The Third Wife by Jasmine Cresswell

Author:Jasmine Cresswell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2013-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

She had to be crazy, Anna thought, pacing up and down Charlie’s dank basement rec room, where Joseph Mackenzie was stretched out on a billiard table that had been covered by a tattered comforter. She wasn’t talking mildly nuts, but certifiably insane. Why had she brought Mackenzie here instead of taking him to Denver General, as both regulations and common sense required? What in the name of God had come over her?

Not sure whether it was more nerve-racking to watch Charlie hunched over the billiard table, or to look the other way, Anna felt as if she’d just stepped onto the movie set for the opening scene of Mel Gibson’s Payback. Except that Mackenzie looked in much worse shape than Mel ever had.

“You mind parkin’ your butt on the sofa?” Charlie said, not looking up from his swabbing and stitching. “You’re makin’ me real nervous.”

She sat down on the edge of the torn Naugahyde sofa, narrowly avoiding spearing herself on a projecting spring. “What’s taking so long?” she asked.

“Wound’s deep.” Charlie was proving to be a man of few words. He was wearing latex gloves, which she supposed was a promising sign of desire for surgical sterility, but he kept wiping sweat from his forehead with a rag that looked as if it might last have seen the inside of a washing machine some time in the year 2000. Anna occupied a few tense minutes wondering how many germs, bugs and assorted viruses had by now floated, hopped or swum off the rag and into Mackenzie’s wound. She hoped sincerely that Charlie was planning to give his patient a massive dose of antibiotics before this procedure was over.

Silence reigned for another ten minutes, the seconds marked off by the rapid beat of Anna’s heart. If Mackenzie died, how was she going to live with her conscience? If Mackenzie lived, what in the world was she going to do next? Whether he lived or died, it seemed logical to conclude that her career as a parole officer was pretty much in the toilet, so she might as well concentrate on hoping he survived. At least that way one of them would be happy at the outcome of tonight’s insane escapade.

“All done,” Charlie said at last, stripping off his gloves and tossing them onto the billiard table next to Mackenzie’s inert body. “He’s the same lucky bastard he always was. Bullet managed to miss everything vital and passed straight through him.”

In Anna’s book, lucky meant not getting shot in the first place, rather than managing to dodge the bullet. Still, she wasn’t about to quibble. Charlie didn’t look like a man who tolerated dissent. “Does that mean he’s going to be all right?” she asked.

“He’s not goin’ to die of his wounds, if that’s what you mean. Blood loss was severe, but not life-threatening.” Charlie snatched up the glass of Jim Beam he’d stored in one of the pockets of the billiard table and swallowed thirstily.

“Doesn’t he need a shot of antibiotics

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