Retribution by Jilliane Hoffman Read Free Book Online Page B

shock.’
    ‘Jesus Christ. There’s blood everywhere. Where is it all coming from?’ Another voice.
    ‘You mean, where is it not coming from? She’s a mess. I think most of the bleeding is vaginal, though. She may be hemorrhaging. Man, this psycho really did a number on her.’
    ‘Cut those cords, Mel.’
    A fourth voice. A deep, heavy New York accent. ‘Easy, guys, that rope is evidence – don’t hack at it. Touch it with gloves. Crime Scene needs to bag and tag.’ The room, it seemed, was full of people now.
    ‘Christ, her wrists are completely torn up.’ The voice sounded disgusted, panicked.
    Police radios squawked with static and voices. Piercing sirens, more than one, in the distance and coming closer. The click of a camera, the sound of a flashbulb.
    Angry voices now. ‘Be careful, careful, with her! Hey, Mel, if you can’t handle this shit, just step back and get out. Now’s not the time to freak.’
    Silence filled the room for a few seconds, then voice number one. ‘Start an IV of fluids, and give her some morphine. She’s about five five. Looks about one-ten, one-fifteen. Call Trauma at Jamaica Hospital and tell ‘emwe’ve got a twenty-four-year-old white female, multiple stab wounds, possible internal bleeding, probable sexual assault, in shock.’
    ‘Okay, okay, lift her gentle now. Gentle! On my count. One, two, three.’
    Pain, intense and biting, rolling in waves over her body.
    ‘Jesus Christ. Poor girl. Does anyone know her name?’
    ‘Her friend outside says that it’s Chloe. Chloe Larson. She’s a law student at St John’s.’
    The voices faded away and the blackness folded in on her.

12
    Chloe slowly opened her eyes and was immediately blinded by the bright light. For a moment she thought that perhaps she had died and was in heaven, just moments from meeting her maker.
    ‘Follow the light, please.’ The penlight tracked across her face. She smelled the overpowering smell of disinfectant and bleach and knew that she was in a hospital.
    ‘Chloe? Chloe?’ The young doctor in a white lab coat flashed his penlight again in her eyes. ‘I’m glad to see you’re waking up. How are you feeling?’ Chloe read his tag: Lawrence broder, M.D.
    It seemed like a really stupid question to Chloe. She tried to answer, but her tongue was thick and dry. She could manage only a whisper. ‘Not good.’
    Everything hurt. She looked at her arms, both of which were wrapped in heavy white gauze bandages, and saw tubes connected everywhere. Her abdomen throbbed in the most excruciating pain, which was growing more intense.
    Michael sat in a chair in the corner of the room. His body hunched forward, hands folded under his chin, elbows on his lap. He looked worried. Outside the window in the room the sky was tinged pink and orange and light was fading. It looked like sunset.
    Another man in green scrubs stood silently by the door. Chloe assumed he was a doctor, too.
    ‘You’re in the hospital, Chloe. You have experiencedquite a trauma.’ Dr Broder paused and looked around the room. The three men exchanged awkward glances. ‘Do you know why you’re here, Chloe? Do you remember what happened to you?’
    Chloe’s eyes welled up, and tears rolled out. She nodded slowly. The Clown’s face flashed into her mind.
    ‘You were assaulted last night. Sexually assaulted. Your friend found you this morning and the paramedics brought you here, to Jamaica Hospital in Queens.’ He hesitated and shifted his feet, obviously uncomfortable. He spoke fast. ‘You suffered some severe injuries. Your uterus was badly torn and you were hemorrhaging. You had lost a great deal of blood. Unfortunately Dr Reubens, here, was forced to do an emergency hysterectomy to stop the bleeding.’ He motioned to the green scrub doctor, who held his position by the door, his head down, his eyes purposefully avoiding Chloe’s. ‘That was the greatest injury, though, and that’s all the really bad news. You do have some cuts and