Cited to Death (14 page)

Tim and Kevin were the next to arrive. Tim and the university cop talked off to the side for a few minutes; Kevin sat down beside me on the ambulance bumper. The EMT gave me the tetanus shot and two new ice packs; Kevin took one and held it on my jaw, gently. His voice was soft. "You gonna live?"

"Mmm hmm." I looked over at him. ""M okay."

Kevin's eyes got damp. "You don't look okay, I gotta tell ya."

"D'anks so mush."

He laughed, sniffed and wiped his nose. "Dad's gonna kill me."

"F'r whu’?"

"Not keeping an eye on you. Letting this happen." He bit his lip. "I'm the big brother. I'm supposed to watch out for you."

I tried to make a face at him; I'm sure it looked suitably disgusted. And disgusting. "Not y'r day to wa’zh me."

He shook his head and put his arm around my shoulders. I leaned into him, grateful to be able to lean on something. "Gonna fi’d back."

"How's that?"

"This's psychological war. Godda get me a psychologis’."

Kevin's gaze shot over to me. "Oh yeah? You got one in mind?"

"Mmm hmm."

Kevin grinned. "I like that."

Tim finished up with the uni cop and came over. His expression was grim. "Are you okay?"

"Mmm hmm. More 'r less."

Tim looked from me to Kevin and back, shaking his head. "Okay. Here's what I got from Officer Taylor. Two guys jumped you, wearing black and ski masks, beat you up and ran off without taking anything. Both white, one taller than you and one shorter, the shorter one a beefy guy. That sound right?"

"'Zackly."

"Okay, good. Did you notice them before they jumped you?"

"Unh unh. Not payin’ ‘denshun."

"And you're sure they didn't take anything."

"Unh unh. Dropped my bag, id's ri’d there."

Tim picked up my bag and brought it over. "Huh, your laptop's still here. Still got your phone? Your wallet?"

"In my dacked."

Tim checked to make sure. "Okay. So you think this must be related to all the other stuff that's been happening?"

"Mus' be, righ’?"

"Yeah, that would be my thought." Tim closed his notebook and slapped it against his thigh, thinking. "I think our best bet is to find out who's been sabotaging your computer. That may lead us to everyone else. I'm going to have a talk with the computer crimes detective tomorrow."

"Inside job."

"Yeah, most likely. Who's been in your office?"

"Just ID guy. Andy Mi’shell. Bud dey can condrol nedwork remodely. Could be anybody."

"Right. But I’ll take a look at this Andy first."

I sighed. All of a sudden I was exhausted. "Sounds good."

"Okay." Tim turned to the EMTs. "You guys all done?"

"Yep. If he’s not going to let us transport him." The EMT who'd bandaged my face handed me a sheet of paper. "I need you to sign this, that we recommended transport and you refused.” I signed. He handed me another sheet of paper. “Here are instructions. Be sure to read them. If you have any change in consciousness, any blurred vision..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll come in." I stood up, with Kevin still propping me, and looked at Tim. "You guys dakin’ me home?"

"Yeah. We'll drive you down to Pete's on the way to the station. Did you call him?"

"Unh unh."

"Well." Kevin raised his eyebrows. "He's in for an unpleasant surprise."

We pulled up at the townhouse about 15 minutes later. I could barely see out of my left eye. Kevin dug through my bag and handed me my keys, and I opened the door. Pete wasn't in bed, as I had hoped; he was up, on the sofa, surrounded by books and papers. When he saw us he stood up, then his jaw dropped when he saw my face.

"Oh my God! Oh my God. What the hell happened to you?"

My jaw was really throbbing. It was actually getting harder to talk, not easier. "God 'ugged."

Kevin jumped in. "He was assaulted walking to the bus stop from the library. Two guys, one held him and the other one hit him. They didn't steal anything. You got an ice pack?"

Pete stared at me for a second then went into action. "Yeah, yeah. Two of them, I'd say." He ran up the stairs to the fridge and came right back with two bags of frozen peas and two dish towels. I sank down onto the love seat. My head hurt, and it was getting harder to move, period. By tomorrow morning, I'd be a wreck.

Pete moved pillows around so I could lean back, then wrapped the peas in the towels and gently applied them to both sides of my face. I winced. "Sorry, hon. Sorry."

Some distant corner of my brain registered the word “hon,” but I couldn't do anything with it right then.

Pete turned back to Kevin. "They didn't catch them?"

"No. They got off campus too fast. And they were wearing black and ski masks, so Jamie couldn't get a good description. Patrol is looking for them, but they haven't found anything yet."

Pete shook his head. "Un-fucking-believable. What is this? Sending a message? Like burning up your apartment wasn't enough? Who’s doing this? And why?"

