The Dead Woman

sure you kill him. Otherwise he's just gonna put the finger on you.'

'I'll take that under advisement,' Abbey said. The look on her face could have cracked granite.

Just as the cop was about to bind her wrists, Abbey spun into a low kick that sent him to the floor. The other cop fired his weapon, but the shot went wide and thudded into the wall behind Matt. Faster than Matt could follow, Abbey grabbed the gun from the downed officer and fired a round at the cop who was still on his feet, hitting him square in the chest. He flew backward into the hall as Abbey readjusted her aim and pointed the gun at the prone officer's head.

'What was that advice you gave me about shooting cops?' she asked, winking. Then she pulled the trigger.

Outside, new voices shouted in alarm at the gunshots, and the sound of a dozen booted feet pounded through the house. Abbey didn't seem to notice. She turned to face Matt.

Matt had grabbed the only thing he could find to use as a weapon, his grandfather's ax, which Abbey had leaned against the wall. The familiar weight and heft felt like an old friend, and a comfortable warmth spread through him as he swung.

Abbey pulled the trigger.

The ax bit into her shoulder.

Both of them went to the floor. Matt heard the bullet whizz by his head, missing him by a hairs breadth. He landed hard on his injured shoulder, sending fresh waves of pain through his whole body. The room blurred and spun, leaving him in a state of vertigo. The blood loss didn't help. He tried to stand, but somehow his feet wouldn't listen, and the last thing he heard was one of the cops yell, 'She's alive!' just before he slid into darkness.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

'You should stay a few more days, just to be safe,' Dr. Mayhew said. 'The bullet missed your humerus and rotator cuff, but you still have some soft-tissue damage.'

Matt looked up from zipping his pants. 'I'll be fine,' he said. 'I'm a fast healer.' His left arm hung from the sling the doctor had given him, but he still had full use of his right. He extended his arm and shook the doctor's hand. 'Thank you,' he said.

Mayhew snorted and left the room, muttering about stubborn patients. Matt watched him go, a smile on his stubbled face. The good doctor had sewn him back together after the paramedics brought him in two nights ago. He'd had a slug in his shoulder that had to be removed, and he'd lost a good deal of blood. Mayhew had removed the slug, and several pints of blood later Matt awoke feeling much better. Mayhew had then spent the entire next day telling Matt how lucky he was, that he could have lost the use of his arm, but Matt wasn't so sure.

His mind kept flashing back to all the photos of Abbey in her house. Some of them were more than a hundred years old, yet she looked no older than thirty. Would that be his future, as well? He hoped not, but given the rapid state of his body's healing and the way Abbey hadn't aged at all in more than a century, he had to wonder if that last bullet would have killed him if he hadn't moved in time.

He didn't know.

And he didn't intend to find out.

He slipped into his shoes, which were very hard to tie with one hand, and stood up. The hospital room reminded him of the one he'd had back at the university. Cold, white, barren, and far too expensive for his tastes. In the case of the university, they'd claimed he owed them millions but were willing to wipe the slate clean for a few more days of tests and tissue samples. Then, as now, he was sick of the room and just wanted to go.

While Dr. Mayhew certainly wasn't trying to get Matt to stay for his own personal gain, the end result would be the same: Matt would sit in this damn white and bare room with several beeping machines until he went out of his mind.

Further out of it, he corrected.

'No, thanks,' Matt said to himself. He grabbed the bag with his things. The only item missing was his ax, which the police had taken as evidence. He supposed he wouldn't be getting that back for a long time, if ever.

He walked out into the hallway, already feeling better than he had when he'd woken up in the ER two days ago. Matt hadn't been lying when he told Dr. Mayhew he was a fast healer. He just chose to leave out how fast. Ever since he'd come back from the dead, his body had seemed stronger and more able to heal, and this time seemed no different. His left shoulder was sore, but that was about it, and his sprained wrist didn't hurt at all. Tomorrow morning there would likely just be an angry red scar on his shoulder. Next week there probably wouldn't even be that much.

A blessing or a curse? Matt had no idea.

Mr. Dark's jibe came back to him. You really are simple, aren't you? It makes me wonder why they chose you.

So who the hell were 'they?' And what did they want with Matt?

One thing at a time, Matt, he thought. Get out of this damn hospital first.

'Good fucking advice,' he said, and left the room.

# # #

A familiar face was waiting to greet him when he reached the lobby. Officer Dale Everett hobbled up to him on a pair of shiny aluminum crutches. His left leg was heavily bandaged, but Dale was smiling for the first time Matt could recall. He extended his right hand to Matt. 'Thanks for saving my life, Cahill,' he said. 'I was wrong about you. You're a good guy.'

'Glad to help, Officer,' Matt replied. 'I see you're feeling better.'

Dale snorted. 'It's just one leg. I have another.'

Matt chuckled. 'How is Abbey enjoying jail?'

Dale said nothing, but his expression darkened. He looked at the floor and sighed.

'What happened?' Matt asked.

'Abbey escaped.'

'How?'

'Somehow she got out of the wrist restraints. She killed both of the officers in the car and took off with the cruiser. We found it the next day about forty miles west, headed towards Nashville, but that's where the trail went cold.'

Matt looked at the front entrance of the hospital. The sun shone through the glass and hit the polished white floor, making the room a little too bright. Tiny motes of dust floated in and out of the sunbeam, whisked away by the wind of people walking by.

'So she's out there. Right now. And no one knows where,' Matt said.

Dale nodded. Somehow, the room upstairs no longer seemed like such a bad place to be.

'Damn,' Matt said.

'Yeah, that's about how I feel about it, too,' Dale replied.

The two stood in the lobby for several minutes, Matt lost in his thoughts of Abbey. Dale's thoughts were probably similar, but Matt wasn't about to ask. Matt had lost his wife to cancer several years ago. Dale had just lost his to another type of cancer, only in his case she wasn't dead, just gone. Probably planning her next killing spree. Knowing Abbey, it would eventually bring her back here to Crawford for revenge. Matt didn't think it would be a good idea to bring that up. Besides, Dale probably knew it, anyway.

'So you've come to see me off?' Matt asked.

'Sort of,' Dale replied. 'I came to offer you a ride. Want a lift to Cranston?'

'You bet.'

# # #

Twenty minutes later, Matt and Dale were headed east on Interstate 90 towards Cranston in a Crawford P.D. cruiser. Dale had been making small talk the whole way. How was Matt feeling? Did the doctor treat him well? Where was he headed next? Matt answered every question as precisely as he could, but he got the impression Dale was working up to something.