by A. D. Ryan
“Hey, you’re awake,” a rough voice said to my left, and when I looked toward it, I found a worse-for-wear David lifting his head from my bed. His left hand was wrapped firmly around mine while the other reached for the call button. He pushed it several times. There was a commotion in the hall before two nurses bustled in and started fussing over me.
“Wh-what happened?” My voice sounded hoarse—even to me—and I tried clearing my throat. It didn’t help; it only hurt more.
David’s brow furrowed, and he ran his free hand down over his weary and unshaven face; I had never seen him look this frazzled…this worried. “You don’t remember?”
One of the nurses lifted the hand with the IV in it and checked my pulse—regardless of the fact that I was hooked up to one of those heart monitors. It was weird and I admit, I questioned the reason behind it. My head throbbed, and I let my eyes wander around the room, taking in the institutional white of the walls and the generic artwork that adorned them. I was in a private room—swanky—and one look out the window indicated that I was back at Osborn. The nurses finished checking my vitals before assuring both David and me that the doctor would be in momentarily, and then they left us alone.
Slowly, bits and pieces fell into place as I remembered the events that led me here. “We were at work—looking over that case, and then I passed out.” There was more…I think…but it was really vague, and I couldn’t be sure it wasn’t part of a dream while I was out. “I remember feeling like I was floating through the air, and then the smell of leather before a high-pitched wailing filled my head…” Sirens…they were sirens, I realized. As the memory played out, I remembered that my eyes opened briefly to see David behind the wheel of my car and racing through the streets. His voice was soft and soothing, but there was also a note of panic that laced it; even my muddled brain picked up on that.
“That’s the gist of it.” Hearing his voice so low and full of worry caused my stomach to clench; I hated that I put him through this.
My eyebrows pulled together in shame, and I glanced at him as he looked down at our hands, his thumb moving back and forth over my skin.
“You picked up a picture that fell out of our case file, and then you went blank. You stared at it for a few minutes and whispered your brother’s name… Do you remember that?” As he told me this, I definitely recalled it happening, and the horrific image of the woman’s neck came crashing back to me.
“You’ve been out for two days,” he concluded before I could say anything about the picture, my focus snapping back to him like a rubber band.
“W-what?”
He nodded sadly. “You scared the hell out of me, Brooke.”
“I don’t understand,” I rasped, trying to wrap my head around why I would remain unconscious for so long with no real trauma. Realization slammed down on me, weighing heavy and causing my stomach to churn, and I squeezed David’s hand. “The bite… Was it some kind of infection?”
David’s expression transformed to one of relief and bewilderment. “No, actually. When I mentioned your attack to the doctor, that’s the first thing she checked out. She seemed to think you could have contracted something, but when she took your bandages off, the wounds were already healing. She was shocked when I told her you were only stitched up the night before and how inflamed it was the next morning.”
It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him, but I needed to see this for myself. I tore the left shoulder of my hideous hospital gown down and looked at the bright pink and healing skin that was so inflamed and angry-looking the last time I saw it. There was still some healing to go, but the jagged slashes from the wolf’s teeth had closed and the stitches were removed.
I delicately traced my fingers over it, noticing that even the suture marks had faded significantly. “How…?”
I didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling; I heard it in his voice. “I have no idea. I guess it wasn’t nearly as bad as we thought it was,” David offered, bringing my hand to his lips. “God, Brooke, I’m so glad you’re okay.” He peppered kisses up the length of my arm, standing up and cradling my face in his hands. His eyes were red from sleep deprivation, and they held my gaze as he rested his forehead against mine. “I was so worried.”
I tried to nod; it was difficult given his hand placement, but I was able to tilt my face upward and press my lips to his gently. “I know,” I murmured against them, “and I’m sorry.”
A throat cleared from the doorway, forcing David to take a step back, dropping his hands to mine again. For a brief moment, I panicked when I saw my father in the doorway. Still getting used to the idea of others knowing about our relationship, it took a second to register the stolen moment of intimacy we shared as okay.
I shifted in my bed, sitting upright. “Hey, Dad,” I greeted sheepishly, and he exhaled a sigh of relief. Nodding, I tried my hand at a bit of humor. “Yeah, I’m getting that a lot.”
It was weak, but he laughed and stepped into the room, setting the flowers he brought with him on the little table beside my bed. “It’s not funny.”
“Then why are you laughing?” I said, jabbing him in the shoulder lightly with my free hand; David had yet to relinquish his hold on the other—not that I could blame him, really.
“I’m just glad to see you’re awake,” Dad told me. “Your mother will be thrilled to hear it.”
“Is she here?” I asked, anxiously looking around him and expecting to see her in the doorway.
Dad craned his neck, following my gaze. “She just went to grab coffee. We didn’t think you’d be awake.”
My eyebrows knit together apologetically as I took in his haggard appearance. “Not sleeping well, huh?” The inflection in my voice made it sound like a question, but it was obvious from the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes that this was exactly the case.
“Yeah, those waiting room chairs aren’t exactly the most comfortable things to sleep on.”
Beside me, David laughed. “Don’t worry, sir, I didn’t fare much better in here.”
