away from the man threatening them.
The minute they cleared the doorway of the stairwell across the hall, Mitch caught the door, making sure it closed soundlessly behind them. She understood he was trying to hide their location from the knife-wielding guy following them, so she did her best to step quietly as she headed back down to the main level of the hospital.
Moments later, they burst through the lower level of the stairwell, into the balmy summer night. It felt good to be outside the constricting walls of the building.
“Do you have a car here?” Mitch asked.
“Of course. But shouldn’t we talk to the police?”
“No. We need to get out of here.”
She hesitated, unsure of why he was in such a hurry to leave without notifying the authorities. The adrenaline rushing through her veins ebbed away, leaving her feeling weak and shaky.
“Okay, fine. This way,” she said, gesturing for him to follow her across the surface parking lot to the concrete structure looming before them.
Mitch positioned himself behind her as she wove through the parked cars to the spot where she’d left her small two-door sedan.
She dug into her purse for her keys, using the fob to unlock the vehicle. She slid behind the wheel, leaving Mitch to fold himself into the passenger seat. The area along the side of his neck was awash with fresh blood, and she realized he must have broken open his stitches.
“You’re bleeding. We need to get you back inside,” she said, turning toward him. “You’ll need several of those sutures repaired.”
“No time. Let’s go. Hurry!”
With a sigh she started the engine and backed out of the parking space. As soon as she put the car in Drive and rolled forward, she saw him.
The guy wearing the face mask was sprinting across the open parking area, heading straight toward them, his hand still gripping the knife.
“Go, go, go!” Mitch shouted.
She hit the accelerator and sent the car flying through the structure. She took a corner, heading away from the man, which also brought them closer to the exit. Thankfully, she was on the first floor and the gate was up, so she didn’t have to slow down too much.
After exiting the structure, she cranked the wheel hard to the right, taking them far away from the bright lights of the hospital into the inky darkness. Risking a glance at her rearview mirror, she tried to see where the guy was.
There was no sign of him. Her shoulders slumped in relief, until it hit her.
Obviously, he must have a car there, too. Was he right now jumping inside to follow them?
“Take another right,” Mitch said, drawing her attention from the knife guy. “The freeway on-ramp isn’t far.”
“The freeway?” She glanced at him in confusion. “Where are we going?”
“Anywhere. Preferably as far away from this hospital as possible,” he muttered in a grim tone. “We need to make sure he hasn’t followed us.”
She couldn’t deny she wanted the exact same thing. She drove through the night, the bitter taste of fear coating her tongue.
The events that had taken place in the past few minutes seemed unreal. The more she thought about it, the less it made sense.
“But why?” she pressed, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. “Why would he follow us? I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“Frankly, I don’t, either.” Mitch tentatively felt along the side of his neck, where the oozing blood was beginning to congeal into a tacky mess. “But I have a bad feeling I’m being set up.”
She took the on-ramp and pressed the accelerator down to get up to freeway speed. As her compact car ate up the miles, her thoughts whirled.
Had Mitch suffered some kind of head injury? Or was he just being paranoid? There was no denying the knife-wielding guy had intended to cause him harm, but to show up at the hospital? Who did that? This whole situation was downright crazy.
“Set up for what, exactly?” she asked.
Mitch was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Murder.”
Bracing himself with one hand wedged against the glove compartment, Mitch scanned the area, trying to think of a way out of this disastrous turn of events.
He hated the fact that he’d dragged sweet Dana Petrie into it, too, but there hadn’t been another option. No way was he leaving her behind. Not considering that his assailant knew what she looked like. Although there had been something about the way he moved that seemed familiar. If only he’d gotten a look at his face.
“Murder?” Dana’s voice rose a notch. “What are you talking about?”
There were several sets of headlights behind them, making him nervous. What if one of them belonged to his attacker? “Take the next exit,” he directed. “We need to change directions.”
“No.” Dana’s mouth thinned into a stubborn line. She’d cut her blue-black hair since the last time he’d seen her, wearing it in a chin-length silky bob that accented her dainty features. She was as beautiful as he remembered. “I’m not driving around willy-nilly until you tell me exactly what’s going on.