Invisible Ellen (27 page)

But even before Georgi had started to turn away, Loretta coughed and jerked. The Boss jumped back as if she were a coiled snake, but not the mean-faced Georgi. Loretta stared blurrily up at the big man, whose expression had gone distinctly furious. “You son of bitch,” she slurred. Then she seemed to gather strength. “He tried to kill me,” she said shakily, pointing a trembling finger at him. “He put me in here and put a brick on the . . . the . . . go thing.” She was
struggling, too drugged up to find the words she wanted but lucid enough to be understood. She was trying to get out of the car, but she seemed to have only partial control over her muscles. Everyone was staring at Georgi now.

“She's hallucinating,” he said, but the faces regarding him coldly made it clear that no one was buying it.

“Liar!” Loretta slurred, and the crowd began to mutter. “He's not a doctor!” she shouted thickly. “He's a crook! His name is—”

Georgi punched Loretta in the face and she crumpled, unable to say any more. Then he turned to face the guard.

Ellen watched as first the truth and then fear dawned on the security guard's face and he swallowed and reached to pull his nightstick from his belt, but he was too old and too slow for the seasoned criminal. Georgi charged him, knocking him flat to the ground. His skull made a solid cracking sound that made Ellen wince. The Russian started toward the ruined entrance just as the first police car pulled up, sirens screaming. He stopped short, spun, and a gun appeared from beneath his jacket.

Moving faster than Ellen imagined possible for such a meaty man, Georgi rushed straight into the group of stunned employees. Irena screamed and turned to run, but he snatched her by the hair and half dragged her back to the front. “Everybody mind your own business, and she won't get hurt,” Georgi said almost calmly as he moved away. “She's just going to show me out.”

“Oh please, no,” Ellen breathed.

Irena had gone catatonic. Her eyes, wide, stared up at the ceiling as she was manhandled through the glass and wreckage. The cops got out of their car, guns drawn, and hunched down behind their open doors, muzzles trained on Georgi and his hostage.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Georgi said to them, pointing the gun at Irena's head. “We're just leaving, and if you want her to live, you'll drop your weapons.”

The Boss was taking advantage of the drama to move toward the hidden cash bag, backing up a half step at a time. The cops held their positions. Georgi shifted the gun from Irena's temple to a few inches in front of her face and fired a blind single shot past her nose into the store. There was an outbreak of screams and panic as everyone dropped to the floor or scuttled for cover. Ellen felt a painful, hot hollowness in her chest and looked down. There was a small hole in the front of her shirt that she hadn't noticed when she got dressed, but she was so terrified for Irena and so caught up in the unreality of the whole situation that she dismissed it and the burning sensation. Georgi inched toward the door, keeping Irena's body in front of his. He was almost through the doors when suddenly a shape dropped from the sky.

Justice caught Georgi in the back as he landed, yanking him off of Irena, who stumbled a few feet and fell onto the shattered glass on her hands and knees. The powerful man twisted toward Justice, who was outweighed and clearly no match for a desperate criminal. The cops took aim again, but in the struggle, there was no way to fire without possibly hitting Justice. The ache under Ellen's right shoulder had grown into a piercing pain, she fleetingly wondered if she was having a heart attack.

Suddenly, the confusion was sliced by a high, shrieking scream of rage. Irena had risen from the ground, a thin shard of glass clutched in one hand, and as she screamed, she lunged, thrusting the makeshift dagger into Georgi's back. He howled with pain and released Justice, who fell off to one side. Georgi turned, raising the gun at
Irena. She did not flinch, only opened her arms as though to welcome the bullet. A shot rang out. Irena's body jerked. Then a volley of shots ricocheted and echoed through the huge space, and Georgi fell to the ground, where he lay in an unmoving, crumpled heap.

Irena swayed precariously and looked down at her tormentor. Blood was running down her hand where the glass had sliced it open, but she seemed oblivious to anything but him. She was staring down at the body like a monster in a nightmare, which, Ellen thought, he surely was. Ellen's chest was hurting so badly now that she tilted forward and reached one hand to the apex of the pain. It was wet with warm liquid.

The cops were shouting and moving in, more cars raced up and screeched to a stop. In the confusion, the Boss made a lunge for his prize.

He tore open the cooler. It made a sucking, vacuum sound, like Tupperware, and he stared down in astonishment at the empty container. Confusion was instantly replaced by rage. Almost immediately, his gaze fixed on the partially unzipped tent door and the movement inside. His face twisted in fury and his hands clenched. In spite of the twisting pain and throbbing in her chest, Ellen reached out with her right hand and took hold of the only weapon she could find on her cart.

