Kill and Tell (25 page)

"It's too hot to cook," Piper said. "Let's get some take-out on the way home. What are we in the mood for? Mexican or Mexican?"

"I don't know. I think I'd rather have Mexican."

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"Say, that's a good idea. Do you want Taco Pete's or—"

A car pulled out of a parking slot and headed down the aisle straight toward them. Karen stopped listening to Piper rattling on and watched the car. A man, probably one of the maintenance workers, was driving. There wasn't anything unusual about the car; it was a beige Pontiac, several years old. But it was going too fast, and she edged Piper more to the side to give the car plenty of room to pass. If she hadn't been attacked that day in her own home, she probably wouldn't have paid the car more than cursory attention, but she was on edge, something deep inside her still frightened and outraged that the sanctuary of her home had been violated. She didn't feel safe. And so she watched the car, watched it gaining speed as it came down the aisle of the parking lot.

The driver was wearing sunglasses. She saw him clearly through the windshield as the car bore down on them, and she had the impression he was looking at her.

Piper broke off her running list of Mexican restaurants and said, "He's going too fast." The fine hairs on Karen's arms stood up. She stopped, staring at the driver. Closer, closer. He gunned the engine, and the car rocketed toward them. Karen turned and drove her shoulder into Piper, knocking her sideways into the space between two parked cars. There was a loud crash, and metal screamed as it tore and bent. They both hit the pavement hard, sprawling on the grit, Piper under her and the suitcase tangled between them. The car beside them rocked wildly on its suspension as it was hit, the rear end skidding around toward them. The front end of the car crashed into the car on the other side of it and bounced back, coming to rest with the rear tire only an inch from Piper's head. Tires squealed in the parking lot. Someone shouted, and they heard running feet. Then tires squealed again, and there was the sound of a car engine roaring as it turned its maximum rpms, rapidly growing fainter with distance.

Gingerly, Karen sat up. She was already sore, and this latest insult to skin and muscle only aggravated the previous injuries. Now her hands were bleeding as well, from sliding on the pavement, and her right knee throbbed.

Piper sat up also, a hand on her head. She leaned against a tire and looked at Karen.

"Are you all right?" they both said together.

They stared at each other another second. "Yeah," Karen finally said. "How about you?"

"Oh, your standard contusions and abrasions. That car almost hit us!"

"Are you two all right?" Another nurse practically vaulted over the fender to reach them. "He didn't even stop!" She knelt down beside them, dragging things from the pockets of her tunic. Her name tag announced her name was Angela, and the tiny koala clinging to her stethoscope with Velcro paws announced she worked in pediatrics.

Most of the nurses on first shift had already left; Piper was running late because she had swung by emergency to collect Karen. But there were still a few people around, and they all came over. "Go get some gurneys from emergency," Angela said to an orderly, her voice crisp and calm.
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"We're all right," Karen and Piper said in unison.

"Don't be silly. You both need to be checked out. You know, sometimes people can't tell if they're injured until several hours later, because of the shock." Angela would have made a good general; maybe it came from dealing with kids all day long.

"Here," another nurse said, tearing open a disposable package containing an antiseptic wipe and handing the package to Angela.

"Do you have any more of these?" Angela asked, taking Karen's hands and wiping her raw, bleeding palms.

"No, just that one. Let's see." The second nurse dug in her pocket again. "Here's a gauze pad, but that's it." She climbed over the bumper, since the car was now sitting at such an angle that its front end was almost touching the bumper of the car beside it. Karen and Piper were sitting in the slight V-shaped space between the two cars, with Piper in the wider part of the V. The nurse crouched beside Piper and pressed the pad to a cut on her forehead, which was sullenly oozing blood. "Someone needs to call the police," she said positively. "That creep not only almost hit you, he left the scene. The owners of these two cars will need an accident report for their insurance companies."

"I've got a cell phone," someone else said. "I'll go call." Within minutes, the parking lot was swarming with emergency personnel, both the medics who happened to have been in the department at the time and one of the emergency department doctors as well as two of the nurses. Two gurneys were brought, despite Karen's and Piper's groaning objections. Piper tried to stand and sank back to the pavement with a startled exclamation. "I think I must have sprained my ankle," she said sheepishly. "I guess I'll need that gurney after all, unless someone wants to lend me a pair of crutches."

A patrol car pulled into the parking lot then, and they all got to tell their stories to the policemen. The orderly said, "Man, he didn't even have license plates on the car. I got a good look when he was leaving the parking lot, because by then it was obvious he wasn't going to stop." No one recognized him, but it was a big hospital; it was impossible for everyone to know everyone else. And since there was no security at the parking lot, anyone who wanted to could park there regardless of whether or not they worked at the hospital. All the cars were supposed to have employee decals on them, but no one ever checked, so the decals were useless.

Angela said, "I was standing just over there. It looked to me as if he
tried
to hit them." She didn't speculate about what sort of chemicals might be zipping around the driver's bloodstream, but several others did.

Karen knew better. When she could, she said quietly to one of the police officers, "I'd appreciate it if you would notify Detective Suter about this."

He gave her a "Get real" look, and she added, "This is the second time today someone has tried to kill me. I'm sure you heard about what happened this morning, when two officers shot and killed the burglar. That was my apartment."

He got serious fast. "You think this was deliberate?"

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"I know it was. He aimed for us." She managed to keep her voice even, but she was trembling inside with rage. The driver hadn't cared that Piper would have been seriously injured, possibly killed, too. Anyone with Karen was apparently as expendable as she was.

