Proven Guilty (Page 28)

Rawlins looked at me. Then at the dead boy. Then he nodded once and picked up his radio again.

"Hurts," the girl whimpered, breathless with pain. "Hurts, hurts, hurts."

I held her hand. I patted it awkwardly with my gloved left hand while we heard sirens approach.

"My God," Rawlins said again. He shook his head. "My God, Dresden. What happened here?"

I stared at the enormous rip in the movie screen and at the Reaper-shaped dent in the wooden panels of the wall behind it. Clear gelatin, the physical form of ectoplasm, the matter of the spirit world, gleamed there against the broken wood. In minutes it would evaporate, and there would be nothing left behind.

"My God," Rawlins whispered again, his voice still stunned. "What happened here?"

Yeah.

Good question.

Chapter Thirteen

The authorities arrived and replaced crisis with aftermath. The EMTs rushed the more badly injured girl and the eviscerated young man to an emergency room, while police officers who arrived on the scene did what they could to take care of the other injured attendees until more medical teams could show up. I stayed with the injured girl, holding her hand. One of the EMTs had examined her briefly, saw that though in considerable pain she was not in immediate danger, and ordered me to stay with her and keep anyone from moving her until the next team could arrive.

That suited me fine. The thought of standing up again was daunting.

I sat with the girl as more police arrived. She had become quiet and listless as her fear faded and her body produced endorphins to dull the pain. I heard a gasp and the sudden sound of pounding feet. I looked up to see Molly slip by a patrolman and fling herself down beside the girl.

"Rosie!" she cried, her face very pale. "Oh my God!"

"Easy, easy," I told her, putting a hand against Molly’s shoulder to prevent her from embracing the wounded girl. "Don’t jostle her."

"She’s hurt," Molly protested. "Why haven’t they put her in an ambulance?"

"She’s not in immediate danger," I said. "Two other people were. The ambulance took them first. She goes on the next one."

"What happened?" Molly asked.

I shook my head. "I’m not sure yet. I didn’t see much of it. They were attacked."

The girl on the floor suddenly stirred and opened her eyes. "Molly?" she said.

"I’m here, Rosie," Molly said. She touched the injured girl’s cheek. "I’m right here."

"My God," the girl said. Tears welled from her eyes. "He killed them. He killed them." Her breathing began to come faster, building toward panic.

"Shhhhhhh," Molly said, and stroked Rosie’s hair back from her forehead as one might a frightened child. "You’re safe now. It’s all right."

"The baby," Rosie said. She slid her hand from mine and laid it over her belly. "Is the baby all right?"

Molly bit her lip and looked at me.

"She’s pregnant?" I asked.

"Three months," Molly confirmed. "She just found out."

"The baby," Rosie said. "Will the baby be all right?"

"They’re going to do everything possible to make sure that you’re both all right," I said immediately. "Try not to worry about it too much."

Rosie closed her eyes, tears still streaming. "All right."

"Rosie," Molly asked. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"I’m not sure," she whispered. "I was sitting with Ken and Drea. We’d already seen our favorite scene in the movie and we decided to go. I was bending over to get my purse and Drea was checking her makeup and then the lights went out and she started screaming… And then when I could see again, he was there." She shuddered. "He was there."

"Who?" Molly pressed.

Rosie’s eyes opened too wide, showing white all around. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The Reaper."

Molly frowned. "Like in the movie? Someone in a costume."

"It couldn’t be," Rosie said, her trembling growing more pronounced. "It was him. It was really him."

The next medical team arrived and headed right for us. Rosie seemed to be on the verge of another panic attack when she saw them, and started thrashing around. Molly leaned in close, whispering to her and continually touching her head, until the EMTs could get to work.

I stepped back. They got Rosie loaded onto a stretcher. When they laid her arm down by her side, I could see several small, round marks, irregular bruises, and damaged capillaries just under the surface of the skin at the bend of her arm.

Molly stared at me for a second, her eyes wide. Then she helped the EMTs throw a blanket over Rosie and her track marks. The EMTs counted to three and lifted the stretcher, flicked out the wheels underneath, and rolled her toward the doors. The girl stirred and thrashed weakly as they did this, letting out whimpering little cries.

"She’s frightened," Molly told the EMTs. "Let me ride with her, help keep her calm."

The men traded a look and then one of them nodded. Molly let out a breath of relief, nodded to them, and went to walk by the head of the stretcher, where Rosie could see her.

"Don’t worry," said the other EMT "We’ll be right back for you, sir."

"What, this?" I asked, and waved vaguely at my head. "Nah, I didn’t get hurt here. This is from earlier. I’m good."

The man’s expression was dubious. "You sure?"

"Yep."

They took the girl out. I dragged myself to the wall and propped my back up against it. A minute later, a man in a tweed suit came in and walked directly to Rawlins. He spoke to the officer for a moment, glancing over at me once as they talked, then turned and walked over to me. Of only average height, the man was in his late forties, thirty pounds overweight, balding, and had watery blue eyes. He nodded at me, grabbed a chair, and settled down into it, looking down at me. "You’re Dresden?"

"Most days," I said.

"My name is Detective Sergeant Greene. I’m with homicide."

"Tough job," I said.

"Most days," he agreed. "Now, Rawlins back there tells me you were an eyewitness to what happened. Is that correct."

"Mostly," I said. "I only saw what happened at the very end in here."

"Uh-huh," he said. He blinked his watery eyes and absently removed a pen and a small notebook from his pocket. Behind him, cops were surrounding the area where the victims had lain with a circle of chairs and stringing crime scene tape between them. "Can you tell me what happened?"