A.W. Hartoin - Mercy Watts 04 - Drop Dead Red (32 page)

“Well, Faith was freaking out.”
 

“Understandable from what you said about the blood.”
 

“I mean, really freaking out. I asked her if she was pregnant and she acted like I was nuts, but I know she did it with Chris. She told me her spleen must’ve ruptured. Spleens don’t do that.” Anne Marie paused. “Do they?”
 

“No. That’s not a spleen,” I said. “I’m still waiting for why you didn’t tell Wellow.”
 

“Faith’s dad kind of threatened me,” she said, her voice trembling.
 

Now we’re getting down to it.
 

“Threatened you how?”
 

“That morning, when he was taking her away, I said she had to go to the hospital. That I thought she was pregnant. There was a lot of blood. I mean, a lot. It soaked through the mattress and got on the floor.”

“You were right,” I said. “She should’ve gone straight to the ER. What did her dad say?”

“He said she wasn’t pregnant and I’d regret it, if I told anyone. He’s an alumnus. He said he’d get my scholarship pulled. I have to have my scholarship. My parents can’t pay for this school.”
 

“So, you didn’t tell anyone?”
 

“I couldn’t chance it. Besides, it was Faith’s business, not anybody else's. You won’t tell her dad, will you? He’s crazy.”
 

“Oh, he’s crazy alright.”
 

I left Anne Marie curled up on her bad with the assurance that her scholarship was safe. I wouldn’t tell Mr. Farrell a damn thing. I would tell the cops, but I left that part out. No use in freaking her out. I couldn’t conceal a vital fact. Christopher didn’t rape Faith. He probably never knew she was pregnant. Heck, she didn’t even know it or didn’t want to know it. All of this was fascinating, but I wasn’t sure where it got me. So Faith’s dad was crazy. That didn’t necessarily make him my poisoner though. There was still Mrs. Schwartz’s call to Donatella’s school. Why would she call? She had to know about the party in St. Louis. Rob had taken off work for it. The only thing I could think, was that she was checking to make sure the whole family would be there. A chilling thought.
 

I needed a latte. Double espresso. I could’ve used Aaron, too. Something about that little weirdo and his copious amounts of food helped me to think and I needed to think. Instead of thinking, my brain just felt full up with knowledge that I didn’t know what to do with. Aaron could’ve helped me sort it all out. With lots of chocolate, of course.
 

I walked down the stairs with my full brain in my chocolate-less state. I wasn’t paying attention to anything, save that. If I had been aware of my surroundings, I would’ve seen him before he grabbed me, avoiding the whole mess. But I wasn’t, and he did.
 

The hand shot out from around the stairs the second my foot hit the bottom landing. He rammed me into the concrete block wall. I got my bell rung pretty good and my eyes wouldn’t focus for a second.
 

“Where is she? Tell me where she is.”
 

A face got up in mine, but everything was fuzzy. He shook me hard, cracking my head again. Somehow Dad’s never-ending training kicked in without me thinking about it. I grabbed him by the ears and drove my knee up into his crotch. Twice. Because I could. He screamed and dropped to the floor, but not easily. My fingernails were dug in deep and he took me down with him. I landed painfully on my hip and let go, scrambling back and lunging for the metal handrail to support me. It was Grayson Harris writhing on the floor. I resisted the urge to kick him, because you’re not supposed to do that. Instead, I pepper sprayed him. From the screaming, I suspect he’d have preferred a kick.
 

I shoved the canister in his face and screamed, “Did you try to kill Christopher Berry?”
 

More screaming. I would’ve threatened to spray him again, but he’d clamped his hands over his streaming eyes.
 

“Did you try to kill Chris?”
 

Screaming.
 

Idiot! I shouldn’t have sprayed him. Now he’s useless.
 

People ran into the stairwell and leaned over to get a look at the commotion.
 

“Holy shit. What happened to him?” yelled one guy.
 

“That’s Grayson Harris,” said a girl.
 

Two guys in hockey jerseys came down the stairs. “Grayson? That shithead.” They looked at me. “Did he do something to you?”
 

“It’s fine. Call the campus—” I didn’t get the rest out, because they leapt over the railing and went at Grayson with fists flying. I guess they didn’t get the memo on not kicking/pummeling people when they’re down. “No! Stop it!” I grabbed one by the collar and kicked the other one. Grayson’s screaming went up a notch. Somehow, I was protecting the guy that attacked me and doing a terrible job at it.
 

Quite a crowd was forming, but nobody moved to help. I yelled at a girl. “Call the cops!”
 

“What for?” she asked.
 

“They’re gonna kill him, moron!”
 

“Oh. Ya think?”
 

“Yes, I think. Call the damn cops!”
 

The jersey ripped and I stood there holding a collar. Both guys were still punching Grayson. I don’t know what he could possibly have done to deserve that. I couldn’t pull them off, so I decided to go the other way. Push them over. I shoved ripped-jersey guy. He landed on his face and his nose exploded. Served him right. Before the other one straightened up, I kicked him in the butt, thankful the toe of my shoe was so pointy. He yelped, leapt forward, and rammed himself into the wall. He went silent, but his partner started yelling, “My nose! My nose!”
 

