Chapter 8
Mira couldn’t have been unconscious for very long, because she saw Connor kneel next to her and press something onto her shoulder, as she tried to make out her surroundings. The incredible pain was so intense that she almost wished she had remained in that darkness for a little while longer. Her shoulder seemed to be on fire and the pain radiated into her entire upper body. Even in that condition, though, she noticed that Connor was still vigilantly scanning everything around them, while trying to remain calm. “Stay down,” he ordered her calmly. “The bullet only grazed you, but I know how much it hurts.” Mira suppressed a whimper as he pressed the fabric deeper into her wound. “The ambulance is on its way. I think I can see the flashing lights. Not even two minutes and your wound will be taken care of and you will be as good as new in less than a week. Trust me.”
She laughed and then winced when the movement sent yet another wave of insane pain through her shoulder, which seemed even stronger than before. “I am supposed to trust you?” Connor was busy sending a bunch of onlookers on their way with some harsh words, so he didn’t hear her quietly spoken question. Maybe that was a good thing, because right now she did not feel strong enough to have a full-blown conversation about trust with him. She was also pretty sure that her injury was just one of the reasons why.
He kept talking, but Mira only really heard half of it. “That’s right,” he said as he tried to see through the now larger group of people surrounding them, before continuing with whatever he was saying. It took a while, but Mira suddenly realized that he was actually talking to her so that she wouldn’t lose consciousness again. Were things much more serious than Connor wanted her to believe, or was he simply trying to distract her?
Finally, the paramedics arrived and cut a line through all the onlookers that had gathered. A middle-aged man kneeled next to them and carefully but firmly removed Connor’s hand from Mira’s shoulder. Connor reluctantly obliged. “What happened here?”
Connor answered quickly, but with only a few words. As much as he had been talking to Mira non-stop before, he now seemed reluctant to say anything about what had happened. Mira listened with only half an ear as the paramedic examined her wound and kept asking her the weirdest questions. She told him her name, her age, today’s date, and even who the current American president was. She only realized that Connor had disappeared, when the man asked about him. “Where did your friend go,” asked Mr. Johnson — Mira had seen his name tag on the uniform — and he now helped her to sit up carefully.
“He is… not my friend,” replied Mira who wanted to touch her head, because she was so dizzy. Someone put a blanket around her shoulders after the paramedic had finished applying a temporary bandage. That definitely helped her a little, because she felt cold and was shivering. Mira looked around and tried to find Connor, but he had disappeared. As had his rather silent female guest.
“Do you feel okay to walk to the ambulance,” the paramedic asked. “It is just a graze wound,” he confirmed Connor’s original assessment, “but we will need to run a few more tests on you in the hospital to make sure that you don’t have a concussion.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Mira replied, but she did let the man help her get to her feet and walk her to the ambulance, which made her feel extremely dizzy once more. It was definitely much more comfortable to lie on the stretcher than on the cold floor.
“That’s protocol, Ma’am. You have been shot. You don’t have a choice but to come with us to the emergency room,” Mr. Johnson explained patiently and started to pack everything away, so they would be able to leave as soon as possible.
Suzanne!
She must be beside herself with worry about her sister. How long had she been out here? Did the hotel even know that someone had been shot out here?
Mira felt nauseous. Someone had shot at her.
That was the moment when the full extent of what had happened, hit her with full force. She started to shake uncontrollably, and she almost regretted that Connor wasn’t there to hold her. Mr. Johnson stood in front of the ambulance and spoke to a police detective, who kept looking at her every now and again.
“Can I ask you a few questions, Miss?”
Of course, Suzanne had chosen this particular moment to appear at the scene, followed closely by her husband and Luke. While Suzanne had run outside in only her thin dress and Luke had followed her in just his tuxedo, Russell had actually taken the time to pick up his coat from the coatroom. Mira had no idea why this detail was the one thing she noticed, given how lightheaded she felt.
“Sweetie,” Suzanne screeched and even attempted to push the police detective aside, so she could get to her sister. Her face was as white as a sheet and she was shivering too. Russell just managed at the last second to grab her by her arm and pull her aside. Luke took the opportunity to stand close to the open door of the ambulance and ask Mira if she was okay.
“Yes, it was just a graze shot,” she repeated Connor’s words without realizing the effect they would have on her sister. Mira seemed miles away as she watched how her sister tried to escape Russell’s tight grip. Only when the detective’s look seemed to rest on his hand, did he release his wife. Suzanne turned her back on him, ignoring him, and instead started talking to the police, gesturing wildly and speaking with a very demanding voice. The man listened to her intently and then obviously gave her permission to climb into the ambulance. Mr. Johnson had strapped Mira onto her stretcher with some belts, so she wouldn’t fall off the stretcher during the drive to the hospital, and he now stepped outside to close the ambulance doors for them to be able to leave. That was also the moment when Mira passed out again.
The next time she woke up, she was on a hospital bed. Suzanne sat next to her on her left side and Russell, Luke, and the police detective she had seen earlier, stood at the foot of the bed.
“What happened, sweetie,” Suzanne asked breathlessly as she clutched her sister’s hand.
“That’s what I would like to know,” said the police detective immediately. “I would like to ask you a couple of questions, Miss Dumont. The quicker we get this investigation going, the faster we will be able to catch the person who shot you. Would that be okay?”
