Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
"That," Shirley says, “was a woman who woke up confused and traumatized." She shakes her head. “You need to step out of here and let her get comfortable."
"Not a chance in hell,” I say. “I was the one who held her in my arms while she fought to live. As long as she is here, this is where I’m staying.”
I swallow and look down, the heat rising to my neck as I say the next words. “Did you guys check to see if …?" My body is one big bundle of nerves, and I’m not moving.
"She was not," Shirley says. “We checked."
"This woman," Dr. Benson says. “She was beaten so severely her brain started to bleed," he says softly. “She had three fractured ribs, and it wasn’t the first time they were fractured. So the abuse was ongoing. Not to mention, her spleen had to be removed. Her wrist was snapped, and that doesn’t happen from a fall. Someone purposely snapped it." He shakes his head. “That she can even talk is a miracle. You know that, right?" He looks straight at me. "I don’t know how this all happened, and I can only imagine her story, but what I do know is that you coming in here freaking out is not helping anyone, least of all her."
I swallow down the lump in my chest. “I would never ever hurt her."
"Then I suggest you show her that you aren’t going to blow up every ten seconds,” Shirley says. "Hopefully, she wakes up again soon." She turns and walks out of the room with Dr. Benson following her.
I sit in the chair and look at her. I take my phone out this time and dial my father.
"Hey," he answers right away.
"Hi," I say softly, getting up and walking away from her. Going to the door, I step outside into the hallway. I stand in front of the window that looks inside her room. "She woke up."
"And?" he asks, and I close my eyes.
"Nothing. She was so fucking scared she tried to get off the bed," I say, looking at the woman sleeping. The woman who was awake for ten minutes maybe fifteen, yet I couldn’t get her fucking name.
"Jesus," my father hisses, and I close my eyes and hang my head low. "Did she say anything?"
I huff out. “The only thing she asked is who I was."
"Did she tell you who she was?" my father asks anxiously.
"No," I answer, defeated. “Dad," I say, almost pleading. “Please tell me you have something."
"Son,” he says, his voice going low, “I wish I could."
"What the fuck is going on?" I hiss, my patience gone. “How the fuck do you have all those people there, yet no one can find out who this woman is?"
"I am not your enemy,” he says. “We are on the same team." I pinch the bridge of my nose.
"How is it that with all of our people, we can’t find out who this woman is?" I ask.
"That is the question that we are asking ourselves,” he huffs out. “I’ve been in this office for the last four days,” he says, “following a paper trail that keeps leading us to a dead end. You pick up one rock, and another ten get thrown at me." I shake my head. “We have guys going to interview everyone that has lived next to them, and everyone is saying only two people lived there."
"Someone has to know who this woman is,” I say. “She’s been with him for long enough that someone would have seen her."
"How do you know she was with him a long time?" my father asks, and my stomach burns when I think about what Dr. Benson said.
"She had fractured ribs,” I say, and he knows I’m not done. “It wasn’t the first time."
He hisses. “Motherfucker."
"Good news,” I say. “It doesn’t look like she was …" I look around the room. The nurses’ station is empty, and the whiteboard in back has been written on. I listen to the sound of the machines coming from the other rooms. “Bring me a computer."
"For?" he asks me.
"I’ll see if I can find something. I’m here doing nothing, so I might as well keep busy,” I say.
"I didn’t even think you knew what a computer did,” he says.
"Just because I don’t sit at the desk doesn’t mean I don’t watch,” I say, smiling. “I’m my father’s son in more ways than one."
"I tell you what you don’t get from your father,” he says, and I can just picture him with a smile on his face.
"Yeah, and what’s that?" I put my head back, waiting for him to say something.
"Your patience,” he says. “Or the lack of patience." I hear him tap on the desk. “You get that from your mother." I laugh. “But seriously, Quinn"—his voice goes low—“you need to know everyone has the same goal in mind, and that is to find out who this woman is." He doesn’t say anything more to me. “I’ll drop off a computer on my way home."