"It's got to be related to this dying request thing he's trying to solve. The timing is right. He's got to be getting close to something, but what? Even he doesn't know."

Kevin and Pete continued to dissect it out. My head was killing me. I needed Kevin to leave, or at least to be quiet. I tried to get their attention, and finally threw a pillow at Pete. It missed, but it landed between them, so they both turned to look at me.

I pointed at Kevin. "Oud." I pointed at Pete. "Drugs."

Kevin rolled his eyes, but agreed. "Okay, okay. I'll call you tomorrow. You're staying home, right?"

I gave him a thumbs up.

"All right." He turned to Pete. "Call me if you need me."

"Right." Pete watched Kevin get in his car, then locked the door and turned back to me. "One pain pill, coming up."

Since I hadn't gone to the ER, I didn't have a prescription for anything. Fortunately, Pete had some leftover oxycodone from when he'd had his wisdom teeth out several months ago. He brought me one and a glass of water with a straw, and I managed to get it down. Pete took a critical look at me, surveying the damage more dispassionately. "How'd you manage not to get blood on your jacket?"

"Dunno."

"Well, that was good. I'll try to get the blood out of your shirt, but it may be history."

"'S okay."

"Can you sit up? I'll get this off of you."

I sat up and scooted forward a bit, and Pete gently unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it back off my shoulders. He tossed it to the floor, turned back to me and gasped.

"Whuh?"

He was looking at my arms. "You've got bruises coming up where the guy gripped your arms to hold you."

I looked down, but I couldn't see anything. My face was getting so swollen it was hard to see at all. I pointed at my shirt, which Pete had tossed on the floor. "My only dress shird."

"Well, you won't be going anywhere for a couple of days. And you can go back to work in polo shirts. No one will care."

My face and head were starting to hurt. "Need more ice."

"Right." Pete put the bags of peas back in the freezer and came back with two bags of corn. I laid back on the sofa so that I didn't have to hold the ice. Pete arranged the bags over the dish towels. "How's that?"

"Mmm hmm."

"Okay. I'm going to put your shirt to soak." He went off for a few minutes. The oxycodone was starting to kick in a little. My head was throbbing a bit less than it had been. The ice was numbing my face. I probably could have fallen asleep right there, but Pete came back and patted me on the leg. "You've still got a lot of blood on you, down your neck and under your collar area, some down onto your chest. And in your hair. We need to get you cleaned up."

"'Kay."

"That ice has been on for ten minutes. Ten more minutes, and we'll get you into the shower. That'll be the easiest way to approach it."

"'Kay."

He went off to do something else. I just laid there. My head was too fuzzy to think about anything. After a while, I couldn't tell how long, Pete came back.

"Okay. The corn is melted. Do you think you can sit up?"

I took the bags of corn from my face and handed them to him. He took them back to the freezer, and I tried to sit up. I didn't get very far. Pete came back and slid his arm around my ribs, helping to lift me to a seated position. I grunted. My ribs and abs were getting sorer.

"Okay?" Pete rubbed my back a little.

"Mmm hmm." I didn't want to do or say anything that would slow my progress in getting into bed.

"Okay. Let's get your t-shirt off. I think we might as well scrap this, right? You've got more of these."

"I's bluddy?"

"Oh yeah. It's bloody." He started lifting it from the bottom and eased my arms out of it, then lifted it over my head and showed it to me. The white t-shirt was now striped brownish-red at the top and halfway down the chest. "Ugh. Doss id."

Pete tossed it across the room, then knelt down and took off my shoes. "Okay. Can you stand up?"

"Mmm hmm. You help."

"Oh yeah." Pete stood up, gripped my arms just above my elbows, and lifted as I stood. I got to my feet and swayed. The oxycodone was starting to do its thing.

"Okay, good. Just stand here for a second." Pete looked at my chest and abdomen. "Oh, honey. You're bruised all over. He punched you in the ribs and belly?"

"Mmm hmm."

Pete growled. "Son of a bitch." He wrapped his arms around me and held me for a minute, standing there. "We'll get them, babe. We'll get them."

"Mmm hmm."

He stepped back from me, still holding my shoulders. "Think you can walk upstairs?"

"Mmm hmm. Godda."

He smiled. "Okay, tough guy. Let's go, then." He slid his left arm around my waist and we started walking slowly. I managed to get to the stairs, but by the time I got there I was groaning out loud.

"I know, honey. Let's get you undressed, and we can get in the shower."

Pete gripped my belt on either side of my hips and half-pushed, half-dragged me up the stairs. We got to the master bedroom, and he propped me against the wall for a minute to get positioned, then maneuvered me in and set me down on the toilet lid. "See how far you can make it towards getting your pants off." Then he proceeded to strip down in front of me.