Silent Watch

Rick shrugged. “I don’t pick the names.”

The sound of footsteps echoed in the deserted corridor and Sam instinctively glanced up. A petite blonde in a nurse’s uniform walked past them, heading toward the nurses’ station nearby. Sam’s nerves eased as she saw the woman rummage around on the desk, her gaze never once drifting in their direction.

Turning around, Sam stared at the closed blinds over the window of Elaine’s room, wishing she could peer through them to get a look at the woman inside. She wanted to be prepared when she walked in, wanted to see Elaine’s face before she stirred up painful wounds.

“Do you think she’ll talk to me?” she asked quietly.

Rick looked grim. “Let’s hope so.”

Taking a steadying breath, she reached for the door and slowly pushed it open.

Darkness engulfed her, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. Her gaze was drawn to the bed in the center of the room. Elaine Woodman lay there, a thin sheet pulled all the way up to her chin, her eyes closed. The way Elaine’s honey-brown hair fanned across the stark white pillow made her look like a sleeping angel. Like nothing more than a pretty young woman dozing in her bed.

A voice suddenly ripped through the darkness. “Who are you?”

Sam took a step closer and found a pair of sharp green eyes zeroing in on her. Wary. Fearful. The slice of moonlight filtering in through the filmy curtains made those eyes appear larger, brighter, a vivid emerald tint that gave them a catlike quality.

“Did I wake you?” Sam asked, stepping toward the bed.

Elaine reached out and grasped the top of the sheet tighter, pulling it higher, and that’s when Sam noticed the bandages on her slender wrists. Almost unconsciously, she glanced down at her own wrists, making out the jagged white scars even in the darkness.

“Who are you?” Elaine repeated, sliding up into a sitting position. “What do you want?”

The woman looked suspicious and terrified and reminded Sam so much of herself that she almost turned away. She’d been mistrustful of anyone who’d come into her hospital room, too, wondering if they wanted yet another statement, wishing they would let her lick her wounds in peace.

Knowing she was walking on eggshells, she simply stood next to the bed and offered a gentle smile. “My name is Samantha Dawson. You can call me Sam, though.”

A flicker of recognition. “Do I know you?” Elaine sounded uncertain.

“No, we’ve never met. But if my name sounds familiar to you, it might be because you’ve heard it before. It probably came up when the detectives spoke to you.”

Elaine went still, then broke the short silence with a sharp intake of breath. “You’re…dead.” Her pale face grew even paler. “Oh, Jesus, are you a ghost?”

Sam had to chuckle at that. With a smile, she sank onto the small metal chair next to the bed. “No, I can assure you that I’m not a ghost. See?” She reached out and lightly touched Elaine’s upper arm, not surprised when the young woman recoiled. Pulling her hand back, she fought to keep the smile on her lips. “Flesh and blood, just like you.”

“He attacked you, too,” Elaine said bleakly. She wrapped her arms around her chest. “But you survived? Like me?”

“Yes. The police sent me into hiding after I left the hospital.”

“So why are you here? Aren’t you scared that…”

Elaine didn’t finish her sentence, but Sam knew what she’d been going to say. Aren’t you scared that he’ll come after you again?

Her heart squeezed. Elaine’s voice sounded so forlorn, so tortured. The voice of a woman who’d been hurt badly, whose youthful vitality had been sucked out of her. Sam knew the girl was twenty-three, but her tiny body, barely taking up any space on that narrow bed, made her appear younger, more vulnerable. The last thing Sam wanted to do was hurt this girl any more than she’d already been hurt.

Yet she didn’t have a choice.

“Rick Scott and his partner asked me to come see you. You met them, right?”

Elaine nodded.

“Well, they thought I might be able to help you.”

The girl’s mouth twisted in self-loathing. “Nobody can help me.”

Sam swallowed hard and raked her fingers through her hair, finding its texture different and remembering that she was wearing a wig.

“That’s what I thought,” she finally responded, “when I was lying here, in this same hospital, with those same bandages on my wrists. I thought my life was over. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened.”

When Elaine remained quiet, she went on. “It’s a terrible feeling, isn’t it? Helplessness. Hopelessness.”

Those big green circles penetrated her face. “You forgot fear.”

“Trust me, I didn’t forget.”

“You’re still scared?” The sheet covering Elaine’s chest drooped as she leaned forward slightly, revealing another bandage, a bigger one, on her neck.

Sam knew exactly what lay beneath that gauze, but she forced herself to stay focused. “Yes, I’m still scared. The FBI has been keeping me hidden, but—” she took a breath “—I don’t feel safe.”

“Me, either,” Elaine murmured. Her eyes grew glassy, and Sam knew she was on the verge of tears. “I’m leaving the hospital soon. Or at least, Kira Lawford is. I don’t know where they’re taking me.”

“They’re trying to protect you.”

“By showing up here every day and trying to force me to talk to them?” Sarcasm laced her tone. “It doesn’t feel like protection. More like pressure.”

“I know.”

“Did you enjoy it? Sitting there and spilling your guts, while some unfeeling cop took notes?”

“No, I didn’t.” She leaned forward and touched Elaine’s hand. This time, the girl didn’t pull away. “I hated it. I hated all of them. Except Annette Hanson. She was a cop, the only cop who was patient with me, who didn’t force me to talk, didn’t force me to do anything. She relocated to Indiana a few months ago, which is a shame. You would’ve liked her. It was Annette I finally confided in.”

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