Page 94 of Her Only Hero

Chapter Forty

“Thank you for your time, Dr. Crawford, but I’ve kept you long enough.” I stood, and a swell of vertigo knocked me sideways. I grabbed the desk for support.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Hadn’t he just asked me that? “It’s only a head rush,” I said as relentless, dizzying waves ensued. I stumbled to the door, but the knob wouldn’t turn.

“Why don’t you sit back down?”

I realized I’d been on the wrong track completely. It was Dr. Crawford who was guilty of the fraudulent treatments and billings, not Dr. Fulthorpe. And Dr. Crawford had the means and may have murdered David Moreno.

I kept trying to turn the doorknob. Everything blurred.

“June, you’re perspiring.”

“Unlock the door.” I fought panic with labored breaths.

“I can’t do that,” Crawford said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, my God. You drugged me. Like David Moreno.”

“Yes, but he did me the favor of dying.”

The room spun. Or was it my head? About to stumble over, I leaned against the wall and tried to dial 911, but the phone dropped out of my hand.

Crawford lunged forward and grabbed it. “I’ll get that for you,” he said and looked at the screen. “You bitch! You’ve been recording?” He threw the phone against the wall with a smash.

My mind raced, and I was terrified of losing consciousness. Or dying. Nausea squeezed my stomach, and I took shallow breaths. I reached into my handbag and pulled out my gun. I pointed it at Crawford’s blurry form. At close range, I hoped I could hit him with at least one round.

“June, put the gun down. You’re delirious. I’m only trying to help.” He backed away and picked up the phone on his desk. “It’s Gideon Crawford. I need security immediately.”

“Open the door!” Blackness crept into my vision’s periphery. No. I wasn’t going to pass out. I took deep breaths and cocked the gun. I pointed. “Now!” I yelled as loudly as I could.

“Calm down,” he said as he approached.

I backed away, out of his reach, as he unlocked the door with a swipe of his badge. My legs shook, and I tried to run out, but gravity pulled me down. I felt a hand trying to pry the gun from my hand.

“Let it go,” I heard Crawford say.

I tightened my grip and yanked the weapon away. I aimed at his shadowy form, pulled the trigger, and heard a hollow snap. I fired again. Snap.

The gun hadn’t been loaded. Of course, it hadn’t. Patrick wouldn’t have left it out on the kitchen table loaded.

I was done for.

“You won’t be able to prove a thing,” Crawford said close to my ear.

With all my strength, I swung my hand holding the gun through the air and smacked something hard.

“Goddammit,” Crawford spat.

I tried to crawl away. My last bit of strength drained, and I collapsed onto the spinning floor. I had a vague awareness of activity around me and then felt someone grab my wrists and bind them behind my back. Like David Moreno, I was helpless against this monster, and I’d meet the same fate. I recalled David’s mumblings. He must have been trying to warn me, at my house and in the hospital. Why did I come here alone? Even as I entered the building, I hadn’t suspected a lone car in the parking lot was a red flag. A lone car. A lone luxury car. I hadvideotaped such a car the night of the fire. Arsonists like to see their handiwork. Oh, God. Crawford had been at the fire.

A wad of cloth covered my face and pressed onto my nose and mouth. I coughed as I gasped for air. I turned my head and grabbed a breath before my hair was grabbed and the suffocating wad pressed down on my face even harder. I strained my neck but couldn’t move from an iron grasp.

This was it.

“Let go of her!” I heard a deep voice say. Patrick. Was it Patrick?

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