She's Not There - Madison Marla (книги без сокращений .txt) 📗

“Let me tell you ‘bout the way she looked…”

TJ wound her way through the crowded restaurant and entered a long, dark hallway leading to the back of the building. She could see two short hallways branching off about halfway to the exit, each with a sign directing patrons to one of the restrooms, Banditos on the left, Senoritas on the right.

It happened so fast TJ barely had time to react. A large figure came at her after bursting through the door to the alley. She thought she saw the glint of a knife before leaping to the side. She felt the blade meet its mark before she managed to give her assailant a sharp elbow jab to the diaphragm. In a heartbeat, she had her gun out, but he had dodged quickly, already at the exit to the alley.

Ignoring the searing pain in her side, TJ ran to the door, gun raised. She took a shot at his retreating shape as she stepped out into the alley. When she reached the side street she saw the rear lights of a car speeding away from the curb. He’d gotten away. Swearing to herself, she stumbled into a recessed doorway, where she put her hand to her side and felt the warm trickle of blood seeping from her body.

Above the sound of the salsa music and loud conversation, Jeff was certain he’d heard a scream. Panicked, he pushed his way through the crowd, looking for TJ. Across the dining room a cluster of women gathered around the entrance to a hallway. Looking into it, they talked excitedly in Spanish.

When he reached the opening into the dim hallway leading to the restrooms, he forced his way through the group of women.

One of them cried, “She shot a guy!”

Jeff’s heart lurched as he ran out the exit door leading into an alley. He didn’t see TJ, but drops of blood on the pavement led toward the street. He found her in the doorway of a defunct appliance store. She was leaning over, gun in one hand, the other clutched to her side. Was she shot?

When she saw him, she gasped, “Some fucker tried to grab me in the hallway. Got a knife in my side before I could get my gun out. Wanted to nail his ass, but he’s long gone.”

Jeff took out his phone. “I’ll call 911.”

“No fuckin’ way! Let’s get out of here before the cops come.” One arm clutching her side, she started walking toward the car.

Jeff stopped her. “You need a doctor. I’m taking you to an emergency room.”

“Not going to any ER. Ain’t as bad as it looks, I know about

these things—isn’t my first time getting stuck.” She glared at him. “And we know a doctor, don’t we?”

Supporting her as she moved, Jeff argued with her as they moved to the car. Sure she’d never agree to go to a hospital, he opened the trunk and pulled a towel out of his gym bag. He handed it to her. “If you won’t listen to reason, at least don’t bleed all over my car.”

When Eric got the call from Jeff, he was at a gourmet restaurant in Delafield with Danielle Ventura. She’d turned him down when he asked her out the first time, the day he’d brought Lisa to the showroom. The next time he’d asked she’d been coy about setting a date. With her finally, he found himself distracted.

As hard as he tried to change the subject from her divorce and all the things she did or did not receive in the settlement, she kept finding a way to pick up where she’d left off. They’d just finished their entrees when he felt his phone vibrate. He opened it and saw it was Jeff calling. He apologized to Danielle and took the call.

“Eric, TJ’s been stabbed. She won’t go to a hospital. We’re headed to Waukesha.”

“Give me a minute; I’ll call you right back.”

Eric looked over at Danielle. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to run. I have an emergency to deal with.”

Her mouth opened to protest.

“I’ll call you tomorrow and explain.” Eric tossed a few large bills on the table, another in front of her for cab fare and hurried to his car, where he called Jeff. “Jeff, TJ knows where my house is and where I keep my spare key in case you get there before I do. I should be home in about the same time it’ll take you to get there.”

Eric heard TJ complaining in the background. She can’t be hurt too badly if she still has the energy to gripe.

Eric arrived first, turned on the lights, and got out his medical supplies, glad he still had the things he’d need. He put on a pot of coffee, took out a bottle of brandy and an old bathrobe.

They came in minutes later, TJ leaning on Jeff, a towel clutched to her side.

Jeff said, “I tried to get her to go to the emergency room, but she insisted on calling you instead.”

Eric helped Jeff bring her into the room. “That was stupid. You should have been treated immediately. If the wound is too deep, I’m taking you to a hospital.”

They put her down on a long leather couch in front of the fireplace. Eric brought over a bright lamp to work by.

TJ whined, “Can’t be too bad, he only got me a little. I moved pretty fast when I saw him. Hope I got one in him.”

Eric started. “You shot him?”

“Tried, but he was running too fast. Couldn’t go to the hospital. Didn’t want the cops nosin’ around yet. Wasn’t anything worth telling them, anyway. He had on dark clothes, a cap pulled low, and sunglasses. Go figure.”

Eric moved the towel and examined the wound, realizing she was right, it wasn’t very deep, the bleeding already diminishing. “Jeff, I put some coffee on. Would you go see if it’s ready? Give me a few minutes. Then bring us the coffee and that bottle of brandy.”

Jeff left the room.

Eric said, “You’re lucky as hell, you know. If this was deeper it could have punctured your liver. I’ll give you a local anesthetic, then I’m going to clean it out.”

He froze the area, then cut open TJ’s black silk camisole. She was naked underneath it.

“I knew you always wanted to see my tits.”

“Honey, I’ve seen more breasts in my lifetime than most men can even dream of. They’re just another pair. Nice, but just another pair.”

TJ laughed, then groaned in pain. Eric put a clean towel over her breasts and set up the things he’d need on the table next to the couch. He washed the wound, using antiseptic on and around it before stitching it up.

“I think you’re all right for now. But there’s always a chance of infection setting in, so I’m going to give you an antibiotic shot.”

He helped her into the old robe he’d brought out. “Take off your jeans.

“Thought they didn’t do those butt-shots anymore.”

“They don’t. I just want a peek at your ass, too.”

She clutched her midsection. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

By the time she quit complaining, he’d given her the injection.

When Jeff came back, the three of them had coffee with brandy. After he saw her nodding off, Eric picked TJ up and carried her to the guest room.

He came back and poured himself another brandy.

Jeff asked, “Do you think we should call Detective Conlin?”

“No. She’s not seriously hurt. She can tell him herself if she wants to.”

“Don’t you think it’s time to get the police involved?”

Eric had mixed feelings. “This incident could have nothing to do with our interviews.” Jeff tried to object. “Let me finish. Do I think it’s related? Of course, but proving it would be impossible. All we’ll have to show for it is TJ’s wound. Neither of you saw anything. I’m worried about everyone’s safety. And we still aren’t free of that psycho, Fischer. I’d suspect him except he never met TJ.”

Jeff said, “That policewoman who’s trying to get something on him—you said she sounded sympathetic. Maybe Lisa could have a talk with her.”

“That might be the best way to test the waters. We’ll have to talk about it.”

Later, Eric emptied the coffee pot and checked the fire before stepping out on the patio for his last cigar of the day. Afterward, he looked in on TJ, sleeping peacefully, the butt of her gun sticking out from under her pillow. He’d never seen her looking so serene.