Authors: Alexa Grace
Within fifteen minutes, Lane spotted Jennifer in the parking lot on the surveillance taping. Wearing a loose white blouse and a pair of jeans, she pushed a cart filled with bags toward her blue Honda Civic. Jennifer was alone. She placed the bags in the trunk of her car, returned the cart, and then drove off. There was nothing suspicious to note. Whatever had happened to Jennifer had not happened at the Target store.
David Chambers watched Frankie exit the hotel with an older guy wearing a suit. Once they reached the parking lot, they exchanged a few words, hugged, then headed toward their separate cars. He didn't know what their relationship was, but it didn't look like they were lovers. David switched on the ignition to start his car then followed Frankie as she left the parking lot heading west on Third Street. He let a farmer with a pickup truck filled with hay pass him, to ensure Frankie would not notice his car. She appeared to be talking on her cell phone. He continued to follow her until a short time later she reached her destination, Indiana University Health. His brows drew together in a suspicious expression. What the hell was Frankie Henderson doing here?
David waited until she entered the hospital then he emerged from his car and sprinted toward the door. He reached the lobby just as Frankie entered an elevator. He stood in the hall and waited until the elevator stopped on the third floor.
Frankie pulled out the photocopy of Jennifer's picture and showed it to a nurse at the nurses' station.
"Have you seen this young woman?"
"I don't recall seeing her."
Another nurse, returning from break, pushed her purse in a drawer and looked at the photo Frankie held out to her.
"Yeah, I remember her. She was in here about a week ago. She was looking for Carole and I think she talked to her, too."
"Who's Carole?" asked Frankie.
"She's one of our clinical assistants. I think she's at work today. Do you want to talk to her?"
"Yes, I'd love to talk to her."
Frankie leaned against the counter as the nurse buzzed Carole to come to the nurse's station. David took a nearby seat in the waiting room. He reached for a magazine that he pretended to read and deliberately let his hair fall in his face. The place was crazy busy and he took the last chair available. It was perfect for watching and listening to Frankie Henderson.
Carole appeared and Frankie showed her the photo of Jennifer.
"Yes, I talked to her last week. I remember her, so pretty with her long blonde hair. In fact she looked a lot like you."
"She's my cousin. Her name is Jennifer," Frankie explained.
"She asked me about a patient who'd had a baby recently. It seems this girl was worried because the patient was her roommate and she never came home. I told her not to worry because Ally Black left the hospital with her father. But she didn't believe me. She said that Ally Black didn't have a father. She came back a couple days later with a sketch she'd drawn and it was the splitting image of the father. She asked me to identify the sketch as the father and I did. It was him, clear as day."
David's expression darkened as he listened to the women talk. He held the magazine up higher to shield his face. When the conversation ended, he waited until Frankie boarded the elevator, then he headed for the stairs.
So the blonde bitch was Jennifer Brennan's cousin. He wondered if she knew how important the information she'd just received was. She was smart. She'd figure it out. But not before he got to her.
As for Carole, the Clinical Assistant, he'd get her, too. It was probably his likeness in the sketch. The woman had been in the room when he left with Ally that day. That made her a liability. But her time would have to wait. Frankie Henderson had just gone to the top of his hit list.
Frankie walked outside, slipping on her sunglasses to protect her eyes form the mid-day sun. She thought about the conversation she'd just had with Carole. Jennifer knew that Ally Black had not left the hospital with her father. But she had a good idea who Ally left with and she'd created a sketch of the man. Therefore, it was a man that Jennifer had seen or had known. Was it Dr. Caine?
Christ, Jennifer was in so much danger. She had to find her and fast. She drove the Miata out of the parking lot to head for home so she could do more research on her laptop. She wanted to get Jennifer's cell phone call history too. It could explain a lot. She prayed Lane was home so they could discuss what she'd just learned.
Frankie looked down at the speedometer. She was speeding, so lost in her thoughts she didn't realize it. Slowing down, she entered a paved stretch of rural road that led to their house. She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and called Lane.
"Hey, Frankie, I was just about to call you to see where you were. I'm fixing a late lunch."
"I'm on my way there. I just passed the Johnson farm. What's for lunch?" Suddenly she noticed a large black car appear in her rearview mirror. He was coming too fast. He was right on her bumper now. Crash! He hit her car with his. The jolt threw her against the steering wheel then back, punching the air out of her lungs.
"What was that noise? Frankie! Answer me."
"A car just hit me. He backed off, but here he comes again!" This time the impact caused her small car to spin like a top in the middle of the road. She screamed. She gripped the steering wheel and struggled for control of the car to no avail. When the spinning stopped, the car flipped once, landing upside down in the ditch. The black car sped away.
