Sleight of Hand Read Online Free PDF

didn’t venture any nearer. As Lolly made her way to the door, she paused to give the cat a whiff of the tuna. It worked. Sapphire dropped lightly to the floor and followed her. Lolly fumbled a little with the doorknob, but it finally turned.
    â€œQuick!” I yelled, afraid the rest of the cats would pile in as she let Sapphire out. But Lolly was fast. She dumped the tuna outside the door, and Sapphire darted after it. When Lolly slammed the door, the three humans left behind breathed a common sigh of relief. Now the only problem was Lolly’s gloves. They were contaminated.
I told her to take them off, leave them in the sink, then get a sterile pair from my bag and put them on. This all took time. I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes had passed since we’d spied the cat. I eyed my patient warily. Was the Xylocaine wearing off? His expression remained sullen, but pain-free. I returned to suturing his finger. I worked as fast as I could, knowing that I still had another finger to go, and I wasn’t sure exactly how long the effects of the Xylocaine would last.
    As I started on the second finger, I heard mewing and scratching at the kitchen door. I ignored it, but the others heard it, too. Max reached for his gun.
    â€œForget them,” I snapped. “They won’t bother us as long as the door’s shut.” Doubling my efforts, I worked quickly and silently, apart from an occasional request for Lolly to get the iris scissors or more suturing material. When I finally tied the last suture, I glanced at the clock. An hour had passed. An ER surgeon could have done what I’d done in ten minutes. I looked at my patient. He was paler than before I’d started, but he was holding his own. I dressed the fingers and pulled a sling from my bag—some of the booty I’d smuggled from the supply closet. When it was snugly fitted over his shoulder and the injured hand was resting comfortably on a splint, I helped him to rise. He wobbled a bit, but Lolly and I managed to guide him back to the sofa in the parlor. He left the gun behind on the kitchen chair.
    When he was stretched out, Lolly brought a pillow for his head and carefully spread a multicolored afghan over his feet and legs. “I’ll get your slippers,” she murmured, and disappeared.
    â€œYou must rest now,” I said.
    He nodded, and for the first time I discerned a difference in his expression. Hostility had relaxed into something softer. Not gratitude exactly, but at least … acceptance. I brought him a glass of water and two tablets. As usual, he looked at them suspiciously.
    â€œThey’ll help the pain when the anesthetic wears off,” I explained.
    He swallowed them, lay back, and closed his eyes. But as I was
turning to leave, he sat up. “Don’t get any ideas,” he said. “My promise still stands. If you try anything, I’ll …” He scrabbled around the sofa with his good hand. “Where’s—”
    â€œIn the kitchen, where you left it. I’ll keep it safe until you’re well.”
    We glared at each other in silence until Lolly bustled in with the slippers and a book. “Do you want me to read you a bedtime story, Daddy?”
    The tension dissolved. “No, honey. I just want to go to sleep.”
    She bent and kissed him on the forehead.

CHAPTER 9
    The first thing I did when I returned to the kitchen was check out the gun. Following professional crime-scene procedure (although there had been no crime, at least none that I knew of), I donned a pair of my surgical gloves before touching it. All six chambers were loaded. When had he filled the empty chamber? While I was at the hospital? It couldn’t have been easy for him. I visualized him, dizzy with pain, struggling to load the gun with one hand. Or had there been three empty chambers? One left by the bullet he’d fired at the barn roof to scare me, and two left by the bullets he’d put