“Catch up with me!” he commanded.
Lauren was torn. The ambulance would be there any second. She couldn’t leave Susan.
But she had to leave Susan. Because she had to save Heidi.
What if Susan died—as she probably would—because she had tried to warn her away when Stephan had been with her?
Stephan was a vicious bastard. He killed for his own pleasure and amusement. He only let his victims “live” sometimes so he could enjoy their even greater torment.
Or to create his army.
And Heidi would never have been one of Stephan’s victims if not for her.
There was no help for it. She had to find her friend.
As she left through the back flap, she heard the paramedics approaching the tent and prayed they weren’t too late.
Mark reached the Square to find a scene of utter chaos. An ambulance and two police cars were parked in the middle of the pedestrian area. Artists, singers, musicians and tourists were standing around in awkward groups, some being questioned by the police, others just curious to see what all the fuss was about.
Mark forced his way through the crowd to where an officer was holding everyone back and fielding questions.
“She was attacked,” one bystander said. “I saw them bring her out. She was covered in blood.”
“Was it him? Was it the man who threw those women into the river?” someone else asked.
He had to get into the ambulance, Mark decided. And it didn’t matter how.
Just then Sean Canady pulled up in his car. He saw Mark and beckoned him over.
“I have to speak to Susan,” Mark said.
“I have to get to her. I
They strode over to the rescue vehicle. The back door was still open; Susan was inside, lying on a stretcher.
“You’ll have to question her later, lieutenant,” the med-tech said. “She’s in bad shape, lost a lot of blood. The wound on her head…it’s amazing her entire skull wasn’t caved in. We’re getting ready to take off.”
“This man needs a minute with her,” Canady said.
“All right. Come in. But she’s probably dying. She’s hanging on by a thread.”
Mark leapt up and took Susan’s hands in his own. He willed strength into her, prayed that she would open her eyes.
She didn’t.
But her lips began to move.
He leaned close to her.
She could barely form words.
But he managed to understand.
17
I t seemed to Lauren as if they’d been driving forever.
The beautiful pink light of twilight had gone to deepest red, and now it was fading altogether. No, that wasn’t true. There was still light. Red light. Blood red light, like a mist over the moon.
Suddenly, the cab driver stopped and turned in his seat to stare back at Lauren. “We’re here. Twenty-two fifty,” he told her.
They were there?
Then she realized that she was in front of what should have been a lovely home and realized that it had been destroyed by the Katrina flooding. In fact, the whole neighborhood had been flooded out.
That was why there were no lights except one streetlight. The connection was weak, though, or maybe the bulb was about to go, because it kept flickering on and off.
“Twenty-two-fifty,” the cabby repeated. “Look, lady, this is where you asked to be let off, and now I gotta go. Give me your money and get out of the car. I’m not staying here. If you’re crazy enough to, be my guest. If not, it’s another twenrt-two-fifty back to civilization.”
She dug in her purse for the money. At the same time, she tucked two of the water pistols into the waistband of her jeans and pulled the tails of her tailored denim shirt down to cover them. Then she paid the cabby, but apparently she hesitated too long for his taste.
“Lady, I’m getting out of here,” he warned her.
“Sure. And thanks. Thanks a lot. Service with a smile,” she countered.
She was barely out of the cab when he gunned the motor and shot away.
She stared up at the dark house. It had been beautiful once. As she moved closer, she could see a faded advertisement for the development the house was part of. It had been called Arcadia. Old luxury with modern convenience, the billboard explained. Every house a variant of the original mansion. The one she was standing in
