The First Patient

CHAPTER 11

Is he all right?" a motorist called out from across the street. "Do you want me to call an ambulance?"

"Do you?" Alison asked Gabe.

Still stunned, he managed to shake his head.

"No, he's fine," Alison called out. "Just a little fender bender."

The motorist, the only one around, hesitated and then drove off.

"A guy in that car next to mine tried to kill me," Gabe said, fumbling for the words. "He… he shot at me from… Jesus, I can't believe this. I… I don't know if it was some sort of random drive-by or… or-"

"Easy, Doctor, easy. Are you sure you're not hurt? Can you stand up?"

"I think so. I… I froze. All I could see was the muzzle of that gun, and… and all I could think was, 'This is it.' I don't even know what happened next."

"I hit you from behind. That's what happened next," she said. "I saw what was about to happen and I rammed you. It was the only thing I could think of to do."

Gabe glanced back at the shattered rear window of the Buick.

"Nice move," he said.

Slowly, with help, he managed to stand and brace himself against the roof of his car. Alison, wearing black jeans and a black tank top, kept a supportive arm around his waist until it was clear he could manage on his own. As before, he became instantly engrossed in her closeness and the scent of her.

"Uh-oh," she said.

A D.C. black-and-white pulled up and stopped directly over the burnt rubber from the assassin's car. The strobes flicked on, and the cop in the passenger's seat, a lean black man, lowered his window.

"What's the deal here?" he asked.

"Oh, am I glad to-"

"Nothing big," Alison said, pointedly cutting Gabe off. "He did the right thing and stopped for a light, and I did the wrong thing and bumped into him. I'm guilty as charged."

They could see the policeman eyeing the rear window, clearly trying to put the odd damage together with a rear-end collision.

"You all right?" he asked Gabe.

Unseen by the cops, Alison's expression was strongly cautionary.

"I… I'm a little shaken up. That's all."

"And that window?"

"Two days ago, while it was parked, vandals probably. I'm getting it fixed tomorrow."

"Want us to call an ambulance? Sometimes the adrenaline from an accident can mask serious injury."

Again the look from her warning Gabe to say nothing about the shooting. What in the hell was going on?

"No, no ambulance," he heard himself say.

"Listen, guys," Alison said to the cops, "do whatever you have to do, but I really do intend to take full responsibility for this, and I really do have to get home. I just finished doing three hours of overtime in the ER at D.C. General and I have to be back for the day shift in just a little while."

"You a doc?"

"Nurse. I know way too much ER medicine to be a doc."

"You got that right," the cop said, and exchanged approving glances with his partner.

Just then the radio in the cruiser crackled out something that sounded urgent. Alison watched benignly as the officer behind the wheel took the call, but Gabe, bewildered as much at her handling the situation as he was at the situation itself, saw the keenness in her eyes and sensed that she was on top of the action, if not well ahead of it.

"Another second and they're gone," she whispered before the conversation was complete.

"Listen," the cop closest to them said. "We gotta go. You sure you're okay, fella?"

"I'm fine… fine," Gabe replied. "If you don't have to, there's no need to write this up."

"Okay. Suit yourself. You got an ER nurse there just in case you have any delayed reaction."

"That I do," Gabe said as the cruiser squealed away.

He watched until the taillights had vanished up Twenty-second Street, and then looked down at Alison.

"What? What?" she asked. "The license plate on the killer's three- or four-year-old dark blue Taurus was covered, and with that baseball cap, there was no way whatsoever for me to get a look at his face. And staring down the barrel of a gun, I would strongly doubt that you got any kind of a look at him, either. By the time the police got the story straight from you and made their calls for backup help, the odds that the shooter's still driving around out there would be slim to none. What good would telling them do? There would be hours of interrogation and paperwork, and piles of unwanted publicity-especially given Dr. Ferendelli's disappearance."

Gabe had no quick response. Alison Cromartie sounded incredibly certain and confident of what she was saying and absolutely comfortable with the lies she had told to deal with the police. She was anything but the trim, professional nurse who had tiptoed up to tie his bow tie just seven hours ago.

"Wouldn't they at least have gotten a crime team to find and examine the bullet?" he finally managed. "It's got to be back there someplace."

Alison sighed.

"I'll tell you what," she said. "Trade cars with me for a day and I'll arrange to have the damage fixed on yours and the bullet checked out as well."

"Who are you?" Gabe asked, no longer willing to trust anyone in that city.

Alison drew a thin leather case from the pocket of her jeans and flipped it open for him. Gabe flashed on Lily Sexton and her elegant folder of business cards. But there were no business cards inside this case. There was a gold shield and a photo identification card.

CROMARTIE, Alison M.

United States Secret Service

"People were worried about you," she said.