Red Julie (An Olivia Miller Mystery Book 2) (24 page)

“They seem nervous,” Liz whispered to Olivia. “They haven’t seemed so …disorganized.”

Olivia nodded in acknowledgement. She was glad to hear that something might have them on edge. On the other hand, she worried that it might make them careless…or desperate.

“Shut up,” Siderov spat. Sweat beaded up on his brow as he advanced on the women. “I’m running out of time. Who wants to tell me the things I need to know?”

Olivia and Liz were silent.

Siderov waited a full minute. He took a deep breath. “Then it appears it is time for some encouragement.” He wheeled around, strode to the chairs along the wall and sat.

“Ms. Miller,” Siderov said in a calm voice. “I thought your arrogance would interfere with your ability to be forthcoming with me, and I was correct.”

Olivia looked at him with hate filled eyes.

“So I took out some insurance.”

Olivia’s heart beat fast.

“Your old man friend is a guest here as well.”

Her heart jumped into her throat.

Siderov let his words hang in the air before he continued. “I am going to make what’s left of his life very uncomfortable. Unless you give me the information I have requested.”

“You can have that damn necklace. I don’t know what else you want. I don’t know anything.” Olivia’s voice was shrill.

“Then you will have the opportunity to see your friend,” Siderov sneered. “I will deliver him to you in pieces.”

Olivia wildly strained and rocked in the chair, trying to free herself. “Shut up! Shut up, you bastard!” she yelled. “Joe!”

“As time is of the essence, encouragement will also be issued in this room,” Siderov continued. “Whoever tells me what I want to know is the winner. The loser…well, the winner gets to see what would have happened if she lost.” He stood. “Go get the instruments,” Siderov ordered.

The greasy-haired man hurried out of the room.

“And you,” Siderov said to Shark Eyes, “begin on the old man.”

“No!” Olivia shrieked, tears spilling from her eyes.

Shark Eyes strode away through the door.

Siderov directed his comment at Liz. “And you, Mrs. Sullivan, it’s time to lose another of your parts.”

Liz shrank in her seat.

Siderov smiled sickeningly and stood.

“Alexei,” he said. “I hope you’re paying attention. Since you can’t do anything right, maybe you’ll learn something. Let’s have some fun while we wait for the instruments.”

Olivia looked to Alexei and their eyes met. She shook her head slightly, tears streaming down her face. He turned away.

Siderov pulled out a switchblade from inside his jacket and approached Olivia. Liz watched in horror. Siderov glared at Olivia, then reached behind and slit the ropes that bound her to the chair.

“Stand up,” he ordered.

Olivia rose from the chair.

“So much like your foolish aunt,” he sneered.

Olivia’s blood boiled with a blinding rage and she spat into Siderov’s face. Siderov’s cheeks flared red. He punched Olivia in the stomach and she doubled over, a blast of pain exploding through her core.

Siderov snapped his fingers in the air. “Alexei, let’s see what your stupid dog can do.” He gestured to Olivia and took several steps back.

Alexei’s face was grim and he stood stock still. He said, bitterly, “Yes, Father, let’s see.” He leaned down and held his hand in front of the dog’s face, said something to it, and pointed with his arm outstretched…at his father.

The dog shot off its haunches like a missile straight at Siderov, clamped onto the stocky man’s neck, and brought him to the floor. Siderov’s screams caught in his throat.

Olivia stumbled backwards out of the way. Alexei watched blankly for several seconds as the dog worked on his father.

Olivia pulled the mirror shard from her back pocket and bent to saw at the ropes binding Liz. Alexei strode across the room and Olivia stood quickly to threaten him with the shard. Alexei ignored Olivia as he bent and scooped up Liz, chair and all, and rushed toward the door. “Hurry,” he urged.

They crossed the room and Olivia reached for the handle, intending to swing the door open for them. “Alexei, where are they holding Joe?”

A blast thundered through the concrete room as a bullet discharged from Siderov’s weapon and plunged into Alexei’s back. Liz’s screams pierced the air. Alexei jerked, stumbled, and slumped to the floor still holding Liz and the chair, his eyes wide and questioning.

“Alexei!” Olivia cried. She clutched at his arm as he slid over onto his side, the gun’s report still echoing off the walls.

Alexei’s eyes were fixed and empty. Olivia knelt beside him, and looked over her shoulder to locate Siderov. The Doberman was lying still on the floor in a pool of blood.

