Read Online The Blood In the Beginning by Kim Falconer - Free Book Online

behind it did cave in at about elbow height. Cracks spread out from the epicentre, reaching to the ceiling. It wasn’t exactly what I had asked. ‘Was I admitted with a sledgehammer?’
    The nurse chuckled. ‘You’ll have to ask Dr Rossi.’ He made a note in the file and put it back on the rack.
    â€˜When does she make her rounds?’
    â€˜ He checks ICU patients, morning and night. He’ll be along in a few hours.’
    â€˜I’m in ICU?’
    â€˜If you’d seen yourself when you came in, you wouldn’t be asking.’
    I closed my eyes and it hit me like a tidal wave. VIP, the walk home, the attack. ‘I need my phone!’
    â€˜Take it easy, Ms Sykes.’ He turned an amber-coloured drip wide open with one hand while pinning me down with the other. ‘Breathe.’
    â€˜You don’t understand. I have to call Rourke.’
    â€˜Your boyfriend will be notified.’
    â€˜Not my boyfriend. Detective …’
    Another nurse appeared. ‘It’s alright, Ms Sykes. You rest now,’ she said, glancing at my drip, sweat beading on her forehead.
    I felt a rush of euphoria run down my limbs. ‘Wait.’
    They did, until I couldn’t keep my eyes open or lift a finger. Everything went delightfully languid.
    I don’t know how long I lay in a sedative-induced haze, but when I woke again, I took it real slow before trying to sit up. The hospital room stayed still, even while bending forward to retrieve my chart. Small blessings. It did feel a bit like my brains were sloshing in a jar, but I bore it. Damn, that asshole hit me hard. The stalker’s taunts echoed in my head as the horror of the previous night rushed over me. Would he come here? I had to talk to Rourke. I also had to make doubly sure the CHI Tech logo wasn’t anywhere on the treatment schedule. I pushed the welling fear back and read my chart. It wasn’t easy, without contacts, but I adjusted the distance until blurry lines came into focus, almost.
    The police had been notified. That’s good, I guess … as long as I could talk to Rourke first. It said the cops had picked up an evidence bag, the one containing a thin ribbon they’d cut from my wrist. A little charm bracelet from my stalker? I barely remembered that, but his parting gesture after I made it onto the bus stayed crystal clear … so were the images burned into my mind from VIP. Those people chained to walls, looking like they were bleeding out. Daniel had convinced me it was just a performance, but floorshow or not, I had to persuade Cate to stay out of the basement. She was way too sensitive to be immersed in scenes of that kind, no matter what the pay. I planned to make sure she didn’t so much as cross a street alone at night. I guess there had been something good about her Joey taxi service after all.
    I flipped to the next page, surprised this was my second bag of blood. I slept through them both? What a perk. Being transfused was not my favourite thing, for several reasons, none of which I wanted to think about. I read on. The treatments were simple: manual reduction of dislocated R-shoulder, transfusion, fluid therapy, a single intra-muscular jab of long-acting antibiotics, no analgesics, and no more sedatives ordered, once I regained consciousness. That would be now. It instilled confidence. Some ER doctors would have sent me straight to the psych ward for observation, if I’d come in swinging, and according to the nurse and the wall, I had. That was … I squinted at the date. It couldn’t be right.
    Dr Rossi’s signature at the bottom was like a relief map of the Sierra Nevada. I couldn’t begin to guess his first name, but a picture was forming in my head: short, thin, late fifties, wire-rimmed glasses, bald head and bit of a pot belly. Kind eyes, but small, and close set. A nasally voice. Smart as a whip. With that image in mind, I drifted back to sleep, the