Page 4 of Lethal Threat
She wipes my inner forearm with something cold. “This is gonna sting.”
I don’t feel a thing. I’m too frozen. Or maybe disconnected.
“The I.V. fluid is heated, too. That will help give you some more warmth and the hydration will give you some pep.” With efficient motions, she tucks my heated blanket in and dims the lights.
Someone else enters the room. A man, I suspect, but I don’t know why. His soap is more woodsy than the nurse. “I’m Doctor Radcoff. Open your eyes, please. We need to talk.”
I groan and pray he’ll go away.
“Please open your eyes.”
It takes monumental effort to coax my lashes to part. Thankfully, the low light is much better. It still takes a moment for me to get the two blurry images of the man in front of me to merge into one.
Dr. Radcoff is handsome and surprisingly young. Almost child prodigy young, or maybe my vision is compromised and erases signs of aging.
That could be a handy trick. They should make mirrors like that.
He looks pleased. “That’s good. I have some questions for you.”
I think I’d rather not answer questions, but settle on asking for a drink. “Can I get some water?”
His forehead creases as he looks around the room. “No cups. I’ll have someone bring something.”
“Thanks. Whatever is in my mouth is awful.”
He nods as if he’s tasted it. “That would be swamp water. You’re a very lucky woman.”
I chuckle, and regret vibrating my vocal cords. “I don’t feel like a lucky woman.”
“What’s your name?” he asks as he lowers himself onto the stool next to the bed.
I open my mouth. Nothing comes out.Hm.
He looks up from his iPad. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
“S…
Doctor Radcoff doesn’t look so happy anymore. “Are you having difficulty speaking?”
“No. I’m having a problem?—”
I shiver.Why can’t I say my name?
His head tilts to the left, but he never takes his eyes from mine.
I clear my throat and try again. “My name is…”
Oh god.What is happening right now?
A wave of panic hits me. I shove the blanket down, catching my IV line on the fabric. “Ouch.”
He tugs the blanket back into place. “Lay still. What day is it?”
A calendar hangs on the bulletin board across the room. I squint at it. Damn. It’s too far away to read, so I make a guess. “Monday?”
He continues tapping on his iPad. The taps are gettingfaster. Matching the rise in my pulse. “What year were you born?”
Zoom. My heart really takes off. My palms get damp and itchy. The heated blanket now feels like a suffocating hug. “Nineteen. No, wait. Twenty?”