"Frankie! Frankie!" He screamed in the phone before the cell lost connection. He grabbed his keys and raced to his car.
Frankie hung by the seatbelt upside down like a bat. She pushed at the airbag that was suffocating her. If she could only get it out of the way. Something wet was on her face so she used the back of her hand to wipe it off. There was blood on her hand.
She had to get out of the car. She smelled the burning rubber of the tires. There was a good chance that gas and other automotive fluids were leaking onto hot surfaces like the exhaust pipe and the car could explode. In addition, this was no accident and the driver of the black car could return to finish the job.
Frankie braced one hand against the ceiling of the car, the other struggled with the clasp of the seatbelt. She pulled at the clasp so hard all four fingernails broke in unison. Struggling with it one more time, the metal clasp released and freed her. She flexed her body until she rolled right side up on the passenger seat ceiling. Frankie felt around until she located her purse and pulled it to her. Jerking out her Glock, she then pushed the purse aside. All of the windows were broken. This was a good thing. There was no way she could get the car door open at this angle. Frankie crawled through the window, biting her lip as a sharp shard of glass ripped at her skin beneath her blouse. Once she was out of the car, she struggled to get to her feet but her legs felt like rubber. She lifted her shirt to inspect the damage done to her by the glass. There was a long, jagged cut that ran from her waist to her right breast. It was bleeding but didn't look too deep.
She shoved the Glock in the back of her jeans and wiped the blood out of her eyes. Cursing, she braced herself against the car, trying to get her bearing until she could stand.
She heard the rumbling sound of tires in the distance. There was a car coming. The driver was coming back to finish the job — to kill her. Beside her was a stretch of woods. Across the road there was a cornfield. She chose the woods and climbed out of the ditch and ran until she reached a thicket of tall trees. Frankie stopped for a moment, listening. The car was getting closer. Dodging tall weeds and bushes that scratched at her legs, she raced into the trees. She ran until the pain at her side gnawed at her and her lungs burned like they were on fire. She took shelter behind the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree and willed her breathing to slow. Panic like she'd never known before welled in her throat.
Just as she'd decided she could move on, she heard the crunching of leaves and footsteps. She slid the Glock out from the back of her jeans and gripped it in her right hand. She was terrified but she was also confident. There was a move that she and Ted had practiced many times where they were in a hiding position, then jumped out to reveal themselves to an imaginary pursuer, aimed, and fired.
She froze so she'd make no sounds. The footsteps were getting louder now. He was getting closer, but not close enough for her to make her move. She waited until she thought he was four to five feet away, then she launched herself from behind the tree and took aim. At the last second, she lifted her gun toward the sky as she recognized it was Lane running toward her.
It was Lane. She went limp with relief. He rushed to her and threw his arms around her. It was then that it hit her. She'd almost killed Lane. At four to five feet away, there was little chance she would have miss the shot. Just thinking of it shattered her and she tightened her grip around his waist.
She heard sirens and looked up at Lane.
Chapter Ten
"I called the police. They're sending an ambulance, too." Lane pushed her to arm's length so he could get a good look. There were glistening pieces of glass in her hair. A cut was above her right eyebrow and a spreading blood stain ran the length of her white blouse. He lifted the fabric to see the bleeding cut running from her waist to her breast. His expression darkened with unreadable emotions. His jaw visibly tensed. The sirens of the emergency vehicles echoed through the trees.
"Can you walk, Frankie? The ambulance may be here and I want you checked out." He slipped his arm around her waist.
"I can walk, but I'll tell you right now, I'm not going to the hospital."
"Frankie..."
"I mean it. There's no time. The EMTs can check me over if they're quick about it, but there's no time to lose. I have to find Jennifer. I found out something."
He considered the uselessness of arguing with her about it, and then decided to say nothing. If anything was seriously wrong with her, he'd get her to the hospital if he had to carry her kicking and screaming. He held on to her forearm and walked with her out of the woods. He saw the ambulance as soon as he reached the clearing. The EMTs spotted them and ran toward them to help Frankie to the back of the vehicle where they'd already set up a gurney.
Lane watched them as they unbuttoned her blouse and laid it aside as they worked. They cleansed the jagged cut on her midsection and did the same with the cut above her eyebrow. She winced with pain a few times but didn't cry out. She still wore the determined don't-screw-with-me expression she'd had in the woods before.
He walked over to look at the Miata. It was upside down in the ditch surrounded by shards of glass, pieces of metal, and some of the contents from Frankie's purse. The smell of burning rubber from the tires mixed with automotive fluids permeated the air.