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“Most of the storage rooms are just off the loading dock.” Spencer paced around the lift as they descended, glaring at the doors. “What is taking this bloody thing so long?”
“Spencer?” He turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “Thanks for stopping me. I wasn’t sure what I would have done—”
“Whatever was necessary.” He moved to her and pulled her into a tight hug. “And I would have testified on your behalf at your trial.”
She let out a watery laugh and held on to him.
The doors to the lift opened. Spencer freed her, led the way out. “Let’s start here and work our way back. They will be locked only if something has been stashed inside.”
She nodded, following him down the hall. That might narrow down the possibilities—but she had been here several times, when Spencer had been cleaning out the mess left by Giles Trelawney.
There were at least a dozen rooms along this hall. Plus more on the third and fourth floors.
Start here, Maggie. We’ll find him.
Several of the doors stood open. She hoped that most of them were unlocked, giving them fewer options...
A smear on the white linoleum threatened to stop her breath.
“Spence,” she whispered.
He stopped, turning to her. “What is it?”
She pointed at the floor.
He cursed, crouching to take a closer look. “Blood,” he said, his voice grim. “Fresh.”
“Oh, God—”
“No jumping to bad conclusions, Mags.” He closed his hands over her shoulders. “Do you hear me?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed, forcing down the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. “Let’s find him.”
They each took a side, checking the closed doors. Spencer had keys, but every door had its own key, and none of them had been labeled. She hugged herself as he tried several for each door before finding the right one.
Every time he opened the next door, they only found crates, or stacked boxes.
Spencer stopped at the last door, inserting the first key on the ring. A miracle happened, and the knob turned. He pushed open the door—and turned to her, catching her before she could step inside.
“Maggie.”
“Is he in there?”
“You—I should—”
“Get out of my way, Spencer.” She loved him for trying to protect her, but she had to see for herself.
Swallowing, he let her go and stood aside.
Her heart stopped when she saw Martin.
He was sprawled on the floor, unconscious. Blood pooled under his right leg, staining his right side, the leg of his trouser, and the scarf tied around his thigh. Too much blood. She saw the reason lying next to his open hand. A knife. “Spencer—”
“Take this.” He handed over his jacket, then moved to Martin’s left side, pressing two fingers against his throat. Maggie held her breath, waited for the bad news. He was so pale, so still, and there was so much blood— “He’s alive.”
Her knees threatened to buckle with relief.
She sank to the floor, hesitating before she used the makeshift bandage. What if she caused him more pain?
“Maggie.” His raw whisper snapped her head up. “You—found me.”
“Martin.” She brushed sweat soaked hair off his cheek. “Don’t talk. Help is on the way.”
“Pulled it—out.” His fingers touched the bloody knife. “Should have waited.”
She shook her head and pressed the jacket against his leg, flinching when he let out a harsh gasp, reaching toward her hand.
“I’m so sorry, but you’re still bleeding.”
“All right,” he whispered. “Leg—broke my leg.”
“That son of a bitch.”
“Maggie.” A different kind of pain darkened Martin’s eyes. “Geoff—he told me—that he threatened—you.”
“Oh, he did, all right. But Anthea showed up.”
Amusement eased some of the pain. “Must have—been a shock for him.”
“You could say that.”
Martin swallowed, and closed his eyes. “Maggie.” She leaned in, his voice too low for her to hear. “I saw—my mother.”
“Oh, Martin.” She took his hand, gently squeezing his fingers. “Are you all right?”
He nodded, opened his eyes. “We spoke.”
“How—I thought you could only see them.”
“Heard one, before, when I was—badly injured.”
Her heart skipped. “Like now,” she whispered.
“She told me—” A throat cleared, and Maggie glanced over her shoulder, spotting the new arrivals before they stepped into the storage room, one of them holding a doctor’s bag. “Later.”
“You better.” She kissed his forehead, then pushed to her feet. “DI Chamberlain.”
“Mrs. Martin.” He took her arm, eased her away from Martin. “This is my wife, Sara. She will take good care of him.”
Sara did a quick exam—too quick for Maggie’s liking. “He needs to be in hospital, Jamie. Immediately.”
“A local ambulance is on the way, love.” He moved to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. “How are you, Professor?”
“Alive.” Martin tried to smile—and flinched instead when Sara lifted his arm.
“Sorry, Martin.” She checked his pulse, the wound in his side, then gently lifted the makeshift bandage on his leg. He groaned when she applied pressure to the wound. “You should have left the knife alone. You’ve lost more blood than you needed to.”
“Sara.” DI Chamberlain squeezed her shoulder. “He is not one of your students.”
“No—he is a professional who should have known better—”
“He is a man in a great deal of pain.”
Sara closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “Of course. Forgive my bedside manner, Martin. I tend to lose my patience when someone—never mind.” A siren wailed in the distance. “There is your ride. Are you up for a short trip?”
Martin swallowed, his face paler than when Maggie found him. “Have to be.”
Sara brushed hair off his forehead. “I will be there, every step. You can do this, Martin.”
He nodded, closing his eyes.
Maggie moved forward, afraid she’d get left behind if she didn’t speak up. “I’m going with him.”
DI Chamberlain turned to her, taking her hand. “I fear there will be no room for you in the ambulance, but I will drive you myself, Mrs. Martin.”
“Thank you, I have a way there.”
The sound of voices and wheels on linoleum echoed down the hall. Two paramedics rushed into the storage room, stopping long enough to find their patient.
“Dr. Chamberlain—I didn’t expect to see you here.” He crouched next to her. “What do we have?”
“Broken right femur, stab wound to the same leg, shallow stab wound to the right side. He is conscious and responsive. I will ride with you, Patrick.”
“Of course.” Patrick glanced over his shoulder. “Get the gurney ready, Tom.”
“Right.”
“I can lend a hand.” DI Chamberlain freed Maggie’s hand and followed the paramedic out of the room.
Maggie backed out of the way, and almost ran into Spencer. He draped his arm across her shoulders, stood with her while the paramedics carefully lifted Martin to the gurney—then pulled her into a tight hug as soon as they were alone.
“All right, love?” he whispered.
“Terrified.” She held on to him, grateful that he was here. “Can you—”
“I will be happy to drive you.”
“Thanks.”
“The Professor is going to be all right, Mags. He’s stronger than you think—and he has two important people to fight for.”
Maggie nodded, tears slipping free as she closed her eyes.
Martin would be all right.
He had to be.