Don't Slay the Dragon (The Chronicles of Elizabeth Marshall Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

attack. 
    “No more questions,” he rasped out, “no more.  I’ve told you enough.   You’re one of them anyway.  I know you are.  They sent you in here to gain our trust.  I know better.  You can’t be trusted.”    He advanced towards me, hands up and eyes scanning me for weaknesses.
    Vesper had never been violent with me.  I was one of the few people he felt “safe” with.  But a lot of years had gone by.  I wasn’t sure anymore what he was capable of.  He advanced closer and closer, drawing himself up to his full height.  Even though he was only an inch or so taller than me, he was still intimidating.
      I slowly tried to ease myself around the doorway.  Sudden movements would only give him an excuse to attack at this point.  When he was within a few feet, he dropped low, like a feral wildcat ready to spring at his prey.   I took a sharp breath, poised for the attack, hoping desperately I could escape at the last second. 
    “Code red! Code red!”  The male orderly in the hallway broke the spell.  He was built like a linebacker and came charging into the room like he was fully intending to tackle the quarterback.  Instead, he went for the frail figure crouching on the floor.  He had her scooped up before I knew what was happening.  She didn’t give up without a fight.  Biting, kicking, scratching, she tried everything to get free.  She was no match for a muscular man out-weighting her by a good 150 pounds.  He dropped her down on her bed and was reaching down below the mattress for some leather straps before the other four staff members came running into the room. 
    I watched, frozen, as one by one they each took an arm or leg and pulled a leather strap tight around the flailing limb.  The one staff member of the group not holding her down was a bulky older female, gray-haired and stern.  Out came the syringe, just as I had feared.
    “No!  Please don’t!”  I yelled, but I might as well have been invisible for all the attention they paid me.
    “No!  Get away!”  I watched her wiggle and squirm, trying to avoid the needle even though she had limited space to do so.  I realized it was Lisbeth’s voice doing the pleading.  “Help me, please!  Caitlyn, help me!  I need your help.”
    She only struggled for a few more minutes before h er voice faded to a whisper, her body relaxed and I watched in helpless frustration as her muted green eyes drifted shut.
    I don’t remember leaving ward D that day.  I don’t remember the long walk back through the building and past the front desk.  I only remember that it took everything in my power to hold it together until I had reached the relative safety of my car. 
    There, with windows rolled up and the doors securely locked, I finally let go.  The tears came, ripping through me, all the bottled emotions I had held in even through the bad divorce.  My body shook like a leaf as the powerful storm raged through me.  I wept for all my pain and disillusions, I wept for Barbara and her death, and I wept for Lisbeth, even now being transported to a private room with stark, padded walls.  I wept for the wasted years for both of us and the helplessness I felt, trying to save someone so incredibly lost.
    Once the storm had passed, I rummaged through my purse for my cell phone and dialed a number.
    “I need to speak to Mark Jacobs please.”

 
    Chapter Eight

     
    We agreed to meet at a popular sandwich shop downtown.  I arrived first, an old habit of mine.  I didn’t like being late for anything.  I ended up being earlier than I thought, Mark was running behind schedule.  When he did arrive, he wasn’t what I expected.  I always thought most lawyers were well groomed and reeking of money.  I should have known it would be different with a public defender.
    He had to have been five feet eight and thin to the point of being unhealthy.  His mousy brown hair was thinning over the top even though he didn’t look older than his