The voice weakened further. “You promised me. Don’t break your word.”
“What? What did I promise?” Chelsea shouted. But although the woman tried to answer, Chelsea couldn’t hear her words.
She must have cried aloud, disturbing her sleep. She wakened in a sweat, breathing hard. In her dark room, she took several seconds to realize she’d been having a nightmare.
The faint smell of antiseptic, mixed with the fresh scent of clean sheets, slapped her back to reality. The soft light of the monitor lit the room in a green glow.
She was safe.
Her name was Chelsea Connors, and she was in Maryland Memorial Hospital. Snuggling under the covers, she tried to go back to sleep.
Nothing could hurt her in bed.
She was safe.
Already the nightmare faded, and she let the images go without regret. The pounding in her head had eased a bit. She shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position and opened her eyes to see a hazy lab coat.
Was a nurse in her room to give her a shot? No. The professional white coat wouldn’t fool her. The person hovering over her was too still, too silent and creepy.
Someone was in her room, someone who was not supposed to be there. Her mouth went dry. A dark silhouette loomed over her bed, and her gut twisted into barbed-wire knots.
As she stared, trying to pierce the darkness, an arm was raised in a threatening gesture. The hand clasped a hypodermic needle, its sharp metallic point glinting in the green light. The arm sliced downward, the hypodermic needle aimed at her chest.
Chapter Three
If Chelsea didn’t move fast, she’d die. Seizing the IV tubing, she wrapped it around her hand. As the hypodermic arced toward her, she yanked the IV pole, slamming it against the dark silhouette in the lab coat. A soft thud was followed by a groan.
Chelsea rolled off the bed, and the sticky pads ripped off her chest. The IV had long since torn from her hand. She hit the floor on hands and knees, striking her head against the side of the bed with a thwack. Sharp, stinging pain bit into her scalp. Head whirling and lungs desperate for air, she scrambled away, any moment expecting her assailant to grab her to complete the attack.
Too dizzy to attempt to stand, she scrambled to the corner of the room. The heart monitor emitted one long, flat beep. Surely someone would come to investigate.
Her thin gown didn’t protect her from the chilled tile where she huddled on the floor. She bit her lip to keep her teeth from chattering, but she couldn’t control her shivering.
Somebody help. The baby needs me.
She tried to scream, but fear paralyzed her throat. Her head spun, and she clenched her fingers deep into her shins to stay conscious.
Piercing lights came on. She squinted against the brightness, momentarily blinded.
Please, no. Don’t let that hypodermic needle stab me.
Hands reached for her. Her vocal cords eked out a frightened whimper.
“Take it easy.” She recognized Dr. Kendall’s voice.
Shaking and still unable to speak in a normal tone, she croaked out in a voice no louder than a whisper, “Did you see who it was?”
At her frantic words, she read bewilderment on the face of the nurse, as well as on Dr. Kendall’s. With sinking disappointment mixed with fear, she realized they hadn’t seen anyone exit her room.
“Someone sneaked into my room. If I hadn’t rolled off the bed, I’d be dead.”
From the long look the nurse and doctor exchanged over her head, she figured they didn’t believe her. But it had happened. She would never forget the sight of that evil weapon slicing down at her. Closing her mouth, she forced down the hysteria rising in her throat.
“You’re going to be fine.” Dr. Kendall put his arm around her waist and helped her to stand. “Breathe. Take three deep breaths.”
She did as he asked, but every nerve in her body twitched with tension. Her knees buckled. Dr. Kendall picked her up and strode toward the bed, his concentration clearly on her bleeding hand, not her story.
“Get a pressure bandage, stat,” he ordered a nurse. “And call security.”
At least he was giving her the benefit of the doubt. That she’d get a chance to explain her story took the edge off her panic.
Dr. Kendall’s solid strength comforted her. “Are you okay?”
“Please, I’d like to sit in a chair for a moment.” Her head still spun, but she had to gather her thoughts so she wouldn’t sound crazy when she spoke.