Hearing David allude to having stayed by my side these past two days shocked me, and my eyes snapped to his. “You were here the entire time?”
“Where else would I be?” he asked with a smile, bringing a hand up to gently cup my face. “I couldn’t go home and leave you here to wake up alone.”
Tears burned my eyes; I blamed the drugs being pumped into my system for the lack of control over my emotions as they trailed down my cheeks. I brushed them away, but they only worsened the minute my mother walked into the room and rushed to my side, thrusting two cups of hospital coffee into my father’s waiting hands.
“Oh, Brooke,” she wailed into my shoulder, her hold almost constricting. “When you’re father told me what happened, I was so worried.”
I pulled my hand from David’s and wrapped both arms around her, holding her as firmly as possible in hopes to assure her that I was going to be fine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Honestly, I don’t even know what happened.”
An unfamiliar female voice jarred me from the tender moment shared with my mom, and my eyes were pulled to a woman in a long white coat who stood by the door. “Usually during a traumatic event—like your animal attack the other night—our bodies run on a surge of adrenaline until we know we’re safe,” the woman—my doctor, presumably—explained as she stepped into the room and grabbed the chart from the foot of my bed. “Now, following the impulse to survive, there’s a natural instinct to discharge any additional adrenaline from our systems…in the case of wild animals escaping a predator, their bodies will tremble or jump around until the residual adrenaline has been expelled from the body. In your case, your brain overrode the instinct to discharge this extra energy in order for you to think clearly enough to get to the hospital. From there, you were medicated, essentially interrupting the natural order of things and locking the adrenaline in your body.
“Everybody expels the energy a little differently once the body and mind have
relaxed following the initial incident, but in your case, you blacked out. It’s quite common.”
Looking up from the chart, the doctor smiled. “I’m Doctor Channing. It’s good to see you’re awake, Miss Leighton.”
“Brooke,” I corrected her, trying to process everything she just told me. “Does this mean I’m fine, then?” Looking around the room, I saw that both David and my parents were watching Doctor Channing hopefully.
“You will be,” she replied with a curt nod before looking back down at the chart, her eyebrows furrowing with concentration. “Based on your vitals, I’d like to keep you at least one more night. Your temperature is a little high still, and I’d like to rule out any infections that might be causing it.”
I decided not to argue with the medical professional, so I nodded. “Okay. Yeah.”
The room fell silent, and then I heard David chuckle. “Wow, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you agree so willingly to someone telling you what to do.”
I shrugged, unable to think of anything else to say; while I didn’t particularly want to stay in the hospital, I wasn’t about to go against the recommendations of my doctor—not to her face, anyway.
“Well, I’ll leave you to rest,” Doctor Channing announced, flipping the chart closed and returning it to the foot of my bed. “Be sure to call for the nurses if you need anything, and I’ll be back to check on you a little later.”
“Perfect,” I responded. “Thanks so much, Doctor.”
The minute the doctor vacated the room, Mom pressed her hand to my forehead, and her own creased with worry. “She’s right. You’re burning up.”
“Am I?” I asked, bringing my fingers to my cheek. “I actually feel fine.” Skeptical eyes met mine, and I laughed lightly. “No, really. I feel pretty good…all things considered.”
While I understood my parents’ and David’s uncertainty, I really did feel fine—other than a slight headache, that is. It was possible that I was just being pumped full of painkillers, and that was the reason for my lack of symptoms, but I felt pretty confident I’d be experiencing some kind of residual haze if that were the case. And, truthfully, I’d never felt more clear-headed as the foggy details of the other day started to unfurl again.
“Brooke,” my dad interjected, almost as though he could read my mind. “If this is about work—”
“What?” I asked, trying to appear incredulous. Naturally, he didn’t buy it—not entirely, anyway.
Instead of reprimanding me, Dad smiled. “Listen, Brookie.” I rolled my eyes at the use of my nickname in front of David—who didn’t try very hard to suppress an amused chuckle. “I want you to take the next few days off. Samuels can handle your caseload until you’re well enough to come back.”
Feeling the need to assure him once again that I would be fine, I opened my mouth to protest, but David stopped me. “He’s right. A lot has happened in the last few days, and you’re clearly overwhelmed.”
Deep down, I knew they were right, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the similarities to the slew of unsolved investigations from 2007. The last thing I wanted to do was put them through anything like this again, so I decided that now was not the time to discuss anything regarding the case. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Dad shook his head. “Don’t be. I love that you’re so dedicated—it’s why you got promoted, but, speaking as your father and not your captain, I need you to take care of yourself.”
“Got it,” I affirmed with a nod. “No work. Can I make one small request, though?” The look that Dad and David gave me was almost identical, and I smiled innocently. “I’m starving. Any chance I can get someone to run out and grab me a burger or something?”
With a nod, David smiled. “Of course. I’ll go.”
Dad stood up and clamped a hand down on David’s shoulder. “I’ll join you, Samuels. I think we should give the ladies a chance to talk in private.”
“A double, please!” I called out before they disappeared.
