Author's Note: Okay, so I've been a bad, bad girl. I haven't updated this story in what, two months? Could be worse… Anyway, I'm thinking about going and editing all of the chapters already posted at some point in time, just so you know. Also, I'm not promising anything, but there should be more chapters in lesser time. I came back from a week of camping in Nowheresville, New York, and let me tell you, after a week away from my computer, I am so ready to update!! Anyway, please review and enjoy!
Dangerous Business
Chapter XLVII
"Hello, you've reached General Medical, my name is Clarice Millen, how may I help you?" the secretary's voice was placid and bored. Willow gripped the phone harder in her hand, shifting on the bench in the locker room, carefully making sure that the phone book in front of her didn't fall. General Medical was the last name on the list of hospitals within an hour's distance of the airport.
"Hi, my name is Willow Sterling. I need to know if you admitted a male, in his," Willow paused, and plucked a number out of her head, "30s. Brown hair, about 6 feet tall…"
"Mrs. Sterling-"
"Miss, actually."
"Well, Miss Sterling, I'm not sure that you know our patient confidentiality contract. It would take hours to explain it in length. Basically, we can't tell you who we've admitted."
Willow rolled her eyes, biting down on her lip. "You can't even begin to understand how important this call is!" she snapped, and then collected herself. "My…cousin was driving to an arena in the area; he just came from the airport. I called his cell phone at one point, and he didn't answer. Somehow the call was answered, but no one was talking to me. All I heard were people screaming 'call 911!' and whatnot," Willow felt the words roll off her tongue, the lying proving its ease with time.
"I suppose I could check for you," the secretary relented. "However, we admit a lot of brown-haired men in their thirties, and the average height for a man that age is around six foot."
Willow licked her lips. "His name is Rob Van Dam. You might recognize him, I don't know. He works for the World Wrestling Entertainment Corporation."
"Let me look at the admittance sheets," was the simple reply, and Willow heard the phone being set down. As the redhead listened to the noises of the busy hospital, her eyes traveled to the monitor. She froze as her eyes caught a glance of Liz standing at the top of the entrance ramp. 'What the hell is she doing?' Willow thought, searching for the remote to turn the volume up.
Before the woman could do so, however, the receiving phone was picked up. "Miss Sterling?"
"Yes?" Willow responded breathlessly. She crossed her fingers in her lap.
"We recently admitted a Rob Van Dam into our care, via ambulance."
Willow inhaled sharply. Via ambulance? "What happened? Is he alright?" She could sense the secretary's hesitation, and took on a pleading tone. "Please, ma'am, just tell me if he's alright! I'm leaving right now to go to the hospital, but I must know if he's alright!"
"Miss Sterling, I will tell you this one last piece of information, and then I am hanging up the phone," the secretary told her, steel in her voice. "Your cousin, Mr. Van Dam, will be fine." The sound of the phone clicking in her ear confirmed that. Willow let out a long breath. 'Thank God he's going to be okay…' she thought with relief. 'But… He is in the hospital. That means someone got to him,' she froze. 'Who am I kidding? Liz basically told me! The person who attacked Rob is the same person who stole into her house, and the same person who helped kill Dominique.'
Willow moved to get up, and then stopped in place, her jaw slackening slightly. She sat back down. 'That thing killed Dominique, and probably tried to kill Rob, but failed. Someone told me that Shawn Michaels was in an accident and has amnesia… Am I just trying to connect imaginary dots…or is this all part of an elaborate plan?'
--- --- --- --- ---
Rebecca Michaels watched the screen on her cell phone for a moment. She was alone in the hallway—and it was for the better. Anyone with half of a brain would think it was odd that a camera view of Liz Smith's room was displayed on her phone. After a moment of watching the redhead, Rebecca closed out of the screen, and dialed a number, her fingers moving quickly.
"What?" the voice on the other end was perturbed.
"You didn't finish Rob off," Rebecca snapped.
There was a silence on the other end. "I hit him. I did, straight to the head while he was driving."
"He's in the General Medical Hospital at the moment," Rebecca retorted. "I was watching Liz's room, and before you rag on me, there's no one around, and no one could possibly have seen it. But there's something you have to know besides the fact that Rob is alive and well…"
"What is it?"
"There's a redhead in Liz's locker room—not Lita."
"Willow. Liz's childhood friend," Rebecca didn't question the man's knowledge. "Why do you mention?"
"I think she's smartening up," she told him, and waited for the response.
"Willow Sterling is too smart for her own good," he replied in a deep voice. "I'll see that she gets taken care of."
--- --- --- --- ---
Liz ran a hand through her hair as she walked through the winding hallways of the backstage area. Her thoughts and emotions were tangled up in knots, indecipherable to even herself. The brunette closed her eyes lightly, feeling the tenseness of her body. 'A mud wrestling match with Jackie Gayda…' she repeated to herself, and then shook her head. Liz walked to the side, out of the pathway of the bustling stagehands. She leaned against a wall, the shadow from a security awning covering part of her face. 'Why me?' she wondered in the silence, trailing a finger across her lips. 'First Paul Heyman turning Dominique and Rob against me… And then right when everything was about to turn back to normal, these…these…things show up. They killed Dominique, attacked me, attacked my father… And if Shawn would remember the last few minutes before the car crash, if someone tampered with it, I bet that it was them that did it.' Liz covered her face with her hand. 'Maybe the WWE roster would be better off if I wasn't here,' she thought, and sighed heavily. The urge to cry had not manifested itself. Her stomach felt like a numbed pit, devoid of any severe emotion.
"Liz… Can I talk to you?" the voice came from her left, and surprised her. She turned, and immediately, on recognition of the wrestler, her blood ran cold. She took a threatening step forward, her eyes ablaze. He shrunk back. "Listen, Liz, I have to talk to you… Just hear me out, and then you can beat the shit out of me!"
The brunette paused, her fists curling and uncurling as she debated. After a moment, she took a small step back. "Say what you want to say now, and here," she kept her fighting stance. He didn't say a word. "Orton, say what you want to say. I'm not waiting all day for you, and the urge to kick your ass will only be sustained for about…3 minutes," she snapped.
"Okay, okay," Randy replied, his face earnest. Liz studied him closely. Were those circles under his eyes? 'Backstabbing Evolution not helping your beauty sleep?' she thought snidely. "Please don't kill me," he added quickly.
Liz cocked an eyebrow. "Oh, but I thought you said I could?"
"Just hear me out before you do!" he protested, and then put his arms down by his sides. "I need to talk to Dominique's doctor."
Liz frowned, thoroughly confused. "Why?" she replied.
"Because… I'm almost positive Dominique was pregnant when she died…pregnant with my baby."
Author's Note: I hoped you like! Please, please review! on hands and knees