Page 3 of Warped

Yes, the name Lee Mason was familiar, and I told the doctor so. He smiled, as though I’d told him what he wanted to hear.

His hand on my shoulder made me jerk away. “I’m sure the rest will come back to you soon. I hope you understand that because of the gunshot wound, and the fact we weren’t able to get any next of kin to identify you, we had to bring in the police. They’ll want to speak with you shortly, when you’re feeling strong enough, of course.”

I nodded. “Of course. Just send them in.”

The doctor gave me a smile and a nod, then left to move onto his next patient. The blonde nurse who had taken the tube out of my throat reappeared shortly after to check me over.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” she said, her blue eyes not meeting mine as she spoke, “but while we were treating you, we couldn’t help but notice the scars.”

“Scars?” I had no idea what she was talking about.

“On your chest and back. You have multiple scarring.”

I frowned. “Honestly, I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“They’re old. Could you have had a dangerous job? In the military, perhaps?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

She smiled, unsure. “You’re a bit of an enigma to us.”

I smiled back and noted the way she reacted to the expression. “I’m a bit of an enigma to myself.”

She left me again, leaving me with my thoughts. What the hell had happened? Why would someone have shot me? I pulled down the hospital gown I wore. My shoulder was patched up by a bandage. I wanted to see the scars the nurse had spoken about. A dangerous job? Yes, I guessed that did ring true.

I must have dozed again, but was woken by the pretty blonde nurse.

“Mr. Mason, the police are here to ask you a few questions. Is that all right? There’s a reporter here as well.”

I frowned. “A reporter?”

“Yes. He got wind of your story and thinks it might be useful to run a small piece on you, just to see if anyone recognizes you. Someone might come forward and claim you.”

“That really isn’t necessary. I don’t need anyone to claim me.”

“But you don’t have anywhere to go. When we release you from here, you’ll be walking out onto the street.”

“Do you have any idea when that will be? When you release me, I mean.”

“You’re not under arrest. You can leave whenever you like, though obviously you’ve only just woken up, and your injuries, while they’ve healed significantly since you’ve been here, are still at risk of infection. I certainly wouldn’t advise you to leave any time soon.”

“Okay, but no reporter.”

She gave a tight smile and nodded. “Sure, I understand.”

Despite her words, I knew she didn’t understand. I had no idea myself what was causing me to make the choices I was, so there was no way she did.

A police officer in his mid-forties, with receding hair and the start of a good set of jowls, approached my bed. The sight of the NYPD navy blue uniform caused everything inside me to tense. It was familiar, yet set my teeth on edge. Instinctively, I knew I didn’t like the police, but I couldn’t have said why. This officer appeared a little bored, if anything. Not particularly suspicious of me, though I couldn’t shake the feeling I had done something wrong.

“Mr. Mason,” he said, pulling out a notebook. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

I nodded. “I am.”

“Good. We found your driver’s license and credit card in your clothes when you were brought in. I’m afraid we weren’t able to find any current record of any family, or even a current address, though.”

Didn’t I have a family, or a home?

I guessed not. I wasn’t the type of man to have a family, was I?

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