Page 33 of Conner's Choice
“Did you see Kevin’s face? He expected me to drop dead.”
“I saw it. Wearing a replica of the diamonds was a perfect move. However, this isn’t over, Elizabeth. Detective Stone needs to get his case in order and arrest Warner before something else happens. I don’t like leaving you alone, as I said before.”
She heard the fear in his voice and touched his leg comfortingly. “I’ll be all right, Conner. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll always worry about you, Elizabeth.”
His words warmed her heart, and she leaned across the console to kiss his cheek.
Later, after Conner left her alone, Elizabeth spent a few hours at the cottage working on three upcoming events and regretted firing Lexi when she had so much to do. Sighing, she grabbed her keys and purse. She left the cottage and headed back to Denver, where she planned to spend the rest of the day at her shop. She needed to post Lexi’s position and figure out how to get everything done for a wedding on the first Saturday in June.
Engrossed in her work, Elizabeth lost track of time. Darkness fell. Heavy storm clouds blocked the moon. Elizabeth rose from her office chair, rubbed her sore neck, then shut down her laptop, and finished drinking a bottle of water before she gathered her things. She set the security alarm, locked the glass door, turned…and faced a masked man wearing a hoodie who shoved a blade into her abdomen twice. Elizabeth fell to the sidewalk.
Surfer unlocked hiscabin in the mountains and dropped his duffel bag next to the door. He ambled into the master bedroom where he stripped, then headed to the bathroom to wash the desert dirt and grime off him in the shower. Afterward, he dressed in old jeans and a T-shirt, brewed a pot of strong coffee, and booted up his sophisticated computer system. While on a security mission overseas, Surfer had kept a watchful eye on the situation in Denver. He’d already provided Conner and William with the evidence he’d gathered on Kevin Warner, Lexi Loveland, and Alexa Wainwright, and now Detective Stone was playing his own waiting game.
Surfer popped his neck and looked at his computer screen. The red dot representing Elizabeth Warner hadn’t moved in a while. He knew, however, that she was at her shop. But when the dot moved slightly, then stopped again for several minutes, something didn’t feel right. Surfer listened to his instincts and hacked into the security camera opposite Events by Elizabeth.
“Shit!”
Elizabeth lay crumpled on the ground in front of the door. Surfer zoomed in as close as he could. Even with the heavy rain, he could see she was bleeding. He typed furiously on his keyboard, hacking into the 911 system in Denver and alerting an operator with a message flashing across the screen. He included video footage to prove it wasn’t a hoax. At the last keystroke, Surfer grabbed his cell phone and pulled up Conner’s number.
“Hey, Surfer, what’s up? Are you still overseas?”
“No. Get to Elizabeth right now, Con-Man. It looks like she’s been stabbed. She’s on the ground in front of her business. She’s not moving so it’s bad. I let 911 know, but you need to call and make sure the operator sent the policeandthe EMTs.”
Conner’s heart racedwith fear as he rushed from his apartment, screaming into the phone at a 911 operator. After he’d been assured that the proper personnel had been dispatched to the scene, he leaped down several flights of stairs, unwilling to wait for the slower elevator. Conner drove fast and recklessly through the heavy rain, cursing his inability to increase his speed. By the time he reached Elizabeth’s business, police cars and rescue vehicles blocked the street. He jumped from his Jag and pushed his way toward the crowd gathered around Elizabeth.
When a police officer prevented him from getting close to the scene, Conner yelled above the noise of the sirens accompanied by claps of thunder, “Let me through! I’m her lawyer!”
One EMT who had helped save Beth Farmer’s life back in October recognized Conner and shouted, “Let him through! He’s Conner O’Donnell!”
More frightened than he’d ever been in his life, Conner dropped to his knees and cradled Elizabeth’s head in his lap. “Oh God, Elizabeth! No! It’s Conner! I’m here, baby. And I’m never letting you go.”
Rainwater ran in rivulets down her pale face. When he saw the amount of blood rushing from beneath her still body, he couldn’t breathe. He felt dizzy. Time stopped.
“Does this happen to all your clients, O’Donnell?” the EMT asked, using a little grim humor to get the lawyer’s attention.
Conner shook his head to clear it, spraying drops of water. “Just the ones married to murderers.”
“Okay, she’s stable,” he said. “On three.”
They lifted Elizabeth onto a stretcher and loaded her into a fire and rescue truck. Conner rode to the University of Colorado’s medical center with them. He held Elizabeth’s cold hand in his, willing her to open her beautiful gray eyes, willing her to live, willing her to forgive him for not protecting her. He should have known Warner would do this to her. He should have been prepared.
Dr. Justin Sherwood, Britain’s uncle and head of the trauma team unit at the hospital, met the fire and rescue truck when it pulled into the emergency room bay. Shouting orders, Justin moved Elizabeth to center stage in the busy ER due to the high volume of patients who were victims of the foul weather. Conner didn’t want to release Elizabeth’s hand, but Justin commanded him to step aside so the team could assess how much damage had been done to her internally. Within five minutes, she was rushed to the surgical unit on the third floor. Conner ran alongside the gurney until they reached the operating room.
“Sorry, Conner, but this is as far as you go.” Justin laid a restraining hand on his arm.
“Tell me the truth, Dr. Sherwood. Is she going to make it? Please. I have to know.”
“I’m going to do my best to save her life, Conner. That’s all I can say.”
Conner found the dimly lit waiting room and called Elizabeth’s parents. They assured him they would be there within the hour. Next, he contacted Rawson as the detective worked at the crime scene. He informed Conner that the storm had washed away any evidence, so they were canvassing the street, looking for eyewitnesses and hoping Elizabeth’s clothes contained hair and fibers from the attacker’s clothing.
Disappointed, Conner studied the security camera footage Surfer had sent him. He homed in on the assailant wearing a dark hoodie and jeans and frowned. Something familiar about the way he moved struck a chord. No. It couldn’t be. Would he dare? Conner shook his head. Maybe he was seeing what he wanted to see in his distraught state of mind. Feeling helpless, alone, and scared, he reached out to his best friend.
“Chris, oh God… Elizabeth…” His voice choked and cracked with emotion as he explained what happened. “I need you, man.”
“I’m there. Hang tight, Con.”
