Seeing Red
In late afternoon she was brought a dinner tray, but the food was unappetizing, and she wasn’t hungry anyway.
She watched the evening network news. Being the subject of the story rather than the reporter gave her a far different perspective. She felt a surge of compassion for all the individuals she had placed in the spotlight while they were in the vortex of a life crisis.
The Dallas–Fort Worth stations covered the story even more extensively, some recapping the Pegasus Hotel bombing. A spokesperson for the sheriff’s office assured that the attempted assassins would be identified, captured, and brought to justice. Several reports were broadcast live from outside the hospital, where a candlelight vigil was being held for The Major.
The evening wore on until it neared what she considered to be bedtime.
She’d been given a sponge bath that morning in her hospital bed, but she went into the bathroom to give herself another using the toiletries Gracie had brought her. She cleaned her teeth and brushed her hair.
The harsh bathroom light was unforgiving. She had countless scratches, abrasions, and bruises all over, including her face. A large bruise extended down from the corner of her mouth to beneath her chin, as though she’d taken an uppercut to the jaw. Another spread upward from her eyebrow and into her hairline. Both were tender to the touch, and she could count on days of discoloration. But the damage was minimal considering what it could’ve been.
She could be dead.
She pulled on a pair of plain white socks and a fresh hospital gown, tying it at the neck. She switched out the light and opened the door, but drew up short on the threshold.
Trapper was here.
Chapter 9
Her heart tripped, but she couldn’t have specified why. Fear? Or something entirely different?
However, exhibiting anything except annoyance would be a mistake. “Why do you feel at liberty to keep sneaking into my room?”
“Only twice now.”
“Kindly leave.”
“I don’t do anything kindly.”
“That I can certify.”
He eyed her up and down, making her uncomfortably aware of how short and insubstantial the hospital gown was and also of how defenseless she was. “Are you going to leave or force me to create a scene?”
“Tonight’s deputy on guard? He—”
“I have a guard?” She shot a glance toward the door.
“Yes, Kerra, you have a guard.” He said it as though he couldn’t fathom her not knowing that or grasping the necessity of it. “He’s Sheriff Addison’s man and knows how thick Glenn and I are, didn’t even question me coming in, so I doubt he’ll kick me out.” He gestured toward her. “No more IV.”
The sudden switch in topics threw her for a moment, then she followed his gaze down to her right hand. A bandage covered the spot where the shunt had been. “They took it out this afternoon.”
“Then you must be doing okay.”
“Okay” was going to take more than a single day, but she pretended to agree. “Have you seen The Major?”
“Twice today.”
“And?”
“No better, but no worse. Holding steady. Which at this point is good.”
“That’s what was reported on the evening news. I’m happy to have it confirmed.”
“The weather has taken a turn. It started sleeting about an hour ago.”
“The nurses have been talking about it. They’re worried about getting home after their shifts. But I’m told the weather hasn’t kept the media away.”
“No, they’re here. Like vultures circling a wounded animal, waiting for it to die.”