Eye of the Abductor (23 page)

“If I’m not home when you get back, I’ll be at Mom’s.”

Allison waved and drove off. As predicted, the employees stayed
busy all day. She’d sold more jewelry that day than her quota for the entire
week. Her feet ached from heel to toe. All she wanted was to go home, take a
hot bath, and go straight to bed.

Outside the store, Allison slipped out of her heels. She couldn’t
wear them a second longer. The cold pavement soothed her aching feet. Instant
relief.

When she placed her key in the car door, one of her shoes
dropped. She reached beneath the car and grabbed it, then stood. A gloved hand
clamped over her mouth. She couldn't scream. The cold sharp edge of a knife
rested on her throat. Finally, he removed his hand.

"If you make one sound, I'll slit your throat."

Her heartbeat skyrocketed.

“Give me the account number and the name of the bank.”

“What account?”

He applied pressure against the blade. “Don’t play dumb.”

“If I knew where the five million was, I’d have already turned it
over to the authorities.”

A quick, stinging pain made her breath hitch. She’d been cut. How
badly? Blood trickled down her neck.

“Tell me now, or I’ll finish it.”

Allison reached back, grabbed a handful of his skin, and twisted
it.

"Shit, you bitch." His grip on her loosened.

Allison screamed and turned to run.

"No, you don't." He jerked her back by her hair and
spun her around. His fist smacked her face. "This is for hurting me."
Three hard blows to her ribcage followed. Pain vibrated through her chest in
excruciating waves.

“Call 9-1-1!” someone shouted.

As her attacker fled the scene, Allison doubled over and dropped
to the ground. She moved her hand over her throat, touching the sticky
dampness. She blocked out the voices, only hearing the heavy, fast thud of her
own heart.

Chapter Thirteen

Allison stared at the blood on her hand, feeling faint. But the
small wound had already started coagulating.

Police sirens blared as a squad car pulled up into the mall
parking lot. Its blue lights sliced through the darkness.

A young policeman pushed the crowd of employees back. As he knelt
down, the woman who'd helped Allison moved aside. He placed a hand on her
shoulder. “Ma’am, an ambulance is on the way?”

Allison nodded. “Please contact Detective Brance Stone with the
Bartlett Police Department.”

"Ma'am did you know your assailant?"

"No, he was hooded and wore a mask."

She’d be a hideous sight for her wedding day. She inhaled a deep
breath, and a sharp pain gripped her around the midriff.

“Help me stand." She managed to get on her knees. "The
pavement is cold."

“Ma'am, wait for the paramedics.”

"I'm fine."

With the officer’s assistance, she stood but grimaced as another
piercing pain tore through her muscles. She couldn’t catch her breath. “I need
to sit. I can't breathe.”

He escorted her to the rear of his police car and opened the back
door. She sat sideways with her feet touching the ground. “Have you called
Detective Stone?”

“He’s on his way," replied a female officer on the scene,
assisting. “Ma’am, were you violated?”

“No.”

The first policeman opened a pad. “What’s your name?”

“Allison Davenport.” She gave the other information he asked for
but didn't share what she the attack had really been about.

Another siren blared through the cold night, becoming louder as
the vehicle came closer. She peered between the police and the onlookers,
thinking the ambulance had arrived. She recognized the white Crown Victoria.

Brance climbed out and ran toward her. “Allison, oh, God! Are you
all right?” He turned to the officer. “What happened?”

The officer outlined what she’d told him.

Brance stared at her bloody hand. “Where’d he cut you?”

“Cut her?” the officer asked, concern showing on his face.

“My neck. But it’s not deep."

Brance traced the swollen area on her face. “The ambulance just
arrived. Sit tight, princess.”

The ambulance and fire truck circled around the lot and pulled up
to the scene. Two paramedics rushed over.

They lowered her to the gurney, then began examining the extent
of her injury. “She has a flail chest. We'll need to wrap and transport,"
the paramedics stated. "Notify the hospital we're coming.”

"I'm on it."

"My insurance prefers I go to Methodist," she managed
to say.

They loaded her on the ambulance. She closed her eyes and
grimaced as the pain intensified.

