Vampire Next Door Page 2

A man in a white coat walked over to her. "You're in Bedford Valley Hospital," he said.

  His voice sounded so familiar to her, and she quickly realized his voice had been in her dreams. "Hospital," she whispered. As she glanced around at her surroundings, a sense of alarm came over her.

  "Easy," he said, obviously sensing her apprehension. "You're safe here."

  She stared at him as he came into complete focus. He was tall with a medium build, and his blond hair was short and disheveled. He stared back at her with hazel eyes and a nice smile. "Who are you?" she asked.

  "My name is Jack Walker. I'm your treating physician."

  She closed her eyes and put her hands up to her pounding temples. Her fingertips touched the bandages wrapped around her head. She sucked in a sharp breath from the panic surging through her veins. "Have I been in an accident?" she asked, her voice strangled.

  He nodded slowly. "Yes. You were you in a coma for three weeks."

  She blinked, attempting to grasp what he was telling her. She glanced at the calendar on the wall. The date was December 22. "Three days before Christmas," she uttered.

  Jack followed her gaze to the calendar. "Yes. What's the last holiday you can remember?"

  As hard as she could, she concentrated on her last recollection of something, anything. However, there was nothing but a black hole of missing information in her head. All she could see was darkness. "I can't remember."

  He gave her a reassuring smile. "We will work on that. What I really want to ask is the million-dollar question that everyone wants to know. What is your name?"

  She opened her mouth, and then closed it. Her name. It was a simple question. What was her name? Her bottom lip trembled. "I-I don't know," she said in complete disbelief.

  A frown tugged at the corners of his lips. "It's okay. I'm sure it will come back to you," he said, even though she could hear the uncertainty in his voice. "The good news is you're recovering very nicely from the surgery and —."

  "Surgery. I had surgery?"

  He cleared his throat. "The worst is over. We've weathered the storm."

  Confusion clouded her thoughts. Something bad had happened, and she couldn't remember what or why. She reached out and wrapped her trembling hand around his forearm. "What happened to me?" she asked, her eyes searching his for answers.

  His eyes glanced down at her hand. "Listen, Jane, you've had a —." He stopped talking suddenly, and she could see the uneasiness in his eyes.

  "Jane? Is that my name?" she asked, her voice dripping with hopefulness.

  He sighed and said, "I'm sorry. You are Jane Doe for right now. I shouldn't have —."

  "Jane Doe." Her vision clouded as tears pooled in her eyes. "So nobody knows who I am. Not even me," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

  "Listen," he said softly, taking her hands gently into his. "It's late. Why don't you get some sleep, and you and I can talk first thing in the morning? I will answer any questions you have then."

  She nodded slowly in agreement.

  "The nurses will be in to check on you. I will see you in the morning." He released her hands and left the room.

  She laid her head back on the pillow and stared up at the ceiling. "Jane Doe," she said aloud. The name sounded so strange, so forlorn, but it was the only thing she had to hold on to.

  * * *

  Jack walked out of the room. He felt such empathy for the poor girl. She was just as sweet and innocent as he had imagined she would be. The fact that she was awake and talking at all was a miracle. Her cognitive abilities were beyond his expectations, but time would tell the total effects from her injuries. So far, there was a memory issue to deal with, and he hoped that wasn't a long-term problem.

  He stopped at the nurses' station. He looked at Betty, an older nurse, who he had known since he started working at the hospital. "Betty, I'm going to get a quick nap in. I'll be on the second floor. Please let me know if anything changes with Jane Doe. Call my cell."

  "You should go home and get some proper sleep, Dr. Walker," she scolded.

  He smiled. Betty was like a second mother to him and always the mother hen to all of the staff. "I want to be here in case something happens. Besides, I'm used to no sleep."

  She shook her head in disapproval, but then said, "All right, Doc. Good night."

  "Night, Betty." He turned as he walked down the hall. "Remember to call me if anything changes."

  "Will do," Betty called after him.

