Dead Hunt Part 11

She remembered grabbing it out of the refrigerator. She had to think about that. Could someone have spiked it? She remembered that the lid was on tight. Did she hear the little clicks of the perforated plastic breaking as she unscrewed the cap? She didn't remember.

"How would anyone know I would drink that bottle of tea?" said Diane. "For that matter, what's the point of this-to use my tiny apartment for an ultimate fighting ring because they weren't able to find anyplace else?"

Lynn laughed. "I suppose we'll have to wait until we find a body to answer that. But tell me, what all do you remember? Do you remember going to bed?"

Diane nodded. "Yes, I remember changing clothes and climbing into bed. I remember everything leading up to that. I went to sleep thinking about the Egyptian artifacts. The next thing I remember is the police banging on the door."

"When you got up to answer the door, did you feel any pain anywhere?" asked Lynn.

"No. Just a drowsy feeling."

"If we find anything in your blood," Lynn said, "the lab can test everything you came in contact with until they discover how it got into you."

When Lynn was done it was clear that Diane had no bruises other than the one on her head. The blood patterns on her body and her clothing were consistent with a fall. All that was good. A member of the hospital nursing staff showed Diane to a shower, where she scrubbed the blood from her body and hair.

"Okay," said Lynn when Diane came out. "Let's X-ray your head."

Diane thought Lynn was enjoying this far too much. After having her head examined, Diane was sitting on one of the examination tables waiting for the doctor and Lynn to come with the X-rays. She knew what they would show. Nothing. She had hit her head on a plaster wall on the way down. She had been dazed, but that was all.

As she sat holding the back of her hospital gown closed, she realized she didn't have any clothes with her. Why did I let them talk me into going to the hospital? Why did I let them talk me into going to the hospital? This was absurd. She didn't even have her purse with her. This was absurd. She didn't even have her purse with her.

I can stay at the museum, she thought. Her office suite had a bathroom, a shower, and a comfortable couch. She had stayed there many times. She even had a change of clothes there. She would go look for a phone. That meant walking around with absolutely nothing on but an open-backed thin cotton gown. Diane slipped down from the table and looked around the white curtain for a nurse. she thought. Her office suite had a bathroom, a shower, and a comfortable couch. She had stayed there many times. She even had a change of clothes there. She would go look for a phone. That meant walking around with absolutely nothing on but an open-backed thin cotton gown. Diane slipped down from the table and looked around the white curtain for a nurse.

She was in a large room lined on two sides with a row of cubicles like the one she was in. Some were probably occupied. She padded across the room, holding the back of her gown closed with a hand behind her back. The floor was cold on her bare feet. Just down at the other end of the room was an empty nurses station. No nurse? What if there is an emergency in one of the cubicles? What if there is an emergency in one of the cubicles? she thought. she thought.

She walked toward the station. She pa.s.sed a stack of neatly folded gowns on a trolley. She swiped one and put it on backwards. At least now she didn't have to hold the back closed. At the nurses' station she looked for a bell to ring. There wasn't one. She walked around the counter and reached for the phone. Her hand touched the receiver just as she was grabbed around the waist and mouth and pulled into one of the cubicles.

Chapter 18.

Diane kicked at her a.s.sailant but her bare feet had little effect. She bit the gloved hand covering her mouth and tried to squirm out of his grasp. His fingers and palm were well protected with leather and padding thicker than necessary for the season of the year. She bit down hard.

"Stop it, or I'll break your neck." His voice was a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

This is isn't going to happen, she thought. she thought. I won't let it I won't let it.

She bit harder and elbowed him in the ribs but felt the blow slide off. She reached over her head searching for eyes to poke or hair to grab. Her fingers found thick, taut material. A ski mask covering his face. She clawed at it and he jerked his head backward, sending them both against the vital signs monitor, tearing off feeds and cables as it fell to the floor. Her mouth now free, she screamed. In her peripheral vision, she saw a knife. This definitely is not going to happen. This definitely is not going to happen.

She entangled her leg in his to trip him. It almost worked. He fell against the bed, pus.h.i.+ng it against the curtain. Diane reached down and grabbed one of his ankles and pulled up hard while she pushed away from him with all the strength she had in her legs. He fell but dragged her with him, twisted her over, pushed her to the floor, and pressed a knee in the small of her back. With his powerful hand on the back of her head he pressed her face into the floor.

"You're a dirty dealer," he whispered. "Everybody thinks you're so good, but you're dirty."

Diane reached and yanked a cable dangling from the monitor, hoping it would fall on him or distract him enough for her to free herself. She heard a voice several cubicles away calling for a nurse. She shouted for help as the monitor she was jerking at slammed against her attacker. He got up and ran as abruptly as he had come. Diane struggled to her feet to follow him.

