Page 35

Miraculously, now her voice was a mere whisper. Her cheeks were devoid of all color and she swayed a little, staring down at the knife in her hand.

“There’s blood on my hand,” she managed, right before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell to the gym floor.

That was helpful. Not.

Understandable, but still not helpful.

I finally got Clifford rolled onto his back and I saw there was a puncture wound in his right flank, blood spreading across hisdenim button-up shirt. I yanked his shirttail out of his pants and pressed a wad of fabric onto the wound.

“You’re going to be okay, Clifford,” I assured him.

He nodded. “I’ve had worse days,” he said, his voice gravelly.

“I’d hate to see that day.” I glanced toward the door, willing the EMTs to appear as I pressed with all my strength.

“Korea. Two years. Took shrapnel to the privates.”

Oh, Lord. “That is a bad day.”

“Tell Mary not to worry,” he said. “Can’t kill this old bird.”

I nodded so hard my teeth almost rattled. A glance over showed that Mary looked like she was still unconscious.

Sara had come around and was groaning on the floor, Anne waving a knit hat over her face.

Another woman was holding Mary’s hand and praying over her.

Fortunately, the doors slammed open and the cavalry arrived in the form of two young and buff paramedics. For a second, it seemed like they were in slow motion, hair flowing, bags swinging. If a soundtrack started pumping out a party anthem, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

I frantically waved my arms toward them. “Over here!”

“Help has arrived,” I told Clifford.

I wanted to call Jake and tell him we needed the cops too but I didn’t dare release the pressure on Clifford’s wound. Besides, he had just looked over and realized that Mary wasn’t moving.

“Tell them to see what’s wrong with Mary first,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you’re fine. But there are two of them so they can divide and conquer.”

He coughed and waved that off. “Mary first.”

The praying had grown softer from the woman beside Mary.

I suddenly had a very bad feeling.

It seemed to roll over me like a dark shudder, rushing down my spine and oozing around to settle into my gut. I was scared to look over there and instead focused on Clifford’s side. The bleeding had saturated the tail of his shirt but it seemed like it had slowed significantly.

A paramedic dropped to his knees beside me. “What happened?”

“I got stabbed,” Clifford said baldly. “It was an accident. It was supposed to be a prop knife but it sank right in like my gut was butter. How’s my girl?”

The paramedic didn’t respond and instead told me, “You can release that.”

Thank God.

I let go and watched him take over, his gloved hand removing the shirt from the wound.

Clifford was straining to see Mary.