CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE #2
Sloane ran back into the house, her ribs screaming with each step.
She found Kate in the home office, standing beside the desk where Mary Latrobe had been stretched out.
Kate was applying pressure to the wound with what looked like a decorative pillow from one of the chairs, now soaked through with blood.
“I wanted to get her off the desk but figured it would be unwise to move her,” Kate explained.
"Ambulance?" Sloane asked, dropping to her knees on Mary's other side.
"Six minutes out." Kate's face was tense with concentration. "Help me keep pressure on this."
Sloane placed her hands over Kate's, adding her weight to help stem the bleeding. Mary's face was gray, her lips taking on a bluish tinge. Her breathing was shallow and irregular, each breath seeming to require tremendous effort.
"Mary, stay with us," Kate said. "Help is coming. You just need to hang on."
Mary's eyes fluttered open briefly. They were unfocused, glassy. She tried to speak, but only managed a weak moan.
"Don't try to talk," Sloane said. "Save your strength."
The letter opener was still embedded in Mary's chest, just below her ribcage. Sloane could see it moving slightly with each breath Mary took. The blade had gone in deep, probably puncturing a lung or hitting major blood vessels. Maybe both. God, this did not look good.
"Your instincts were good," Kate said, her eyes never leaving Mary's face. "Coming here when you did. If you'd been any later, she'd already be gone."
"Might still be gone if that ambulance doesn't hurry up." Sloane checked her watch. Four minutes had passed since Kate made the call. Two more minutes felt like an eternity. “And honestly, it wasn’t instinct. It was wanting to knock leads out. I was not expecting to show up to this. I came wanting to question Mary Latrobe… not with any anticipation I’d be leaving here with the killer.”
Mary's breathing changed, becoming more labored. A wet, rattling sound accompanied each inhale. Blood was pooling beneath her, spreading across the hardwood floor. The pillow Kate was using was completely saturated now, crimson seeping between her fingers.
"Come on, Mary," Kate said. "Stay with us…”
Sloane wasn't sure if Mary could even hear them anymore. Her eyes had closed again and her body had gone slack. Only the shallow rise and fall of her chest indicated she was still breathing.
"We need more pressure," Kate said. "The bleeding isn't slowing down."
Sloane looked around the office and spotted a cardigan draped over the back of the desk chair. She grabbed it and wadded it up, pressing it against the wound alongside the pillow. Blood soaked through the fabric almost immediately, warm and sticky against her hands.
"Did Jennifer say anything to you?" Kate asked. "Before I got here?"
"No. She tried to run, pulled a gun. She actually fired twice and… God, one of them nearly got me right in the head.” Saying it out loud, a spark of dread wound its way through her. I almost died, I almost died, I almost…
“Well, it looks like you got lucky then,” Kate said, most of her focus still on Mary.
The sound of sirens cut through the quiet neighborhood. Sloane felt a rush of relief. The ambulance was close, maybe a street or two away. Mary just needed to hold on a little longer.
"Hear that, Mary?" Kate said. "That's your ride. Almost here."
Mary didn't respond. Her breathing had become even more shallow, barely perceptible now. Sloane pressed harder on the wound, trying to will the bleeding to stop through sheer force. Her hands were covered in blood up to her wrists, the metallic smell of it filling her nostrils.
The sirens grew louder, then cut off abruptly. Sloane heard vehicle doors slamming, voices calling out. Heavy footsteps pounded through the house.
"In here!" Kate shouted. "Back office!"
Sloane drank it all in. She’d never dealt with this side of a case before—of waiting for an ambulance and literally standing with a woman who was fighting for her life while the killer was handcuffed in the back of a car.
It wasn’t quite the same adrenaline rush as undercover work when things got heated, but it was still draining; every second had the potential to alter the entire situation.
Two paramedics rushed into the room, their faces professionally calm despite the blood. They carried equipment bags and immediately dropped it all by the desk as their eyes locked on.
"GSW?" one of them asked, assessing the scene quickly.
"Stab wound," Kate said. "Letter opener, still embedded.”
“She's been down for maybe ten minutes total," Sloane added.
"We've got her." The paramedic gestured for Kate and Sloane to move back. "Let us work."
Kate and Sloane stood up, stepping away to give the paramedics room.
Sloane's hands were shaking now that the immediate crisis was passing.
She looked down at her blood-soaked fingers and felt her stomach turn.
But she watched the paramedics worked with quick efficiency, checking Mary's vitals and preparing her for transport.
One of them cut away the rest of her blouse to access the wound more fully.
The other set up an IV line, calling out numbers and medical terminology that Sloane only partially understood.
After another minute or so, they moved Mary onto a collapsible stretcher with practiced coordination, careful not to jostle the letter opener still protruding from her chest. Mary made a sound, a weak and wet moan of pain, and Sloane had no idea if this was a good sign or one of impending doom.
"You okay?" Kate asked Sloane quietly.
"I'm fine." Sloane flexed her fingers, feeling the blood beginning to dry and crack on her skin. "Ribs are sore from the fight, but nothing serious. I just… this part of it is all new to me."
Kate nodded and said, “I’d love to tell you it gets easier… but it really doesn’t. And I’ll also tell you right now that we may as well follow the ambulance. You should get those ribs checked.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh huh. But you’re just starting out. I can tell you right now, Duran is going to ask you and DeMarco why you didn’t get it checked right after it happened.” She smiled and said, “Come on. I’ll drive. We’ll drop Grisham off at the office and she can be processed while you get looked over.”
Sloane gave in with a sigh and started for the door, just a few second behind the medics.
Outside, uniformed officers had arrived and were securing the perimeter and keeping curious neighbors back.
Sloane could see Jennifer still sitting in the back of Kate's sedan, her head bowed.
The woman who had killed four people and nearly killed a fifth, all because she couldn't handle her business struggling after a successful first year.
"She was jealous," Sloane said. "That's what this whole thing comes down to. Jealousy and ego."
"Usually is," Kate said. "Most murders are simple when you strip away all the complications. Someone wanted something they couldn't have, or they wanted to keep something they were losing."
Sloane thought about the four victims. All successful women, all graduates of the same program, all killed with their own personalized letter openers. Jennifer had stolen their success by taking their lives, as if eliminating the competition would somehow restore her own fading spotlight.
"Come on," Kate said. "Let's get this properly wrapped."
Sloane nodded and walked with Kate to the car.
When she slid into the passenger seat, she found that maybe her ribs were indeed hurt worse than she thought.
And she also noticed that in the back, Jennifer Grishma was still silent, staring out into the night as if wondering what had happened.
She remained quiet even after Kate started the car and pulled away, and that silence was the most unnerving thing of all.