Siderov, blood streaming from the puncture wounds the dog had inflicted on his neck, lumbered towards Olivia, his eyes glassy as he leveled the gun at her. He pulled the trigger.

There was no time to move or to think. Olivia waited for the bullet.

The gun clicked.

Siderov flung the weapon to the floor and continued his advance.

Olivia, shaking, rose to meet him. “Monster,” she choked. “You shot your own son.”

Siderov took the final two steps to Olivia. His eyes were like black holes. His breath was ragged.

His right hand came up to strike Olivia and as she raised her left arm to block him, Siderov’s other hand plunged his switchblade into Olivia’s stomach.

She gagged. She pressed her left hand against her abdomen, her eyes wide, disbelieving.

Siderov smiled triumphantly, blood and sweat glistening on his skin.

Siderov wheezed, “I …decide…who dies.”

Hate and fury hardened Olivia’s face. “No. You. Don’t,” she said through gritted teeth. She gathered all that was left inside her, straightened, and with a swift, forceful motion of her right hand, Olivia lashed the mirror shard across Siderov’s neck and cut his throat.

He stumbled back. He swayed. He fell to his knees and wobbled for a moment before falling headfirst to the cement floor. Blood pumped from the gash as his life drained away.

Olivia dropped the shard and clutched her bloody stomach with both hands. She slid in slow motion to the floor.

Olivia! Olivia!” Liz screamed, craning her neck to see what had happened. Liz was still strapped into her chair, lying backwards on the floor next to Alexei’s body. Olivia opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Her hearing was muffled. The lights above her seemed to alternately brighten and fade.

One of Siderov’s thugs ran up to the door, looked at the carnage and raced across the room to the opposite side and out into the bunker room.

Olivia’s body tingled. Blood soaked through her shirt and dripped onto the floor. She started to shiver and her eyelids shut.
Joe. Where’s Joe?
Her lips moved but no sound came out.

Running feet could be heard in the hallway and four men rushed into the room. The police officer tended to Liz, the detective checked Siderov and Alexei. Two men knelt beside Olivia. One touched her cheek. She opened her eyes and looked at their faces.
Joe! Brad!
She blinked.

“Joe, Joe,” she murmured.
Siderov lied. Joe wasn’t his prisoner.
She reached for his hand. “You’re…all right.”

He nodded, his cheeks wet with tears streaming from his eyes.

Brad knelt beside her and stroked her hair. “Here comes the cavalry,” he whispered to her.

Olivia swallowed. “Your timing’s…a bit…off,” she told him. Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

“We’ll have to work on that,” Brad said.

Olivia’s eyelids were so heavy, she let them close. She coughed and her breath came in wheezes.

“Olivia Suzanne Miller,” Joe said gruffly, choking on his fears. “You stay here. Don’t be going anywhere. Help’s coming. Don’t…don’t you dare leave me.”

Olivia opened her eyes into slits. “I’m…not going…anywhere,” she mumbled, huffing. “You’re…stuck…with me.”

Olivia moved her head slightly, trying to see Brad’s face. It seemed to float above her, in focus one second and out of focus the next. She blinked and squinted, but the effort it took drained all of her remaining energy. She tried to speak to him but her lips only trembled and just a wisp of air puffed out of her lungs and her words remained unformed. She was fading into herself.
Stay with me, Brad. Don’t let me go.

Olivia’s body began shaking violently. Joe squeezed her hand as her eyes rolled back in her head.

Joe and Brad rode in the ambulance with Olivia to York Hospital, Joe watching Olivia’s face and cursing the traffic all the way. An intravenous line was attached to Olivia’s arm and gauze sheets were pressed against the knife wound in her stomach. The paramedic had injected her with something and placed an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Between the mirror shard, dog bite, Alexei’s blood spatter, and the switchblade, there wasn’t much of Olivia’s body that either wasn’t covered or dabbled in blood. She looked like she had just come out of a war zone.

“We should’ve gotten there sooner,” Joe said, a hitch in his voice. He looked as if he had aged ten years.

“She’s okay, Joe,” Brad reassured weakly. His eyes were wet. “She’s strong. She’ll come out of this fine.”

“Been a hell of a year for her.” Joe shook his head.

“Hell of a year for you too,” Brad said.

