One More Dance Roxanne Rustand (best non fiction books of all time TXT) 📖

made an overt threat toward her exactly, but she could feel the waves of anger and beginnings of fear rolling off him.

She skipped the speed dial for the clinic and laboriously punched out each digit. She misdialed the number then started again. Where were the sheriff or his deputies? Had they gotten her first call? Didn’t they usually follow up, even if the person didn’t say anything into the phone?

Amy, ever efficient, answered on the second ring. “Kate? How’s your husband doing?”

Kate closed her eyes briefly and willed the girl to listen carefully. “I’m here at the ICU, and he’s not doing so well. He’s going to need a lot more help in order to get out of here.”

“What kind of help? Like more surgery?”

“I’m calling about that IV running on the Doberman.”

“Huh? We don’t have a Dobe here right now.”

“I need you to up the saline to 200 cc’s per hour, and start a sodium pentobarbital drip at 10 cc’s per hour.”

Amy fell dead silent for a moment, clearly processing the subtle message. “Are you in some kind of trouble?” she ventured cautiously.

“Exactly right.”

“You want me to call the cops?”

“Absolutely. STAT. Thanks, Amy. I hope to see you later.”

The intruder grabbed the phone from Kate’s hand and turned it off. “Satisfied? Now get me in there. They’ll bend the rules for you, and your husband will be real happy to hear what I have to say.”

“Of course.” She turned toward the door and upended her purse, sending the contents cascading to the floor. “Oops. Sorry.”

She dropped to her hands and knees and began laboriously corralling everything, sending lipsticks rolling even farther away, fumbling with the shower of papers.

“Get up,” the man growled. “Do that later.”

A gut feeling told her that there’d be no “later” for anyone in the ICU area if she didn’t think of something fast.

Her fingers closed around a safety syringe she’d absentmindedly dropped in her purse yesterday after using the needle on a splinter in her palm. Holding it beneath her, she unsheathed the needle and palmed the syringe to hide it. It wasn’t much, but jammed in the right place it could be a distraction.

She kept reaching for her things, one by one, putting them in her purse, until he grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.

“Maybe I don’t need you at all. This won’t take long and then I’ll be outta here. Loose ends are bad business, and I don’t let that happen.”

Sweat trickled down her back and her heart hammered against her ribs as she looked into his leering face. “Hear that? That’s the elevator. People are coming. How many can you deal with?”

He licked his lips and glanced nervously toward the door. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“I did. Go now, and there’s no proof you were even here. You’ve done nothing, so there could be no charges, no matter what I say. I’d just sound like some hysterical woman—and you’d be long gone.”

As if summoned by her desperate, silent plea, a distant door crashed open and at least two sets of footsteps thundered down the hall toward the ICU.

He grabbed her, encircling her chest with one viselike arm, and hauled her next to him, then jerked a handgun out of his pocket and held it at her waist, out of sight. “If this ain’t the cops, then we’re going to walk right out of here and pay your hubby a little visit. If it is, then you’re gonna be my ticket outta here.”

The footsteps out in the hallway were closer now, slowing down. Tentative.

“Please—” She took a shaky breath, hoping they could hear her. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“One wrong move and you’re first,” he hissed, jamming the muzzle of the gun into her ribs. “Your choice.”

“Dr. Mathers?” The voice sounded like one of the younger deputies. “Are you having any trouble in there?”

“N-no.”

He appeared at the edge of the door and looked at Kate and the man behind her. Awareness dawned in his eyes. He looked so young—too young to be taking a chance with his life.

She hesitated, then sagged against her captor’s legs in a boneless faint. It would be impossible to imprison her with just one arm. The man cursed and stumbled back to free himself of her weight. With one fluid motion she rammed the full length of the syringe needle into the tender flesh at the back of his knee. He screamed and buckled to the floor, clawing at his leg. He threw the syringe across the room.

In a split second, the two deputies were on him. They jerked his hands behind his back and securely cuffed them. “Clark Porter, you’re under arrest, and the list of charges is getting longer every hour.”

They hauled him to his feet and started marching him toward the door. The older one looked over his shoulder toward Kate. “Can we get your statement down at the sheriff’s office?”

She sank into a nearby chair, her own knees weak as jelly. “You bet.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He grinned. “Just remind me to never come up behind you in a dark alley.”

CASEY ARRIVED JUST as the deputies were leaving. She stared at them, then spun toward Kate. “What happened?” Her face blanched. “What about Daddy? Is he okay?”

Kate debated about how much to say. “He’s stable. And this was the end of a lot of trouble, I hope. Porter is apparently the man who has been threatening your dad and me over some legal issues.”

“Oh, Mom.” Casey walked into Kate’s arms and rested her cheek against Kate’s shoulder. “You’ve been through so much. And I made everything worse, I know it.”

“Sweetheart.” Kate stepped back and held Casey’s shoulders. “You could never make anything worse. I’m so happy that you’re here.”

A sob shook the girl’s body. “I—I was sitting with him. He was unconscious, b-but I tried to tell him about...about something bad, and then the alarms went off and the nurses came, and he nearly died right there.” Her eyes filled with tears.