Shattered (LOST #3)(49)

Footsteps scrambled back.

His eyes narrowed. He wanted to see them, but there were shadows darting across his vision. He swiped out, trying to knock those shadows away. They were like . . . like the dark ghosts he’d seen at a haunted house once. Fabric, hanging on a wire.

“Haunted house . . .” he whispered. He took another swing at the shadows, slicing with his weapon. Maybe he could cut them down.

“That guy is insane!” a man shouted. “He’s still tripping on something. Get the guards. Guards!”

More footsteps thudded into the room. That meant more people, right? He stopped swinging and narrowed his eyes as he tried to see them.

That was when Eddie saw the guns. Two big, hulking men had their guns aimed at him.

“Drop the scalpel, now!” one snarled.

He rubbed his forehead. He was sweating. It was so hot in there. So hot he couldn’t think. “Where am I?” He had memories pushing through his mind, trying to get past the thick fog that had been weighing him down. He remembered . . .

I was in a mask.

But, no, why would he have worn a mask?

Have to kill her. A life for a life.

His body shuddered. He took a step back.

He remembered . . .

I had a knife in my hand. I put the knife to the woman’s throat.

He looked down and saw the glint of the light, shining off the weapon in his hand.

Did I kill someone?

His fingers tightened around that weapon.

He remembered . . . jail. A cell. A big, blond man saying that Molly . . .

“Where’s Molly?” Eddie asked, his voice rasping out. His heart was racing. His palms were sweating. Every breath he took seemed to burn his lungs. “Where’s my sister?”

“Drop the weapon!” was the only response he got.

But if he dropped it, would they fire at him? Were they going to kill him anyway? He glanced around wildly. He didn’t know these people. He’d never seen them before in his life. And his sister . . .

Molly had been . . . taken. That was what the blond man had told him.

Then Eddie had woken up, strapped down. They’d been about to drug him.

Did they take me, too? “I’m getting out of here!” He’d find his sister. He and Molly . . . they always stuck together. It was them against the world. Always had been. Through all the foster homes. Through the different schools. They’d been together.

Molly needs me. “Give me my sister!” His head was throbbing, as if a jackhammer were digging right behind his eyes.

“We have to subdue him!” It was the woman again. Yelling. Her voice made his head ache even more.

“Shut up!” he told her. “Shut up, shut up. Shut up!” Then he lunged toward her.

Thunder erupted. No, not thunder. It was more like fireworks. He and Molly liked to watch the fireworks on New Year’s Eve.

But he didn’t see any fireworks and his chest . . . hurt.

His knees sagged. He hit the floor. The knife—scalpel—fell from his fingers. “I . . . want Molly.”

More footsteps rushed into the room. He strained to keep his eyes open.

“What the hell?” The shocked cry came from the guy who’d just burst into the room. A guy wearing a suit, with a badge pinned to his belt. The guy’s green eyes glittered.

Wait . . . he knew that guy. He was a detective. West—

I can see them all now. So clearly.

The detective must be there to help him. Eddie tried to speak, but he only managed a groan.

Then the cop was in front of him. “Stay with me, kid,” he said.

“Mol . . . ly . . .”

“We found your sister. She’s in a hospital.” The guy’s head turned to the left. “You fucking hit him dead in the heart! Why? Why?”

“He was lunging with the scalpel! I told him to drop it, again and again, and he wouldn’t! He wouldn’t!”

Eddie felt so cold. Cold everywhere, except for his heart. It seemed to be burning right in his chest. “Mol . . . ly . . .”

“Your sister is safe, do you hear me?” The detective leaned in close to him. “We got her. She’s safe.”

That was good. “L-Love . . . Mol . . .”

His chest didn’t burn anymore.

His eyes closed.





Chapter 10

JAX WAITED OUTSIDE OF THE POLICE STATION. HE’D gotten a call from Brent. The detective had said he needed to see Jax, right away.

Night had come. Darkness had swept over the city. In New Orleans, the darkness just meant that the real party was about to begin. This city never seemed to sleep. Vegas had nothing on the Big Easy.

He saw Brent hurry out of the station and quickly run down the steps. Jax hunched his shoulders and eased deeper into the shadows. Then he walked down the street, knowing that Brent would follow him. They wouldn’t have that chat right on the doorsteps of the PD. That would be far too obvious. But the perfect spot waited just ahead.

Jax propped his shoulders against the wall of an alley. Brent came into sight again a few moments later.

“He’s dead,” Brent said.

Jax waited. “Tell me you’re talking about the prick who took the girl.”

“I’m talking about Eddie Guthrie.” Brent started pacing. He jerked his hand over this face. Jax had noticed before that the guy did that whenever he was nervous or upset. “He was in the med unit, they were supposed to be taking care of him.”