Page 104 of Booked for Murder

I gave her my address, included my age, my driver’s license number, and rattled off every other vital statistic I could think of to prove I still retained my memory. After I ran out of the usual questions a nurse might want answered to check my memory, I frowned and added, “I’ll likely be staying at one of the Hampton’s residences until I’m mobile again, and I don’t care what they say, after I can move again without dealing with the urge to throw my wheelchair down a flight of stairs, I will enjoy my apartment without them dragging me out of it every night.”

She laughed. “Do you remember why you’re here?”

“With unfortunate clarity. Someone assassinated Senator Maybelle at her political rally. My foot got in the way of one of the bullets, and at least three other people were also shot. I did what I could for the other victims, but I probably adrenaline crashed at some point.” I considered what I remembered. “I overexerted my ability.” I tensed, waiting for the nurse’s reaction.

“Yes. You’re a rather skilled exsanguinator. We called the hospital you used to volunteer at for assistance, as we were not sure how to work around you. You maintained blood flow for a patient with a torn aorta for over three hours before we could get a doctor in who was experienced with your ability and could work around you. You kept rejecting interference from other exsanguinators and menders who did not approach the situation in a way you anticipated. Unfortunately, you weren’t responding to verbal communication. Your method of refusing their assistance was quite interesting.”

Crap. I remembered having done something to prevent anyone from bothering me while I worked, and I could think of only one thing I may have done to stop an unwanted individual from interfering with me. “Please tell me I didn’t whip them on the back of the hand with somebody’s blood.”

“You used your blood, but yes, that is what happened. It was good fortune one of the paramedics on the scene recognized you, had worked with you before, and had a rough idea of how you typically operated, although he’d never seen you treat three patients at one time.”

I sighed. “I apologize.”

“Don’t be sorry. You knew what you were doing, although we were eager to get you into the operating room and wished we could have treated you sooner. We had to address your injuries last because of the situation, but everyone will survive with minimal impairments. There were some legalities we had to address, however.”

“Senator Maybelle isn’t a flagged donor. Because she no longer needed her blood and matched the blood type of the chest gunshot victim, I stole her blood, which could be considered a mutilation of a corpse charge,” I guessed.

“Yes. Senator Maybelle’s family, upon report from the morgue on her immediate death, opted against pressing charges.”

“Why are you telling me that?” I asked, tilting my head to the side at the oddity.

“It was requested we notify you if the subject came up.”

Bradley’s mother. “Right. I gave an attorney power of attorney, and now wherever I go, she’s nearby lawyering on my behalf but more on the behalf of her son. I can’t escape. She probably figured I’d worry myself sick over it if allowed. She’s not wrong. Oh, well.” I had no idea what kind of drugs the nurses had spiked my IV line with, but they made my life easier to handle. “You’re not going to amputate my foot, right? I really want to keep my foot.”

The nurse approached and checked the IV stand, making a notation onto the clipboard. “As soon as I’m finished here, I’ll tell the doctor you’re conscious and sociable. She’ll explain everything.”

“Is this doctor going to upset Dr. Mansfield? Because Dr. Mansfield is going to be pissed if her hard work was further undone. She gets pretty upset about that. I don’t want her to contemplate my death.”

Laughing, the nurse shook her head. “The doctor is Dr. Mansfield, so I’m certain she is pleased with the quality of her work. I believe her only complaint involves having to operate in a hospital she’s unfamiliar with, with staff she’s never worked with before.”

“If I forget to tell her I’m sorry, please tell her I’m sorry for me.”

“I’ll mention it to her, but I expect she will be here within a few minutes, as she was hoping you’d come around during the night, as she preferred to deal with your anxiety attacks outside of visiting hours.”

“I’m really sorry about that.”

“It’s not your fault,” she replied. “Dr. Mansfield will be able to answer all of your questions, so please be patient for a few more minutes.”

“Is there any chance someone left me a book?”

“Yes, there is a bag for you that should have a book in it. Dr. Mansfield will handle that.” The nurse returned the clipboard to its proper place and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Before I had a chance to get bored, my podiatrist opened the door, snagged the clipboard, and slapped the side of her leg with it.

“I may be drugged silly, but even I can tell when I’m in trouble with my doctor.”

Dr. Mansfield pointed the clipboard at me. “You are something else.”

“In my defense, I didn’t put my foot in front of a bullet on purpose. It just sort of happened. And then I prioritized based on severity, and my foot lost that contest. If it helps, I did make sure I wouldn’t bleed to death first. I can’t save others if I bleed to death, so I got that part right.”

“Well, your memory of the incident seems unimpaired. I was concerned about potential trauma. You’re absolutely correct on that front.”

“If someone drove a sports car into my foot, I might have a problem, but bullets are not sports cars. If you wish to discuss trauma, I refused to get anywhere near Bradley’s car.”

“Which happens to be your preferred color of the same model involved in the crash. I’m aware. I intend to have you both go through therapy until you’re capable of driving the vehicle without issues. You’ll also undergo therapy for this latest incident.”

Well, that would make a mess of my near future. “I suppose witnessing someone murdered right in front of me, when I’m not the one doing the killing, might classify as traumatic.” I pointed at my foot. “If I lose that, I’m definitely going to be traumatized.”