“Looking for this?” Temerity asked, emerging from the tent and holding up the bag. “Hello, police officers! Over here.”

The Boss's face seethed with frenzied rage. He locked his eyes on the bag and then lunged for Temerity. Ellen's hand holding a spray bottle flew up between them, and she released a long stream of toxic green cleaning liquid directly into his face.

He screamed, backing away and clawing at his eyes as he dropped
to his knees. One of the officers hurried over to them. “What's going on?” she demanded. Her gun was drawn but pointed at the ground in front of her.

“He was trying to get this.” Temerity held up the canvas sack. “That's what this was all about—the car crash, the whole thing. They were robbing the store together.”

The cop's gun was redirected at the Boss. “Get down on your stomach,” she shouted at him, moving in closer. “Down on the floor!”

More police officers were coming in now and everything started to happen very fast, though it seemed to be blurring together for Ellen. She was panting, but she couldn't get a deep enough breath, and she wasn't sure why. The Boss was handcuffed, his eyes squeezed shut and streaming tears. Ellen suspected not all of the tears were from the cleanser. At the same time, the female officer took the cash bag from Temerity, but as she did, she looked past her in Ellen's direction. Her eyes wavered up and down, fixed on Ellen's face, then dropped quickly to her chest. She looked vaguely sickened. That didn't surprise Ellen, but what came next was unexpected. Instead of turning away, the officer stepped toward Ellen and addressed her.

“Ma'am, are you all right?” she asked, her voice full of concern. She turned and shouted over her shoulder. “Let's get a paramedic in here!”

Ellen was watching the police officer, confused. Had the woman spoken to her? Did she see her? Everything seemed to be pulling farther away. She glanced down at her front, to check if her body was there, and saw the blood streaming from between her fingers where they were pressed against her chest. Everything started to dim. She reached forward and grasped the barbecue grill to steady herself.

“Just stay calm, ma'am,” the cop said, holstering her gun.

Ellen's head spun, and the ceiling above her circled, slowly, then faster. The floor rushed up toward her, and her face hit, unrestrained against the side of the grill, but there was only a second of fleeting, tearing pain as she dropped into a dark, silent void.

E
llen? Ellen?” Someone was calling her name through a thick fog, but she was distant from the sound, as though there were a cushioning barrier of foam between herself and the speaker.

Then, very slowly, she opened her eyes. Temerity was leaning over her.

“What happened?” Ellen managed to whisper as an onslaught of images rushed her. Her face and jaw felt locked stiff, her lips swollen, and it was hard to speak through the numbness and narcotics.

“You got shot,” Temerity said, squeezing her hand tightly. “So you've got a great story to tell! The good news is the bullet went through the fleshy bit next to your arm, so it just grazed you. It bled a lot, but didn't do much damage. Thank heaven you have some extra padding.” Temerity was stroking her hand, and Ellen noticed that, though Temerity spoke with her familiar confidence, she was crying.

Ellen tried to sit up, but it sent her head spinning, so she only made it a few inches before collapsing back. “What's wrong?” she slurred through slightly parted lips that wouldn't fully function. “Why are you crying? Is Justice . . . ?”

“He's fine—he's right here.”

“Present and accounted for,” Justice's voice said from her left. “A bit sore, but nothing a fistful of Advil and a hot shower didn't improve.”

Ellen tried to turn her head but found that she was prevented from doing so by thick bandaging on the left side of her face. “What's wrong with me?” she asked, raising a tentative finger to touch the bulky gauze.

The painkillers in her system kept Ellen from feeling her previous aversion to any kind of scrutiny, but they also made it difficult to comprehend what was happening.

“You took a little spill when you saw your own blood. Happens to some people,” Justice told her, coming around to stand behind his sister so that Ellen could see him. “And you hit your face on the grill tongs that were hooked on the side of the barbecue, sliced it open pretty good. The doctors cut off quite a bit of scar tissue before they stitched it up and then they decided to do a skin graft, so you might look a little different when we get that off.” He beamed down at her. “That's why you've been out for such a long time. Two surgeons, friends of Dr. Amanda, heard about what you did and they both came in to work on you. I don't want to say much, but they were pretty cocky about how well it came out. You are now officially a surgeon's work of art.”

This was far more information than she could process, so Ellen fumbled for something simpler to grasp. “What day is it?” she asked. Her tongue felt bloated and her teeth were locked together.

“Sunday morning. You've been here all night. Two hours of surgery, a few hours in recovery, and now you're here with us in this beautifully appointed private room,” Temerity said. “I
think
it's beautifully appointed anyway. It is, in my mind.”