  * * *

  The alarm sounded at four in the morning in the breast pocket of his white coat. His BlackBerry was telling him it was time to wake up. Sluggishly, he sat up and crushed the heels of his palms into his tired eyes.

  He pulled the BlackBerry from his pocket and looked at the notifications. No emergencies and nothing about Jane Doe. Slowly, he climbed out of the cot. He went to his locker, pulled out several items that he needed and headed to the shower room.

  Freshly showered and shaved, he pulled on some clean clothes and his white lab coat and checked his BlackBerry once more. No news on Jane Doe or any of his patients, for that matter.

  It was Friday, one of the days of the week he was not scheduled for surgery. He only had a few rounds to make, but he wanted to check on Jane first.

  He rode the elevator to the fifth floor. Betty was still behind the nurses' desk. She smiled as Jack walked up to her. "She slept like a baby after you left, but a few minutes ago —." Her smile faded as a loud bang echoed in the hallway.

  A chorus of screams erupted from Jane's room at the end of the hall.

  Betty said, "Three nurses are in there with her now. You better get down there!"

  Jack raced down the hall and stopped in the doorway. The machines were sounding alarm, and Jane was sitting up in bed, keeping the nurses at bay with her outstretched arms. Various tubes and bandages were scattered on the floor. She had ripped out her IV.

  "What the hell is going on?" Jack's voice bellowed in the room.

  All four women jumped and turned to look at him. One of the nurses he knew as Tina said, "We were changing her bandages, and she wanted to get out of bed and look at herself in the bathroom mirror. I told her that wasn't a good idea."

  "I tried calming her down, Dr. Walker. She just wouldn't listen," another one rambled.

  Jack sighed. Then he said, "Everyone out. Leave me alone with Jane."

  The nurses filed out of the room quickly and closed the door behind them. Jack walked over to a machine and pushed a button to quiet the alarm. He stared at Jane, concerned. She sat back in the bed and winced in pain, and his anger overflowed. "Let me tell you about the severity of your injuries. When you came in here, you had a broken leg, fractured skull, fractured and bruised ribs amongst all the other contusions and injuries all over your body. We are trying to fix you, not make you worse!" he snapped, admonishing her.

  Jane stared at him with her mouth agape. She was either speechless or too afraid to speak. He couldn't tell which.

  Turning on his heel, he stalked into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he returned with a handheld mirror. He stood beside her. "There are some things you have to understand. There is significant swelling and bruising, which will go away with time. In a few weeks, you will not look the same as you do in this mirror right now, which is why the nurses were probably afraid to allow you to see yourself." He held the mirror out to her. "I don't want you to be scared. You suffered a traumatic event." Then he added, "Everything heals with time."

  She timidly took the mirror from him. Drawing in a deep breath, she raised the mirror and stared at her reflection. He watched as she stared at the bruises, cuts and scrapes littering most of her face. Her once black eyes were turning into shades of green and yellow. Several deep scratches on her neck were attempting to heal. Her fingertips gingerly touched the area on the side of her head where a portion of her hair had been shaved and fifteen staples were over the surgical scar. When tears began to form in her eyes, she placed the mirror down in her lap.
"I just wanted to see if I recognized myself," she whispered. She swallowed hard and said, "I don't."

  He frowned and put the mirror aside. "Now, I need you to promise me that you're going to listen to the nurses and behave yourself." He looked down at the tubes lying on the floor. "No more ripping out your IV."

  She nodded in agreement.

  "I'm going to send Tina back in here to fix your IV, change your bandages and give you some pain medication. If you give her any gruff, I will hear about it. Got it?"

  She nodded once more.

  "I have a few rounds to do, and then I will be back. I expect things will be better then."

  He turned to leave, but she grabbed his hand. When he looked back at her, she said, "I'm sorry, Dr. Walker."

  He gave her hand a small reassuring squeeze before disappearing from the room.

  * * *

  After completing his rounds, Jack returned to Jane Doe's room. She was lying in bed, and her face lit up when he entered the room. His heart melted a little at the sight of her. She had a lovely smile.

