M Sellars - Miranda

As the haze continued to dissipate, I found my voice and mumbled, “You in here, Ben?”

Prior to the onset of the nightmare, I had been laying here adrift in a comfortable drowse, existing somewhere between wake and sleep. I had been able to hear everything around me with an unfettered clarity-magazine pages as they turned, footsteps that sounded lightly against the floor, and even the soft rush of air as the door opened and closed. But, none of it had truly made any sense in the fuzzy darkness that surrounded my world. It was all just an underlying soundtrack to which I’d grudgingly become accustomed. Apparently, so accustomed that it had lulled me back into a deepening sleep, where a darkened dream lay in wait.

Flowing into the quiet lull behind my voice, a new jumble of noises tapped out a rhythm against my eardrums. The medley began with the light rustle of fabric against fabric and the dull slap of a magazine carefully dropped against a flat surface, both happening in the near distance. Those sounds were soon followed by footsteps coming toward me and then quiet breathing close by.

Although my olfactory sense had been assaulted by the antiseptic smells of the hospital, which were less than pleasant in and of themselves, the smell of muddy water currently lingered in my nose-an illusion carried with me into wakefulness after each episode. Fortunately however, it appeared that a much more pleasant scent was now pushing it out as I picked up the barest hint of sweet vanilla.

“It’s Constance, Row,” Agent Mandalay told me. “You’re on my watch now.”

“Constance…” I began slowly. “If you’re here…”

Apparently she anticipated my question and rushed to reassure me. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Agent Parker is with Felicity. As of this afternoon, the bureau officially took over from the local law enforcement. Until this is all done, you’re both under federal protection, twenty-four-seven.”

I finally allowed my eyes to flutter open and then rolled my head in the direction of her voice. Her face wasn’t crystal clear, but I’d become used to being without my glasses, so at least it wasn’t a complete blur. I could see that she was standing there looking at me with her head cocked to the side, and I was able to pick out the mix of concern and relief fighting for control over her features.

I sighed. “I suppose I have you to thank for that?”

She shook her head. “It came from much higher up, actually.”

“I see… I thought the Federal Marshall Service handled protection details,” I said.

“It depends on the situation,” she said with a nod. “Obviously, you’re a special case.”

“Go figure,” I mumbled then drew in a deep breath and said, “Guess it didn’t matter how much I acted like an ass. I’m still being viewed as a possible asset, huh?”

“That’s the rumor… But I’m sure there’s more to it than that,” she replied.

“So, how is she?” I asked.

“Felicity? I’m afraid she’s pretty much the same,” she replied, a detectable note of apology in her voice.

“What about her parents?”

“Helen spoke to your attorney, and she’s on top of it. She said she’d come by and meet with you about it tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“So what about you?” Constance asked. “Are you doing okay?”

I swallowed then quietly breathed, “I guess that depends on your definition of okay.”

“Same old Rowan,” she replied. “I think you’re allergic to straight answers.”

“Not really. I just think out loud a lot.”

“I’ve noticed. So…can I get you anything? Are you thirsty?”

“Yeah… Actually I think I am.”

“Right now all they’ll let you have are ice chips. The nurse brought a fresh container in just a few minutes ago. Would you like some?”

“That works,” I muttered. “Just put ‘em in a glass and pour some Scotch over them.”

“Mm-hmm, I don’t think so. Besides, why would you want Scotch when you already have something even better tapped right into a vein?”

“What? This?” I said, slightly lifting the hand that still grasped the pendant from the morphine pump and then letting it fall back onto the blankets. “Not really a big fan of the side effects.”

“What side effects?”

“The nightmares.”

“Hmm,” she replied. “I didn’t have any of those, myself. It just made the pain go away and I slept a lot.”

My brain was still a bit sluggish, so it took a moment for me to connect the dots where her remark was concerned. However, within a second or two, I remembered that it wasn’t all that long ago that Constance had been in a position very similar to this. Instead of a knife, her wound had been produced by a bullet making it through a gap in her protective vest, but the method behind the injury really didn’t matter. Hers had still been courtesy of Miranda, just like mine.

“Guess it’s just me then,” I sighed.

“You should probably tell the nurse about it though. They might need to put you on something else for the pain.”

“Maybe,” I agreed.

Constance waited a moment then nodded toward the tray at the foot of the bed. “So…do you still want some of those ice chips?”

“Sure…” I replied.

She smiled and stepped away as I sent my fingers in search of the bed controls. Finding them mostly by touch, I eventually managed to start the top half into an upward tilt.

“How long was I asleep?” I asked once I’d struggled through the pain of adjusting myself into something resembling a reclined sitting position.

Constance handed me a half full cup of the crushed ice and shook her head. “I’m not entirely sure. You had already been out for a while when I took over, and that was…” She gave her watch a quick glance and said, “A little over four hours ago now. So probably five hours at least.”

“Hope you brought another one of your romance novels to pass the time,” I quipped.

She let out a light chuckle. “Some law enforcement bulletins and a copy of Guns and Ammo, actually.”

“Seriously? But…”

She cut me off. “I never said that I didn’t read it.”

“True. You didn’t.” I paused and tried to focus on more recent memories. Unfortunately, they were still a bit of a blur. “So…I guess I should check… It’s still Tuesday, right?” I asked, then tilted the cup to my lips and shook a few small chunks of the ice into my mouth. As they began to melt, I allowed the cool water to run down the back of my dry throat. The sensation made me realize just how thirsty I really was, so I tipped the cup to my mouth again.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Still Tuesday. Although it’s early evening. Coming up on seven.”

I laid my head back and sighed as I did the mental calculation. Once I had swallowed the rest of the water, I turned my face to her. She had stepped the short distance back across the room and parked herself in the chair again. “Any word from Ben? When he left earlier there was something going on with another victim.”

Constance nodded as she answered. “Yes, actually. I talked to him an hour or so ago, and they were finally starting the interview.”

“Interview?” I asked, scrunching my brow. “What do you mean? I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “I thought you already knew. The victim is still alive. He somehow managed to escape before the killer had a chance to bleed him out.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “He was picked up not far from here as a matter of fact. He was wandering down the middle of a street in Saint Flora, naked, and apparently in a complete daze. It appeared he had been tortured for a while, and he’s in pretty rough shape but stable now, as far as I’ve heard. They brought him here to the emergency room.” She extended her index finger and pointed at the ceiling. “He’s in a bed two floors up at the moment, being interviewed by Ben and his lieutenant.”