Linnea gasped. ‘I took your coat?’
‘No, I loaned you my coat. And it’s all right. I’ll need it back, but I’m okay for now. My car’s heater works really well. I would have been overheated in my coat.’
Linnea’s eyes blurred with sudden tears. She’d thought it odd that the doctor only wore a cardigan. ‘Th—’ She shuddered out a breath, unable to speak her thanks.
‘You’re welcome. Now, about the coat you were wearing.’
Linnea squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to dissolve into sobs. She’d already cried too much tonight and she had a headache. But it was so hard not to cry at the memory of the doctor putting her coat in a red biohazard bag because she’d bled on it while sitting on it in the cab.
‘It was important to you?’ Dr Dani asked.
Linnea managed a nod. ‘It . . . it was a gift. From someone who l-loved me.’ From Andy. It was the only thing she had left from him since she’d left the switchblade embedded in his arm. Hope he gets gangrene and dies. But not before I can kill him myself.
Which made no sense. I’m so tired.
She’d have to get another knife as soon as she got out of the shelter. Or maybe even a gun. Something especially deadly because she might not get more than one chance to kill him. She needed to make the most of the opportunity. But she could think about that later.
The doctor bit her lip thoughtfully. ‘Tell you what. I’m going to submit your coat to the police along with the rape kit, the clothes you . . . appropriated from the hotel, and the clothes you brought in the plastic bag.’
The clothes she’d bled on. ‘I understand,’ she whispered.
‘But if they don’t need the coat as evidence, I’ll see if we can get it cleaned for you.’
Linnea’s eyes spilled over. ‘Why? Why would you do that for me?’
‘Because I understand the sentimental value it has for you. My brother has a coat that our stepfather gave him, right before our stepfather and mother died in a car accident. Deacon has other coats, but that one is really important to him.’ She sighed. ‘And because someone needs to be kind to you, Denise.’
Denise. Linnea kept having to remind herself that was her name now. For as long as she stayed alive. ‘I . . . never expected any of this. I would have been happy to have a safe place to sleep.’
‘You should expect more,’ Dr Dani said simply. ‘Let’s go. I need to get back to the clinic. My dinner break is nearly over.’
She’d . . . Linnea shook her head numbly. The doctor had given up her dinner break too. For me. She had the sudden need to do something . . . honorable. To pay the woman back for her kindness.
I need to use a phone. I need to tell the police about the SUV. She could do that much.
She followed Dr Dani from the car to an old building with a heavy wooden door. It pulled open with a small creak and Linnea found herself . . .
Oh God. A church. Linnea scuttled backward, unwilling to move another step. Dr Dani turned to search her face, the woman’s own expression questioning. ‘We need to walk through the sanctuary to get to the shelter. It’s downstairs. That’s where they’ll buzz us in.’ She tugged Linnea farther inside, then pulled the heavy door closed with a thud that had her flinching.
‘I can’t be in a church.’ Not after the things she’d done.
‘Of course you can.’ The doctor’s voice was, once again, too kind.
‘No.’ She could feel herself begin to hyperventilate. ‘I’ve done too much.’
‘You’ve survived. Come with me. You can come up with other options besides a shelter beneath a church once you’ve had a good night’s sleep.’
Linnea reluctantly followed until they came to another set of doors. On this door the doctor knocked, then stood back, pointing to the peephole. ‘So Jeanette will know it’s us,’ she explained.
A few seconds later Linnea heard a beep and the door opened to a hallway lit with wall sconces that flickered like natural candlelight, but they were all electric. A sweet-faced older lady with a white blouse and black skirt stood there, a smile of welcome on her face.
‘Dr Dani,’ the woman said, hugging the doctor after closing the door behind them. Linnea heard the lock quietly click. She was trapped. She looked side to side, all around, panic building until the doctor touched her back for the briefest of moments.
‘Denise,’ she said. ‘You’re safe here. Remember? You can leave at any time.’
Denise. Yeah. She wished she’d at least gotten a fake ID with an L name. She was going to give herself away by forgetting her own damn name. Wordlessly, Linnea nodded.
‘This is Sister Jeanette,’ the doctor continued. ‘She’s one of the good guys. She’s got a bed for you to sleep in tonight.’
‘And a warm coat,’ the sister added with a smile.
Linnea removed the doctor’s coat and gave it back to her. ‘I didn’t bleed on it,’ she whispered, hoping the old nun had bad hearing.
Dr Dani’s lips quirked up. ‘I know. I’m the one who bandaged you all up. I’m an expert bandage-upper.’ Quickly she searched the pockets. ‘There’s something here for you. I found it in your other coat but forgot to tell you that I put it in this pocket. Ah, here it is.’ A small white square of paper lay on her palm.
That’s mine? Linnea stared, having trouble remembering where she’d gotten it. Oh. Right. Now she remembered. The piece of paper she’d found in the SUV when she’d been searching for cash. She took it from the doctor’s outstretched hand. ‘Thank you.’
‘If you’ll follow me,’ the nun said, ‘I’ll warm up your supper and then you can shower and go to sleep.’
Dr Dani gave her arm another one of those feather-light touches. ‘You have my number at the clinic now. Call if you have any issues. Even if I’m not there, I’ll get the message.’
‘Thank you,’ Linnea said once again. ‘I won’t forget you, as long as I live.’ So, like, for another week. Max.
‘Sister Jeanette, it’s always a pleasure,’ Dr Dani said to the nun and then she was gone, buzzed through the locked door, back into the sanctuary.
‘Come with me,’ the nun said. ‘I’ll show you to the kitchen.’ She started walking, her step heavy. ‘Our priest is Father Bishop. He’s a very kind man and a trained therapist, if you’re needing to talk with anyone.’
Linnea found herself truly smiling for the first time in days. ‘Father Bishop?’
‘He likes to be called Father Trace, his first name, but I like to tease him,’ the nun confided. ‘It’s about all the fun I get these days.’
She opened another door, this one to a large, industrial-style kitchen with gleaming stainless steel fixtures, appliances and countertops. The table was old, but homey-looking. ‘Sit, child. I’ll bring your plate to you. I hope you like chicken.’
‘I’d like anything, ma’am,’ Linnea said truthfully. ‘I’m very hungry.’
The nun paused. ‘How long since you’ve had a normal meal?’
Since before she’d been grabbed from Jolee’s apartment Thursday night. She’d fled to Jolee’s after Andy had seen her with him at that motel, and had accused her of sleeping with him. That Andy had died believing she’d willingly sold herself was a dull blade in her heart. ‘Two days. I think. The doctor gave me two protein bars and some juice.’
‘That’ll keep you from keeling over, but it’s not a proper meal,’ the sister said, clucking her tongue.
‘Can . . . can I use your bathroom?’
The nun pointed to a door just beyond the kitchen. ‘In there.’
‘Thank you.’ Linnea shut the door behind her and searched the walls and ceilings for cameras. Because she still trusted no one. Not even Dr Dani or the sweet-faced nun. But there were no cameras visible and Linnea sat on the toilet seat and unfolded the little square of paper. For a long moment she stared at it, unsure of what she was looking at.
It was actually just a fragment, the edges ragged. It was kind of rectangular in shape, but had obviously been part of a larger piece of paper. Linnea squinted at the print. It was smudged in places, like it had gotten wet. With drops.
Tears? Maybe. But she could still read the words.