Left for Dead Read Online Free PDF

Serving her patients their dinner, Sherita often wanted to warn them that the food was so fatty and low grade, they were guaranteed to come back with heart problems—or a parasite.
    Her friend, Naomi, had no qualms over the cafeteria fare. She didn’t work at the hospital, but was meeting Sherita there for lunch. Naomi eagerly dug into the fried chicken—even though it was dripping in grease. Like her friend, she was a big girl. But Naomi was white, with a corkscrew-curly blond perm and a pierced nose. At twenty-six, she was a couple of years younger than Sherita. They’d first met at a Weight Watchers orientation five years ago. They’d both decided life was too short to live without real cheese or ice cream, and walked out during the break. Naomi and Sherita had been friends ever since.
    They met for lunch or dinner every week or so—usually some place nicer than the hospital’s cafeteria. At this hour, it was crowded, and all the good tables—the ones by the windows looking down at the parking lot—were taken. Sherita and Naomi had to settle for a two-top by the bus station.
    “So—are you going to take the three hundred bucks or what?” Naomi asked, working on her fried chicken. “That’s like—half your rent for the month.”
    “I don’t care,” Sherita said, scowling. She munched on some chips. “I’m not doing that to her. I told you, she’s a nice lady. She doesn’t want her picture in the paper. Hell, she’s been through enough.”
    “My friend at work, Cindy, she’s been following the newspaper stories,” Naomi said. “And she thinks this Jane Doe is faking. Cindy says she’s holding out for the publicity or a book deal—and then she’ll start talking.”
    Sherita rolled her eyes. “How can you hear what your friend Cindy says when she’s talking with her head up her ass? I’m Jane Doe’s nurse. I’ve been looking after her for six days now. I’d know if she was faking. She doesn’t remember a damn thing. Poor girl’s all alone, and she’s scared.”
    With a sigh, Sherita picked up her sandwich again. “I only hope this guy coming in today…” She trailed off, then took a bite from her sandwich.
    “Who’s coming in today?” Naomi asked. “What are you talking about?”
    “Nothing,” Sherita shrugged, her mouth full.
    “Oh, c’mon, you started to say something. Now, give. Is somebody coming in to identify her today? Some guy?”
    Sherita dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “This is on the hush-hush, okay? The newspapers and TV people don’t know about this. Swear you won’t tell anyone?”
    Naomi leaned forward. “Swear to God and kiss my elbow. What is it?”
    “Well, you’re right,” Sherita admitted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “They’re bringing in someone this afternoon—up from Tacoma. He says he’s her husband. He gave the cops a couple of photos that—I guess—looked enough like her. And he described her fairly accurately, even mentioned a birthmark on her elbow. They think this guy’s on the level. I hope so—for her sake.”
    Sherita turned to a man sitting alone at the next table. “Excuse me, hon, could I borrow your salt?”
    He handed her the white plastic salt shaker. Sherita salted her sandwich, then handed the shaker back to him. “Thanks, honey.” She turned to her friend again.
    “I think he’s interested in one of us,” Naomi whispered. “I saw him looking over at us earlier. He’s cute.”
    Sherita glanced at the man, whose nose was in a newspaper.
    “Did I tell you?” Naomi continued. “I joined an Internet dating service. It’s really fun, and cheaper than you’d think…”
    Naomi was whispering. But the man at the next table could still hear her. He’d been listening to every word they’d said to each other.
    The nurse’s friend was right: he was interested in one of them. For the last four days, he’d been following Sherita Williams, trying to find out all he could about her.
    She lived alone in a rented