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“No need.” The officer's voice is less pleasant because he knows he’s not wanted either. “We can find it. We’ll be back.”
Three sets of footsteps move toward the door and out of it. A soft click announces their departure and alone, at least for the time being, I let myself think about something I couldn’t before.
I’m still alive.
Felix is dead, but somehow, I’m still alive.
Shouldn’t it be the other way around?
* * *
A flare of hot pain stabs my right side. Gasping, my eyes fly open. White walls, white sheets, and a hard bed. Those are the things I notice first.
Bent over me is the same brown-eyed, red-haired doctor from before.
For several seconds he gazes down at me without expression before he lifts his hand from my ribs and takes a step back. “Still tender?”
I don’t say a word.
“I’m Dr. Trevor.”
My eyes dart to the door and find it closed. The sheet pinning me to the bed has been peeled back, so that’s one less thing trapping me. It’s just the needle in the back of my hand that I’d need to deal with and I can make my escape.
“They’ve gone. You don’t have to worry about seeing any cops until you’re well.”
From the dim light which cast deep shadows around him, it’s later than it was before. It must have been the morning, or maybe lunchtime if the cop smelled like hotdogs and onions. Which means I must have fallen asleep or passed out.
I lick my dry, cracked lips. “What time is it?”
“Six. Dinner time.” He nods at the table beside my bed. I glance at it. Something rich and savory drifts from a white plastic-covered dome on a tray.
“Can I have a name?” He plucks a silver clipboard from lower down on my bed and waves it at me. “I won’t use it if you don’t want, but we’ve got three Jane Does at the hospital this weekend and it can get a little confusing,” he says, a playful smile curving his lips.
His joke barely registers in my mind.
My stomach rumbles as if it’s only now waking up, but I don’t have time to eat. Even if I was starving, it still wouldn’t be my priority.
I’m alive when I should be dead, which means I’m going to have to move fast if I want to stay that way. And if Rylan isn’t here already, he soon will be.
The doctor clears his throat. “You’re a miracle.”
I dart a glance at him before shifting my attention to the white ceiling.
In a blue hospital gown, I’ll attract attention as I make my escape, but maybe I can sneak into the staff changing room, or steal another patient’s clothes since I doubt my dress and heels survived the crash. If I have to, I won’t bother with the change of clothes at all.
“Few people would survive a car crash like the one you did with so few injuries.” After a brief pause as if waiting for a response, he continues. “The fire department pulled you from the water. Between the shattered window and you floating free, it looks like you might’ve been flung from the car before it hit the river.”
Every part of my body aches, but it doesn’t hurt the way I’d expect a car crashing into a river with me inside or out of it should hurt. My gaze darts to the tube in the back of my hand that leads to a bag half-filled with a clear liquid. Morphine. Or some other drug.
As much as I want to say silent until the doctor goes away, I need to know the extent of my injuries and I need to know how long I’ve been here.
“What other injuries?” I ask, my voice husky.
“You had a pretty nasty laceration on your head.” I glance over at him.
He lifts a hand to touch his right temple. “Required stitches. Eight in total. Several smaller cuts on your face and body, but those weren’t serious enough to require stitches. From the shattered glass, most likely.” His hand moves to his right shoulder. “Dislocated shoulder. Bruised ribs. Fractured wrist. The left one. But that’s healing up nicely. Bruises which have mostly faded.”
That doesn’t sound bad. “And my legs?”