She couldn't say just when she had arrived at the conclusion that someone was trying to kill her—maybe while she had been airborne between the two cars, hearing the impact behind her. But she wasn't stupid, and she wasn't paranoid. As improbable as it seemed, someone really was trying to kill her. Detective Suter thoughtfully tapped his notebook against his knee. Karen sat quietly, having finished what she had to say. She had outlined her father's murder and the burning of her old house. Added to both of that day's incidents, it was enough to make anyone thoughtful. Piper's ankle had been X-rayed, revealing a hairline fracture. No cast was necessary, but the ankle was securely wrapped, and she was under orders to stay off it for a week. Karen's scrapes had been cleaned and bandaged, but she was free to go. The question was, where?

"Ms. Whitlaw," Detective Suter said slowly, choosing his words so as not to give offense, "you've had a very rough day. Anyone who has endured what you have could be forgiven for thinking there's a conspiracy against her. I'm sorry about your father, too, but from what you tell me, he was living on the streets, and those types of crimes are all too common. As for the house fire—" He looked helpless.

"How can you tie that in with anything else that's happened?"

"I looked in the phone book," she said. "The new ones don't come out until December. My address is still listed as the house that burned."

"Still—"

Karen leaned forward. "Someone knew I was still at the hospital this afternoon, that I would be going home with Piper. Why else would he have been waiting in the parking lot? I work third shift; I wouldn't normally be there this time of day.
You
knew I was going with Piper, because you were here when she asked me. Who else knew?"

The detective's face went hard and blank. He said slowly, "I see what you mean. I guess I'm glad you're not accusing me of anything."

She didn't entirely trust him, either, but she didn't tell him that. She thought he was a straight, honest cop, which was why she had asked for him, but at this point she wasn't taking anything for granted.

"Your whereabouts weren't a secret," he said slowly. "Several people asked your condition, and I told them you were okay and would be going home with one of the other nurses when her shift ended. For that matter, maybe someone called the hospital and checked."

"Only a condition report would be given, not my plans for the evening." He looked distinctly unhappy. "Ms. Whitlaw, looking at things in that light, I agree that something unusual is going on here. But why would someone be trying to kill you? Do you owe a lot of money to someone?

Did you witness something you shouldn't have? Do you know a terrible secret?" Karen shook her head to all those questions. "No, none of that. I don't
know
why anyone would want to kill me, but all the indications are that someone is trying to. And that man who tried to run me down in his car wasn't concerned that he might hit Piper, too. My friends are in danger, Detective. I can't stay with
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anyone without worrying they might die in a house fire or get shot if they step in front of me at the wrong time. What am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know." He turned the notebook around and around. "I can't help. I can't even justify investigating, because there's nothing to go on. The only dead person is the guy who broke into your apartment. If we run across a beige Pontiac with no license plate, a damaged right fender, and paint scrapes, we can get the owner for leaving the scene of an accident, but that's all. Not attempted murder. I don't know what to tell you, except that you should take a leave of absence and go somewhere safe. Don't tell anyone where you're going, either."

A leave of absence? She sighed. At the hospital, there was no such thing as a leave of absence unless you had a medical reason. Administration would grant her request for a leave, but whether or not there would be an opening for her when she came back was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. It would also have to be an
unpaid
leave of absence, which would eat up her savings. Because of the life insurance policy on her mother and the proceeds from the sale of the house, she had more money in the bank than she had ever thought she would have, but by no means could she simply quit work.

"Just think about it," Detective Suter said.

This time, Karen walked alone to the parking lot, to retrieve Piper's car and then pick Piper up at the emergency department. Night had almost fallen; twi-light was still hanging in there, but the street lights had come on. She would have asked an orderly or another nurse to walk with her, but after the hit-and-run, she didn't want to take chances with anyone else's life. The entire situation felt like a
Twilight Zone
episode, with danger lurking all around her, and she didn't know what form it would take or why she had been targeted.

Leave. That's what Detective Suter wanted her to do. Hide. But if she didn't know what she was hiding from, how would she know when it was safe to come
out
of hiding?

It all tied together somehow. All of it. From her father's murder to the two attacks today, they were all for the same reason.

She was so tired, too tired to think clearly. Surely, when she was rested, she would be able to see a picture that eluded her now. But she'd had very little sleep in two days, and today had been a shock to her nervous system from start to finish.

She could think clearly enough, however, to know she couldn't go home with Piper. Her conscience hurt her, because Piper was on crutches and
she
needed someone. But Karen's presence brought danger, and she was too tired tonight to stay awake and alert.

On the other hand, Piper couldn't go home, either, because
he
had known Karen planned to go home with her. Having missed once, the logical thing would be for him to try to get to her at Piper's house. He might already be there, inside, waiting for them.

Chill bumps roughened her skin at the thought of walking into a dark house, to be met by a stranger with a gun.

A motel, that was the ticket. Just for tonight, for both of them. Piper wasn't dumb; she would see that the only logical thing to do was not take the chance of going home. Tomorrow—well, tomorrow she would
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think of something else. Piper had a sister with whom she could stay. And Karen knew where she was going. If she had to hide out, then she intended to hide out in the one place she really wanted to be. She was going to New Orleans. To Marc. All she had to do was stay alive until then.

Marc replaced the phone, frowning. Karen still wasn't at home. He had called twice, even though he was still royally pissed, because after the blood bath in the Garden District, talking to her had suddenly seemed more important than cooling down. Even if he was angry, she needed to know that he cared enough to get in touch. In trying not to spook her, he thought, he had made the mistake of not letting her know she meant more to him than just a hot time between the sheets. He usually wasn't that clumsy in love affairs, but hell—

He ran his hand over his face. The operative word before had been
affair
. Now the emphasis was on the other word.