After the oxygen mask and IV were in place, one of the men looked
at her. "We're going to relieve some of the pressure, then wrap you."

"Brance," she mumbled.

"He's going to follow us."

Once they'd wrapped her ribs and applied pressure with a sand
bag, the pain decreased slightly.

***

Brance headed for his car, and once inside, he turned on his
siren. He stayed behind the emergency vehicle, traveling to the hospital.

The paramedics rolled her into the ER, and Brance followed. He
managed to catch up with them before she was rushed behind double doors. Her
face appeared pale. “Allison, I’ll wait here for you.”

“You’ll need to give us her information, sir,” the lady behind
the desk requested.

Worried and frustrated, Brance sighed and returned to the desk.
He figured her condition must be serious. After filling out the necessary
paperwork, he walked outside to use his phone.

“Mom, it’s me. Someone attacked Allison in the mall parking lot
after her shift tonight.”

“Oh, Brance. Is she going to be all right?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m at Methodist North now.”

“Was she robbed?”

“No. The guy targeted her.”

“I’ll let Rev. Matthews know the wedding is off.”

“Postponed. Not off. I’ll call you back.”

“Please do.”

A nurse informed Brance that Allison had been taken into surgery.
He sat alone in the waiting area. Other people waited also, all like him, tired
and eager to learn something.

A television anchored to the wall blasted a news program. The
drink machine cut on and off. He wished there was someone he could call, but he
didn’t have a friend in the world.

The automatic glass door opened, and his mother and Colby entered
the waiting area. He stood and met them in the center of the room. He gave his
younger brother a hug, then embraced his mother. He couldn’t hold back the
anguish and concern he felt. Tears caught in his throat. “She’s in surgery.”

“Let’s talk,” his mother said. She walked to a sofa and sat.
Colby joined her. Brance sat sandwiched between his mom and brother. She patted
his thigh like he was a little boy. “This might be a good time to rethink
things.”

“What things?”

“Your marriage to Allison.”

“Paige Wilson,” Colby reminded.

“Brance, I like Allison, but your father and Dillon are really
upset with you. Maybe if you didn’t marry her
…
”

“I’m marrying Allison. It might not happen in time to make Gramie
happy, but I will marry her, if she’ll have me.”

“Your father seems to think this will escalate into something
serious and destroy your career.”

It already has.
His coworkers treated him like a ghost.
They only spoke when they had no other choice.

But he wouldn’t admit it to Colby or his mom.

“Man, open your eyes. You’re not thinking about the consequences.
Dad can arrange for you to see the video of Paige Wilson making the delivery.
We watched it. She was in on it. I’m telling you she’s as guilty as her husband.”

"I don't have to see the video. She admits to making the
delivery, but she didn't know what was in the container. I believe her. Allison
is innocent."

All he could think of was Allison. He wouldn’t betray her like
everyone else had, even if it dumped a shitload of trouble on him.

Brance clenched his jaw. "You both should go home. Because
no matter what you say, I'm marrying Allison."

A couple of hours after his mother and brother left, Brance
stopped by the information desk. “Is Allison Davenport out of surgery?”

“She's in recovery,” replied the attendant. “Someone will be out
shortly to speak with you.”

Finally, a doctor showed up. “She’s in stable condition. Her
vitals are good. We were able to repair the damage to her lung punctured by the
fractured ribs. After she's discharged on Monday, she'll need someone to look
after her.”

“I will. Can I see her?”

“Certainly. I'll have someone take you back.”

Finally, a nurse escorted him to the recovery room.

Allison had an IV taped over her hand, a heart monitor flashed
bright green lines across it and an oxygen tube ran from her nose. “Brance?”

“Hey, darling. I’m here.”

“I’m so tired. I can’t keep my eyes open.”

“Don’t try, angel. I’ll be here to watch over you.” He kissed her
forehead, finding it clammy and damp.

She smiled before drifting back to sleep.

God, he loved this woman. Would she ever love him?

A short while later, they transported her to a hospital room on
the third floor.

After spending the rest of the night on a small sofa, he left her
room long enough to pick up a few hygiene products at the Wal-Mart across from
the hospital. When he returned, two visitors sat on the sofa.