A door near the nurses' station was partially ajar where he had gone through, and she headed for it. It opened into a large storage room with a door on the other end. Diane ran for it. A hallway lay beyond. She looked both ways up and down the hallway and saw nothing. She had been too slow. She hurried back to the examination room. A nurse was there, or maybe a nurse's aide. It was hard to tell.

"You aren't supposed to be back there," she said. The blond woman was about Diane's age and dressed in scrubs with cartoon prints all over them that looked more like she should be in pediatrics. She stood looking at Diane in confusion.

"There aren't supposed to be maniacs running around the hospital either. I was just attacked in here. Get security."

The nurse just stood there smiling kindly in a confused sort of way.

"What's wrong with you? Alert hospital security before he gets away," said Diane.

"If you sit down, I'll get a doctor," said the nurse.

"Dammit, I know one loses a lot of credibility in these idiotic hospital gowns, but I'm telling you I was attacked in that examination room-as you can see by the disarray inside. Call security-now."

"I think if you just sit back down." The nurse looked at the tossed examining room. "We'll have to find you another bed."

"I have one over there." Diane pointed to the cubicle she was previously sitting in. "I'll go back there." She paused and looked the woman over. She wondered if she was a volunteer or maybe another patient who liked to dress in scrubs and wander about the hospital. "Do you work here?"

"I'm a nurse's aide," said the woman, straightening her shoulders.

"My attacker is probably long gone, but let me explain something to you. That room"-Diane pointed to the curtained area that the attacker had pulled her into-"is not to be touched until my crime scene people have processed it for evidence. My name is Diane Fallon and I'm director of the Rosewood Crime Lab. Are you understanding this?"

A worried looked crept into her eyes. "Yes, but I thought you were just bleary from a procedure. Patients get like that sometimes-you know-confused," she said.

"I didn't have any kind of procedure. I was waiting on X-ray results," said Diane.

"Diane, look who I found."

Diane turned toward Lynn Webber's voice. Frank was beside her carrying a suitcase.

"Frank," said Diane. She smiled at him. Relief flowed over her like fresh water. "How-"

"Neva called," he said. "She collected some of your things for you and said you would need a place to stay."

"I'm glad you're here-" she said.

"Are you all right?" he interrupted. "Your face is red." He walked over to her, set down the suitcase, and took her by the shoulders.

"Did something happen here?" Lynn was looking at her more closely now too.

Diane explained about the attacker, fighting him off and trying to chase him. She kept it short, but the nurse's aide stood openmouthed as she listened.

"I need to see if you're hurt," said Lynn.

"I'm fine," said Diane. Truthfully she ached all over and her face hurt, but she was not going to be examined one more time.

"Did you call security?" asked Frank.

"He's probably long gone," said Diane without looking at the aide. "I'll have Neva or Jin come down and have a look at the scene. They may find something."

She turned to the aide. "I need a container to put my gowns in. I have to take them with me so they can be processed." Diane looked over at an examining table inside one of the curtained cubicles. "Do you have some clean white paper that I can wrap them in?"

"Yes. On the table. I'll get you a piece." The aide went to the examination room and came back with a long piece of white paper and handed it to Diane.

"Thank you." She turned to Lynn. "I a.s.sume my X-rays were fine."

"Yes, fine..."she began.

Diane picked up the suitcase and took it with her into the examination room and drew the curtain. She laid the small suitcase on the bed and opened it. She found panties and a bra and put them on, slipped on a pair of jeans and grabbed a neatly folded blue oxford s.h.i.+rt. Her fingers shook as she tried to b.u.t.ton it. She squeezed her eyes tight to hold back a flood of tears, flexed her fingers, and finished the b.u.t.tons.

When she was dressed, Diane stood a minute behind the curtain before she went out, suitcase in one hand and the carefully wrapped hospital gowns under her arm. She tried not to shake.

"Let me take the gowns to your guys," said Lynn when Diane emerged. "Why don't you take a couple of hours off before you go to the museum? I know I can't talk you into staying away the whole day."

"Good idea," said Frank, eying her closely as he put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. "Stay at my house for a while."

"Maybe for a couple of hours," said Diane. She noticed they didn't ask her to stay and talk to the police about the most recent attack. She must look like the wreck she felt.

"Why aren't you at work?" Diane asked from the pa.s.senger seat of Frank's new Chevy Camaro.

"I was fifteen minutes out when Neva called," said Frank. "Why didn't you call me?"

"I thought you'd be at work. And Garnett and Lynn were insisting that I go to the hospital. That was just for show. Making sure the news media saw me as the victim. I wish I'd refused."

He stopped at a traffic light and looked over at her and took her hand.

Diane's lip quivered. "I thought the guy at the hospital was going to rape me," she said. Saying it out loud brought her close to tears again.

Frank squeezed her hand. Diane saw his jaw muscle clench. The light changed and he accelerated.

