“You were brought in the night before last.”
She looked out the window. It was twilight, the lights of the parking lot beginning to illuminate as dusk darkened.
“What happened? What about my horses?” Adrenaline chased away whatever was making her feel so drowsy and thick in the head.
“I’m sure they’re fine.” The nurse stuck a digital thermometer under Shannon’s tongue, took her temperature, then wrapped a blood pressure cuff around her arm.
Shannon could barely wait while the nurse stuck the cold stethoscope inside her arm, then marked her chart.
/> Trying to remain calm, Shannon said, “Is my purse here? My wallet? My cell phone?”
“I don’t think so. You came by ambulance. Emergency. From a fire. You didn’t have any personal items with you other than your clothes and watch.”
Shannon glanced at her wrist.
“It’s in the closet.”
“I need a phone,” Shannon said, beginning to panic. Surely her brothers would have seen to her livestock. They would have called Nate, or if unable to reach him, get hold of Lindy, who did the books and would be able to find someone to come in and make sure the horses and dogs were fed, watered and exercised. “And then I have to get out of here.”
“There’s a phone on the bedside table,” the nurse said, “but you’ve had family members camping out in the waiting room. One of them, the tall policeman—”
“Shea.”
The nurse nodded. “He told the staff to let you know that your family is taking care of everything, including your home and business and animals. You’re not to worry and just get well.”
“Not worry?” Fat chance.
“Is he here?”
“I don’t know, I think maybe one of them is, but your mother went home.”
Shannon let out a long breath. The thought of her family camping out in the hospital, making certain that her place was secure, worrying about her, caused her headache to pound even more painfully. She imagined her mother praying, her arthritic fingers caressing the worn beads of her rosary as Oliver consoled her. Robert would be impatient: he had his own problems to deal with, chiefly with his family, and was trying to avoid any face-to-face confrontations with his wife, Mary Beth. Aaron would be angry, a hothead ready to go out, find whoever had done this to her and run him to the ground. Shea, as always, would be the voice of reason, calm, but quietly furious.
“Hello, Shannon.” A tall woman in a white lab coat strode into the room and introduced herself as Dr. Ingrid Zollner. Her sun-streaked hair was clipped away from her face, her features were strong and the lines near the corners of her eyes and mouth suggested she’d spent a lot of time outdoors. Her smile was tired and forced.
After asking a few of the same questions as the nurse did, Dr. Zollner examined Shannon, checking her peripheral vision, the amount of pain she was experiencing, then the bandages on her face, scalp and abdomen. She explained to Shannon the extent of her injuries.
“You were brought in unconscious with a concussion from a blow to the back of your head and multiple contusions. Fortunately, and I don’t know how, but you have no broken bones. Your shoulder is strained and you have bruised ribs.”
She examined the wound in the back of Shannon’s head again. “All in all, I’d say, you were pretty lucky.”
“Lucky?” Shannon repeated as the nurse adjusted the IV drip. “You know, that’s not exactly how I feel.”
“It could have been much worse.” The doctor was completely sober, her forced smile disappearing. “As I said, lucky, as in no brain damage. No surgery for facial reconstruction. Considering the savageness of the attack, yeah, lucky.”
Shannon saw no reason to argue the point.
Folding her arms over her chest, Dr. Zollner said, “The police would like to speak to you and I told them that if you agreed, they could have a few minutes, no more. They’ve been fairly insistent, but if you’re not feeling up to it, I’ll have them wait.”
“No reason to put it off,” Shannon said. “And then, can you tell me when I can go home?”
A blond eyebrow arched. “Soon.”
“How soon?”
Zollner eyed Shannon speculatively as a pager went off. She pulled it from her pocket, saw the number, frowned, then dropped the pager into her deep pocket again. “You can probably be released tomorrow morning,” she said to Shannon. “I’d like you to get one more night’s rest here, where we can monitor you. Even though I said you were lucky, a concussion is serious.”
“I know, but I have animals to take care of. I have—”