New York to Dallas (In Death 33)

Eve kept her eyes on the bruised, bloodied face. “Can’t say, probability high.”

“What did you take, Sylvia? How much did you take?”

“Fuck you. I’m dying. She tried to kill me. Give me something.” She lashed out, tried to claw at the doctor’s face.

“Strap her down,” he ordered.

Dispassionately, Eve watched the struggle, listened to the screams, the curses. One of the nurses moved over to her.

“Would you step outside with me? Just outside. She’s secured, and believe me, Doctor Zimmerman can handle her. We’ve got to get her stabilized, access the injuries.”

With a nod, Eve stepped outside the door, but faced the porthole window, continued to watch.

“Do you know what she might have taken?”

“Not at this time. They’ll bring in the contents of her purse, whatever she had at her residence, in her vehicle. You’ll have to run a tox yourself to determine. She’s dangerous,” Eve added. “She’s to be under guard at all times. She is not to be allowed any communications, and must be kept in restraints.”

“What the hell did she do?”

Eve glanced over, saw Annalyn and Bree coming at a fast clip. “These officers will tell you what you need to know.”

“What’s her status?” Bree demanded. “Has she said anything?”

“Nothing helpful. Ask the nurse re status.” Eve went back to watching.

She’d live, Eve thought. She’d damn well live because there were questions to be answered.

Machines and scanners on her now, Eve noted, taking pictures of what was inside her. She’d stopped screaming and turned on the tears.

“Messed up, but not critical.”

Eve nodded at Annalyn’s interpretation of the nurse’s rundown. “EDD’s scanning the duplex for alarms and trips. When they clear it, we’ll go in, take it apart.”

“What about her coms?”

“Last communication was a text.” She pulled out her notebook.

U wore me out last night. Going to salon, some shopping. B there about 3. CU later.

“Gives us some time. Any chance of a trace?”

“If he contacts her, we’ll trap and trace. They’re working on the code she used to send. I don’t know yet.”

“Did the van have navigation? I didn’t see.”

“Disabled,” Annalyn reported. “All her ’links are disposable clones, juiced up with filters. But EDD will cut through.”

“She knows where Melly is,” Bree murmured. “She knows.”

“And we’ll get it out of her,” Annalyn assured her. “He won’t miss her until after three. We’ve got time to work her.”

“Send another text,” Eve said. “After fourteen hundred, send another. It took longer at the salon, she booked a massage, or whatever the hell. Out shopping. Bought him a present. Something. Running late. Might be six. Buy us a few more hours.”

“That’s an idea.”

“I’m full of them,” Eve muttered.

“I got word on the way over. We nailed down the salon. If we need to we can cover that in case he tries to contact her.”