Page 62 of Trace of Doubt
“I saw you down two beers at dinner.”
“All right. I learned a long time ago the futility of arguing with a woman who has her mind made up. But first, let’s check out the security camera.”
38
DENTON
I welcomed the serene place in my sleep world where I didn’t hurt. I heard my name, but the blissful numbness drew me closer...
The sound of my name pulled me upward again, and I climbed slowly. The moment I surfaced, pain wrapped me in a tight cocoon. Not yet. Sleep was my new world...
Someone called my name. My eyes fluttered open, and I clamped them shut.
“Mr. McClure, stay with me. It’s time to wake up.” The voice was a woman. A nurse?
I remembered driving back toward Valleysburg alone. Shelby was in good hands with Isaac and Aaron. Then a pickup rear-ended me. The driver fired shots. I lost control.
“Mr. McClure?”
I forced myself to gaze up at a brown-eyed nurse. Wide smile. White teeth.
“You’re awake. How are you feeling?” She checked my vitals.
“Like—” I swore.
“I expect so. You were in a nasty accident.”
“Is any part of me not broken?”
She laughed, or rather giggled, allowing my worry to dissipate. “Oh yes. But from the looks of the photos of your truck, not sure how you survived.”
I glimpsed the machines hooked up to me. At least they weren’t simply keeping me alive. “Have I been unconscious because my mind’s zilch?”
“You’re in recovery. You had surgery on your right thigh.” She feather-touched my shoulder. “You’ll be fine.” She told me about a metal pin in my leg, a broken collarbone, broken ribs, stitches, and a concussion. “Two police officers are standing guard outside your door. Are you a good guy or bad?”
“Depends on who’s asking. FBI.”
“I get it. On a scale of one to ten, what’s your pain level?”
“Eight and a half.” I closed my eyes, weary from talking.
“The doctor ordered pain medication.”
“Double dose.”
“Spoken like a man in need. This is fast acting and will make you sleep.” She picked up an injection from a tray and stood ready to insert it into my IV. “I’ll be checking on you periodically. Sheriff Wendall is in the waiting room.”
“Tell him I’ll live. Have him come in. I’ll take the pain meds when we’re done.” He’d have questions about the jerk who tried to kill me. So did I. At least Shelby was safe.
When I reopened my eyes, Sheriff Wendall stood above me with his arms crossed over his chest. He reminded me of Cowboy Ant-Man. Not sure he’d appreciate the nickname. I must be getting my mojo back.
“You gonna live, Denton? You look like you kissed a semi.”
“Feel like it too.”
“Ready to tell me what happened? A couple of FBI agents are on their way to take your statement, but I’m here first.”
How many times had I done the same thing to a victim? “Trade my story for a few ice chips.”
