10th Anniversary (Women's Murder Club 10)

He hooked Cindy’s arms around his neck and pulled her out into the air. Cindy was fully dressed and I saw no blood. Conklin’s voice cracked as he said to her, “Cindy, it’s me. I’m right here.”

She opened her eyes halfway and said, “Heyyyyy.”

Conklin held her so tight, I thought he was going to crush the air right out of her.

And then her eyes closed and she started snoring softly, her cheek on his shoulder.

Chapter 106

MARILYN BURNS was screaming, “God, oh God, I can’t believe this. What happened?”

She peered between her fingers and identified the dead man with one neat hole in his forehead, another in his neck, as Albert Wysocki.

I joined Conklin as he helped the paramedics strap Cindy in and load the gurney into the ambulance. He was panting and he was pale, and I knew he wanted to go to the hospital with Cindy. But he’d shot a man. He had to follow protocol for a shooting that was witnessed by thirty law enforcement officers. Conklin would have to wait for the ME, the Crime Scene Unit, and Brady to arrive.

I touched his shoulder, and his eyes met mine. His expression was flat, drained of emotion.

I’ve done what he had done. I’ve felt the same adrenaline overload covering rage and fear and the emotional numbness of shock.

“Is Wysocki dead?” my partner asked me. “Did I kill him?”

“It was him or you, Richie. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I’m glad I nailed the bastard.”

“Heeyyyy … Lindsayyyy,” Cindy called out to me from inside the ambulance.

“I’m right here, girlfriend,” I called back.

“You’ll go with Cindy to the hospital?” Conklin asked me.

I nodded and climbed up into the ambulance. I gripped Cindy’s hand and told her that I loved her and that everything was going to be okay.

“Did I get the story?” she asked me.

“You sure did.”

Conklin stood at the rear doors. He said, “Lindsay?”

“I’ll stay with her until you get to the hospital,” I said to him. “She’s going to be fine.”

Chapter 107

LIGHT FROM THE SUNRISE was streaking through the windows when I greeted Martha inside the front door. I stripped off my jacket, my holster, and my shoes, and tiptoed down the hall to the master bathroom. I stepped into the “car wash,” let it blast me pink, and then put on my cloudy blue pj’s that were on the hook behind the door where I’d left them what seemed like a year ago.

Déjà vu all over again.

When I edged under the covers, Joe woke up and opened his arms to me, and that was good, because I wanted to tell him everything that had happened since I’d called him from the hospital.

“Hey,” he said, kissing me. “How’s Cindy?”

“Honestly? It’s like it never even happened,” I told him. “She was asleep a minute after she got into the cab and woke up in a hospital bed five hours later.”

“Is she … all right?”

“He didn’t get around to raping her,” I said. “Thank God.”

I made myself comfortable under Joe’s arm, fitting my whole body tightly against him, my left leg over his, my left arm across his chest. “The doctor says she’ll be fine when the drugs wear off.”