Page 108 of Long Gone

“I saw figures and shapes. They were wearing dark clothes. I didn’t see faces.”

His eyebrow cocked, and it was apparent he didn’t believe me. That was fair since I’d heard names and had chosen not to share the information. He may have shown up to help me, but I didn’t trust him. Not after he’d withheld his knowledge that my father owned Hugo’s office building.

Even though a small part of me whispered that he’d been right to let me find out on my own. I never would have believed him without proof.

Delaney turned toward me and made a face. “She’s lookin’ a little pale from the blood loss,” she said as she pushed Malcolm to the side and took the gauze, starting to swipe the skin around the cut with a soaked betadine swab. “Skeeter, get her a bottle of water out of the fridge in the garage.”

He shot her a look that suggested he didn’t appreciate her request, but he strode to a door on the other side of the room. She finished swabbing and waved her hand over my chest to help it dry.

As soon as the door closed, she didn’t waste time. “What are you doin’ hanging out with Skeeter Malcolm?”

“Why is it that James Malcolm has someone who does emergency medical procedures on the sly?” I shot back. “I thought he was supposed to be clean?”

She grabbed the syringe and jammed the needle into the skin next to the jagged cut.

I jumped with pain from the stabbing and the burning sensation. I was starting to rethink having her stitch me up.

“Maybe you should let me ask the questions,” Delaney snapped, moving the needle to a new location and injecting more medication. “So how do you know him?”

I nearly jumped out of my seat. If she was a doctor, she’d either missed taking the Hippocratic Oath or chosen to flat out ignore it.

“Maybe you should ask him instead of me,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Oh, I plan to. Don’t you worry.”

The door opened and Malcolm came back with a few bottles, unscrewing one as he walked over to us. He handed it to me, and I grabbed it with my good hand and took a long, greedy gulp, not realizing how thirsty I’d been until the cold water hit my lips.

“You’re movin’ around too much,” the woman grunted in disgust before jabbing me again.

“You need to be so rough, Laney?” he asked after she gave me yet another jab.

“Just trying to numb her so I can stitch her up,” she said in a snide tone.

“The way you’re stabbing her, you might as well stitch her without lidocaine.”

“Trust me, I considered it.”

“Delaney, a word,” he said, making it clear it was an order and not a request.

She tossed the needle onto the tray with enough force that it was clear she was pissed. But she followed him into the garage, holding her gloved hands upright so they didn’t touch anything.

I still didn’t trust her, which meant I’d need to get my hands on my own antibiotics tomorrow.

I could hear them arguing in the garage, and I was tempted to walk out the front door and leave Malcolm with her. He’d taken my car, so I wouldn’t be stealing his. But a glance down at my wound made it clear I couldn’t go home and fix this with steri strips. If I left, I’d have to go to the ER, and I didn’t want to be asked questions I couldn’t answer.

So I stayed, my ears straining to make out what they were arguing about, but failing.

A few seconds later, they walked back in. Delaney’s face was red with anger, and it was obvious she hadn’t been appeased by their discussion. But when she opened a package with the sutures, she seemed to do it with more care.

She prodded the skin around the cut. “Do you feel this?”

“Just pressure,” I said. “No pain.”

She nodded and picked up the needle and thread and a pair of forceps. “You’re gonna have a scar,” she said as she inserted the needle into my skin. “I know how to suture, but I’m not a plastic surgeon.”

Did that mean she didn’t usually suture people? But who had suture kits lying around their house?

None of us talked while she worked on my chest, then covered it with a bandage.

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