Anna Rielly sat passively in the corner with the blanket wrapped tightly around her body. Milt Adams sat in the opposite corner, behind Rapp, and chewed on a granola bar. Rielly continued to stare at Rapp and finally asked, “What was that all about?”
Rapp glanced sideways at her as he began rifling through one of his packs.
“Nothing.”
“It sure sounded like something to me,” Rielly said.
Listen’ Anna you’re a reporter. I can’t exactly let you in on what’s going on.”
Rielly smiled.
“Who am I going to tell? What do you think, I’m going to call the station with your radio and give them a live update?”
Rapp grabbed several more granola bars from his pack and held one up for Rielly.
“Here, chew on this.” And with a grin, he added, “And stop asking questions.”
Rielly took the bar and while she tore the wrapper off asked, “Who do you work for, Mitch Knise, the FBI?”
“Ah… no. Not exactly.”
“What are you, then-military?”
Rapp ignored the question and continued looking for something in his pack.
Rielly smiled and said, “Hey, listen, you saved my life. I don’t care who you work for.” Rielly continued to watch him.
Rapp stared back for a long moment thinking about what he should say.
Finally, he replied, “Anna, if I tell you something off the record, will you promise that you’ll never report it? That is, since I saved your life and all.” Rapp said the last part with a smile.
Rielly took the question seriously.
“I’m a reporter. Whatever you tell me in confidence will be kept a secret.”
Chuckling, he said, “My dad always said, “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter.”
“Rapp studied an abrasion on Rielly’s cheek and a spot of dried blood on her lip. Changing the subject once again, Rapp pulled a penlight from his assault vest and said, “Now, let’s see how you’re doing this morning.” Holding the light up in front of her face, he said, “I want to check your eyes and see how your pupils dilate.” Rapp held Rielly by her chin and checked the left eye first and then the right. Both dilated properly, and then he asked her to follow the light as he moved it from one side of her face to the other. Again she checked out fine.
Turning the light off, Rapp gently touched the abrasion on her cheek and asked, “How does this feel?” Rielly frowned and said, “I don’t know. How does it look?”
After studying her face for a second, Rapp nodded.
“I’d say considering what you’ve been through, you look pretty good.
Darn good actually.” He meant it.
Rielly smiled slightly.
“Well, in that case I feel fine.”
Looking back toward Adams, who was on his second breakfast bar, Rapp asked, “I’d say we have a regular tough girl on our hands.”
“I’d say so,” replied Adams with a nod for emphasis.
Rapp turned his attention back to Rielly’s cheek, and when he got closer to inspect the mark, she said to him, “You know women have a higher tolerance for pain than men.”
“So I’ve been told.” Rapp fished a sterile alcohol pad from his first aid kit and tore the small package open. Gently, he started to wipe the dried blood from the corner of Rielly’s mouth, and then the light scrape on her cheek.
When Rapp was done, he turned her head from side to side to check for any other cuts. He had not missed the obvious beauty of the reporter. He felt slightly guilty, under the current circumstances, for letting his mind wander, but it couldn’t be helped. Her skin was soft and smooth with just the right touch of color. Rapp nudged her chin to the side and noticed a trail of dried blood that ran down the back of her neck. He wiped away the blood and then placed both hands on her scalp. Rielly flinched slightly and pulled away.
“Does that hurt?” asked Rapp.
Rielly nodded, and Rapp said with a smile, “What happened to that high tolerance for pain you were bragging about a moment ago?”
“I don’t know, but whatever you just touched hurt like hell.”
“Try to hold still for a second. I want to find out how bad the cut is.”
Rapp lifted and separated her thick brown hair. The cut ran only about an inch but looked to have broken the first several layers of skin.
Holding one hand on her scalp, he reached behind him and grabbed another sterile alcohol pad.
Without looking, he said, “Milt, would you do me a favor?
Take those blueprints that you brought, and spread them out on the floor.”
Rapp wiped the cut several times and then waved his hand over the area to dry the alcohol. Rielly’s face twisted in pain.
After a moment, Rapp let her hair fall back down onto her shoulders and sat back on one heel.
“How’s that?”
Rielly brought her hand up and gently touched her head.
“I’m fine if I don’t move too much.” But Rapp noticed the flicker of pain moving across her face when she raised her arm.
“What was that?” asked Rapp.
Gently, Rielly touched her side.
“Something hurts in my side.”
“Can you stand up for me?”
“I think so.”
Rapp helped her up.
“Does it hurt on the back, the front, or the side?”
She gestured with her hand.
“The back and the side.”
“I need to take a look at it. Are you all right with that?” Rielly looked at Rapp’s concerned face, and the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. Reaching out, she placed her hand on his cheek and said, “If I can’t trust you, I don’t know who I could.” Rapp blushed slightly and said, “Good, then turn around so I can take a look.” Rielly did as she was asked, and Rapp lifted up her sweatshirt.
Her skin was a golden olive from her narrow waist up and then the discoloration began to appear. Halfway up her back, on her left side, a red mark about four inches long and three inches wide had started to form. He checked for bright red streaks and found none. Rapp touched the area softly at first, and Rielly showed no sign of pain. Then he pressed a little harder, and she winced sharply.
“Can you take several deep breaths for me?” Rielly did so without pain, and Rapp let her shirt fall.
“It’s probably just a bruise, which can still hurt like a bitch, but it’s ten times better than having a broken or cracked rib.” With a smile, he added, “You must be one tough chick.”
Rielly smiled slightly.
“I have a lot of brothers.”
Rapp nodded.
“I think you’re going to be all right, but then again, I’m no doctor.”
“What are you, Mr. Kruse?” asked the persistent Rielly.
Squeezing her shoulder, Rapp said, “I’ve got some work to do.” Turning toward the seated Adams, Rapp said
“Milt I need you to show me every stairwell and elevator that leads from this floor to the third, and from this floor to the first.”
DALLAS KING WAS already on his second battery. His digital phone had left his ear only momentarily over the