After he helped her into the chair, he reached for her hand. “Let me see your hand.” Concern darkened his eyes.
The icy tile chilled her feet, contrasting with the heat where his fingers grazed her just below the elbow. Longing to crawl into his arms and let him reassure her again with his warmth, she fought the inclination to depend on him. Dr. Kendall wouldn’t always be there. She had to learn to be strong, at least for Alex’s sake if not her own.
The nurse returned, and the doctor tended the tiny injury on her hand, then asked her to use her free hand to apply pressure to her wound to stop the bleeding. While she responded, Chelsea forced herself to recall the terrifying assault. Afraid of discovery, her attacker must have left her room and fled the moment she’d fallen. Could the hypodermic, with fingerprints, have been left behind?
Still trembling, she slouched in her chair and released the pressure on her wound. Her scalp was damp with perspiration, and she raked shaky fingers through her bangs.
Dr. Kendall reached for the bandage on her head. “I need to look at this, too.”
At his touch, she winced. “I slammed my head when I rolled off the bed.”
He replaced the bandage, so she couldn’t be in too bad a shape. Hoping he’d believe her but knowing she might sound like a nut case, she wondered if she should tell the truth and risk being locked in the psycho ward. But then whoever had tried to kill her might return.
“Security should be here any minute. Luckily you didn’t open the stitches in your head.”
“Stitches?” He hadn’t mentioned them before. No wonder she felt as if she’d been scalped. “How many stitches?”
“Only three. We hardly had to shave your hair.”
Her hair was the least of her worries. Someone had tried to kill her! She stiffened, wondering if her slip on the steps had been a mere accident. Could her “slip” be related to the attack in the hospital?
Sinking her face into her palms, she counted to ten to calm herself. The delay didn’t help. If she’d been attacked once, perhaps twice, it could happen again.
Stop. She couldn’t let her imagination run rampant. She’d been jumping to conclusions without facts or memories to back them up. The incident had frightened her enough without her imagination scaring her silly and making matters worse. Still, she couldn’t stay in the hospital.
“I should get out of here.”
Dr. Kendall patted her shoulder. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”
At the sound of footsteps, Chelsea lifted her head. A man, bald and slightly overweight, wearing a blue uniform with a walkie-talkie at his belt, sauntered into the room. “Is there a problem, miss?”
“Someone tried to attack me.” Chelsea spoke as calmly as she could, but her tone lacked the strength of conviction she would have liked.
The security guard pulled the radio from his belt. “What did the assailant look like?”
She twisted her hands in her lap to still the shaking. “I don’t know. The lights were out, and it was dark.”
“Was it a man or woman? White or black? Tall or short?”
“All I saw was a white lab coat and a murky shadow.”
From the discreet look the guard shared with the doctor, she knew she’d said the wrong thing. At best, they didn’t believe her. At worst, they thought she was a mental case.
“Tell us what you can,” Dr. Kendall suggested gently.
“I was sleeping. Something woke me.”
The guard frowned. “What
? A noise? A voice? The door opening?”
She shrugged, then wished she hadn’t as her head throbbed. “I was having a nightmare.”
The guard shook his head and rolled his eyes at the ceiling.
Dr. Kendall didn’t give up as easily. “Go on.”
“When I opened my eyes, there was this hulking presence looming over me.”
“You’re sure you were awake?” asked the guard.
“Positive. The green light from the monitor glinted on a hypodermic needle.” Quickly she filled him in, trying to keep calm and sound rational when she wanted to run and shout.
Although he clearly didn’t believe her, the security guard searched the bed sheets and the floor under her mattress, looking for the needle. “Nothing, miss. Doc, you want me to file a report?”
“No one on staff saw anyone leave this room. Without a description, I don’t see what good it can do. Thanks for coming.”
The men were humoring her. After the door closed, she let some of her agitation show in her tone. “You don’t believe me. You think I imagined it, don’t you?”
