Page 55 of Random in Death

“No, but I think it’s a needle stick. Nine-one-one, Dawn. Fucking now. Here, Arlie, lie down.”

“I don’t feel right. I can’t breathe right.”

She gagged. Nothing much came out before she went all the way down. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

“Take it slow. Dawn, go up there, have them use the mic to see if there’s a doctor.”

Because her friend’s lips were turning blue, and she began to seize.

“Hurry! Hurry!”

With thoughts of the media reports of the girl at Club Rock It, tears spilled as she started CPR.

“We need help.” She shouted it as she continued compressions. “We need a doctor!”

One came even before the MTs arrived.

But it was too late.

Chapter Eight

On-screen, the main character, kick-ass woman, kicked ass as she battled both bad guys and the clock. The other main, nerdy guy, raced against that clock, leading hostages—including tiny, innocent children—out of the target building seconds before it exploded.

Though wounded by shrapnel, he proved his mettle, emerged from the clouds of smoke with a toddler in his arms.

Given the distance, Eve figured they’d all—including said toddler—have gone up in pink mist. But she put that aside as she enjoyed the visual.

Just as the music swelled, Eve’s communicator signaled.

“God. Goddamn it.”

Saying nothing, Roarke rose from the sofa to walk to her closet.

“Dallas.”

Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. See the officers at Memorial Park. Minor female, DOS, apparent OD.

“Do we have an ID on the victim?”

Nine-one-one caller ID’d victim as Arlie Dillon. Dallas to confirm.

“Notify Peabody, Detective Delia. I’m on my way. Dallas out.”

He’d taken out lightweight gray trousers and a sleeveless top, with a waist-length jacket the color of the smoke the nerdy guy emerged from.

He’d added the boots, the belt, and had already begun to change himself.

“It’s going to be another late one,” she began. “You don’t have to—”

“I’ll drive.” He pulled on a fresh T-shirt. “You’ll want to run the victim, hoping to find some connection to Jenna Harbough. Otherwise, it’s random, isn’t it?” His eyes met hers. “And that’s worst case.”

“Don’t get bitchy when I say you think like a cop when you think like a cop.”

After strapping on her weapon, she grabbed her badge, her ’link.

He heard her mutter another curse as she shoved things into her pockets.

“What is it?”