Safe At Hawk's Landing. Rita Herron

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       Chapter Four

      Cold fear pressed against Charlotte’s chest. Lucas said that the men who’d taken her students had struck before and had never left a witness behind.

      Had one of them come here to finish the job he’d begun?

      She was stone-still and held her breath, hoping whoever was in the room would think she was unconscious and leave. If not for the scent of cigarette smoke and the fact that he hadn’t said anything, she might think it was a doctor.

      But doctors identified themselves.

      Footsteps padded softly. Every cell in her body tensed with anticipation. Her left arm was hooked to an IV. All he had to do was inject her with a drug that would seep into her system and she’d drift into oblivion. No one would ever be the wiser.

      She did not want to die.

      Another footstep. The tray table made a noise as he pushed it away from her.

      His breath punctuated the silence. The bed jarred as he bumped it.

      She finally found the call button and pressed it, praying the nurse or a staff member would come quickly.

      Her lungs ached for air. She slowly released her breath, straining not to make a sound or rustle the covers.

      “Ms. Reacher,” a deep voice murmured. “Are you awake?”

      She lay perfectly still, careful not to flinch or even bat an eye.

      “I hate to disturb you, but my name is Gerald Ingram, I’m with the police. I need to ask you some questions about what happened at your art studio.”

      He was a cop?

      She slowly released a breath. But questions nagged at her. If he was investigating, why hadn’t he been with Harrison or Lucas?

      In spite of her efforts at control, her breath wheezed out, shaky and rattling in the tense silence.

      Being in the dark heightened her other senses. If she could see his face, she might be able to tell if he was lying or out to hurt her.

      “Ms. Reacher, I know you were injured and underwent surgery, but the men who shot you kidnapped four of your students. Can you describe them?”

      Tears burned the backs of her eyelids, desperate to escape. In her mind, she pictured Adrian and Agnes, and Mae Lynn and sweet Evie. What was happening to them?

      If the men planned to sell them as sex slaves, hopefully they wouldn’t hurt them, at least not physically. That would mess up their product.

      But the girls must be terrified.

      Another nudge from the man’s hand. “Ma’am, I need a statement about what happened. Did any of the men call each other by name?”

      She searched her memory. Had one of them spoken a name?

      “You’re the only one who can help,” the man said again. “Please talk to me. You do want to help find those girls before something bad happens to them, don’t you?”

      Anger shot through her, and she opened her eyes. Darkness. Not even a sliver of light.

      “So you are awake?” he said with a hint of sarcasm to his tone. “Now, what—”

      “Excuse me.” A woman’s voice echoed from across the room, and Charlotte realized the door had opened. The nurse. Finally.

      “Sir, you aren’t supposed to be in here,” Haley said.

      “If Ms. Reacher can identify the men who kidnapped her students, she needs to speak up.”

      Rustling of clothes and footsteps sounded as Haley approached. “Ms. Reacher has cooperated with the sheriff and FBI already. She’s just undergone surgery and needs her rest.”

      The man’s hand brushed hers. “Come on, Charlotte,” he said impatiently, “give me something.”

      She blinked rapidly, her head throbbing with confusion, and the memory of the gunshots and girls’ cries.

      A machine beeped. Her heart monitor? Blood pressure?

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