Blood Memory by Greg Iles

Author:Greg Iles
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Suspense, Adventure, Thriller, Adult
ISBN: 9781439128268
Publisher: Pocket Star
Published: 2005-12-01T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 32

Michael looks worried as I approach the Expedition, but then he smiles. “Every time I see you, you’re in your underwear.”

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

He reaches into the vehicle and hands me a T-shirt, a pair of warm-up pants, and some slippers about five sizes too large for my feet.

“Thanks. Do you have a towel or something? I don’t want to ruin the pants. I’ve got a lot of blood on my leg.”

He opens the passenger door and helps me up onto the seat. Then he bends over the ragged hole in my thigh. “Damn. I’ll have to suture that when we get back. For now we’ll just clean and cover it.”

From a paper bag on the floor he takes a bottle of Betadine, soaks some gauze with it, and presses the soggy ball into my wound. After a few seconds, he removes the gauze and squirts half a tube of Neosporin into the hole, then covers it with a large Band-Aid.

“Most of my patients need a Tootsie Pop after this.”

“Do you have one?”

He reaches into his glove box and, with a magician’s flourish, whips out a chocolate Tootsie Pop. This actually brings a smile to my lips.

“How about we get the hell out of here now?” he says.

I nod gratefully.

Michael shuts me into the passenger seat and gets behind the wheel. As I pull the clothes over my underwear, he makes a three-point turn and skids back onto the highway, headed north.

“How did you get down here?” he asks.

“In my car. It’s on the other side of the river.”

“Do we need to get it?”

I would like to have my car back. But to get it, we’d have to cross the ferry at St. Francisville. That’s the only way across the Mississippi River between Natchez and Baton Rouge — other than the ferry at Angola, which is used only for prison business — so it’s an ideal ambush site for whoever was trying to kill me on the island. If the gunman waits for me near my parked Audi, he risks being caught if I bring the cops back with me. But the ferry is a choke point with plausible deniability. If I push my luck and try to cross there, he could get lucky.

“No. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Okay. Take it easy now. I’ll have you back in Natchez in an hour.”

I recline my seat and take a few deep breaths. With the air conditioner on, I feel like I’m resting in a suite at the Windsor Court.

“I don’t want to pry into your business,” Michael says, “but what the hell happened to you today? You sounded bad when you called my office this afternoon.”

“I got some bad news.”

“Okay.”

He doesn’t ask for details, but I don’t see much point in holding back the rest of it. “Just before I called you, I found out that I was sexually abused as a child.”

He nods slowly. “I thought it must be something like that, when you asked about repressed memories. I’ve been reading up on the subject today.

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