GINA WILKINS - The Stranger in Room 205

Serena knew she had no obligation to sit by his side, since she had done no more than find him in a ditch and summon help for him, but something kept her there. That overdeveloped sense of responsibility of hers, most likely. It seemed like most of her life was spent doing things she felt obligated to do, rather than things she truly wanted to do.

She was becoming concerned about his continued unconsciousness. Sure, he was wired to all sorts of monitors and such, but was anyone really keeping a close eye on him with everything going on outside this room? She could hear an overwrought parent shouting down the hall, demanding attention for his daughter even as an exasperated nurse tried to assure him that someone would be with him as soon as possible. The guy sounded like Red Tucker, Serena thought with a wince, pitying the poor nurse. Everyone knew Red had a temper that matched his nickname, and a severe patience deficiency to boot.

As if the noise outside had disturbed his fitful sleep, her stranger muttered something, bringing Serena’s attention back to him. She studied his face curiously. Though presently disfigured with swelling and bruises, she would bet his features were usually quite handsome. His hair, when clean and styled, was probably a rich gold, and the eyes she had seen so briefly were a bright blue. He was slim and fit, probably in his early thirties—only a year or two older than herself, she would guess. His hands were well-tended, except for the abraded knuckles that indicated he’d fought back when he’d suffered the vicious beating that had landed him here. His nails were clean and neatly trimmed. She doubted that he’d ever done much manual labor.

He wore no watch or other jewelry, had been dressed only in a ripped pullover and a pair of jeans, had carried nothing in his pockets and had worn no shoes or socks. If robbery had been the motive for the vicious beating, his attacker had taken nearly everything. She didn’t recognize this man and neither had anyone else who’d seen him so far, which was unusual for such a small community. So where had he come from? What had he been doing on the side of a gravel road that led nowhere outside of this off-the-beaten-path little Arkansas town?

Someone opened the door behind her. She expected to see a doctor or a nurse when she looked around, but discovered Dan Meadows walking in, instead. “I wondered when someone would get around to calling the police,” she murmured.

“’Evening, Serena,” the chief of police said. He showed no surprise at seeing her there, which meant he’d already talked to someone outside. “Heard you found a wounded stray behind your house.”

She tucked a strand of her chin-length brown hair behind her ear and nodded. “He was in the ditch beside Bullock Lake Road. My sister’s dog got out of my yard and I was chasing him when I found this man lying facedown in the grass.”

A tough-looking, slow-talking man in his mid-thirties, Dan crossed the room with his trademark rolling amble and studied the man in the bed. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“Neither have I. I have a feeling he’s not from around here.”

“Got any other hunches you’d like to share with me?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I can’t imagine what he was doing there. There was no ID on him—or anywhere around him in the ditch. I looked.”

“Looks like someone beat the hell out of him.”

“Apparently. Dr. Frank said he has a concussion, a few broken ribs, a badly sprained wrist and several painful cuts and bruises.”

“Stitched up his head, did they?”

“He had a deep cut to the scalp at his right temple. It took six stitches to close it.”

Dan nodded, still looking at the man on the bed. “Has he been awake?”

“Not for more than seconds at a time. I thought he was waking up a few minutes ago, but he drifted off again. They’ve pumped him full of antibiotics and who knows what else. I suppose the drugs could be affecting him.”

“More likely the concussion. LuWanda said she’d be in to check on him as soon as she gets Red Tucker calmed down. I’d better get out there and help her. Nothing like a hospital full of panicky parents to keep everyone hopping.”

“Thank God none of the students was seriously injured.”

“Yeah. My niece was on that bus,” Dan admitted with a grimace. “Scared the stuffing out of me when I heard about it.”

“Polly’s okay?”

“She’s fine. Got herself a bloody nose and a black eye, but she’ll be okay once she gets over the scare.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Yeah. By the way, your scoop girl’s out there making a nuisance of herself. Want me to send her in to keep you company?”

She smiled and shook her head. “Let Lindsey do her job.”

“Asking all the parents how it feels to almost lose a child in a bus accident? Hell of a job, if you ask me.”

Dan had never made any secret of his opinion of the reporters who worked for the Evening Star, the newspaper Serena’s great-grandfather had started, and which she now owned through a set of circumstances that still bewildered her. Before she could defend the importance of the press to him—for perhaps the thousandth time—an outburst in the hallway caught their attention.

Dan sighed. “Sounds like Red’s getting wound up again. I’d better go give LuWanda a hand with him. You going to stay around awhile?”

She nodded. “I feel as though I should stay until things calm down a bit and someone has time to spend with this poor man.”

“‘This poor man?’” Dan’s expression was quizzical. “You know something about him that I don’t?”

“No, of course not. I just—well, you know. I found him and now I feel sort of responsible for him.”

“Mmm. That’s the kind of thinking that gets well-intentioned folks in trouble. Better find out who he is before you adopt him.”

Fully aware that Dan was always suspicious of outsiders in his town and would be particularly wary of anyone who showed up under these circumstances, Serena nodded. She was as vigilant as Dan about keeping their hometown free from the crimes that had taken hold in so many places even as small and unremarkable as this.

Dan glanced again at the man in the bed on his way out of the room. “Have someone call me when he wakes up, will you? I have a few questions for him.”

Serena watched him leave. He left the door open a couple of inches, so she could hear him speaking in his measured, authoritative manner, his voice fading as he moved away with Red Tucker and whoever else had been in the hallway outside the room. And then she ran a hand through her hair again and turned to keep watch over the man in the bed—only to find that his eyes were open and focused intently on her face.

“Oh. So you’re awake again. Are you able yet to talk to the chief of police, or would you like me to give you a few minutes before I call him back in?”

The woman was sitting in a chair very close to the narrow bed on which he found himself. She leaned slightly toward him as she spoke, and there appeared to be concern in her eyes. He knew those eyes. Blue. Or maybe green. Pretty. There were only two of them this time. One nose. One mouth. All very nicely arranged in an oval face framed in a soft brown bob. Whatever had happened to him—and he was awake enough to realize that he was lying in a hospital room—he was still able to recognize that this was a very attractive woman. He found that observation reassuring. He couldn’t be damaged too badly if he was still interested in the opposite sex.

“Sir?” she repeated when he continued to stare at her rather than answering. “Did you hear me? Can you speak to me?”

He blinked, trying to recall what she’d said. Something about…police? He frowned, then winced when his swollen, sore face rebelled against the expression. “Uh—yeah, I can hear you,” he managed to say, his voice gruff, as if it hadn’t been used in a long time.