Richfield & Rivers Mystery Series 1 - Combust the Sun Read Online Free

pressing up against my
back. His breath came in snorting sounds through his nose. He was the man who'd
delivered the small stone to the restaurant. He leaned in to get his mouth on
my neck, and I thought he was going to try to rape me. I tried to break his
hold, but he was skilled at grappling and, with only one hand, he managed to
lock up my arms. I was beginning to panic and yanked my knee up to get it
between our bodies and put some distance between his head and mine.
    His
dark hair, worn in a fifties flattop, smelled of old-fashioned styling balm.
His puffy jaw was clamped shut. His eyes were a dark brown, accentuated by a
spider tattoo at the left corner. This was the ugly face of death.
    Suddenly
two college-aged boys rounded the corner of the parking garage headed for their
car. I let out a shrill yell for help. They ran toward me, shouting at the man.
With his body strength, he could have incapacitated us all, but maiming three
people was apparently a messier day than he'd bargained for. He let go of me
and took off. Saved by two adolescents in USC sweatshirts. I would forever be a
Trojan fan.
    As I
sagged to the ground from fear and exhaustion, the boys lifted me up by my
arms, asking if I were all right and wanting to call the police. I told them
I'd report it and thanked them profusely for their help. They were reluctant to
leave me and watched me drive out of the garage, alive but shaken. My hands
still trembling, I fumbled for Detective Curtis's card and dialed my cell
phone.
    He
answered on the second ring. I told him that I'd been attacked in the hospital
parking garage by the same man who'd attacked Barrett at the restaurant. He
said they'd get a unit over to the hospital immediately and that I should stay
out of the area. I told him I wanted to make sure that no one got to Barrett.
He said he'd call hospital security and alert them. I hung up, then, fearful
the attacker could already be in the hospital, I called hospital security
myself, telling the lead on duty that Barrett Silvers's room needed a guard
posted. I called the nurses' station as well to warn them that all visitors
needed to be screened.
    Exhausted,
I sank back into the seat and ran a frame-by-frame of the day back and forth
through my mind, trying to piece together a story that made sense. By the time
I was halfway over Coldwater Canyon, I knew the Latin guy wasn't trying to rape
me, he was trying to kill me in the same way he'd tried to kill Barrett—with
his mouth. There was something in his kiss that was lethal. I needed to tell
that to the police. I rang Curtis again, but this time got no answer, so I left
the information on his voice mail.
    Back
home, still worried over Barrett, I began preparing for my trip, promising the
nervous Elmo that two days in a car would ultimately be rewarded by limitless
eating for both of us. He sighed, rolling his basset eyes farther back into his
head and looking nearly suicidal.
    I
collapsed onto a floor cushion for a little zazen meditation. My inability to
concentrate and center myself was a clear indication that my encounter in the
parking garage at Cedars had shaken me more than I wanted to admit. I'd spent a
few years studying self-defense techniques, beginning in college and continuing
into my brief and ill-fated stint as a police officer: one year and eight
months of murders, suicides, wife beatings, and child abuse before I finally
had to admit I couldn't take man's inhumanity to man. Today had brought up a
lot of "stuff' for me, centered mostly around the disconcerting truth that
in a heartbeat one can go from dining on fine linen to being wrapped in it.
    "Life
is short, Elmo. I don't want to die before I find that special person, you
know?" From his roachlike position on the kitchen floor, Elmo briefly
opened one eye just to be polite.
    By
nine p.m. I could no longer put off packing. I yanked a navy blazer and a tan
jacket out of the closet and hung them in a dress bag, then threw jeans,