“Gramie. Sally.”

“June called me. I didn’t realize how serious Allison was until I
saw her.”

"Any man who attacks a woman is a lousy coward
bastard," Sally remarked.

“If you’ve come to talk me out of marrying her, forget it.”

“I wouldn't think of it. You love her too much. I knew it that
day you brought her to meet me.”

“Yeah, I do.” He paused. “You know I’m not marrying her to get in
your will.”

“I realized that too. But Allison doesn’t know you love her, does
she?”

“No, Ma’am. For now, I think it’s best she doesn’t.”

"At least you don't have to worry about Dillon stealing this
one," Sally said.

Gramie's cane slid from where she'd propped it against the wall
and clattered on the floor, waking Allison.

“Brance,” Allison whispered.

He hurried to her side. “Hey, love. How are you feeling?”

"Groggy." Tears lined her eyes. "Our wedding is
ruined."

“It's only postponed until you’re better.” Brance squeezed her
hand. "Don't cry."

“But you won’t make it into Gramie’s will.”

“Let the old bat keep her money,” he shifted his gaze to his
grandmother and winked. “Who needs it?”

“Brance, don't talk about her like that. I like her.”

He grinned. “She’s here.”

“Who?”

“Gramie.”

Sally helped his grandmother up from the chair and assisted her
to Allison’s bedside. “I like you too, kiddo. Brance lucked up finding you. You’re
a diamond in the rough.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so. Well, perhaps June.”

He gave Gramie and Sally a warning look. He didn't want Allison
to know his mother had crossed over to the dark side.

"She's dozing back off," Gramie said.

"Yeah, the pain meds keep her floating in and out of
sleep." He smiled. "She's out again. Now I'll tell you about Mom and Colby's
visit last night."

He checked once more to make sure Allison was asleep before
discussing their attempt to talk him out of marrying Allison.

A middle-aged man wearing a cheap suit and tie entered the room,
interrupting their conversation and waking Allison again. He handed her his
card. “Detective Price, Memphis Police Department.” He glanced at Brance. “Are
you her husband?”

“Fiancé.”

“I need to speak with Ms. Davenport.”

“We’ll go,” Gramie stated. “Sally, give me my cane.”

“Yes, Ms. Margaret.”

Gramie placed her wrinkled hand over Allison’s. “You still plan
on marrying my grandson?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. You get well so we can have that wedding.”

“I plan to. Thank you for coming.”

“I’ll walk Gramie out and come right back,” Brance said to
Allison. He helped his grandmother through the door while Sally held it open.
“I’ll see you to the elevator.”

Once there, he hugged Sally and gave Gramie a kiss on her cheek
just above a big circle of rouge. She smelled like Juicy Fruit gum and Chanel
Number Five.

“I'll let you know our new wedding date as soon as we decide.”

“You do that. Allison needs you. And you need her.”

“I know.”

When Brance returned to the room, the detective studied the case
report that had been written the previous night. He continued to chew his gum
as he looked up at her. “Since the motive wasn’t rape or theft, why do you
think he attacked you?”

Allison spoke about the incident. When the detective became aware
that she was Paige Wilson, his face tightened in disgust as though she just
told him she had an inflamed case of leprosy.

“I see. Well, that wraps it up.” The detective put the report
away and closed his leather folder.

“Wraps what up?” Brance asked, irritated.

“This investigation. No clues. No leads. Why waste the tax
payers’ money?”

“She could’ve been killed." His pulse throbbed at the
temples.

“Excuse me.” He slipped past Brance and left.

Bastard.

Brance kissed her forehead. “You still refuse to believe Jill
could be involved?”

“I gave it some thought this morning. I’m not sure.”

“How would a stranger know what time you get off work and where
you parked?”

***

Allison didn't want to believe Jill could be a part of it, but
the odds against it were growing slimmer. “How can we prove it? Because of who
I am, the police aren’t willing to help me.”

"She'll screw up eventually." He kissed her forehead
again. "Rest." Brance returned to the sofa and flipped the television
channel to a football game.