“Yeah, hang on to that,” Justice said, glancing around at the grubby room with a comic grimace that fleetingly made Ellen want to laugh, but the impulse was smothered in pillows of opiates.

“So . . .” Ellen wanted to lick her lips—her mouth was so dry—but her teeth wouldn't open. Justice held a cup of water for her to sip from a straw, and that helped. “So,” she began again, “Georgi?”

“Dead,” Temerity said. “And I can't say I'm too broken up about that.”

“Oh,” Ellen said. She wasn't sure what she felt, if anything. Her emotions were fluttering somewhere outside her body like frantic butterflies.

“Better him than me,” Justice added.

“Irena?” Ellen asked, her eyes flickering wide as she remembered.

“She's okay. She's here too. She had to have her hand stitched up; she wants to see you when you're ready.”

“See me,” Ellen muttered. “That's weird.”

Justice laughed, then said seriously, “That boss of yours is in custody. The police told us he'll get put away for a long time for being an accessory to attempted murder and robbery. Oh, that Loretta woman is pretty banged up, but she'll be back to her old self soon.”

“Loretta's old self,” Ellen mumbled, remembering how appalling the woman had been of her own accord. “That's not good.”

Temerity laughed. “I'm with you there,” she said. “Justice means she'll be okay.”

“‘Okay' would be an improvement,” Ellen muttered.

Temerity and Justice both laughed, and Ellen was mistily aware of wishing she could join them but too lost in the fog to feel disappointed. “Oh yeah,” Temerity added. “J.B. is being released this morning.”

Justice pulled out a familiar small package wrapped in brown
paper and held it up so that Ellen could see it without having to turn her head.

“I'm on my way up to give him a little parting gift. It's his anyway.”

Ellen tried to smile, but only half her face worked. “That's good.” She sighed.

“He might not have been a model citizen, so far anyway, but he's an excellent capitalist, and I think that quality needs to be supported by his fellow Americans. We'll call it venture capital for his new start-up.”

“Very patriotic,” Temerity noted.

There was a soft knock from behind Justice, and he turned to the source. “Hi,” Ellen heard him say. “Come on in. She's awake, barely.”

Someone appeared next to him, and Ellen found herself being peered at by a third person, which wasn't as bad as she thought it would be because it was Irena. Her right hand was a club of white gauze and was held against her chest with a sling. She smiled down at Ellen, some, though not all, of the haunted look having left her eyes. “Thanks you,” she said.

“Not me,” Ellen replied, raising a limp finger half an inch to point at Justice. “Him,” she said.

“Yes, thanks him too. But if not for you, he would not be there, and I would not be here.”

Ellen watched her through her druggy, silver haze. A thought floated into her fuzzy brain. “See? I told you that something can happen that changes everything. Now you can rest,” she said.

Irena's smile was distracted. “Yes. That horrible man will not come back.” She ran her good hand through her hair. “But I must to decide about Ivan.” Ellen could tell from Irena's voice that she
did
know, that she too had been unwanted. “I am afraid for him.” Tears came to her eyes.

Ellen did not speak, only shifted her eyes so that she could see Temerity, who was grinning widely in the general direction of the Russian woman. Temerity said, “Irena, do you like Mozart?”

Irena started and stared at the blind girl. “Yes, very much. I was one time, how do you say? Pianist.”

Temerity's smile was so smugly contented that Ellen half imagined a feather protruding from the edge of it. “If you're up for it, I'd love for you to come to my concert tonight,” she told Irena. “I have two tickets and only one is taken, by a nice woman, a lady whom I would very much like you to meet.”

Irena had drawn back a bit, her fine but exhausted features veiled with distrust. “I don't know, people who are new, I am not so much interesting to people, friends.”

“Oh, I'm confident she'll find you fascinating.” Temerity stood up and moved around to Irena. Locating her good arm, she hooked her own through it and started to lead Irena out into the hallway. “So you were a pianist,” she was saying. “Tell me about that.”

They were out the door and Ellen felt the encompassing warmth of knowing that Irena was securely in Temerity's thrall.

Justice leaned over and put the back of his hand on Ellen's unbandaged cheek. “You rest now,” he said softly. “I've got to go strew largesse.” Then he tucked the blanket in under her chin and slipped quietly out.

Ellen was fading away, falling into the clouds that drifted and shimmied around her. “Strew largesse,” she mumbled. As she succumbed to the allure of the floating fog and was borne away, her last thought was,
Whatever that means
.

But she knew it was something good.