Beholden by Pat Warren Read Free Book Online Page B

And hurry. Talk to no one else, promise me.” In her anxiety, her voice fell away into a
     sob.
    He patted her arm in a gesture of comfort. “All right, I promise. I’ll be right back. You rest.” Reluctantly, he hurried off.
    Terry sank deeper into the pillows, praying Father Tim would reach Andy and that her friend would come, that he’dbe able to help her. She was too tired, too weak to plan her way out of this alone. She had to get somewhere safe. If word
     got out that she was alive, they would come after her again.
    She felt the tears flow freely, unable to stop them. Sweet, gentle Lynn, a helpless victim. Don Simon shot down in cold blood.
     Her life in danger even in a hospital bed. Where would it all end? When would she ever feel safe again?
    Closing her eyes, she prayed Father Tim would hurry.
    Detective Andy Russell stood in the hospital elevator riding up, his mood impatient. He hadn’t been terribly surprised to
     get a call relating to Terry Ryan. When he’d been unable to reach her the morning after that odd message she’d left, and then
     had learned of the accident, some sixth sense had warned him that something wasn’t right.
    Terry was a careful driver, someone he’d ridden with often and had never seen take chances or use excessive speed. Of course,
     she could have lost control somehow, gotten distracted by something. But then there’d been that mysterious message on his
     machine where she’d sounded frightened and anxious. Andy’s suspicious nature had had him checking out the police report the
     following day. And he’d learned plenty.
    And now he’d learned from a priest that Terry was alive and her cousin had been the one who’d died in that fiery crash. The
     elevator doors slid open and he stepped out, checking the signs with directional arrows before turning left and heading down
     the corridor. He passed the nurses’ station, where two heads were bent over a chart, a third person was talking on the phone,
     and a fourth was writing on a wall blackboard. He moved along, finally spotting Room 410. The door was slightly ajar. Cautiously,
     he pushed it open.
    A bald-headed priest looked up from the chair pulled close to the bed where a heavily bandaged woman lay with her eyes closed.
     “Yes?” he asked hesitantly.
    “I’m Detective Andy Russell. Are you Father O’Malley?”
    Father Tim relaxed, smiling as he rose. “Yes, indeed. Come in, please.”
    Terry opened her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. “Andy. Thank God you’ve come.”
    He moved to her side, frowning at the bandaged head, the gauze dressings on her swollen face, the wrapped hands. “Terry. I
     can’t believe you’re alive.”
    “I’m having trouble believing it myself. Father, would you please close the door?” A nurse had looked in earlier, but she’d
     feigned sleep, needing them to believe she hadn’t awakened until she’d had a chance to talk with Andy. “Sit down,” she said
     to him. “I’ve got quite a story to tell you.” She spoke slowly, her voice low and raspy, sore from tubes that had been inserted
     earlier.
    While Father Tim pulled over a second chair, Andy settled his six-four frame in the one the priest had vacated, a frown on
     his face. “Are you in any pain?”
    “Not much.” She glanced up at the tube carrying liquid into her arm. Fear overrode any pain she was feeling. She touched the
     largest bandage on her right cheek. “I’m worried about my face, but there’s a couple of other things I’m more concerned about
     right now. Father Tim told you what happened, about the mixup and Lynn dying?”
    Andy had met Lynn a couple of times, but hadn’t known her well. “Incredible. Do you remember the crash at all?”
    “All too clearly. We were going down a curving ramp onto I-17 when suddenly, the brakes wouldn’t hold. We kept gaining speed
     and then the steering wheel wouldn’t straighten. Lynn yelled that we were going to crash. We bounced against the sidewall