Chapter 8
EIGHT
MAX
“Go easy on my patient,” I warned Nate as I led him into the private room that Bailey had spent last night in after the hospital had to check her out to make room for the victims of a multicar pileup. “She’s only just woken up.”
I’d rather he waited another day before turning up with his notebook to ask questions, but unfortunately I didn’t have a good reason to bar his access to her unless he did something that upset her.
“I will.” Nate sounded like he meant it, but his interpretation of taking it easy might be vastly different to mine.
Looking around, I realized there was only one chair in the room. “I’ll grab another chair from my office.”
I put the soup on the table beside the bed, ducked into my office, grabbed one of the chairs reserved for patients, and carried it back to Bailey’s room as quickly as possible.
For some reason, leaving Bailey alone with Nate put me on edge.
I loved my brother, but he didn’t have the best bedside manner.
Nate was still standing, so I offered him the chair while I took the one beside Bailey and pushed a button to tilt the bed so that she’d be better able to eat.
I positioned the bowl of soup on my lap and offered her a spoonful.
I’d checked the temperature before bringing it in because the last thing I wanted to do was burn her mouth.
She slurped the soup, and I offered her more. Meanwhile, Nate sat at the foot of the bed and placed his phone on the mattress near her feet.
“Do you mind if I record our conversation?” he asked.
“That’s fine.” Bailey glanced at me. “I’ve had enough for now. Thank you.”
I grimaced. She’d hardly eaten anything. Perhaps I’d try again after Nate left.
Nate did something on his phone and then opened his notebook and twirled a pen in his free hand. “All I’m here for is a quick chat. I’d like you to tell me anything you remember from yesterday afternoon.”
“Her memories haven’t returned yet,” I said when she looked lost. I wanted to twine my fingers with hers and hold her hand to reassure her that I was by her side, but with how damaged her palms were, that would only hurt her more. At least the cuts and scrapes would heal faster than broken bones.
“Whatever you can remember would be helpful.” Nate jotted something down. “Do you remember starting the walk?”
“Not really.” Bailey closed her eyes and relaxed against the pillows.
I bit my lip, concerned that she’d push herself and make her headache worse. If she did, then I’d help, but otherwise, it was her decision to try, and I had to deal with that.
“Um, I think I can remember being tired. Having sore legs. I was breathing heavily.”
“Was that before you reached the hut?” Nate asked, focused on her intently.
“Yeah. The hut…” She scrunched her face. “I don’t…”
“Maybe we should do this later,” I said.
“Wait,” Bailey gasped. “I remember hearing something inside the hut. I think someone was there.”
Nate leaned forward. “Was it a man or a woman?”
She let out a quiet groan. “I don’t know.”
I suspected it was a man. I doubted a woman could have beaten her so effectively. Bailey was small, but as a former gymnast, she wasn’t weak.
“What were they doing?” Nate persisted. “Were they alone?”
Her eyelashes fluttered, and then her eyes opened. “I’m not sure. Sorry.”
“You’re doing the best you can,” I assured her. “Things will become clearer, and when they do, you can let Nate know. Right, Nate?”
“Yeah,” Nate grunted.
Bailey was frowning, clearly not pleased by her lack of progress, but then her expression flickered as she looked at Nate’s phone. “I was recording. Do you have my phone? I bet it shows what happened.”
Nate and I exchanged a glance. When we’d found her, we’d assumed that her phone was in her backpack, but Nate had gone through it while we were at the hospital, and it hadn’t been inside.
“We haven’t found your phone yet.” Nate slid his notebook and pen into his shirt pocket.
“I sent a pair of officers up to search for it and to collect any other evidence. I thought perhaps they were hiding something under the floorboards or digging something up. Apparently, there was no proof of either option, but I haven’t heard much from them beyond that. ”
She tilted her head slightly. “It would have been attached to a selfie stick, so if it was there, it should have been obvious.”
Nate shrugged. “Things get lost easily in the forest.”
The look he sent me said that he thought it was more likely the assailant had taken her phone, and I couldn’t help but agree. If it held incriminating footage, it made sense they’d want to get rid of it.
“We’ll let you know what we find,” Nate said as he got to his feet. “When you start remembering, come by the station so we can take a proper report.”
“Okay.”
He hesitated, looking uncharacteristically unsure of himself. “I’m real fucking sorry this happened to you. I promise we’re looking as hard as we can to find the bastard who did it.”
Bailey blinked rapidly, and I inched closer, afraid she might break down in tears again. “Thanks, Nate.”
Nate nodded, turned on his heel, and left.
Bailey exhaled roughly, her eyelids drooping. The poor thing looked exhausted.
“More soup?” I asked, gesturing at the bowl. “I can reheat it if you’d like.”
Her gaze slid toward the bowl. “Maybe a little. Don’t worry about reheating it. It’s probably still mostly warm.”
So we sat there, me at her bedside, as we worked our way through the bowl of soup. By the time she’d had half, she was almost asleep, and I quietly lowered her bed and fussed with her pillows before tiptoeing out and cleaning out the bowl.
I wasn’t used to seeing Bailey so subdued, and I didn’t like it. The sooner we could get her back on her feet, the better.
I had paperwork to catch up on, so I went to my office and got started. The system we used was a bit clunky, but I’d never bothered updating it because, honestly, all medical programs seemed designed to confuse.
I was checking results from a laboratory in Queenstown for one of my patients when a muffled shout rang out.
Shoving my chair back, I lurched from my seat and bolted for the in-patient room. My pulse hammered and my legs felt weak as I ran to Bailey and found her still fast asleep.
Drawing in a deep breath, I checked her vitals. Her heart rate was faster than I’d expect but within normal parameters. She was breathing quickly but not hyperventilating.
So what was wrong?
As I watched, her face scrunched and she whimpered, her mouth trying to form words that her sleeping brain couldn’t quite wrap her tongue around.
My heart squeezed, and I brushed her hair back from her forehead, uncertain whether to wake her from the nightmare. Gently, I shifted my hand to her shoulder.
Her eyes flew open.