Shattered (LOST #3)(57)

Gabe lifted a brow. “A case we’ve sure as hell assisted on.”

“And that’s why you’re here now.” But he didn’t want the guy stepping on his toes when he went inside that little room.

“Lead the way,” Gabe murmured.

Squaring his shoulders, Brent entered the room. When he saw Molly Guthrie, he felt a fist punch into his chest. The woman looked so delicate, so damn breakable, as she lay against the stark white sheets. She had bruises on her face and arms. Her lip was busted. But that was nothing . . . nothing compared to all the bandages that covered her. The perp had sliced her, again and again.

“He tried to break her,” Gabe said, his low voice carrying only to Brent. “But it didn’t work. She made it out. She got away from him.”

The machines around Molly were beeping in a steady chorus of sound. A doctor stood to the left of her bed. He was checking her chart and when Brent approached, the guy tensed.

“The patient shouldn’t be stressed right now,” the doctor began. “I need you to know—”

Brent lifted his hand. “Right, I got the spiel from the nurse.” A nurse who’d followed him in. “Doc, the last thing I want to do is hurt this lady, I promise you that. I want to find the man who did this to her, and I want to throw him in jail for the rest of his life.” So he can’t ever hurt anyone else like this again.

He touched Molly’s hand. She flinched and her eyes opened. Fear was in her stare. Such deep, consuming fear.

“Easy, Molly,” the doctor said. “You don’t need to be afraid. This gentleman is a police officer. He wants to help you.”

The fear didn’t ease in her eyes. If anything, it got worse.

“Hi, Molly,” Brent said, working to keep his voice gentle. A tough job because he knew that, most days, his voice sounded like a growling bear. “I just need to ask you a few questions, okay?”

She stared back at him. Such big, beautiful eyes. Eyes that showed her terror.

He tried to smile for her. She seemed to relax a little. That was good.

“Where’s my . . . my br-brother?” Her voice was a soft rasp of sound.

Brent tensed at her question. The last thing he wanted to do was tell her that her brother was dead. When she found out, he knew she’d shut down. A guy didn’t have to be a shrink to figure that out.

“Can you tell me about the man who took you?” Brent asked her. “Molly, did you see his face?”

She gave a slow nod.

“Describe him . . . please.”

“B-Big . . . like you. Wide sh-shoulders. Tall.” Her brow crinkled. “He h-had . . . bl-blond hair . . .”

“Caucasian?”

She nodded.

“What color were his eyes, Molly?” He kept saying her name. He’d been told that was a tactic to create intimacy with a witness. He didn’t know if the technique was working or not, but he was more than willing to try anything right then.

“Bl-Blue . . .”

“Was there anything about the man that stuck out for you, Molly? Any scars or marks on his face?”

Slowly, she shook her head.

“Molly—”

“I want . . . my brother. H-He said . . . the man said that Eddie had . . . had sent him to get me. To pick me up.” A fat tear drop rolled down her cheek. “I—I went with him . . . he knew about Mom . . .”

The machines were beeping louder now, and the doc was frowning at him. Brent figured this counted as getting the patient agitated.

Molly tried to sit up, but she winced, and he saw the flash of pain on her face.

“No, Molly,” the doctor ordered as he put his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve got too many stitches. You have to remain stationary—”

“I want . . . my br-brother . . .”

“Family should be notified,” the nurse snapped. She glared at Brent as if saying . . . Why the hell didn’t you bring in her brother first?

Brent squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry, but your brother . . .” Oh, hell. More tears were falling from her eyes. “Your brother is dead.”

He’d never seen a person break before. But as he stared into Molly’s eyes, he saw it happen. She just seemed to splinter right in front of him. Her face became even paler and her lips moved, but she couldn’t get a sound out. She tried to talk, again, and a low, keening cry escaped from her.

Then she jerked up in bed, fighting the doctor, and trying to reach for Brent. “No! Not Eddie!” Her hands grabbed hold of him and she held tightly to Brent. “N-Not—ah!” Her face contorted in pain.

He looked down. A circle of red had appeared on her white hospital gown.

“I said not to upset the patient!” The doctor rushed over and shoved Brent back. “Leave, now!”

She was bleeding again. Crying out. Her pain seemed to cut right into Brent.

The nurse grabbed his arm and hauled him to the door.

“H-His name . . .”

He jerked away from the nurse. Molly was trying to tell him something. “What, Molly? What is it?”

“H-His name . . .” Molly rasped. The doctor was opening her gown. So much blood. “His n-name was J-Jax . . . Jax Fontaine . . . that’s what he . . .”

The machines beeped even louder.

The nurse pushed him and Gabe all the way out of ICU.