Chapter 2
Isabelle Palmer
Pain.
That was the first thing Isabelle experienced. Not the bright lights. Not the annoying beeping sound. Not the hum of voices that sounded both far away and too close for comfort.
The excruciating pounding in her head was quickly followed by the distinct sense of terror. A fear she’d never in her life felt had her thrashing, her eyes flying open, and her heart thundering at an uneven rhythm.
That incessant beeping sound picked up in speed. Bright, unforgiving lights speared into her skull and she groaned as she shut her eyes against it. A foul taste coated her tongue, and her stomach ached.
“Good morning, how are you feeling?” A deep, low voice filled the empty space. It was a rumble of sound, one that had the hairs on her arms standing to attention.
Isabelle flinched before attempting to open her eyes again.
At first, everything was blurry. Then slowly, a figure came into focus.
He was tall with dirty blond hair. The scruff along his jaw was darker, though.
Something in the back of her mind said there was a familiarity about him. But that didn’t make sense.
He was dressed in scrubs and a white coat and was seated on a rolling stool.
His eyes were kind, but his body was stiff.
Worry lined his mouth, and he glanced over his shoulder when someone passed her room.
With a push of his foot, he rolled to the curtain that hung to the side of the open doorway and tugged it closed.
He turned to her with a reassuring smile.
“I’m Doctor Klein. I’ll be helping you out today. ”
She blinked at him, feeling the sudden urge to bolt.
Her hands fisted the blanket over her legs.
At least she was still in her clothes, though it looked like she’d lost a couple buttons on her blouse.
Isabelle remained silent. She didn’t know what was worse.
Not knowing what had happened or sensing that her situation was about to get ten times worse.
“We found your ID in your back pocket. Isabelle Palmer, is that correct?”
“Y-yes…” Her voice cracked and a sense of dread washed over her, reality crashing right along with it. She was in a hospital. The doctor in front of her was worried.
What happened? She wanted to scream the words. To demand that Dr. Klein tell her everything. And at the same moment, she wanted to shrink away into a tiny ball and hide from the world.
The doctor inched closer. “Ms. Palmer, you were brought here by a concerned individual who…” He cleared his throat as he shifted his gaze to his hands and fiddled with the ring on his left hand.
Married.
She didn’t know why that made her feel better, but it did.
He blew out a breath. “You were attacked,” he said.
A sharp inhale had her nearly choking on her spit. Her mind immediately went over what she remembered last. She’d been at that bar with… with Dillan. Stomach churning, her face flushing, she shook her head. “Dillan wouldn’t—”
“Dillan?” Dr. Klein asked. He reached for a clipboard on a nearby counter.
“No!” she snapped. “Don’t.”
The doctor looked almost disappointed. In her?
She shut her eyes and looked away. “What happened?” Her voice was so quiet, she didn’t even know if he heard it.
He hesitated once more. “When you were brought in, you were unresponsive. The individual who dropped you off—”
Isabelle lifted a hand. “Dropped me off? What do you mean? He’s not here?” Where was Dillan? He had to be the person who brought her in, right? He’d been her date. She trusted him. “Dillan would have never left—”
“Ms. Palmer,” Dr. Klein whispered, “I can assure you the person who brought you in wasn’t this Dillan you keep asking about.”
“How do you know?” she practically shouted. “If he didn’t stay—”
“He filled out some paperwork.”
“Well, I want to talk to him. Maybe he was the one—” She could feel her pulse quicken. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her palms went clammy. Her whole body shook, practically vibrating. Her breathing shallowed and spots filled her vision.
At some point, Dr. Klein had risen to his feet, his voice quiet but muffled due to the roaring blood in her ears. He reached for her, clearly in an attempt to soothe her, but there was no calming her. Not now.
“No!” she snapped, wrapping her arms around her drawn-up knees and rocking back and forth. “Don’t touch me.”
He hovered at her side, but she refused to look at him.
Isabelle didn’t know how much time had passed before she’d finally calmed down. Dr. Klein had brought in a female nurse to sit with her until she was ready to speak to him again.
When he entered, she stiffened. He maintained a respectable distance, his hands in his pockets. “Are you ready to try again?” His words weren’t callous or impatient. There was even a degree of empathy to them, strange as that seemed.
She nodded, rubbing her runny nose into the blanket she fiddled with.
“I’ll start from the beginning. At approximately eleven-thirty last night, you were brought into the emergency room.
The young man who dropped you off indicated he thought you’d been drugged and that your behavior wasn’t due to simple intoxication.
With that in mind, I authorized a toxicology screen. ”
Isabelle couldn’t move. She sensed the nurse reaching for her and didn’t pull away when she grasped onto her hand and squeezed.
Tears burned behind Isabelle’s eyes. This wasn’t happening.
She’d always been so careful. Never did she take drinks from strangers.
She rarely went out like she had last night.
She’d only gone because the guy from her college English class had invited her.
Dillan.
She closed her eyes, shutting them against her own mortification. He’d been the only one to give her a drink.
“Your test results came back positive for flunitrazepam. A common name for this drug is Rohypnol. Like other benzodiazepines, it produces a sedative-hypnotic effect in the body…” His voice droned on, but Isabelle couldn’t bring herself to listen to the rest. She knew what Rohypnol was capable of doing—and the intentions of those who spiked drinks with the substance.
