Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 2
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Mistrusting A MemoryChapter 9 free porn video
Sleep came with difficulty for Bob. His mind roiled with the import of what he knew ... or thought he knew. He tried to convince himself that cars caught on fire all the time. There was only circumstantial evidence that the dead man was her rapist at all. Even the fact that there had been no more rapes with that modus operandi didn't prove anything. Like Lacey, no one had come forward to ask where their son, or brother, or father, or husband was. The crispy critter, still unidentified, was still on a slab, but was scheduled to be put in a plain, unmarked box and buried in the county cemetery. Everyone else had forgotten all about him. They'd forgotten about Lacey, too.
Just like Lacey had forgotten.
And then there was her calm statement: "I love you."
There had been no time to go into that. He didn't even know if he SHOULD go into that. He wanted to believe it was a random statement, made while she was thinking of someone else. Then he thought about how absurd that was. She was, as far as he could tell, the perfect woman. Intelligent, capable, strong, not to mention gorgeous. There was her background ... her willingness to accede to people's suggestions ... the rape ... her abandonment by her husband.
He realized he didn't know if she remembered her husband. Was it him in her mind when she'd said those three immensely powerful words?
He only got three hours of sleep, and even that was troubled.
His shift went smoothly, for which he was thankful. He knew that the Lacey distraction was affecting his work ... his judgment ... his habits. All the questions he'd thought of, while trying to get to sleep, were still there.
While he was in, doing paperwork, he ran a computer search for civil actions. Her divorce hearing had taken place while she was in the hospital, unconscious. It was listed as: "Uncontested—dissolution granted in favor of the petitioner." The years she had spent with a man were dissolved in a matter of fifteen minutes, because she wasn't there to argue about it.
She didn't even know she was no longer married.
By the end of his shift he was a wreck. He dropped by the hospital and was informed that visiting hours were later.
"We've searched everywhere for family," he said. "There's no one we can find. What will happen to her when she's discharged?"
"We'll call her a cab, I suppose," said the nurse, obviously disinterested and wanting to get on with her work.
"Her purse is in the impound lot," he said, feeling heat in his belly. "She doesn't even have clothes."
"That's not my problem," said the nurse.
"This is ridiculous," he said, heatedly. "She's a human being!"
"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, officer," said the woman formally.
The last thing he needed was a complaint lodged against him by the hospital. Instead, he got official himself, and demanded to see the nurse's supervisor. Firm in her conviction that, once Lacey Fetterman was no longer her patient, she would have no responsibility for her, the nurse was glad to hand the annoying man over to the head nurse.
Bob handed her a card, instead of explaining the situation. "When she's ready to go home, call me and I'll come pick her up," he said.
"Why would you do that?" asked the woman, suspiciously.
"Because, your nurse just informed me that all you people plan to do is stick her naked into a taxi cab, with no money, and say farewell!" he growled.
"We would not!" said the woman, indignantly.
"According to the nurse who brought me here, how she gets home, and how she is clothed when she does that, and how she pays for the cab is not your problem." His voice was heated.
"We're just overworked," complained the woman. "We wouldn't actually do that. We'd call the county ... or something." She was visibly upset. "Usually, there are people who come to get patients."
"That's all I'm offering to do," said Bob. "The woman has been through hell and I, for one, am not going to let her be put out on the street, because you're overworked."
"Fine!" said the woman, just as heatedly. She stared at him, as if they were done.
"When might I expect a call, to come pick her up?" he asked.
"I can't discuss patient matters with unauthorized persons," she said stiffly.
"Please take me to YOUR supervisor," he said instantly.
She looked nervous, suddenly. She didn't need this headache. What did people expect them to do? She did her job. She cared for patients. If they weren't patients any more, why should she care?
"Tomorrow, probably," she said stiffly. "Rounds are at eight. The doctors just said she could probably go home tomorrow."
"Thank you," said Bob, smiling. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
"Is that all?" asked the woman. "I'm very busy."
"That's all," said Bob. He couldn't resist adding, "for now."
He ignored the unhappy staff and went to her room, even though it wasn't visiting hours. No one tried to stop a policeman in uniform.
"Can't stay," he said, from the doorway. "Sounds like they're letting you go tomorrow. I'll come pick you up. Is that OK?"
"That's wonderful!" she said, her eyes lighting up.
"I'll bring you something to wear, too," he said. "Gotta go."
She said something, but he couldn't quite hear it. It sounded strangely like "I love you." He turned back.
"What?"
"I said I love you," she said. It was like she'd said it a thousand times.
"I'm glad," he said, purely on impulse. "See you tomorrow."
He was so wasted that day that he had no trouble falling asleep. He would rotate after his next shift, going back to days. That meant he'd have all day and all night the next day off. He was familiar enough with hospital operations to know she probably wouldn't be released until ten or later, even though the decision to release her would be made hours earlier.
He spent his shift wondering what it would be like to talk to her outside the hospital. They'd finally have privacy. She would have questions. He had some too. It was as if he had somehow awakened in a whole new world. No, that wasn't it. It was like he had one foot in this world and another in an alternate dimension of some kind. He felt excitement, and worry, and curiosity. He pushed all that aside, so he could do his work ... so no other insane person would be able to pull a gun on him, with him unaware. It was suddenly very important to him that he be able to pick her up in the morning.
He stopped at an all night department store in the suburbs. The clerk looked at him curiously as he laid his best guess in sizes of clothing on the checkout belt. He'd thought about getting her a dress, but decided on sweatpants with a matching top, one pair of socks, some tennis shoes, and underwear. He couldn't have told anyone why he picked the lacy blue bra and panty set that he did.
Fawn
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 3
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 4
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