"I wasn't going to let that happen," she said, knowing that most of the time the victim can't stop a determined rapist. She shook her head as if there might be something out of place inside her skull. "I don't know what came over me-I didn't care what threat he made-I just wasn't going to let it happen. And there I was in that stupid gown. Thank heavens I'd found a second one just a minute before and put it on backwards-not that I was much more protected." She took a breath. "And there was that idiot nurse. She wouldn't believe me and just stood there grinning when I told her to go get security. They need to make those gowns in power colors."

"You asked for security? Why didn't you say something back there?" asked Frank.

"Because nurse's aide is a low-paying job and she's probably the sole support of five kids, a no-account husband, and five brothers-in-law and their families," said Diane.

She saw Frank's jaw twitch into a tiny smile. They were silent until he pulled into his driveway. Diane looked at her watch.

"You're going to be late for work," she said.

"It's okay. I want to stay with you for a while. Come in and tell me what happened at your home and at the hospital. You said you thought thought he was going to rape you. That wasn't his goal?" he was going to rape you. That wasn't his goal?"

Diane shook her head. "No, he wanted to kill me."

Chapter 19.

Frank's Queen Annestyle house was set off the road amid several huge oak trees. It was an old house that had been well maintained. Its hardwood floors had a high polish. The interior walls were a light yellow-tan color that made the rooms look bright and clean. He had a preference for stuffed chairs and sofas, and oak and walnut furniture that suited the age of the house. It was a house that always reminded her of Frank himself-a sound and comfortable port in a storm.

They sat on one of the stuffed sofas facing a rock fireplace. There was no fire and it looked like a yawning dark entrance to a cave. It looked inviting. Diane hadn't been caving in several months, and a dark cool cavern was appealing right now. Nothing like crawling into the earth to escape your troubles. She leaned against Frank and he held her tight as if his arms might stop her trembling. After several minutes Diane gently pulled away and sat up.

"I'm okay, really," she said, rubbing her eyes with the tips of her fingers, making an effort not to lose control. She couldn't go to the museum looking so vulnerable-not now, not when the entire museum was looking to her for strength.

Frank studied her for a moment and smiled in the way that made his eyes twinkle-which made everything seem all right.

"Good. I'll get us some coffee and you can tell me all about your day so far."

Frank rose from the sofa, leaned over, and gave Diane a quick kiss on the lips. While he was gone, Diane went to the mantel to look at the photographs. She had seen them all many times but she liked looking at them. Frank had a nice family-parents who were still alive and still married, two brothers and one sister, nieces, nephews. He had a photograph of his son, Kevin, from a previous marriage and one of Star, the young girl he adopted after her parents were murdered. Diane took down the photograph and smiled at it. Star, now going to Bartram University, had been working hard, overcoming a lot.

Frank came back with two cups of cappuccino- which was always way too strong. But right now she needed a good jolt. She put the photo of Star back on the mantle.

"Do I need to sip this sitting down?" she said.

"It probably would help." He sat down next to her with his own drink.

Diane blew across the top of the beverage to cool it, then took a small drink. It was hot, strong, and good.

After a moment she began her recounting of the day by telling him about waking up to the knock at the door and then slipping in the blood. She told him about the attack in the hospital in more detail than she had related in the presence of Lynn Webber and the nurse's aide.

"Did you recognize the voice?" asked Frank. As they spoke he sipped his coffee and rubbed the back of her neck with his hand.

"No, I didn't. But calling me a dirty dealer... it had to be about the artifacts. Someone thinks I'm dealing in stolen antiquities. That's the only thing that makes sense."

From Frank's blank stare and raised eyebrows, Diane realized he didn't know about the disputed artifacts or the newspaper articles. He usually didn't read the local newspapers until the weekend. Frank worked in Atlanta and the story hadn't yet made it there, at least not on the front page. That would be today most likely-something else to look forward to.

"We have a scandal of sorts at the museum," she said. Diane told him about the wretched newspaper articles and the hastily called board meeting.

"Are you sure Kendel isn't involved?" asked Frank. "Just to play the devil's advocate, could she be using RiverTrail to launder looted antiquities or at least to get a good deal on some Egyptian artifacts for the museum?"

Diane shook her head. "The only Egyptian artifacts we're looking for right now are twelfth dynasty. The same as our mummy. The artifacts delivered to us are from several other dynasties."

"Could she have intended to replace the photo artifacts graphs in the doc.u.ments and launder the that way?"

"The photographs wouldn't match the tions," said Diane. "She couldn't hope to launder the artifacts at our museum."

"Why?" said Frank. When he decided to play the devil's advocate he was like a dog with a bone. "I would think a museum would be the perfect place to launder looted artifacts."

"Not ours," said Diane. "We're a small museum and we've had one director-me."

descrip"So?" said Frank.

"Large museums show only a fraction of their holdings at any one time. The Bickford shows only about a third of theirs. The rest is in storage. Periodically they create new exhibits from their inventory, rearrange items into perhaps a comparative study-like stone tools from around the world or medicinal plants from various cultures."

"The Bickford? Where have I heard about them?"