She closed her eyes and the first tears spilled down her cheeks. They dragged slowly at first, but the more she produced, the easier it was to feel them until they dripped off the edge of her jaw.
“Is there anyone we can call?”
Her eyes flew open at the quiet voice beside her. She glanced over at the nurse. “You haven’t called anyone?”
Relief.
Pure and unyielding, the emotion washed over her. She couldn’t let anyone know what had happened—how she’d been so stupid to allow a man who was nearly a stranger drug her.
The nurse glanced at the doctor, and she shook her head. “Your phone has been buzzing, but the doctor made the call to wait until you woke before contacting anyone.”
Was that policy?
She dragged her eyes back to the doctor, and once again that familiarity hit her square in the chest. Had they met before? Bumped into each other in town?
“Isabelle?” the nurse inquired.
Shaking her head, Isabelle dragged the back of her hand across her cheek, then swiped under her eyes with her fingers. “No. I don’t want to call anyone.”
“Are you sure? Usually when this happens—”
“Nothing happened.” Her voice was as tight as her resolve. “You said that the person who brought me here stopped… him… before anything happened?”
Dr. Klein’s brows pinched, his frown deepening. “Well, we can’t be sure. Unfortunately, anything is possible.”
She scowled at him.
“Ma’am, I’d be remiss if I didn’t suggest we do a rape kit.”
Isabelle’s stomach dropped. Her head swam. Those pesky spots filled her vision again, so she leaned back against the upright bed where she rested. “What?” she rasped.
“When something like this happens, it’s always recommended just in case. It will make for a stronger claim when you file charges.”
Her eyes snapped to the doctor, and she shook her head vehemently. “No.”
“Ms. Palmer—”
“I’ll do the kit. But I’m not pressing charges.
I’m not filing anything.” She couldn’t. What would her family say?
What would they do? Her sisters would make a big deal about this, and her brothers…
well, her brothers would go on a murderous rampage.
Mateo wasn’t the kind of guy to sit back and let something like this happen to his family without retaliating.
And afterward?
Well, he’d be in prison.
“Ms. Palmer—” Dr. Klein tried again, but she shut him down.
“It’s my decision, right? It’s not like you can keep me here against my will. If I wanted to walk out right now, you couldn’t stop me.”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then I’ll do that stupid kit just…” For her own peace of mind.
That’s what it would be for. She couldn’t remember anything past Dillan bringing her a drink.
Actually, most of last night was covered with a thick kind of fog.
She couldn’t remember much besides Dillan.
Was that normal? Or was her brain trying to help her cope?
She lifted her tear-filled eyes to the doctor, then glanced at the nurse. “The kit. That’s all. I don’t want to do anything else.”
The nurse looked toward the doctor, who nodded. Then she rose and left the room.
Once she was alone with the doctor, a fresh wave of panic hit her.
She retreated into herself, hugging herself tighter.
The doctor hadn’t hurt her. He hadn’t made any advances toward her.
And yet her mind was telling her that she had to be on guard.
She didn’t want him to touch her. She didn’t even like the fact that he was in the same room as she was without someone else to buffer them.
Logically, she knew the panic she felt wasn’t normal, but she couldn’t shake it. Eventually, she’d get over this sense of doom.
She had to.
“Is there anything else I can help you with?” his quiet voice shattered the silence, and she jumped.
Isabelle risked a glance in his direction. “Can I see the report? The one that…”
The doctor suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“There is a report, isn’t there?”
“Of course.”
“Then can I see it?” She dropped her knees and crossed her legs, pinning the doctor with a hard stare.
“Why do you wish to see it?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “I want to know who…” She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall again. “Whoever brought me in. He deserves my thanks, right?”
“I’m sorry, but that information is confidential.”
Her mouth fell open. “You’re joking. He brought me to the hospital. He saved me. I deserve to know—”
“He wanted to remain anonymous.” The pained look in Dr. Klein’s eyes spoke volumes. He knew.
He knew who this Good Samaritan was, and he refused to tell her.
Isabelle’s face flushed hot with a different kind of rage.
She’d been violated. She’d been attacked, and she had the bruises to prove it.
If this man—whoever he was—saved her, then he deserved to be thanked.
She wanted to look him in the eye and tell him that she appreciated that he had stepped up because not many would do such a thing.
The swirling in her gut intensified, and she clenched her hands into fists until her fingernails dug into her palms painfully.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Palmer. If it were up to me—”
“Just—” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Just… let’s do the kit and I’ll be out of your hair.” She looked away, not willing to meet his gaze again. Those unnerving hazel eyes only added to the anxiety she couldn’t shake.
One day she’d remember.
She had to believe that, if only to gain a smidge of peace that had been stolen from her last night.
The second the doctor was gone, she got up and retrieved her phone.
Five quick messages later, assuring her siblings she was fine and just nursing a hangover, she settled back and focused on her breathing.
Today hurt.
Tomorrow would be a little better.
Maybe five years from now, she wouldn’t even remember how it felt to be in this hospital bed at all.