“Head trauma can cause vivid nightmares. Nightmares that seem real.”
“I was awake,” she insisted. Hell, she could have died. And if he wouldn’t believe her, she’d just have to make it out of here on her own. Standing, she held on to the back of her chair for support and tested her balance.
He stepped to her side. “Let me help.”
“I’m not getting back into that bed.” She shuddered. “I couldn’t sleep a wink, knowing he could return.”
“He?”
“He or she. I’m not sure.” She turned to him, suspecting how difficult it would be to leave but knowing it was imperative. “I want to check out of the hospital immediately. Whoever attacked me could return.”
The vehemence of her tone warned Jeff that Chelsea could be stubborn. Still he tried to talk her out of leaving. “We can protect you here. Alex is in the nursery, all tucked in. You sure you want us to release you, alone, in the middle of the night?” he asked, reluctant to let her go.
If she wanted to leave, hospital policy would force Jeff to go along with her wishes. Yet her walking out into the night, without a friend, with a baby to care for, seemed more than she should have to manage. Her face was pale, her respiration labored, and she was trembling from her fingers to her toes.
And yet she’d stood up to him with more courage than any patient he could remember. Trying to convince himself he wanted to keep her in Maryland Memorial because of her amnesia and not because he found her courage appealing, he tested her resolve.
“Are you prepared to take care of a baby?”
“I don’t know. And I may not know tomorrow or the next day, either. I can’t stay here forever.”
He gazed into eyes greener than ivy and read her determination. Her chin tilted at a bold angle, and her full lips pressed into a decisive line.
“You could use some rest.”
“I’ll rest after I’m at home, behind a locked door.” She preferred to flee now just in case anyone who meant her harm thought to retrace his or her steps. Most likely her attacker would assume she would spend the remainder of the night in the hospital.
He searched her eyes and noted the dark shadows beneath them, took in her vulnerability, looked deeper and found a steely core below. Obviously nothing he could say would sway her. Still he could not quite give her up.
“I was hoping by tomorrow someone might come to claim you.”
“Someone already has recognized me.” She ticked people off on her fingers. “The woman from foster care—oh, and let’s not forget the person who tried to stab my heart with a hypodermic.”
She seemed sure she hadn’t dreamed the incident, and the thought bothered him. Although her memory was absent, her perceptions were acute. By her sarcasm, she’d revealed her awareness that he’d humored her after she’d claimed to have been attacked.
She must have picked up the frown he’d tried to conceal. “Doctor, with all the people coming and going down the halls, with staff—from nurses to janitors—having access to my room, I assure you I’ll be safer elsewhere, behind a locked door. Now, where are my clothes?”
There was nothing to be done but help her. While he went in search of Alex, she changed. He returned to find her dressed in a green silk blouse, spotted with dried blood from her head wound, and a rumpled cream skirt.
As he wheeled her out of the hospital and to a taxi, a nurse pushed the baby in his stroller alongside them, and he fought to keep his gaze off Chelsea’s legs. Fought and lost. She had the legs of a dancer, firm, long and sculpted.
Her special mix of defenselessness and courage heightened his every protective instinct. Letting her leave was against his better judgment. Longing to jump in the cab and accompany her home, he resisted.
She’s trouble. Let her go. In an hour he’d be so occupied with his next patient he’d forget all about Chelsea Connors and her amnesia.
His beeper signaled he was needed in ICU.
And still the cab arrived too soon. Jeff slipped a twenty-dollar bill into her hand, collapsed the stroller into a car seat and strapped the baby beside her. Although he’d made up his mind to forget her, the thought of never seeing her again bothered him more than he wanted to admit. “You’re sure about this?”
“Thank you.”
He wanted to press a kiss to her cheek. “Don’t forget, those stitches need to come out in about a week. If you have any problems, headaches, disturbing nightmares, anything, don’t hesitate to call.”
“I won’t.”
His gaze dropped to Alex. “Take care of that little tiger.”
