Page 148 of Wasted
“It’s a good sign.” Hank gave him a nod, then aimed his gaze past Cillian to Robert. “Let’s get out of here. Fast. Go to Rampart Memorial Hospital.”
Robert ran around to the driver’s side as Cillian yanked open the passenger door and landed on the seat.
He twisted to see Victoria while Robert turned the truck around. “How is she?”
Hank didn’t look up from examining the area of the wound. “How long ago was she shot?”
Cillian paused, trying to figure it out. “I’m not sure. Feels like hours. But probably isn’t.”
“Looks like the bleeding has slowed. And the bullet didn’t enter the stomach. Could’ve caused shrapnel damage, though, and it could’ve damaged other organs. I can’t be sure. But she isn’t as far gone as she should be by now if the bullet had damaged something vital.”
Hope coursed through Cillian’s torso. Was God going to let her live?
“You did a good job trying to keep her warm with your jacket and stopping the bleeding.” Hank met Cillian’s gaze. “Thank you.”
Cillian jerked a nod. “I’d give my life for her. I’m…” He looked away. “I’m so sorry she caught the bullet instead of me.”
“Who shot her?” Robert’s tone was harder than Cillian had ever heard from the even-keeled psychiatrist.
“Warren Morris.”
“Who?” Hank’s question sounded behind Cillian.
“Sydney Morris’s brother.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he want to hurt Vicki or you?”
Cillian twisted his head to see Hank. “He killed Thomas Briscoe, trying to rob him. He didn’t like Victoria and me looking for the killer. Thought we’d figure out it was him.”
“So he tried to get rid of you before you could.” Robert’s jaw clenched as he stared into the snow that streaked like strips of white lightning shooting at them in the headlights.
“Yeah. I’m…sorry.” Cillian glanced down at his hands, the feeling slowly beginning to return to his fingers with a burning sensation. “It’s my fault. Vicks never wanted to do any of that investigating and pushing the police. When Warren started trying to kill us, she said it was too dangerous. I made her keep going.”
A hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind.
Cillian glanced back at Hank, the guy’s long arm stretched over Victoria in his lap. “If you think that, you don’t know Vicki. She’s a strong woman of God.”
A small smile cracked through the anguish squeezing Cillian’s heart. “Yeah. She is.”
“We’d better call the police.” Robert’s grim comment jerked Cillian’s attention to him. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a phone, extending it toward Cillian. “Find the last number in recent calls and ask for Lieutenant Willis.”
Cillian took the phone and woke up the screen. “What’s going on?”
“He dispatched some squads to come out here when we located you. But they should reroute to the hospital now.”
“How did you find us?”
“Vicki’s ankle monitor.”
“Wow.” Cillian had forgotten all about it. And his annoyance that she’d had to keep wearing the thing even after she’d been cleared. “Willis actually shared her location data with you?”
“Only because our dad got on the phone to ask him for it.” Hank’s answer came with a sardonic tone.
Whoa. Cillian never thought he’d want to thank Victoria’s father for anything. But now he owed Dr. Henry Weston his life and Victoria’s. If they could get to the hospital on time.
“Can you step on it, Rob?” Hank’s urgent question spiked fear through Cillian again. The med student was worried about Vicks.
Robert shot Cillian a sidelong glance before returning his attention to the snowy road. “You can see how we beat the police here. My little brother has an adventurous, race car driver streak.”
