monitor beside her. Why doesn’t he say something? Then he smiled, a slow smile devoid of humor, and a paralizing terror filled her, flooding her mouth and throat with the taste of old pennies long buried in the earth.
“Ah, yes. I see you do remember me.” Thin lips stretched further over predatory teeth as he smiled his death grin. Behind the glasses, his eyes were cold and merciless. “I thought you were dead when I left you,” he said matter-of-factly. “You looked dead enough. Well, we’ll just have to remedy that.”
He slid the pillow from under her head.
Oh, no. Please, please dear God, somebody help me. She fought to escape the confines of her bed, but three broken ribs refused to allow it. In her struggle, she did manage to tip over the I.V. bottle on its stand, was rewarded with a flicker of panic on his face. But before it could crash to the floor and summon help, he caught and righted it. Heather opened her mouth to scream, could feel it stretched in its silent cry, but again, no sound came.
He cocked a mocking brow at her. “What’s the matter?” he whispered. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Excuse me, Doctor,” came a voice from the doorway. “May I ask what you’re doing? This is Doctor Halstead’s patient.”
Relief surged through Heather, tears of gratitude rolled down her cheeks as the nurse, frowning, came further into the room, carrying a miniature cup containing a small white pill. “She’s also supposed to be under police guard,” she said. Her voice was firm, but Heather heard the vague uncertainty underneath. “Why is Officer Willis no longer outside her door?”
“So many questions. Well, for your information, I sent the poor man for a coffee. He was asleep on the job.” He spoke easily, with just the right note of annoyance. "And I’m well aware of whose patient she is. Doctor Halstead asked me to look in on Miss Myers. Since I’m going to be out of town for a few days, and since I was in the buildingI’m Doctor Whittaker, by the way, Nurse" His eyes flicked over her name bar “Lewis.”
His name was clearly supposed to allay any concerns, but it rang no bells with Janet Lewis. Still, she was reluctant to question him further. Years of conditioning, she would later tell police. He was a doctor, after all. She was only a nurse.
His broad back was to Heather, white in its doctor’s coat. Her panicked gaze moved upward to the queer indentation where his hair ended, and she realized he was wearing a wig.
He sounds so convincing. Just the way he did in the store. “Just give me what you have in the till, and you won’t get hurt.” Oh, please don’t believe him, Nurse Lewis. Past his shoulder, Heather tried desperately to catch the nurse’s eye. Look at me. Please look at me.
But Janet Lewis was intent on what the doctor was saying. He spoke respectfully to her, but with a certain professional reserve that said he was a man quite willing to go out of his way to oblige a colleague, but he was also a busy man. And he was probably tired, too, Janet thought, sensing a certain edginess beneath the calm exterior.
“I’ll be out of your way in just a minute, Doctor,” she said, pouring water into the glass. “She’s been experiencing some discomfort tonight.” Her attention focused on her task, she did not see the horrified disbelief in her patient’s eyes, or the desperate plea within their depths. Although when she turned to give Heather her pill she did notice with some dismay that the I.V. needle had slipped out of the back of her hand.
Feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically clumsy, acutely aware that the doctor was waiting for her to finish, probably judging her abilities as a nurse, or lack thereof, she replaced the needle. “Don’t know how that happened,” she muttered. After practically force-feeding her patient the pill, she quickly exited the room, closing the door after her. No! The voice
“Ah, yes. I see you do remember me.” Thin lips stretched further over predatory teeth as he smiled his death grin. Behind the glasses, his eyes were cold and merciless. “I thought you were dead when I left you,” he said matter-of-factly. “You looked dead enough. Well, we’ll just have to remedy that.”
He slid the pillow from under her head.
Oh, no. Please, please dear God, somebody help me. She fought to escape the confines of her bed, but three broken ribs refused to allow it. In her struggle, she did manage to tip over the I.V. bottle on its stand, was rewarded with a flicker of panic on his face. But before it could crash to the floor and summon help, he caught and righted it. Heather opened her mouth to scream, could feel it stretched in its silent cry, but again, no sound came.
He cocked a mocking brow at her. “What’s the matter?” he whispered. “Cat got your tongue?”
“Excuse me, Doctor,” came a voice from the doorway. “May I ask what you’re doing? This is Doctor Halstead’s patient.”
Relief surged through Heather, tears of gratitude rolled down her cheeks as the nurse, frowning, came further into the room, carrying a miniature cup containing a small white pill. “She’s also supposed to be under police guard,” she said. Her voice was firm, but Heather heard the vague uncertainty underneath. “Why is Officer Willis no longer outside her door?”
“So many questions. Well, for your information, I sent the poor man for a coffee. He was asleep on the job.” He spoke easily, with just the right note of annoyance. "And I’m well aware of whose patient she is. Doctor Halstead asked me to look in on Miss Myers. Since I’m going to be out of town for a few days, and since I was in the buildingI’m Doctor Whittaker, by the way, Nurse" His eyes flicked over her name bar “Lewis.”
His name was clearly supposed to allay any concerns, but it rang no bells with Janet Lewis. Still, she was reluctant to question him further. Years of conditioning, she would later tell police. He was a doctor, after all. She was only a nurse.
His broad back was to Heather, white in its doctor’s coat. Her panicked gaze moved upward to the queer indentation where his hair ended, and she realized he was wearing a wig.
He sounds so convincing. Just the way he did in the store. “Just give me what you have in the till, and you won’t get hurt.” Oh, please don’t believe him, Nurse Lewis. Past his shoulder, Heather tried desperately to catch the nurse’s eye. Look at me. Please look at me.
But Janet Lewis was intent on what the doctor was saying. He spoke respectfully to her, but with a certain professional reserve that said he was a man quite willing to go out of his way to oblige a colleague, but he was also a busy man. And he was probably tired, too, Janet thought, sensing a certain edginess beneath the calm exterior.
“I’ll be out of your way in just a minute, Doctor,” she said, pouring water into the glass. “She’s been experiencing some discomfort tonight.” Her attention focused on her task, she did not see the horrified disbelief in her patient’s eyes, or the desperate plea within their depths. Although when she turned to give Heather her pill she did notice with some dismay that the I.V. needle had slipped out of the back of her hand.
Feeling suddenly and uncharacteristically clumsy, acutely aware that the doctor was waiting for her to finish, probably judging her abilities as a nurse, or lack thereof, she replaced the needle. “Don’t know how that happened,” she muttered. After practically force-feeding her patient the pill, she quickly exited the room, closing the door after her. No! The voice
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