You're Next

Chapter 33

‘Look at this. Come here.’ Her black hair arcing across her face, Dr Cha beckoned Shep closer, leaned over Annabel, and rubbed two knuckles in to her chest, hard. Still unconscious, Annabel shifted on the bed and grimaced.

‘Sternal rub,’ Dr Cha said. ‘The bone’s beneath only a millimeter of skin there, so people recoil from pressure. When they’re responsive, that is.’

The surgical ICU occupied the east wing of the ground floor, so morning light suffused the double room. The dividing curtain had been pulled back to reveal the unoccupied bed, adding some breathing space to the cramped quarters.

‘And check this.’

Shep looked up at the doctor, their faces close. Watching Annabel eagerly, Dr Cha pinched the pad of Annabel’s finger. Annabel’s hand twitched away. The doctor regarded the hand with wonder. ‘Is that not the most beautiful damn thing?’

‘Beautiful,’ Shep agreed.

Dr Cha straightened up, and Shep took a step back. She cleared her throat and adjusted her wire-frame glasses, all business again. ‘She’s breathing above the vent now, which is good. We have it set for fourteen breaths a minute, but she’s at sixteen. If this keeps up, we might get her extubated by the afternoon.’ She cocked her head. ‘Why the face? This is good news.’

‘People will come to kill her,’ Shep said.

‘Kill her? Which people?’

‘The ones who put her here. They’ll want to finish the job.’

‘We have good security here. It’s not like anyone can walk into a patient’s room.’ She balked at the silence. ‘You don’t trust our security.’

‘No.’

‘So it’s not her husband, like the cops say. Who did this.’

‘No.’

‘How do you know?’

Shep said, ‘I know.’

‘Is that why you’re here? To stop whoever you believe is coming?’

‘Yes.’

‘You really believe-’

‘Can we transfer her to a different hospital? An undisclosed location?’

‘No. She’s too unstable. Her blood pressure’s labile. Plus, that artery nick is clotting off nicely. Any jostling in a vehicle might open it back up.’

‘Can her husband force a transfer? Doesn’t he have some legal say?’

‘You’re a devoted friend,’ she observed. ‘But no, I won’t allow her to be moved. Not until she’s more stable.’

‘Like this afternoon, when she’s off the ventilator?’

‘Like a week from now.’

Before Dr Cha could reply, the door opened and Elzey and Markovic strode in with Annabel’s sister, a big-boned, attractive woman. A weighty purse knocking about her hip, June paused a few steps from the bed, quivering, to regard her sister. She regained her composure, and introductions were made.

June shifted her attention to Shep. ‘Who is he? Who are you?’

‘Shep,’ he said.

She looked at Dr Cha. ‘He’s not family.’

Dr Cha tapped the medical chart against her hand. ‘I was told he’s on the husband’s side-’

‘Annabel’s husband doesn’t have any relatives.’

‘We were foster brothers,’ Shep said.

At this, June’s mouth came open a little. ‘I thought family privileges were only afforded to real family.’

‘Real family,’ Dr Cha repeated evenly. ‘It is our policy to consider foster siblings-’

‘Given what’s gone on here, why would you let anyone involved with Mike have access to my sister?’

‘What has gone on here?’ Dr Cha asked. She waited, the silence drawing out. ‘I wasn’t aware that any charges have been brought.’

June glared at Shep. ‘Mind if I have some time alone with my sister?’

Shep said, ‘What?’

‘Mind. If I have. Some time alone with. My sister?’

Shep stepped out into the hall, the detectives flanking him.

‘So,’ Markovic said, ‘you’re very close to Ms Andrews?’

‘Who?’ Shep said.

‘Annabel,’ Elzey said. ‘That’s her maiden name. Which you know, of course, given how familial you are.’

‘Right,’ Shep said. ‘Sure.’

A few feet away, Dr Cha jotted on the chart and slotted it into the acrylic rack mounted on the door. The detectives made no attempt to lower their voices.

‘Shepherd White. Safecracking. Burglary. B & E. Quite a celeb you are.’ Markovic grinned. ‘You’re in all the databases.’

Shep said, ‘And still not wanted for anything.’

Elzey said, ‘Currently.’

Markovic now. ‘Mind if we frisk you?’

Shep held out his arms. Markovic spun him, planted him on the wall, hands pinching his ankles, sliding up his legs, patting his sides. ‘You wouldn’t happen to know where your dear foster brother is, would you?’

Shep turned, straightening his clothes, and nodded cordially at Dr Cha over the detective’s shoulder. ‘No.’

‘If you talk to him, tell him this: If he doesn’t produce himself in short order, he’s gonna be charged for the murder of Hanley Burrell and the attempted murder of Annabel Wingate. Annabel’s father has already started proceedings to enjoin your boy from exercising his authority under the health-care proxy. No judge is gonna uphold a fugitive’s control over the life of a woman he put in a coma.’

‘Mike didn’t put her there. And he’s not a fugitive.’

‘Come tomorrow morning,’ Markovic said, ‘he will be.’