Page 71 of The Girl from Devil's Lake
Marliss lay supine on the floor, her eyes open and blinking. She was still alive.
“Hey, Marliss,” Deb said. “Remember me? Detective Howell. My partner’s outside waiting to flag down the ambulance. Can you tell me what happened?”
“We were talking,” Marliss said.
“Who’s we?” Deb asked.
“Stephen Roper and I. He went to the kitchen to get a soda. When he came back, he walked up behind me and put a wet, evil-smelling cloth over my mouth. I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up just now. How bad is it?”
“Pretty bad,” Deb replied. “We don’t dare try to move you until EMS gets here.”
“It’s my back, isn’t it,” Marliss said. “That’s why I can’t feel my arms or legs.”
Neck most likely, Deb thought but didn’t say.
“And I’m cold,” Marliss went on. “Terribly cold. Can you find a blanket?”
Deb started up the ladder. Her head emerged through the trapdoor just as Garth reentered the bathroom.
“She’s cold,” Deb said. “Find some blankets. I’ll wait here.”
Garth darted out of the bathroom and returned a moment later with a duvet and several blankets. “I called Sheriff Brady. She’s on her way, and she’s talking with the hospital.”
“And Roper?”
“He’s stuck at the Traffic Circle just the way he’s supposed to be, but it’s turned into a standoff. He’s armed with a weapon and threatening to shoot himself.”
“Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” Deb muttered under her breath as she grabbed the armload of bedding and clambered back down the ladder.
After covering Marliss with a layer of blankets, Deb settled down on the floor next to the injured woman and took her hand.
“Is the ambulance coming?” Marliss asked.
“On its way,” Deb answered. “It’ll be here soon. Why did you come here today?”
“I heard a rumor that they were looking into Stephen Roper. I wanted to check it out.”
“A rumor?” Deb asked. “Who told you?”
“My cleaning lady. Her sister’s husband is a border guard in Naco, Sonora. She said he told her that people were asking questions about Señor Santa Claus, and I just couldn’t believe it.”
Marliss’s eyes closed. For a moment Deb thought she was gone, but then they fluttered open again.
“I’m really cold,” Marliss murmured. “Could you please bring me a blanket.”
“Of course,” Deb said, wiping a tear from her eye because the blankets were already there.
Marliss turned her head slightly to the left. “I know you,” she said. “You’re Detective Howell.”
Deb nodded. “Yes, I am.”
“Have you been here long?”
“For a while,” Deb answered. “Are you in any pain?”
Marliss frowned. “No,” she said. “Nothing hurts, but I’m scared. Would you mind holding my hand?”
“Of course,” Deb said, squeezing the hand she was already holding and biting back the sob that was rising in her throat.
