"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 didnotlook 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 wasnotexpecting 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 equipmentbags 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.
