“Thank you,” I say.
I heed his advice. Once he disappears through the double doors, I head out of the hospital and down to my car in the parking garage.
Why did I come here? What was I hoping to do?
I can’t change what happened.
Anxious energy ebbs and flows through me. I can’t sit still, and my hike did nothing to tire my ass out. It has to be all the extra adrenaline.
I drive home, across town, strip out of my clothes, and shower. Blood circles the drain. I’m relieved it isn’t mine, but I keep seeing his face, blood pooling around his head.
The sound of tires squealing echoes in my mind.
Someone wanted him dead. But who? And why? I should stay far away from the hospital, fromhim, but I can’t help my curiosity.
It doesn’t help that my daughter, Allie, is away for the next several weeks. At her request, I sent her off to summer camp as a junior counselor. All her friends would be junior counselors this year, and she wanted to hop on the volunteer train and follow them.
Which I honestly don’t mind. It’s good for her to be out of the apartment for the summer. At thirteen, she’s too young for a job, aside from the occasional babysitting gig she gets from the woman with a toddler down the hall in our building.
I douse myself under the spray, letting the stench and evidence of what I’d been mixed up in disappear with any lingering fear. I love crime dramas. I love movies filled with suspense. This is the ultimate mystery; I can’t just sit and watch from the sidelines.
I want answers. And I’m not going to get them in my house.
After showering and dressing, I eat a quick bite before returning to the hospital. I have the afternoon off, and while I have a few errands to run and a house to tidy up, none of that seems important in the grand scheme of things.
A man nearly died today.
There were two gunshots.
Had there been a struggle after the first gunshot? Could that be the reason for the delay between shots fired? Or had someone else been shot as well? The police knew something, but they weren’t talking.
What the hell happened out there in the forest?
* * *
I shower, dress, and return to the hospital. I wander to his hospital room and stand out in the hallway, peering inside.
There are no flowers. No guests or visitors at his bedside. The window shades are open, cascading a warm amber glow across the room. The harsh fluorescent overhead lights are off.
He’s no longer donning his suit encrusted with blood on the collar. His eyes are closed. He lies motionless, asleep in a pale-green hospital gown, a white blanket covering him just past his waist.
His arms are at his side. Outside of the blanket, one arm is connected to an IV. Both are covered in tattoos, dozens of them with intricate artwork.
There are colorful wires tucked under his hospital gown, peeking out through his sleeves and the top of his gown hooked up to a monitor.
They’re monitoring his heart rate and vitals.
He’s silent, unmoving. Asleep.
The hospital bracelet on his left wrist denotes that he’sJohn Doe.
My phone buzzes, and I grab my cell phone from my purse. A smile grazes my features that Allie is texting me. Shouldn’t she be busy with crafts or water activities for the kids at camp?
Mom, is everything okay? Why are you at the hospital?
I tug my bottom lip between my teeth. I have a tracking app on my phone that lets me see where my daughter is. We have it set so that it goes both ways, and she can see my whereabouts too.
Yeah, just visiting a friend. How is camp?I text back.