That was the moment when Mira noticed the man properly for the first time. She thought that he had been young, maybe even younger than herself, but now she realized that she had been wrong about that. He was in his early thirties and Latin American. He reminded her of Zorro from the old movies she used to watch with Suzanne. Obviously, this man didn’t wear a mask and had no sword, but he had fiery eyes, the dark brushed back hair, and a slim mustache on his upper lip, which made him look very much like her former childhood hero. He introduced himself to Mira as Detective Santiago. She wondered about his questioning look, but then she remembered that Suzanne hadn’t yet answered his question.
“Yes, yes of course,” she replied quickly and tried to smile, which wasn’t easy for her. Whatever the doctors had given her for the pain was working like a treat. If her arm hadn’t been restricted by a sling, she was sure that she could have moved it.
“Don’t you think you should wait until tomorrow with your questioning? Someone shot at my sister and she is still in shock.” Suzanne didn’t seem too thrilled about the idea of draining her little sister with even more stress, given the unpleasant situation she was in.
“I am aware of the circumstances, Ma’am, but that is the exact reason why I need to talk to her now, to find out what Miss Dumont remembers. The more she tells me, the sooner we will be able to solve this crime. Isn’t that what you want?” This time, her sister had definitely been put in her place, Mira thought.
“Please ask. I am ready.” That wasn’t exactly correct. Mira would have loved to go back to the hotel and hide in her warm bed, but he obviously had a valid point.
“Did you attend the benefit gala here at the Royal?”
“Yes, together with my sister, my brother-in-law, and Mr. Bishop.”
“What was the reason for you leaving the hotel? Were you alone?” He jotted down some notes in a small booklet, just as you would expect from a detective.
“I wanted to ask Mr. Carmichael something.”
“Is Mr. Carmichael the man who tended to you until the ambulance arrived?”
“That’s right,” confirmed Mira. “He sat at the same table as us and he had already left, when I remembered something that I had forgotten to ask him.” Mira avoided looking at her sister and pulled her hand away from her grip when Suzanne pressed it hard. Detective Santiago also noticed this gesture and Mira almost expected him to write his observation down in his booklet: Sisters are extremely tense when C.C. is mentioned.
“Was he with you when you were shot? Did you see who shot you?” Now they started talking about the really important details. Despite his earlier declaration that he wanted to catch the suspect quickly, he now seemed to take his time with his questions.
“Yes, Mr. Carmichael was with me. And no, I did not see the man who shot me.” She closed her eyes and tried to remember exactly what had happened, where she had stood, and where the shot had come from. All she could remember was Connor’s face, pale and terrified, before he had held her close to him. Oh no, that wasn’t true. Mira swallowed hard. She felt nauseous. Today, he had not picked her up and he had not pressed her against his chest. He had done that seventeen years ago.
“But you know that it was a man?” The question came so quickly that she immediately reacted without thinking and shook her head.
“No, I just assumed that it was a man.” She opened her eyes and looked the detective straight in the face.
“Do you have any idea where we could find Mr. Carmichael?”
“No, I don’t,” she answered honestly. Suzanne slid impatiently back and forth on her chair, but before she could say anything, Detective Santiago had already closed his booklet.
“That’s enough for now. Where will I be able to reach you?” At least, he didn’t tell her that she wasn’t allowed to leave town until further notice. Mira told him that she was staying at the Hyborn hotel and then tried to stand up.
“Thank you,” she said as he offered her his hand. His fingers were warm, and his grip was strong. He turned to leave, just as a nurse entered the room and took Mira’s vitals again — her blood pressure and her temperature. Then she handed Mira a small orange container with some pills and expressly told her how she should spend the next 24 hours after her release from the hospital — in bed — including all the things she should avoid. She handed Mira her after care instructions and then left the room.
Luke had been waiting patiently this entire time. He had held her coat and now came to the other side of the bed when Mira tried to get up carefully. He helped her to her feet and then carefully put the coat over her shoulders.
“I can drive you back to the hotel,” he offered. “Or to your sister’s house — whichever you prefer.”
“That is a great idea,” Suzanne added enthusiastically. “You really should not be alone tonight, and this way, I can check on you every now and again.”
Luke leaned so close to her that his voice was only audible to her ears. “I can stay with you, if you like,” he offered. “Or you can come back to my apartment. I will obviously sleep on my sofa.”
“Thank you, this is really very considerate of you both,” replied Mira as determined as she could. “But I just want to sleep in my own bed.”
“The bed in the hotel is definitely not your own bed,” Suzanne complained. Mira noticed that her sister was just beginning to want to convince her otherwise.
“I am still sure that I don’t want to stay the night anywhere else other than in my hotel.” She turned around and ignored the pleading look of her big sister. “Luke, can you please take me back to the Hyborn?”
Only when she heard his voice did she notice that Detective Santiago had listened to the entire conversation. “Miss Dumont, just one last question, if I may? What was it that you wanted to ask Mr. Carmichael?”
Mira’s expression became like an iron mask and she tried to keep that meaningless expression as well as she could, while she searched for an innocuous answer inside her rattled brain. She couldn’t find any. “I am afraid that I have forgotten.”
His dark eyes followed her all the way until she had left the room.