Page 7 of Hell of a Mess
“When?”
“I don’t know that. But it will. Her brain has had trauma, and it needs to recover.”
“How the fuck are we going to know who is looking for her ifshe can’t tell us who she is?”
The doctor turned to pick something up from the table behind him. “I can do a DNA test. If hers is in a system somewhere, it’ll tell us.”
A glass of water with a straw appeared in front of me. Dr. Burl was holding it close enough so that I could drink from it.
“Small sips,” he told me.
I did as he’d instructed. My throat was so dry that swallowing was hard.
“Do it quick. We need answers,” the man ordered, and the doctor nodded his head.
The sound of his footsteps fading away was a relief. I didn’t like him. He made me nervous.
“Try and rest,” the doctor told me. “Your injuries aren’t life-threatening, but they do need attention and care for you to recover. I’ll be back in the morning to check on things.”
He was leaving too? I was going to be alone…here…
“Where am I?” I asked.
A sympathetic glint in his eyes didn’t help ease me. The room was spacious, but there were no windows. The walls were bare, and other than one lone black leather recliner in the corner, there was no other furniture, except for a narrow table with medical equipment on it.
“You’re safe. That’s all I can tell you, I’m afraid,” he said as he adjusted the bag that my IV was attached to. “Your only concern is to heal.”
I wanted to argue that I had many concerns, and that was not at the top of the list. Who I was happened to be my main concern. Why couldn’t I remember that? How did someone just forget their own name?
“They will send Jayda down here to see to you soon. You’ll like her,” he told me.
Jayda. He was sending another female down here. That gaveme some ease, although I wasn’t sure why it mattered. She was a stranger too.
“She’s nice?” I asked, feeling my eyes growing heavy, and things began to fade away into darkness.
“Yes.” His reply sounded as if it were far away.
“She’s been asleep since I got down here.” A feminine voice broke into my dreams.
“Has she moved or made any noises?” It was him. The beautiful man with the blond hair. He was back.
“Whimpered a few times. Whoever the bastard is who did this needs to be taken underground.” The woman sounded angry.
Did she mean dead, as in six feet under?
“I’ll find him,” he replied.
I tensed but kept my eyes closed. Was he planning on killing the person who had beaten me up? Why would he do that? This man didn’t know me. He couldn’t even tell me my name. But I was here. He’d helped me—or someone had helped me. I couldn’t remember. Just like everything else in my life.
“Good,” the woman said with a relieved sigh.
“Try and see what you can get out of her. She may remember who she is when she wakes up.”
“I’m not grilling her with questions. Doc said that wouldn’t be good for her. If she is pressed, it will only cause her stress, and that won’t help her remember.” The female sounded a touch annoyed.
“Yeah, I heard,” he drawled, not sounding convinced.
“Google it. Doc didn’t make that shit up.”