  Her head was freshly bandaged, and everything appeared to be back to normal. "Hello, Jane. How are you feeling?"

  "Better," she said, pointing to the IV. "Good drugs," she commented with a goofy grin on her face.

  He frowned and checked her chart. "Perhaps too good," he muttered. He made a mental note to tell the nurses to decrease the medication doses. "Well, at least you are more compliant now."

  She nodded emphatically. "Totally compliant."

  He cracked a smile. "My rounds are done for the day, so I'm getting ready to head home."

  Her face fell, and it made his smile fade instantly.

  "I'll be back to see you on Monday."

  "Monday. Christmas," she whispered, staring off into the distance.

  "Yeah." He was saddened at the thought of her spending Christmas in the hospital alone. "I'm going to get in touch with Dr. Cynthia Harris. She is a neurologist. Hopefully she will have some insight on what's going on with your memory."

  Jane nodded.

  "I'll see you on Monday," he promised.

  She turned her face towards the window and stared outside. "Okay," she said quietly.

  Reluctantly, he left the room. He rode the elevator down to the third floor and found Dr. Harris in her office. She was huddled over an extra tall cup of coffee. Her eyes glanced up over top of her red glasses and met his as he approached. "Dr. Walker," she regarded.

  "Dr. Harris." He glanced at the large coffee and bottle of headache pills resting beside it. "Rough day?"

  She sighed loudly. "You have no idea."

  He placed a manila folder down on the table and pushed it across with his index finger. "I hope I'm not making your day worse by asking for your assistance on this."

  She grasped the folder, opened it and shuffled through the contents. Her eyes moved back and forth, perusing the notes. "This is the girl everyone in the hospital is talking about. Poor thing." She shook her head sadly. "This is easy compared to what I've had to deal with for the past few weeks," she commented.

  He grinned. "Good."

  "So she has no memory at all?" she asked.

  "Right. I suspect the police will be coming to question and fingerprint her because of the conditions of why she's here. That could give us some answers."

  "Could, but things are never that easy around here. Unless she’s been arrested, the cops probably won't find too much." She closed the folder and passed it back to him. "I can see her on Monday."

  "Nine a.m.?"

  She nodded in agreement.

  "Thanks, Cynthia. I owe you one."

  She smiled. "No problem, Jack."

  CHAPTER 5

  JANE SAT IN bed, staring out the window at the snow falling. It was Christmas day. The nurses were all donning some sort of holiday menagerie — pins, buttons, hats and necklaces. She listened to the conversations off and on all day about their Christmas mornings or how they were going to spend Christmas evenings with their family. As the day went on, Jane grew deeper and deeper into a depression.

  She felt so alone as she watched the visitors go in and out of the rooms across the hall from her. Every time she heard footsteps, she thought someone was coming to see her. However, it was usually a visitor for another patient or a nurse to check her vitals.

  Jane tried to remember last Christmas or any Christmas, for that matter, but her mind just kept drawing a blank. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly and stifled back a sob.

  "Merry Christmas," said a voice.

  Jane turned and saw Dr. Walker peeking around the corner. She instantly felt a sense of happiness. "Merry Christmas," she said.

  He put his index finger up and then disappeared into the hall. Jane waited patiently. She hoped that he wouldn't be long.

  After a minute or so, he returned to the room with a small artificial Christmas tree. He placed the tree on the nightstand by the bed and plugged in the cord. Jane's eyes lit up as the tree's multi-colored lights flickered on. She watched him dig in his pocket and pull out a small gold star. He placed the star on top of the tree and said, "There. I thought you could use a touch of Christmas in your room."

  "Thank you," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. The gift meant more to her than he would ever know. She felt the hot tears spilling out over her cheeks.

  "Hey now," he said. He gently cupped her face in his hands and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

  Someone at the doorway knocked. Jack stepped back from Jane and regarded the other woman. "Dr. Harris."

  "Dr. Walker," she said, her voice flat.

  "Jane, this is Dr. Cynthia Harris. She's a neurologist."

