masked face rising up behind me in the rearview. It was a split second before he grabbed me, and that gave me time to lurch to one side. I jerked the wheel. He jabbed me with a needle, and then the car was rolling. I hit my head and blacked out.”
“You keep saying he. Are you sure it was a man?”
She frowned hard at him. “It happened so fast I...I don’t know. I’m assuming.” She touched the cut on her forehead and winced. “How bad is it?”
“Not bad. You’re gonna be okay. What about the needle? Are you feeling any side effects?”
“I don’t think anything went into me. It barely broke the skin, and he never had the chance to depress the plunger. When I came around I pulled it out, and the plunger was still fully extended. I left it in the car. I managed to drop it into one of my shopping bags. I didn’t stick around long, though. I was afraid he was still in the car, so I climbed out the window and got up the hill as fast as I could.”
He knew that much. Had seen the bloody smears in the snow all the way down. “I don’t know if I could have made that climb without a head injury.”
“Sure you could.”
Another cruiser pulled to a stop, and Misty dove out, sprinting for the ambulance. “Aunt Rache!”
Rachel gripped his arm. “I don’t want her knowing what really happened. Tell the officers—”
“Aunt Rachel!” Misty climbed into the ambulance opposite Mason and hugged her aunt.
Mason gave her a nod and left the two of them arguing over whether or not Rachel was going to the hospital. He turned back. “I want you to go, Rache. Please.”
“It’ll take up my entire afternoon,” she said.
“You know what can happen with a blow to the head. Better than it taking up your entire life, right?”
* * *
I wanted out of that curtain-draped E.R. cubicle even more than I wanted the chocolate bar Misty brought me from the machine in the waiting room. But I took the chocolate anyway. I’d been in here for over an hour and apparently was now just waiting for someone to look at my CT scan before I could get the hell out of there.
“Mason went out to check on Myrtle,” Misty said as I bit into the Kit Kat bar and let it improve my mood. Slightly. It was after 2:00 p.m. The day was all but shot, and...okay, might as well admit it. I was afraid to go home. And I was afraid if I was here too long, it would be too late to hit the road out of town. And how was I going to do that, anyway, with my new car currently lying on its side at the bottom of a ravine?
I was scared, I’ll admit it. And it pissed me off to be scared. “Myrt’s been cooped up in Mason’s car for entirely too long,” I said, because it was better than giving voice to my darker thoughts.
Misty started to say something just as my curtain whipped open, and a bald guy with glasses stepped in, carrying a clipboard and looking at it, not at me. “Ms. de Luca?”
“Present.”
That brought his eyeballs off the chart. “Okay, it looks like you’re going to be fine. You’ve got a mild concussion. That means—”
“I know what that means. Bruise on the brain. Could swell or bleed. I need to limit my activity for the next forty-eight hours and come back immediately if I have any odd symptoms, like a headache that doesn’t get better with Ibuprofen, dizziness, passing out, change in sleep patterns or sex drive, or—”
“Are you in the medical field, Ms. de Luca?”
“No, but my friend Siri’s a freakin’ genius.” I held up my smartphone. “Web MD,” I clarified.
He sighed and handed me the chart. “Read it, sign it and you’re out of here.”
“Thanks. How seriously do I need to take the ‘no strenuous activity’ thing? I’m about to leave on a ski trip.”
“I wouldn’t do any skiing for the first twenty-four hours. After that, if you feel all right, you should be fine.”
Nodding, I scratched my official signature, not the one I used for autographs—every author knew those two should be as
“You keep saying he. Are you sure it was a man?”
She frowned hard at him. “It happened so fast I...I don’t know. I’m assuming.” She touched the cut on her forehead and winced. “How bad is it?”
“Not bad. You’re gonna be okay. What about the needle? Are you feeling any side effects?”
“I don’t think anything went into me. It barely broke the skin, and he never had the chance to depress the plunger. When I came around I pulled it out, and the plunger was still fully extended. I left it in the car. I managed to drop it into one of my shopping bags. I didn’t stick around long, though. I was afraid he was still in the car, so I climbed out the window and got up the hill as fast as I could.”
He knew that much. Had seen the bloody smears in the snow all the way down. “I don’t know if I could have made that climb without a head injury.”
“Sure you could.”
Another cruiser pulled to a stop, and Misty dove out, sprinting for the ambulance. “Aunt Rache!”
Rachel gripped his arm. “I don’t want her knowing what really happened. Tell the officers—”
“Aunt Rachel!” Misty climbed into the ambulance opposite Mason and hugged her aunt.
Mason gave her a nod and left the two of them arguing over whether or not Rachel was going to the hospital. He turned back. “I want you to go, Rache. Please.”
“It’ll take up my entire afternoon,” she said.
“You know what can happen with a blow to the head. Better than it taking up your entire life, right?”
* * *
I wanted out of that curtain-draped E.R. cubicle even more than I wanted the chocolate bar Misty brought me from the machine in the waiting room. But I took the chocolate anyway. I’d been in here for over an hour and apparently was now just waiting for someone to look at my CT scan before I could get the hell out of there.
“Mason went out to check on Myrtle,” Misty said as I bit into the Kit Kat bar and let it improve my mood. Slightly. It was after 2:00 p.m. The day was all but shot, and...okay, might as well admit it. I was afraid to go home. And I was afraid if I was here too long, it would be too late to hit the road out of town. And how was I going to do that, anyway, with my new car currently lying on its side at the bottom of a ravine?
I was scared, I’ll admit it. And it pissed me off to be scared. “Myrt’s been cooped up in Mason’s car for entirely too long,” I said, because it was better than giving voice to my darker thoughts.
Misty started to say something just as my curtain whipped open, and a bald guy with glasses stepped in, carrying a clipboard and looking at it, not at me. “Ms. de Luca?”
“Present.”
That brought his eyeballs off the chart. “Okay, it looks like you’re going to be fine. You’ve got a mild concussion. That means—”
“I know what that means. Bruise on the brain. Could swell or bleed. I need to limit my activity for the next forty-eight hours and come back immediately if I have any odd symptoms, like a headache that doesn’t get better with Ibuprofen, dizziness, passing out, change in sleep patterns or sex drive, or—”
“Are you in the medical field, Ms. de Luca?”
“No, but my friend Siri’s a freakin’ genius.” I held up my smartphone. “Web MD,” I clarified.
He sighed and handed me the chart. “Read it, sign it and you’re out of here.”
“Thanks. How seriously do I need to take the ‘no strenuous activity’ thing? I’m about to leave on a ski trip.”
“I wouldn’t do any skiing for the first twenty-four hours. After that, if you feel all right, you should be fine.”
Nodding, I scratched my official signature, not the one I used for autographs—every author knew those two should be as
Similar Books
