One Step Ahead

Promise Me

8:50 AM

      Beep... Beep... Beep...

      The noise penetrated Briar's consciousness, and she lay quietly for a minute, attempting to figure out what it was. It wasn't the right sound for her alarm clock, or her phone, so she forced her eyes open, to see herself surrounded by what looked like a forest of tubes and wires.

      This confused her for a moment, but then the memory of the branch pulling free from the ground came flooding back, and she realized that she was in a hospital. But where was Ashley? Was he all right?

      She attempted to sit up, her limbs feeling strangely heavy, and almost instantly someone was at the side of the bed, with a gentle hand on her chest, just below her throat. "No, hon, just be still. You shouldn't be trying to move right now, you might tear your stitches," the slightly chunky, fortyish blonde woman said. "Would you like some water?"

      Realizing that her mouth actually was quite dry, she nodded, so the woman walked around the bed and poured some water into a glass, then inserted a straw, and lifted Briar's head slightly so she could drink. Once she had swallowed the liquid, she asked, "Is Ashley okay?"

      "Ashley? Oh, Mr. Purdy! He's a bit scraped up, and he'll be off his feet for a bit, as I understand it, but he'll be fine," the woman explained. "They released him from the hospital, and some of his friends took him somewhere to get some rest, but he apparently said that he'd be back this morning. Your big bearded friend and his boy are here, though, they've been in the lounge all night."

      "Can I see them?"

      "Now that's not up to me. So I'll get someone to find your doctor and let her know you're awake, and she can make that decision." The woman walked to the door, and Briar heard her speaking to someone on the other side, though she couldn't make out the words. Then, as she turned to come back to the bed, Briar caught a brief glimpse of what looked like a weapon under the woman's jacket.

      "You're not a nurse, are you?" she inquired.

      "No, hon, I'm not. I'm sorry, I should have introduced myself, I'm Special Agent Genevieve Norton, with the FBI. They decided that you should be under constant guard until the prisoner was transported, and to keep the news media from trying to bother you. So I'm..."

      Her eyes widened, and she once again struggled to sit up. "Wait a minute! He's here? In this hospital?"

      "No, not anymore," the agent assured her, moving quickly to the side of the bed. "They left about thirty minutes ago to take him back to Los Angeles. And he was under guard and handcuffed to his bed the entire time that he was here, so there was no chance that he could have gotten near you."

      "Ms. Malveaux, you need to be still," a woman's voice said from the doorway. "If you don't, we'll have to sedate you again, to keep you from re-injuring yourself. And I think that there are some people in the lounge who would be greatly disappointed if that were to become necessary."

      She lay back against the pillows as a short black woman, wearing a white lab coat over an emerald-green blouse and black slacks, crossed the room to stand beside her. "Good morning, Ms. Malveaux, I'm Dr. Leatrice McLaren. And I realize that this will probably sound like a ridiculous question, but how do you feel this morning?"

      After pausing for a moment to actually consider the question, she replied, "Sore, and nothing seems to work right. Everything feels heavy, and doesn't want to move like it's supposed to. And my stomach hurts."

      "What feels heavy, specifically?" the doctor inquired.

      "My arms. I couldn't get them to do what I wanted when I tried to sit up awhile ago."