The Lonely Lady by Harold Robbins Page A

so forgetful the next time. We might have been asleep.”
    He went into the small hallway leading to the front door. The doorbell rang again. “I’m coming, honey,” he called, turning the lock.
    The door swung open without his touch. For a moment he was transfixed by what he saw. JeriLee stood between the two boys, her clothes torn, blood running down one cheek almost to the top of an exposed breast. Bernie held one arm around her waist to keep her from falling.
    There was a look of terror in her eyes as she raised her face to him. “Daddy,” she said in a weak voice, taking a stumbling step toward him.
    He caught her before she fell. His arms tightened around her, he could feel the frightened flutter of her heart pounding against his shirt. “My God!” he exclaimed. “What happened?”
    The black boy whom he had never seen before spoke first. “We’ll tell you what happened, Mr. Randall,” he said, “but you better get a doctor for JeriLee. She’s been hurt bad.”
    By this time Veronica was behind him. When she saw her daughter she let out a small scream. “John!”
    JeriLee turned her face to her mother. “Mother, I—”
    A tone of anger and fear came into her mother’s voice. “What trouble did you get yourself into this time, JeriLee?”
    “Ronnie!” John said harshly. “Get Dr. Baker on the phone and tell him to come over right away!” Without waiting for a reply, he lifted JeriLee into his arms and carried her upstairs to her room. Gently he placed her on the bed.
    She moaned softly. The remnant of the dress which clung to her breasts fell away, revealing the angry burns welting her flesh. “I’m frightened, Daddy,” she cried.
    “There’s nothing to be afraid of now. You’re home now. And safe.”
    “But I hurt all over, Daddy.”
    “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Dr. Baker is on his way. He’ll stop the pain.”
    “He’ll be right here,” Veronica said as she came into the room. She looked down at JeriLee. “What happened?”
    “Walt said he was going to take me home—”
    Veronica didn’t wait for her to finish. “Walt?” she asked angrily. “Who’s Walt? That colored boy down there? You know better than to have anything to do with people like that!”
    “No.” JeriLee shook her head weakly. “He’s not Walt. He’s Fred. He came with Bernie to get me.”
    Again Veronica interrupted. “Get you? Where did you go? You were supposed to be at work.”
    John saw the fear come into her daughter’s eyes. “Ronnie!” he said sharply. “No more questions. Let’s try to make her a little more comfortable until the doctor gets here. Get a washcloth and some warm water.
    “It’s okay, baby,” he said as Veronica left the room.
    “I don’t want to wake up Bobby,” she whispered. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”
    “Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “Your kid brother can sleep through an earthquake.” The doorbell rang downstairs. “That must be the doctor.” His hand brushed some hair away from her forehead. “You’re going to be all right now.”
    “Mother is going to be angry with me.”
    “No she won’t. She’s just upset.”
    Dr. Baker had been around a long time. After forty years of practice, he didn’t wait for verbal explanations. Without speaking, he snapped open his black bag. Quickly he administered a shot. “That will take away the pain, JeriLee,” he said. He straightened up and turned to her parents. “You two go downstairs while I look after her.”
    “Will she be all right?” John asked.
    “She’ll be all right,” the doctor said.
    They went down the stairs and into the living room where Fred and Bernie were waiting. “How is she?” Bernie asked.
    “Dr. Baker said she’ll be okay,” he said. “Now tell me what happened.”
    “She was tired and wanted to go home early,” Bernie said. “Walt said he would drop her off on his way home. He had some friends with him. When you called and she wasn’t home yet, Fred