Direct Strike. Lorelei Buckley

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СКАЧАТЬ extracted his pen, and positioned to write. “So, you’re a relative of Amos Rayfield?”

      “Great niece.”

      “I didn’t know Amos had family.”

      “His family didn’t know they had an Amos. He and my grandmother were estranged.”

      “I see.” Dr. Selden jotted, and continued, “Amos Rayfield, quintessential loner. Nevertheless, his suicide stunned me. He wasn’t the type.”

      “To what, hang himself?” Zoey said, physically uncomfortable and too sober to discuss death. “Life kicks our asses. Either we fight back or we don’t. Maybe Amos had enough bullshit, because frankly, stick a fork in me, you know?”

      “As I said, he wasn’t the type.”

      “What makes you so sure?”

      Dr. Selden chuckled. “Bogeymen under the bed and monsters in the closet? They were hiding from Amos. I’ve known a few tough old birds in my time, but Amos was by far the toughest. It’s hard to comprehend what could have driven an ornery son-of-a-gun like Amos Rayfield to end his life.”

      “You’re an MD. You’ve met the Grim Reaper. He’s a sneaky prick.”

      Dr. Selden nodded sorrowfully. “Right you are, Ms. Hawthorne.”

      “Where am I? I mean this place, the hospital?”

      “Monroe Memorial in Telluride.”

      “How’d I get here?”

      “Your neighbor, Kane Ballentine. He stopped by your place on his way home. It was drizzling and your door was wide open. He found you near the woods and brought you to the emergency room.”

      “Kind of late for an uninvited visitor.”

      “Yes, well, fortunately for you, Kane keeps inconsistent hours. Not uncommon for a man of his stature. He directs a long list of charity events and has real estate circling the globe.” Dr. Selden lowered the clipboard. “You’re new in town. He was going to leave a note on your car with his telephone number if you should have needed anything.”

      “That’s what I’d do. Scare the crap out of a woman in the middle of the night. Where is Nurse Chong? My arm is raging.”

      “She’s on her way,” Dr. Selden insisted. “Kane Ballentine is third generation in Big Cat Canyon, and a single father to a daughter. I’d bet my savings account he meant you no harm.”

      “Save your bets for casinos. People can’t be trusted.”

      “When I was a young boy…”

      “Say it isn’t so, Doc. You’re not really going to reminisce while I suffer?”

      “Would you consider yourself to be an abrasive person?”

      “You wouldn’t ask me that if I were a man.”

      His eyes popped. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to criticize my patients. The question, Ms. Hawthorne, is relevant to the incident. Lightning tends to affect temperament. Survivors are known to be volatile. I’m merely trying to determine the best course of treatment.” He exhaled in apparent frustration. “Now, do you consider yourself more abrasive than usual?

      “I don’t know, maybe.”

      “Were you always—”

      “What, outspoken, honest, gritty? I don’t know.” She quieted a moment and organized the floating jigsaw in her head. “My body hurts so bad I could vomit. My son died last year in a freak accident, and here I am a little over a year later recovering from a lightning strike. Be honest. What are the odds?”

      “One in four hundred thousand.”

      “One in four hundred thousand. Forgive me, but I’m metaphysically frazzled, and in desperate need of a painkiller. Under the circumstances I am not being difficult.”

      Dr. Selden smiled. “That has yet to be determined.”

      Zoey wanted to wring his turkey neck, but wanted something for pain more. Angering the man with the meds could be detrimental to her health. She leaned forward, moved her long hair from the sandwich of mattress and backside, and draped the tangled strands over her gauzed shoulder. “What’s next?”

      “Paperwork and tests.”

      “What kind of tests?”

      “The standards. Also an MRI, EEG, and I’d like you to have a session with a neuropsychologist. We have to check the anatomic and cognitive functioning of your brain.”

      “My brain? What’s wrong with my brain?” she asked, stifling a screech.

      “Hopefully nothing.” He scribbled on his pad. “If it’s any consolation, I believe you’re fine.”

      Nurse Chong reentered with a cup and a thermometer. Without gentle precaution she swiped Zoey’s forehead with the latest in medical technology. “102.”

      “Are you currently taking medications?” Dr. Selden asked while writing.

      “Cymbalta.”

      “How much?”

      “Ten milligrams.” That was all she’d admit to.

      “And you’re sure you have no allergies.”

      “I’m allergic to pain.” She licked her parched lips. “It makes me bitchy.”

      Nurse Chong handed her a Dixie cup of heaven.

      Zoey slanted the Dixie and swallowed the pills, crumpled the cup and dropped it on the floor.

      Dr. Selden and Nurse Chong glared like strict librarians. She’d seen the look in the library when her cellphone rang during story time.

      “What?” Zoey reached for the cup of water on the bedside table. “I’ll pick it up on my way out.”

      Dr. Selden’s pen skidded across the paper. He muttered, “Oxacillin.” He ripped a prescription sheet from a smaller pad and passed it to Nurse Chong.

      “Yes, doctor.” Nurse Chong leveled her shoulders and assimilated into the hectic hallway.

      Dr. Selden clicked his ballpoint and put it in his pocket. “Do you have family members you’d like to call, or someone you’d like us to contact?”

      Zoey pressed the button and flattened her bed. “Ha! No.”

      “You’re sure?”

      “Positive.”

      “Your decision,” he said. “Get some sleep, and I’ll check on you before shift change.” Dr. Selden turned abruptly and headed into the hall.

      Zoey closed her eyes and attempted to ignore various debilitating emotions she’d had СКАЧАТЬ