Three Times a Lady - By Jon Osborne Page 0,75

wanting to kill the person who was doing this to you.

Dana took in a deep breath that filled her lungs to capacity and opened her eyes. She needed to remain in the moment here; she knew that, no matter how horrific that moment might be. Marshalling every last ounce of strength left in her body, she took in another deep breath, ready to scream with all her might to alert someone to the fact that she were being raped just fifty feet away from the entrance to the coroner’s office. Suddenly, though, a different scream ripped through the night. A high-pitched yelp of terror that sounded eerily similar to that of a mortally wounded animal.

The man on top of Dana withdrew quickly from between her legs and whirled around to trace the source of the scream. Dana did the same. Her pale blue eyes burned in their sockets, glistening with hot tears of rage and shame.

Five feet away, the rapist’s partner writhed on the snow-covered pavement, clutching at his neck. Rivers of bright red blood pulsed from between his trembling fingers before soaking into the pristine white snow covering the ground. A horrible gurgling noise came from deep within his slashed-open throat.

Dana widened her eyes in shock and amazement. A woman stood over the prone man, holding a long knife in her right hand. Its sharp silver edge still dripped and glinted with her target’s fresh blood.

The primary rapist – the one who’d been violating Dana only moments earlier – fumbled with the belt on his overalls. ‘What the…’ he began.

The words died in his throat as the woman sprang forward in a quick flash of movement and shoved the knife deep into his Adam’s apple, twisting hard before pulling it out again. The man’s esophagus collapsed on itself. Falling to the ground next to his partner, he began to choke to death on his own blood.

Dana stared up in complete confusion at the woman holding the knife in her hand. Utter disbelief filled her mind. She found it impossible to breathe, to speak…

To thank the woman.

Dana blinked hard, still fighting back the insistent tears and trying desperately to process the surreal scene before her. Her saviour had dressed in formal attire for the occasion, her long blonde hair streaked with subtle shades of red. Dana’s hands trembled uncontrollably as she yanked up her pants and underwear around her waist. Wiping away the tears from her eyes, she coughed painfully. ‘Thank you,’ Dana sobbed. ‘Thank you so much.’

The woman smiled at Dana and waved a delicate hand in front of her face. ‘Hell, don’t go thanking me just yet, honey. We girls need to stick together, though, don’t we? Anyway, you would have done the same for me, right?’

Dana narrowed her eyes, not quite understanding the woman’s meaning. It seemed an odd thing to say considering the gravity of the moment. Flippant. Out of place. ‘Of course I would have. I’m an FBI agent.’

The woman narrowed her own beautiful green eyes. They shimmered in her face like glistening emeralds set into a face carved out of pure porcelain. ‘Yeah, I know that, Dana. That’s why I’m here.’

Dana pulled back her head. An uneasy feeling boiled away deep in the pit of her stomach. Still, her traumatised brain didn’t seem capable of processing the woman’s odd words.

Her pulse crashed in her wrists. ‘How in the hell do you know my name?’ she snapped.

The woman smiled again and adjusted one of her small gold hoop earrings; as though they found themselves engaged in a bit of mindless chitchat at the moment rather than acknowledging the horrific rape to which Dana had just been subjected. ‘Oh, I know a lot of things about you, Agent Whitestone,’ the woman said. ‘Let’s see here: I know that your parents were murdered when you were four years old – a murder you yourself had the pleasure of witnessing. I know that you live in Lakewood with your pet cat and that you enjoy watching the same television programme on Showtime every Wednesday night. Weeds, isn’t it? The one starring Mary-Louise Parker? Anyway, I also know that you probably think you’re better than me. It’s not true, of course, but in short I know plenty of things about you.’

The woman paused and lifted up one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows ton her smooth forehead. ‘Can’t say I like a single goddamn one of them, though.’

Dana reached inside her leather jacket for her Glock and curled her fingers

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