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“Hmm... convenient and coincidental... Your sister’s or your last victim’s?” I muttered the last part under my breath.
“The real coincidence would be if my sister and my last victim just happened to attend the same university as each other. That’s an OU hoody, which is where Claudia, my sis, studies. I can show you a photo of her wearing it, if you like.”
Damn, I hadn’t realized I’d said that loud enough for him to hear. That hadn’t been my intention.
“You don’t owe me anything, except my freedom.”
“This isn’t some cheesy thriller. I’m not holding you captive. You’re free to go. I’m merely suggesting that under the circumstances you don’t.”
We were stuck in a loop, and just as I was about to offer another comment in the circular argument, we were interrupted by a knock at the door. Bear jogged across the room and opened it.
“Hi, Doc, thanks for getting here so soon. Come in. The patient is over there.” He bobbed his head my way. “I told you everything I know about what happened when we spoke on the phone, so do you mind if I step out for a little while? I have a few errands to run.” Who ran “errands” at that time of night? I was willing to bet that whatever he needed to do was related to Cygnus Dei.
“No problem. You go. We’ll be fine.” She smiled warmly as she crossed the room toward me. While I was watching her, the door clicked as it closed behind Bear on his way out. I became acutely aware of what a sight, and worse still, smell I must have been in my filthy, pee-stained gown. I hadn’t looked in a mirror for hours—since before the attack, so I had no idea what my face and hair looked like, but I guessed it wasn’t pretty.
I was embarrassed suddenly. It was one thing to be seen in this state by the person who was responsible for it in the first place, and something different entirely to be assessed by a pretty young doctor while looking and smelling like a homeless bridesmaid.
Dr. Emma Daniels turned out to be not much older than me, and was one of a number of physicians used by the football coach to look after the team—apparently checking people over for concussions was an almost everyday occurrence for her—which was how she knew Bear. I got the distinct impression that their connection wasn’t purely professional, though I had no real idea why I thought that, and even less of a clue as to why I cared.
Dr. Daniels ran through all sorts of questions with me, as well as a battery of diagnostic exercises, before coming to the conclusion that I’d passed out from a combination of exhaustion, overwhelm and cold. I didn’t tell her the reasons all of that was the case, and she didn’t ask. She also said I was running a low-grade fever which could sometimes lead to fainting spells.
She recommended a lukewarm bath, which could apparently help to bring my temperature down. I wondered if she’d also suggested it as a barbed reminder that I stank to high heaven. If that was what she was thinking or suggesting, she truly had a great bedside manner, as I didn’t get that feeling from her interaction with me. Still, there was no denying I looked and smelled gross.
When she left, I managed to make it up off the couch without passing out again, and headed to use the bathroom. Halfway there, I changed my mind and went back for the clothes Bear had left me. If nothing else, I had to get out of the disgusting gown, even if it was just for the walk back to my room. I never wanted to see the damned thing again, and would be dumping it into the very first trash can I passed on the way home.
In the bathroom I noticed that Bear had set a bath—I presumed for me—while I was passed out. Either way, I dipped my hand in and discovered that it was still warm—not as hot as I would normally have a bath, but a little past tepid, which was what the doctor had recommended. In any case, once my hand was in it, the water called to me like a waterfall on a hot tropical day, and despite my protestations to the contrary, I was compelled to climb in.
I made sure to lock the bathroom door, then took off the dress. If I’d had a lighter, I would honestly have considered burning the damned thing there and then. Instead, I dropped it to the floor, and slid into the bath. The water felt as good as anything ever had—like the finest silk brushing against my skin. Or how I imagined butter felt when it melted onto hot toast. It was just what the doctor ordered, in more ways than one.
I wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed, when there was a knock at the door.
“Honey, you there? Is everything okay?”
“Umm... yeah, I’m cool thanks. I just decided to take you up on that offer of a bath. Sorry.”
“No, don’t be. It’s just that Emma, I mean Dr. Daniels, called me and said she’d left a while ago, and then when I came back, you were nowhere to be seen, so I wanted to check you were okay.”
There it was again, “Emma” not Dr. Daniels. It sent a little pang of something to my chest, and not just the suspicion that maybe she wasn’t a real doctor at all. The whole time she was looking me over, part of me had entertained the thought that it was possible that she was just a friend he’d asked to come in and pretend to be a medic, in order to reassure me that he was a good guy.
Even to my overly suspicious journalist mind, it was an absurd thought, but given the events of the day, it definitely wouldn’t have been the most outlandish thing to have happened. Plus, it was no more absurd than me feeling “something” at the idea of being in the same room as Bear’s unfairly beautiful, and obviously incredibly smart ex.
“I’m all good. The doctor told me I had a fever and that a lukewarm bath might help. I don’t have a bathtub back at my room, so...”
“No problem, though, side note, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to get in the tub while home alone after fainting. I mean, I’m glad you’re fine, but if you’d passed out again, it might have been a very different story. I could have ended up with a body on my hands and a lot of explaining to do.”
“Another body.”
“Not really, but I take your point.”
“Jesus, you heard that? You must have superhuman hearing.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty good.”
“I’ll remember that the next time I want to make a catty comment about you. I need to say it only in my mind, or you’ll hear me.”
“Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, now that I know you’re okay, I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to be accused of stalking.”
Ouch.
