“You’d best go tell Mortimer then,” Anders said with a shrug. “I’ll wait for you at the van.”
“Right.” Bricker split away and headed for the front porch, leaving Anders to carry his burden to the van. He managed to get the side door open on his own with a little juggling of the woman, then set her inside and reached for the first-aid kit they always brought along. He had turned her on her side and was cleaning her wound when she regained consciousness and cried out in pain. Anders automatically slipped into her thoughts to soothe her so he could finish his work unhindered. And failed.
Eyes widening with surprise, he peered at the woman more closely, noting that she had a pretty face under all that dirt, and that her hair was a greasy blond rather than the light brown he’d first thought. She also had beautiful green eyes that were staring up at him uncertainly.
“You’re safe,” he said gruffly.
She continued to stare, eyes searching . . . for what he didn’t know, but apparently she found it because she suddenly relaxed, some of the fear slipping from her expression.
“What’s your name?” he asked, trying to slip into her thoughts again. But it was no use. He couldn’t get into her head. And that never happened.
“Valerie.” The name was a rasp of sound.
“Valerie,” Anders repeated softly. It suited her, he thought and said, “You’re safe, but wounded. I need to stop the bleeding.”
She nodded in understanding.
Anders hesitated, but there was nothing he could do to lessen her pain and it needed to be done, so he set to it and quickly finished cleaning the wound. He wasn’t terribly surprised when she passed out halfway through his work. She’d lost a lot of blood and between that and the pain he was unintentionally causing . . . well, he was just surprised that she’d withstood it as long as she had without screaming in pain.
By the time Bricker rejoined him, Anders was done cleaning and bandaging the wound and simply standing at the door of the van staring at the mortal woman.
“Do you want me to drive?” Bricker asked, peering curiously at the woman in the van.
“Yes.” Anders hadn’t intended to say that, but wasn’t surprised when the word slipped out. It was a good idea. Bricker could drive and he could ride in the back with Valerie. If she woke during the journey, he would be there to keep her calm and prevent her doing herself further injury during the drive.
“Let’s move,” he ordered, getting into the back and pulling the door closed.
Two
Valerie woke up feeling like a train wreck victim. Every inch of her seemed to be aching or sore. But when she tried to shift to a more comfortable position she learned her back right side was the worst. Moving had sent a shaft of pain shooting through her that made her suck in a sharp breath. Memory followed on the heels of the pain, crashing into her head like an angry bull. Her eyes immediately shot open. They just as quickly blinked closed when they were assaulted by bright light. After ten days spent mostly in utter darkness, it appeared her eyes were sensitive. But she had to know where she was and what the situation was. Valerie was pretty sure she was no longer lying in the dirt outside the house of horrors, but where was she now? Had help come? Was she in a hospital? Or had her kidnapper spotted her outside on the ground under his bushes and taken her with him? The bright light rather than the pitch black she was used to suggested she was safe, but Valerie had to know for sure.
She forced her eyes open a crack, and then a little more, and more still until she could make out the white ceiling overhead. That was reassuring, she told herself and opened her eyes a little further, her head shifting on what felt like a pillow so that she could take in her surroundings. The first thing she saw was an IV stand to her left with a half-empty bag of clear liquid in it.
She allowed herself to relax a little then, but continued to force her eyes open and peer around. Some of her tension returned when she noted the dark wood furnishings in the room and the pale blue walls. She was lying in a sleigh bed, but there was also a dresser, two bedside tables, and then a chair against the wall on one side of the bed, and two chairs and a small table by a window with baby blue blinds on the other side of the bed. It was all very attractive and soothing . . . and not a hospital.
That realization had her trying to sit up. It was a bit of a struggle. She was weak and so achy and sore everywhere, but she managed the feat and followed it up with removing the IV needle from the back of her left hand.
Valerie gave herself a moment to enjoy the first accomplishment, then shifted her feet to the floor and eased off the edge of the mattress to stand on shaky legs. So far, so good, she told herself when they didn’t collapse under her.