face and clothing of the man in that chair that she could barely recognize him. He was gagged, and his eyes were wide with agony.
A knife was sticking out of his shoulder.
Joe was running toward the back of the apartment. “I think whoever did it ran out the back way. I heard the door slam.”
So had Eve, but it hadn’t registered in the shock of seeing the carnage that was Jessie Newell.
She was across the room in seconds and jerking the gag from Newell’s mouth. She was afraid to touch the knife sticking out of his shoulder for fear of damaging organs. “It’s okay, we’ll get you help.”
“Bastard,” Newell whispered. “Stop him. He took—he’ll find her—”
“Quiet. Don’t talk.” She was untying the ropes binding his wrists. “Joe will stop him.”
“I won’t let him kill me. He’s not going to win.” He closed his eyes. “I’m losing blood. No time for EMTs. An intern lives in the apartment downstairs. Jensen. Go get him.”
“I shouldn’t leave you. You’re bleeding…”
“If you don’t get me help, you’ll be staying with a dead man. I’ll be okay. I don’t think he cut any arteries. He wanted to keep me alive.”
Make a decision.
“I’ll be right back. I’ll call 911 on the way down to get this Jensen.” She ran out of the apartment and down the steps to the first level. Which apartment? She was talking to 911 as she went from door to door checking the caption beneath each doorbell.
There it was. K. D. Jensen.
Now pray that he was home.
* * *
JOE HAD COME BACK to Newell’s place by the time Eve and young Dr. Jensen entered the apartment. He was kneeling by Newell and applying pressure to a wound on his upper arm. Joe glanced at Eve. “I lost him. He had a car parked in the back.”
“License plate?”
He nodded. “But Newell should know who he is.” He turned to the doctor. “What can I do?”
“Go down and wait for the EMTs and bring them up here.” He glanced at Eve. “You apply the pressure.” Then he was examining the wound in Newell’s arm. “What the hell have you been up to, Jessie? You into drugs?”
“I’m not stupid,” Newell gasped. “Get—this thing out of my shoulder.”
“In a minute.” He was checking Newell over. “It might be better left in it for a little while. But you’re lucky it’s not buried in your heart.”
“No … luck. I dodged to the side when I saw him coming to finish me off when the doorbell rang. The blade’s mostly in the muscles of my shoulder. I knew he wouldn’t have time for a second try at me.” He was looking at Eve. “You were with that woman snooping around the third floor at Seahaven. Who are you?”
“Eve Duncan.”
“Help me ease him out of the chair to the floor,” the intern ordered Eve. “He appears stable enough, and I need to take a look at his kneecaps. There’s blood on his jeans.”
“There’s blood all over him. So many cuts…” She carefully helped Jensen ease Newell to the floor, and resumed the pressure.
Newell flinched with pain and closed his eyes. “Why … Did Pierce send you to find out if I was the one? Did you send Drogan after me?”
“I don’t know any Drogan. Is that who did this to you?”
“Drogan…” He opened his eyes. “I didn’t know his name, but he told me. Every time he cut me, he told me who was doing it. He was proud of the pain he was causing. Bad…”
“Why did he do this to you?” Eve asked.
“Beth. He wanted to know where she was…”
She stiffened. “But you didn’t tell him?”
“Bastard…”
“Did you tell him?”
His gaze fastened on her face. “You know Beth?”
“No.” She drew a shaky breath. “But I don’t want her hurt. Believe me, I want to keep her safe.”
Newell’s gaze was searching her face. “You’re with the man who ran through here and scared off Drogan. I saw him at the hospital. He’s a detective.”
“Yes, Detective Joe Quinn.”
“He scared the shit out of Piltot and Pierce. I do—believe you.”
“Stop asking him questions,” the doctor said. “You can do that later.”
Newell gave her a ghost of a smile. “If I’m still alive.”
“Just yes or no,” Eve said. “Tell me.”
“No.” His eyes closed again. “But he took— He may find her…”
“What did he take—”
“The EMTs are here.” The intern lifted his head as he sat back on his heels. “I hear them on the steps.”