The Blonde

7:38 a.m.

There had been no time for threats. No time to dazzle two hospital rent-a-cops with nifty holographic eagles. Not with his face bleeding, his right wrist throbbing, and his right leg screaming.

So Kowalski had thrust his palm out to the closest guard’s chest. It was a blow sharp enough to stun, but not enough to chip the bone of the breastplate, driving calcium daggers into the heart. The man jolted, lost control of his limbs. Probably thought he was having a heart attack. Which is what that blow was designed to do.

The other guard caught the flat of Kowalski’s palm in his throat. Again, the blow hadn’t been hard enough to kill; merely discourage. The man dropped to his knees, put his fingers to his throat, as if he could somehow fix what was wrong there.

Kowalski hobbled past them, threw open the door, limped like a sorry fuck over to the bed, damn near crashed into it. And then he fell. Those two moves had taken more energy than he realized. His body screamed, Stop it. Stop it. Rest.

When I’m dead.

Kowalski reached up and clutched sheets. Then a bed rail. Pulled himself up.

“Hi, there,” he said, staggering to his feet. He looked down at Kelly, who had a strangely bemused expression on her face. Farther down the bed was the gym bag containing Ed’s head.

In the exact place Ed had probably hoped he’d end up last night.

There you go, buddy. Mission accomplished.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve gotta go catch your boyfriend.”

“No worries,” Kelly said, her words grotesquely slurred. Nuh wurrrree.

But Kowalski understood. He looked at the table near the sink, saw what he needed. “Hope you two aren’t close.”

He uncapped a sterile syringe, then unzipped the bag. Looked for the right spot—part of the neck stump—and slammed it home. Drew back the plunger.

“I’m going to zip this back up, and I want you to promise me you won’t look. And that you’ll keep this bag right here. Trust me on this.”

Kelly reached up. Her fingertips found his chin. She squinted her eyes, as if to say, Oooh, that looks like it hurts.

“You’re sweet. But I’ll be right back.”