JOSETTE USED A key to open the primary door to the infirmary. None of the loud buzzing of the automated system, as the noise would probably alert Mischa.315Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUGyBVTKJRn
Mischa would likely be asleep. She was asleep twenty minutes ago---at 1:00 a.m.---when Josette had used the key to sneak in, tiptoe toward the secured room, and check on her through the window. There had been no movement from Mischa. Her eyes had appeared to be closed. She was either asleep or she was in the same catatonic state she was in when they'd dragged her from Le Mitard into the infirmary earlier this evening.
Josette looked up at one of the security cameras in the corner of the main room. The red light was off, of course. The clock on the wall said 1:20 a.m. She would probably not need more than fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty, but still there was plenty of cushion built in. She could take all the way until 2:00 a.m., if need be, then rush out of the infirmary and head downstairs toward her car in the garage. The shift would change but it would probably be some time before a guard would check on the patient in the secured room. When all was said and done, it would be impossible to say for sure that Mischa Barton had hanged herself before or after the shift change at 2:00 a.m.
Her gun drawn, Josette tiptoed up to the secured room. She looked through the glass window---glass that was bulletproof and, more important, soundproof. She saw the same thing she saw twenty minutes ago. Mischa was perfectly still. Lying on her back. Sheet and blanket up to her chest. Left arm hanging out over the blanket. Right arm underneath. Eyes appeared to be closed.
Josette put the key in the lock and turned it slowly, watching Mischa the whole time. She entered the room and raised her gun. She shuffled toward Mischa's bed.
Still no movement.
Josette kicked at the bed. "Get up," she said in English.
Mischa didn't move.
Josette grabbed Mischa's leg through the bedcovers and shook it.
Mischa moaned and her eyes fluttered open. She squinted and finally focused on Josette. She looked at Josette's gun. But her face didn't register fear. Her face registered nothing.
Josette pulled her handcuffs from her belt and tossed them onto the bed. They landed on Mischa's stomach.
"Put---them----on," she demanded in English.
"Kill....kill me," Mischa mumbled.
That's what I'm trying to do. "Put them on, Josette repeated.
Mischa clearly presented no threat whatsoever, but Josette wasn't going to take any chances. She was going to handcuff Mischa first, then hang a strap from a hook in the ceiling, then force Mischa onto a chair. But first and foremost, the handcuffs.
"Put them on or I will----shoot." She trained her handgun on Mischa as she moved to the right, going around to the side of the bed to Mischa's left.
It was an empty threat. The last thing she could do was shoot Mischa. How would she explain that?
Mischa's eyes wandered. She seemed unable to focus.
Josette cursed under her breath. She had no time for this. She tucked her gun in the back of her pants and gripped Mischa's left wrist. She slapped the handcuff on.
One wrist down, one to go.
"'L'autre," she said. "Give me----your---hand----your----other hand!"
Josette held down Mischa's limp left wrist with her own right hand. She reached over Mischa's body, holding out her left hand, palm up, fingers curled and wiggling with impatience.
"Your hand," she said. "Your other...."
Mischa's right hand flew out from under the covers. Before Josette knew which way was up, Mischa stabbed Josette's extended forearm with a syringe and injected its contents into her bloodstream.
In disbelief, Josette stared for a moment, just one beat, at the needle sticking out of her forearm, and then she reacted, instinctively reached with her right hand to remove the syringe.
Instinctive, but a poor choice. And Mischa was way ahead of her, anyway. Mischa's right hand clawed Josette's left cheek, the damaged one with the ginormous bandage. Josette howled in agony, even as she realized something dark and terrifying.
She had completely lost control of the situation!
She was off balance, stretched over the bed, the needle still sticking out of her arm, her left cheek in scorching pain.
Before she knew it, Mischa had grabbed Josette's hair with both hands and yanked her forward. Mischa swung her own head forward and head-butted Josette right above the eye.315Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwNnZcNJ0Et
Stunned, Josette tried to recover, tried to move her hand to reach back for her gun, but Mischa had locked her in a fierce bear hug and held on tight. Josette tried to struggle but it was becoming harder and harder, with each passing second, to do so. Had she underestimated Mischa's strength? More likely, it was the narcotic, whatever Mischa had injected into her bloodstream.315Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOJs1FvaBes
"Sweet dreams, you stupid bitch," Mischa whispered, gripping Josette tighter still. Josette's defenses wavered to nothing. Her body went limp. She had underestimated Mischa. And now she was at her mercy.315Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ59StJfhJBZ