“I’m not the one with my blood on the outside of my body.” Joe caught the sob that tried to escape from his chest. “My poor girl.” The words crumbled in his throat as he passed his calloused hand over his face. He leaned forward to see out the ambulance window. “Where’s the damn hospital?”

The lights of York Hospital showed through the window. The ambulance bounced over a bump in the driveway leading into the emergency room entrance. The doors of the ambulance flew open and the stretcher was pulled out. Joe and Brad followed it into the hospital. People in scrubs were waiting and they shot questions at the paramedics as the stretcher was wheeled down the hallway into surgery. The doors slammed in Joe and Brad’s faces and they stood there, shell-shocked.

A short, round woman with kind eyes hurried up to them. “You’re her next of kin?”

“Well, in a manner of speaking,” Joe replied.

“Sir?” the woman questioned.

“This is her friend.” Joe gestured toward Brad. “I’m her neighbor and her….” Joe’s voice trailed off, not knowing how to explain that Olivia was as dear to him as his own child, that he would give his life for her, that if she died he did not know how he would go on. What was the word for that? “I’m her…”

Brad said to the woman, “Her aunt passed away last month. She has a cousin, but no other blood relatives. This man has acted as her father for years.”

The woman held a clipboard out to Joe. “Will you fill this in, then?” She led Brad and Joe to a small waiting room and explained where they could get coffee and that someone would update them on Olivia’s condition periodically. She asked if she could get them anything. They shook their heads.

A long night and morning of waiting ensued. Joe sat like a stone for hours. He would not leave the waiting room. Minutes ticked by. A television hinged to the wall showed a sitcom but the sound had been muted. Brad bought coffee from a machine and the two cups sat untouched on the table. A few other people came and went.

Around five o’clock in the morning, a tall auburn-haired woman dressed in scrubs entered the waiting area. Brad stirred from dozing in the chair and Joe’s breath caught in his chest when he saw the woman sit down across from them. Joe desperately wanted news of Olivia but now that this person was here to speak with them, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say. At least while sitting and waiting there was hope, and he didn’t want that hope replaced with misery.

“I’m Dr. Higgins,” the woman said, leaning forward in her chair. Her voice was kind. Joe met her eyes. “The surgery went very well. Olivia is doing fine.”

Joe burst into tears.

The doctor smiled at him and said, “I’m glad I have good news to share. Miraculously, none of her major organs was injured in the attack. She needed some blood and the wound required repair and stitching up. The tissue will heal and she will be as good as new in no time. She’s in the recovery room. She’ll be ready to go home in about forty-eight hours.”

Joe wiped his cheeks with the backs of his hands. Brad swallowed hard and brushed at his eyes as he passed Joe the box of tissues from the side table.

Joe managed a hoarse, “Thank you.”

“She’ll be drowsy, but you can see her now if you’d like,” the doctor said.

Joe nodded and they stood.

“The nurse will show you where to go. I’ll be in to check on her later.”

Joe and Brad found the floor and the room where Olivia was in recovery, and when they tiptoed around the corner and saw her, she was lying on the hospital bed with her eyes closed. Her brown hair was spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head and her skin was pale and luminous from the combination of the loss of blood and the glow of the room’s bright lights.

She opened her eyes and saw them. The effects of the anesthesia made the edges of dream and reality blur, but she knew they were real. Her two men, standing solid before her. Her heart full of love. The corners of her mouth turned up. “Hey, you two,” she said softly.

“Hey, yourself,” Joe whispered. He touched her hand with his fingertips like he was afraid she would break if he held her. She took hold of his hand. She looked up at Brad and reached for him. He was still carrying the tissue box and he put it on the bed next to Olivia and gripped her hand. A huge lump in his throat kept him silent.

“Do you have a cold?” Olivia asked Brad. Her voice was heavy and her words slurred.

He looked at her quizzically.

“Your eyes. They’re red,” she said. “You brought a tissue box.”

“Oh. No,” Brad said. “Just…allergies,” he lied and blinked back tears.

Joe lifted her hand and kissed it. “You want anything, sweetheart?”

“I’m a bit thirsty,” she said.

He lifted the cup of water from the table and held the straw steady so she could place her lips on it. She sipped and rested her head back on the pillow. Some water dribbled onto to her chin and she lifted the tissue box to take one out to dry her face. Her movements were slow and sluggish. She held the box in front of her eyes and studied it.