“I will,” she mouthed as the cab pulled away. She waved, her thoughts tight with sadness. Alex started to cry. Right now Dr. Kendall seemed their only friend in the world, and the baby must have picked up on her feelings of loss, her anxiety about their destination, her fear that she hadn’t the knowledge to care for a baby.
“Where to, ma’am?” the driver asked.
She flipped open her wallet and tilted it toward a passing streetlight. “Twenty-six Carson Street.”
At least the driver didn’t make her feel worse by asking her to give directions she couldn’t recall. She had enough worries wondering who had attacked her at the hospital and why. If she was lucky, the assault had been random, committed by a deranged stranger. And if she wasn’t lucky, then she had to be very careful.
The baby needed her, depended on her to make the correct decisions. The motion of the car rocked Alex, who plopped a finger into his mouth and sucked. She had to remember to buy a pacifier.
Smoothing Alex’s hair, Chelsea leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes, certain she’d never been so tired in her life. Yet she couldn’t sleep with her mind full of worries. What kind of home would she find when she arrived? An apartment, a condo, a house? She hoped for secure locks on the doors. Despite her fear of guns, she needed to be able to defend herself and Alex, and she wished for the missing gun to show up.
She could find herself married and the mother of children. Was she a good enough actress to fool her kids into thinking she recognized them?
The thought of facing a husband who was a stranger made the hair on the back of her neck rise. If confronted, somehow she would dredge up the strength to answer questions, like where she’d been for the past day and a half, but it wouldn’t be easy.
The best-case scenario would find her living with a childhood friend who could fill her in on the past twenty-odd years of her life. Or parents who would help with Alex. Perhaps a boyfriend who made his living as a bodyguard might be too much to ask. But until she set her life back in order, she couldn’t let the baby suffer because of her ignorance.
Behind them a vehicle honked. Chelsea jerked straight with a start. Turning, she looked behind them, her eyes widening with fear. A full-size van rudely flicked on its high beams and caught them in a glare of bright light.
The van rode the c
ab’s tail, almost close enough to ram them. Had she been followed from the hospital? She reached for Alex.
Please, no. Not now with the baby beside her.
As if in answer to her silent plea, the van jerked to the side, passed the car, then cut in front of them. The cab driver muttered an oath.
As the van sped into the night and left them behind, Chelsea released her pent-up breath. A rude stranger—nothing more—had almost run them off the road. It happened every day. No one had singled her out to follow.
Wondering if the knock on her head had made her paranoid or prudent, she sat back with frustration at her gripping fear. Why couldn’t she remember? If someone was stalking her, she wanted to know why. Perhaps no one was after her at all, and the attack at the hospital had been a nightmare, her fall a simple accident.
Yeah, right.
Dr. Kendall had seemed so sure she’d dreamed the attack. But he was wrong. The image of the hypodermic needle slashing toward her chest was just as vivid as her memory of Dr. Kendall’s vibrant blue eyes, his concerned demeanor and the glimmer of masculine interest he couldn’t conceal.
Had she imagined his personal attention? No. Although she suspected he treated all his patients with consideration, a special spark had arced between them.
Perhaps after she settled and her memory returned, she’d be free to give the good doctor a call. The thought had come to her easily, and she wondered if she often asked men out on dates. Whatever her experience, she knew a man like Dr. Kendall didn’t remain so long at every patient’s bedside.
Before she had time to dwell further on Dr. Kendall, the cab driver turned off the highway into an upscale neighborhood. One-and two-story Colonial houses with lush oaks and landscaped yards were set back on acre lots. Tension eased from Chelsea’s shoulders. This subdivision would be the perfect place to raise a son. The cab’s headlights spotted swing sets in several yards, and a bike path ran beside wide sidewalks.
She paid and tipped the driver, who helped transform the car seat back into a stroller. Keys in hand, she rolled the sleeping Alex toward the front door of an unfamiliar brick house. There were no lights on inside. If anyone was there, they’d long since gone to sleep.
A Baby to Love Page 4