Page 57 of Three Girls Gone
“Sounds about right.” Amanda winced. Malone didn’t like messy, and this hadmessywritten all over it. The owner of the van was threatening a lawsuit against the PWCPD for mental trauma. When Anne had regained consciousness, those wereher first words too. Not that either of those threats would carry weight with any judge, in any courtroom.
Malone grumbled. “And now, we’re waiting for clearance to question this Harrington lady? But she’s going to be all right?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” Amanda straightened her posture as a doctor in a white coat came over to them.
“Detective Steele?” The man regarded her with curiosity from behind the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
“That’s me. Call me Amanda.” She’d almost stammered, and ignored the looks she was getting from Malone and Trent.
“I’m Carter. Well, Dr.Paulsen.”
An awkward, silent pause felt much,muchlonger.
He cleared his throat. “I was told that you followed Anne Harrington here and are interested in speaking with her when she’s available.”
“That’s right.” Her mouth became dry.
“Is she ready for us now?” Trent asked, stepping in.
Carter pried his gaze from Amanda to look at Trent. “She’s suffering from a mild concussion, bruised ribs… Just to make sure I have this right. She was in a car accident and then got out and ran into the side of a van?” He pantomimed the situation, smacking the walking fingers of his left hand into the palm of his right. When he finished speaking, the doctor looked at her again.
“What can I say? It hasn’t been her day,” she offered.
“I’d say not.” Carter smiled at her, and he had such deep-set dimples she could press a fingertip in them.
But just like that, her brain returned. Dimples was one descriptor that Mara Bennett had given them for Wilson M-Something. Though did that even matter anymore? After all, Anne Harrington flagged on paper. Then she ran. Only the guilty ran.
“So the bruised ribs are from the air bags, while the mildconcussion and a fractured nose”—Carter winced when he dispensed that information—“came from colliding with the van.”
“Can we talk to her?” Malone asked, his voice laden with irritation.
“You can speak with her, but keep it brief. She’s on painkillers awaiting surgery to reset her nose.” He locked his eyes with Amanda’s until she nodded. “She’s in room one twelve. Down the hall, just before the next corridor branches off.”
“Thanks,” she told him.
“Hard to miss with the PWCPD officer outside her room.” Carter flashed her this smile, like the two of them shared a secret, before turning to walk away.
“What the hell was that all about?” Trent asked.
Malone turned to him and popped his eyes. “You need to ask?”
Amanda shook her head. “Let’s focus on what’s important. Sarge, we need to make sure that Harrington’s car gets brought in and processed. Investigators could find a trace of Hailey Tanner.”
“I’ll make sure that happens,” Malone said.
“And a search warrant for the grandmother’s house.” It was unlikely Anne Harrington had anywhere else to hold Hailey. And with her grandmother going in and out of lucidity, Anne could have made up any story she wanted about the child.
Malone grumbled and walked away. Amanda took that as agreement and led the way to room 112 with Trent at her heels. She and the doctor romantically involved? Such a ridiculous notion. She had better things to occupy her mind than some fantasy over taking up with him. As if she had time for that hot sordid mess.And he was—She stubbed the thought out right there. No point entertaining just how handsome he was.
Officer Wyatt was positioned outside the room. He dipped his head in greeting.
Anne Harrington was lying on the bed at a slight incline with her eyes shut. Her face was a tapestry of blues and purples.
“Anne Harrington,” she whispered, but the woman’s eyes sprung open and jolted into action. “If you’re trying to leave…” Amanda pointed at her right wrist cuffed to the frame. “And running didn’t work out so well for you the last time.”
Anne grumbled, and it sounded like a swear word or two.
Maybe my reminder was a low blow…
