Forgotten Place Read Online Free PDF Page A

attempted murder
had drifted back over the past couple of months, mostly in the form
of olfactory and auditory triggers.  The sounds and smells of
emergency medicine are not pleasant memories for me. 
    The noise alone was enough to put me on the
verge of a fugue state.  The smell sent my alcohol abused and
nutritionally neglected stomach into a full case of revolt.  I
swallowed back the gag and tried to explain who I was and why I
needed beyond the secure doors into the department.
    Fortunately (depending on perspective) the
triage nurse recognized me from my recent brush with death and
vouched that I am indeed with the Darkwater Bay police.  Tough
case to make without my badge.
    In front of one of the trauma rooms, Devlin
Mackenzie stood out like a prickly thistle in a field of delicate
violets.  His arms were crossed over his chest, legs spread in
a sturdy-wide pose, eyes fixed on the activity through the pane
glass doors to the trauma room.  His presence was so jarring,
I didn't notice the pacing body roving in mauve scrubs past
him.  Not right away.
    Cognitive dissonance is a strange
phenomenon.  Logic dictates that without this precise
emergency room, I would be dead.  Panic and disgust that they
saved my worthless life crowded into my existence at the same time
that recognition rippled through me.
    "Amy..."
    Whatever held me back, made me reluctant,
put my fear of an inevitable face-to-face with Johnny
evaporated.  I stepped forward and laid my hand on her
shoulder.  "Amy?  What are you doing here?"
    She startled.  "Helen!  Oh my God,
you're bleeding!"
    I noticed my bloody hands, now seasoned with
flour from the powder from inside the gloves I wore upstairs in the
parking garage.  "I'm fine.  What are you doing here,
Amy?"
    She burst into tears.  At the same
moment, Mackenzie's tension slammed into me.  I tuned him out
of the picture and focused on my physical therapist.  Arms
wound around her.  "Hush now... it's all right, Amy. 
Tell me what's wrong."
    "My friend," she sobbed, "my very best
friend was attacked a little while ago.  I came the second I
heard, but they won't tell me anything."
    "There isn't anything to say yet,
honey.  Is your friend Journey Ireland?"
    The blotchy red face tilted upward. 
"Oh... oh Helen.  Is that why you're covered in blood? 
Did you find her like that?  What happened to her?"
    "I'm so sorry.  I tried to stop
him."
    "Who?  It was that son of a bitch Jim,
wasn't it?  I knew there was a reason Journey wanted nothing
to do with him!  I knew it!"
    "Who is Jim?"
    "Some guy way too old for someone as young
as Journey.  They dated a few years ago.  She dumped
him.  He wouldn't let it go."
    "What was Jim's last name?"
    "Linder," she said.  "Promise me you'll
find him and arrest him, Helen."
    "It's not that simple, Amy.  We have to
have evidence.  Do you understand what I'm saying?"
    "I'm worried, not stupid.  Journey was
young and naïve.  I don't know the details of why they broke
up, but I can promise you, it had to be bad.  Journey isn't
the type of person to not stay friends with a guy after they stop
dating.  Trevor and Timothy can attest to that."
    "I believe you.  Can you give me a
minute, Amy?  I need to go wash up, but I'll be right
back."  My bloody hands were drawing attention I didn't
want.  "In the meantime, you should talk to Detective
Mackenzie and tell him everything you know about the men in
Journey's life.  Will you do that for me?"
    She nodded. 
    I turned to Mackenzie who barely concealed
his rage that someone dare butt into his case.  I glared,
stepped closer and said, "Get the girl's statement.  She says
the victim is her best friend."
    "Who the fuck are you to give me
orders?"
    I thrust out a bloody hand, hoping he found
it as offensive as I did.  "Eriksson," I said. 
"Detective Helen Eriksson."

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 4
     
    Some of Captain Caveman's bravado shrank
when I introduced myself with bloody