  "Hello," Jane said. Dr. Harris was a petite older woman with short red hair and brown eyes that were magnified behind her thick red-framed glasses. Her face was stern, and her lips were in a tight line.

  Cynthia stepped forward, and her demeanor lightened slightly. "Nice to meet you, Jane. I hope you don't mind me calling you Jane."

  She smiled weakly. "I'm used to it."

  "I'm sure," Cynthia remarked. "Well, Jane, I would like to run a battery of tests on you today. I hope you're up for the challenge."

  "Of course. I would like to know what's going on up here," she said, gesturing to her head.

  "Good. We're going to start with a CT scan. The nurses will come and get you in a few minutes." Cynthia gave the Christmas tree a once-over, and then she looked to Dr. Walker.

  Jane watched the exchange between the two doctors, and she knew Jack was in trouble. Her heart sank.

  Cynthia turned to Jane once more. "I will be back tomorrow to discuss the results with you."

  Jane watched the two doctors leave the room. She hoped that Jack wasn't in too much trouble because of her. She gazed at the Christmas tree, and a wide smile swept across her face. She felt lucky to have Dr. Walker in her life.

  * * *

  Jack knew Dr. Harris was going to berate him, and he waited silently until she did. After a few steps out in the hallway, Cynthia glanced at him and asked, "Did you give her the tree too?" When Jack didn't answer, she said, "You need to be careful with her. You don't want to be in the same boat as Lewis."

  Dr. Lewis had gotten too familiar with his patients and was facing numerous lawsuits and revocation of his license to practice medicine. Jack dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "I feel sorry for her. She's all alone and on Christmas to boot."

  "Physicians should not be giving special treatment to their patients. That only leads to trouble, Jack." She sighed and then said, "I'm just giving you my advice, and that is to be careful."

  He nodded. "Of course." In the back of his mind, he was worried. If Cynthia had seen a connection between the two of them, perhaps someone else would see it and report it. He was fond of Jane, but he knew it could not go any further as long as he was her treating physician. He decided to keep his distance even though that wasn't what he wanted or what he felt Jane needed from him.
r />   * * *

  After the testing was complete and Jane was back in her room, she heard a knock on the door. "Come in," she called.

  A man walked into the room carrying a briefcase. He was dressed in gray slacks with a white shirt and gray blazer. He flashed his badge, which hung from his neck on a lanyard. "Detective Robbins, ma'am. I'm with the Bedford Valley Police Department." He pulled the chair that was in the corner of the room closer to her bed, and he sat down with the briefcase in his lap. He pulled out a notepad and pen from the breast pocket of his shirt. "If you don't mind, I'd like to ask you some questions."

  "Ask away," Jane said.

  Over the next several minutes, she was hit with a barrage of questions that made her head spin. She couldn't answer a single question he had posed to her. She knew nothing, remembered nothing.

  "I'm sorry," she said when the detective finally closed his blank notebook.

  "It's all right. Maybe something will come back to you."

  She glanced at the briefcase on his lap. She was sure it contained information about her. "Could I ask you some questions?"

  He hesitated, and then said, "Sure."

  "What happened to me?"

  He paused. "The doctors haven't told you anything?"

  "They told me, but I’d like to hear it from a non-medical point of view," she lied. She knew a little about her injuries, but no one had told her the details of how she received them.

  The detective relaxed slightly. "All right." He opened the briefcase and retrieved several newspaper clippings. He handed them to her, and Jane's eyes scanned through the articles. Certain words stuck out to her — woman in the woods, beaten, left for dead, police looking for suspects. Her breathing grew ragged as she looked at the clippings. She hadn't been in an accident. Someone had tried to kill her.

  "You were found in the woods by a hunter. I was one of the first officers on scene. Honestly, we didn't think you would survive the ride to the hospital."

  When Jane remained silent, the detective cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "But you're okay now," he said. "That's all that matters."

  Jane stared down at the words as they began to blur. The pieces of paper fell from her hands and floated down to the blue and white tiled floor.