Dad and David had barely left the room before my mom ran her fingers down the length of my hair, smoothing it, and smiled. It should have been obvious when Dad offered to go with David what it was my mom wanted to talk about; the look in her eyes spoke volumes. I fidgeted nervously with my bedsheet, waiting for her to begin her interrogation.
“So, we haven’t really talked much since the night of your party.” A pause from her. A nod from me. “You and David, huh?”
She launched into her questions, and I did my best to answer them, but low voices in the hall distracted me. It was a conversation I probably wasn’t meant to hear, which was why they waited to leave the room before having it.
“You know she’s going to find out eventually, don’t you?” David said, sounding so clear it was like he was still in the room. I heard the elevator doors open, which blew my mind, because it was all the way down the hall.
How is that possible?
Dad sighed. “I know, but if we tell her now, she won’t rest and she’ll demand to come back to work as soon as she’s released, and I don’t think she’s well enough.”
“And how do you expect her to keep from reading about it in the paper…or flipping through the TV channels and finding one of the many news reports?” A brief moment of silence fell between them, and then the doors closed, muffling their voices slightly, but not completely. “It’s not going to be easy to keep three more murders from her.”
And then their voices disappeared from my head, leaving me stunned.
Three more murders in the two days I’d been unconscious. This wasn’t good.
Chapter seven | ravenous
I was forced to stay in the hospital for another day and a half. It wasn’t so bad, really—except for the feeling like a caged animal part. They let me walk the halls, and David was able to bring me some actual clothes so I didn’t feel like a patient under constant monitoring, even though that’s exactly what I was.
I understood it—I did—but that didn’t mean I liked it.
The nurses and my doctor were concerned that my temperature was still too high, but it had apparently leveled out just above 101 F. I assured them that I was feeling fine—great, even—and would just prefer to go home. They were reluctant to agree at first, but as soon as I was able to convince David that I’d be more comfortable at home, he charmed them into helping me break the hell out of there. They discharged me shortly after noon, armed with instructions to pick up some ibuprofen and to drink plenty of water to help bring my temperature back down should it spike up over 104 again.
“I’ll be staying at your place,” David informed me, opening the passenger side door of his black Challenger. He must have expected me to protest, because he was quick to cite his reasoning. “In case you need anything.”
With a laugh, I looked up at him somewhat coyly. “You don’t need to make excuses. I would love it if you stayed…even if it is just to take care of me.”
Smirking, David bent over and placed his hand on my jaw, his thumb moving softly over my cheek. “Maybe my motives are partially selfish, as well,” he whispered, leaning forward and pressing his lips to mine.
I was certain the kiss was meant to be a quick and innocent peck on the lips, but desire quickly burned within me. My hands found their way into David’s hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. David’s body was warm—even against my own rising temperature. Slowly, my hand moved down his neck, trailing along his carotid and feeling the pulse beneath the pads of my fingers. I took my time following it, every beat of his heart sending more blood through the artery. Why? I wasn’t sure, exactly, but feeling the rhythmic beat of his blood moving through his body—sustaining his life—thrilled me in a way I couldn’t describe. My entire body sparked to life, crackling and humming like a fallen live wire snapping against the cold, wet pavement. It awakened something inside me—something…ravenous—and I pulled him closer, using more strength than I thought possible. His pulse was so strong beneath my fingertips
that I swore I could hear the steady thump of his blood moving through his veins, and warmth radiated through my entire body, my arms and legs tingling as I curled my fingers into his shirt and tugged.
I needed him closer.
Before I could get too carried away, David wrapped his hands around my upper arms and parted us. He struggled slightly against my reluctance to let him go, and his mouth curled up into a goofy grin against my lips.
I finally stepped back until I hit the car behind me, my mind whirling, and my skin still buzzing with excitement and need. “Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
David snickered, leaning into my body and pressing his forehead to mine. “Do you hear me complaining?” He paused, and I felt his forehead wrinkle against mine before he pulled back and placed the back of his hand to my cheek. “Shit. You’re burning up again.”
“Am I?” I felt both of my cheeks and then my forehead. I couldn’t tell the difference, and I didn’t feel feverish. Hot and bothered? Check.
“Maybe we should get you home to rest a bit more. Get some ibuprofen into you to help bring your temperature back down.” David ushered me into the car and then ran around to his side and hopped behind the wheel.
Traffic on N Scottsdale Rd was backed up, which wasn’t unusual at this time of day, so while we waited at an intersection for our light to change, I glanced over at David. “Have you been into the precinct at all? I mean, when you haven’t been visiting me.”
He nodded, easing into the intersection when the light turned green. “I went in yesterday and then again this morning before I came to pick you up. Why?”
It would be a lie if I said I hadn’t thought about the investigation every day since I woke up in the hospital. The truth was I’d been dreaming about it, too, and it wasn’t just the case; I dreamt about the night of Bobby’s death a lot more than normal, too.
David was still unaware that I knew about the other three murders, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t been reading the paper or going online with my phone to find whatever information I could in the meantime. There didn’t seem to be a particular victimology that the killer was following. The only similarity was the M.O. and that the victims were aged between twenty and twenty-five.