“Shut up or you’re going to lose a few teeth,” I said, kneeling beside Grayson. He was moaning in the way that told me he wasn’t fully conscious. I couldn’t check his eyes because of my pepper spray and he was bleeding from the nose, mouth, and ears. I managed to check his torso. Broken ribs. Several. Extensive bruising and abdominal pain that might indicate internal bleeding. First, the eyes. Grayson was having a strong reaction. I hadn’t been all that close to him when I let loose.
 

“I need some saline! Who has contacts?” I yelled.
 

One of the girls yelled, “I do.” She ran off and came back with a little bottle of saline solution.
 

“Grayson, I’m going to decontaminate your eyes. This is saline. It won’t hurt.”
 

I crawled to the top of his head and clamped it between my knees. He moaned, but there was little resistance. I pried one eye open a tiny bit and gently spray the saline into the opening. I did the same with the other eye. After two repeats his eye relaxed and the lids fluttered.
 

“Does anyone have any milk?” I asked.
 

Another girl ran for it and gave me a carton of skim. Not ideal, but what are you gonna do? I poured the milk over Grayson’s red, swollen face in hopes that it would staunch the reaction.
 

“I’m going to pour some milk in your mouth,” I said. “Just swallow.”
 

He did swallow, but I think it was more reflex than anything I said. Grayson looked like he’d been interrogated by the CIA. At least his eyes were somewhat open. That was the best I could do. Once the cops got there, I’d be trapped. The next five hours would be spent making a complaint and getting checked out at the hospital for nothing. Grayson was in no shape to talk. Wellow would just love that. He’d keep me wrapped up for hours. Wrapped up and then forced to eat crab. Nope. Not going to happen.
 

“Did anybody call the cops?” I asked the stunned crowd.
 

Nobody moved.
 

“Oh, for crying out loud. How did you people get into college? Is there affirmative action for the intellectually challenged?” I went for my purse, currently being stepped on by three guys in bare feet. Yuck. I slapped their legs until they got off. But Anne Marie came through the crowd. “I got it, Mercy.” She held her phone up. “They’re on their way.”
 

“Cops and EMTs?” I asked.
 

“That’s what 911 said.”
 

“Good. I’m outta here.” I made for the door, but she ran after me.
 

“Where are you going? You have to tell them what happened,” she said.
 

“You tell them. Grayson grabbed me, cracked me on the wall a couple times, I kneed him and pepper sprayed him. Those two happy heroes jumped in and pummeled him for no good reason. That’s it.”
 

“But you’re bleeding.”
 

“Where?”
 

She pointed to my hands and I’ll be damned, I was bloody. Only it wasn’t my blood. I got Grayson’s ears pretty good.
 

“I’m fine. If Wellow catches me here, he’ll keep me for hours.”
 

“What for?”
 

“He thinks I have no business being down here looking into the listeriosis. The last thing he wants is for me to figure this out before him.”
 

Anne Marie’s pretty face got all wicked. I wouldn’t have thought it possible. Her eyes glittered and she said, “Because you’re a girl.”
 

“I don’t know about that. My dad’s a famous detective. That doesn’t help.”
 

“It’s because you’re a girl. He didn’t believe Faith. He had a thing about her.”
 

“You didn’t believe her either,” I said.
 

“I had a good reason. He’s the police. Isn’t he supposed to get the facts before he decides?”
 

“Ideally, yes.”
 

“Well, he didn’t. Wellow decided she was full of it before I told him what I knew. I could tell.”

Interesting. This could help me win. No crab. No crab.

The sound of sirens filled the stairwell. Not much time.
 

“Well, then do me a favor,” I said. “When Wellow shows up, don’t tell him where I went.”
 

She glared out the door. “Don’t worry. I’m not telling him anything.”
 

I ran out and darted around the building, away from the multiple sirens, and ran smack dab into Derek in the middle of the quad. He wore a soaked windbreaker with the hood up and I screamed when he grabbed me.
 

“Mercy! What happened?” he said, taking my umbrella and opening it. I hadn’t noticed the rain until he did that and now my mascara was down to my chin. Nice.

“Grayson and I had an issue. It’s fine. Come on.” I dragged him off between two of the dorms. “Where’s a bathroom? I need a bathroom.”
 

“Are you sick?”
 

I held up my hands. “I’m bloody.”
 

Derek recoiled. “What the…”
 

“Not mine. I need to wash and get out of here.”
 

We struggled through the rising tide of students and faculty heading for the dorm and the sirens. I put my hands in my pockets, so no one would notice them, and Derek brought me to the nearest bathroom in the bookstore. I washed up and splashed some water on my face, fixing the mascara issue. It didn’t help the screaming headache Grayson gave me, but I was thinking a more clearly. I texted Dad about Grayson and then called a cab to meet me at the corner of Loyola and Calhoun then went out into the shop. Derek was looking out the window in the direction of the sirens. We’d go the other way.
 

“Anything interesting?” I asked.
 

“I count five sirens. That’s interesting,” he said.
 

“Why?”
 

“How many cops do you need for one guy?”
 

“Well…it was really three guys.” I led him outside and explained what happened in detail as we walked to the corner. The cab pulled up and we got in quickly.