Blood Secrets - By Jeannie Holmes Page 0,74
“No one else is here,” she said with her back to Janet and the stranger. Turning to face him, she pointed to the stool most distant from Janet and grabbed a clean dishcloth. “Sit there.”
Wincing in pain, he obediently climbed onto the stool.
Emily patted Janet’s arm as she passed. “Show me,” she ordered the stranger. Standing next to him, she could not only smell the blood but see where it had soaked through the side of both his shirt and jacket. She also caught the faint scent of alcohol on his breath.
He clumsily removed his jacket and lifted his shirt. Blood seeped from an angry gash along his ribs. It was short but deep, and its placement made for a painful wound.
She pressed the small towel against the gash and he hissed in response. “I’ve seen worse but you’re going to need stitches.”
“No doctors,” he growled.
“I thought you’d say that. I can do it but I’ll need to get some supplies from the bathroom.”
He leveled the revolver on the counter, aiming at Janet, and fixed his golden gaze on Emily. “If you’re not back in two minutes, I start shooting.”
She dropped the towel on the counter, and Janet whimpered as Emily stepped around the stranger, leaving the frightened girl in his direct line of fire.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing Emily’s wrist as she passed. “Empty your pockets.”
Emily slowly turned out her pockets, placing a few coins and an old crumpled shopping list on the counter. “Satisfied?”
“No. You.” He motioned for Janet to join Emily. “Pat her down.” His face contoured into a wicked grin. “I’m sure you remember how it’s done.”
Janet’s hands shook as she quickly ran them over Emily’s waist, legs, and torso. “She’s clean,” the girl muttered.
“Check her bra.”
Emily kept very still as Janet tentatively ran her hands over her chest.
Janet stepped back. “Nothing.”
The stranger smacked the back of Janet’s head, making her cry in pain. “Get your hand in there and feel between her tits, you stupid cow.”
Anger rippled through Emily but she forced herself to remain still. If she attacked him, he would undoubtedly kill them both. She could only hope Janet didn’t betray her and left behind the phone she hid in her cleavage.
“I’m sorry,” Janet whispered.
“It’s okay, dear. Just do what you need to do, and we’ll get out of this.”
Emily kept her focus on Janet as the girl reached inside her blouse. She felt Janet’s hesitation at finding the cell phone and saw the question in her eyes before extracting her empty hand.
“She’s clean,” Janet said, her voice a little more steady.
“Good.” He grabbed Janet’s arm, pulled her roughly against him, digging the revolver’s barrel into her side, and glared at Emily. “Your two minutes start now.”
Emily purposefully kept her pace to a brisk walk, determined not to let him see either her anger or her anxiety. Once in the hallway bathroom, she pulled her cell phone from her bra and grabbed bottles of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide from beneath the sink. She used a hand towel to muffle the sound of her phone’s keys as she quickly typed in a text message:
NEED HELP. GUN.
“One minute,” the stranger called from the kitchen.
Emily hit the send button, dialed a preprogrammed number, and then switched the phone to silent mode. She stuffed it back into her bra and rummaged through the medicine cabinet, grabbing dental floss, tweezers, bandages, and a roll of tape. She gathered the supplies and hurried back to the kitchen as the stranger began a countdown from twenty.
“Took you long enough,” he grumbled when she dropped the supplies on the counter. He pushed Janet onto the stool beside him. “You stay there, where I can see you. I’ll need a snack after this, anyway.”
She ignored him and focused on Janet. “I need a needle. Do you have a sewing kit?”
Janet nodded. “Top drawer beneath the microwave.”
Under the stranger’s watchful gaze, Emily opened the drawer and riffled through the various take-out menus, expired coupons for Vlad’s Tears, paper clips, used twist-ties, and spare batteries until she located the small travel-sized sewing kit. She added three bowls, a roll of paper towels, and another clean dish towel to her pile of supplies.
Silence reigned between them as she filled one bowl with water and poured equal amounts of alcohol and hydrogen peroxide into the other two. She measured out several lengths of floss and dropped them into the alcohol along with the two small needles from the sewing kit. Finally she scrubbed her hands with