Page 137 of Girl Between (Dana Gray FBI Mystery Thriller #5)

Dana’s mind awoke first. She was in that stage between sleep and waking, trapped in the dark reaches of her mind. Still, she understood where she was and what was at stake if she didn’t wake up.

Somewhere deep down, an unsettling notion of fruition settled over Dana.

She’d started this path long ago. She’d made a career of chasing darkness.

It seemed foolish to expect it wouldn’t have a chance to chase her back.

But this was it. The final clash. The darkness was here. And she would face it, one last time.

Whether it would consume her, or she would emerge beyond its reach … that was yet to be seen.

But one thing was certain. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

It started as a pinprick of light. A tingle in her fingers. Then a thousand stings, as if her flesh was on fire. Consciousness came quickly as Dana realized she could move her limbs again.

They ached with stiffness, and the alarming sensation of pins and needles, but she didn’t care. If this was the only chance she got, she wasn’t going to waste it.

She went to work.

First on her IV.

Working the leather cuff of her restraint back and forth, she caught the tape holding the IV cannula in place, then yanked with all her might.

It took two more tries to get the leverage right, but finally, the entire thing yanked free, spewing blood and IV fluid.

She gave herself one full breath to ease the pain before she began working on the restraints.

The one on her arm where the IV had been wasn’t as tight.

She tore her hand free, losing skin in the process.

Flesh was a small price for freedom.

Dana sat swiftly. Too swiftly.

The room swayed as a stabbing pain in her abdomen stole her breath. She clutched the edge of the gurney and forced herself to breathe until the dizziness passed and she could focus.

The first thing she noticed was the puckering laceration on her stomach. Monroe’s scalpel, no doubt the culprit.

The wound was deep. Two slashed incisions just below her ribs, forming an X that spewed blood every time Dana moved. Painful, yes. Fatal, no.

But she needed to keep moving.

Dana quickly undid the rest of her restraints and quietly eased herself off the table.

The floor was damp and cold on her bare feet, but she barely felt it.

Her focus was elsewhere, scanning the room for threats.

She spotted her belongings. Her clothes lay in tatters on the gurney, but her socks and shoes were on the floor.

Slipping them on she moved to the tray next to the IV.

An array of medical instruments and gauze were spread out on the less than sanitary surface.

She stuffed the gauze against her wound, grabbed what was left of her t-shirt and tied it tightly around her waist. Besides her makeshift bandage and her shoes, she was naked.

It made her feel vulnerable, but she refused to let that stop her.

Grabbing the bone saw from the tray, Dana began her trek through the dark labyrinth of her prison, which she’d immediately recognized as the infamous Plaza Tower.

If she ever made it out of here, she vowed to make it her mission to have the wretched building demolished.

Water leaked overhead, echoing eerily off things she couldn’t see in the dark.

It added to the damp, musty fear that permeated the place.

If the psychotic serial killer roaming the halls didn’t kill her, the dire conditions of the place certainly would.

Mold, asbestos, rust, rot … she could smell it in the air.

The building was a rotting skeleton of concrete and death. Her only goal was to escape.

The near utter darkness made her movement slow. She couldn’t see where she was going, but she’d come near enough to a blown-out window to know she was on an upper level. Not the full 45 stories, but high enough that jumping wasn’t an option.

The height, mixed with the massive holes in the structure, made her leery to move too quickly.

How in the hell did Monroe get me up here?

The building was condemned and without power. Surely the elevators didn’t work. Then again, there’d been a light over her gurney and the IV was the modern kind with a pump. It required power. Which made sense. Monroe would need reliable power to run his hospital of horrors.

Though Dana doubted the structure was sound enough to operate the original elevators, she knew Monroe must’ve found a way around it. Maybe some primitive sort of lift system used during construction?

She wouldn’t put anything past the man who’d been killing undetected for two decades. He was smart. Underestimating him was what landed her here.

Sticking to the walls, Dana kept her footsteps soft. She was drawn to a source of light ahead. The faint sound of classical music was emanating from the same direction. She moved toward it, hoping it was leading her to an exit. As she got closer, she realized she was wrong.

It was a room. Through the open door she could see walls covered in graffiti, but the most disturbing sight was the hospital bed in the center. And the motionless girl strapped to it.