Chapter 6: Visitors

Gentle fingers touch my bare shoulder. Dr. Conners is leaning over me. My vision is still dimmed by the sleep.

"You have a visitor. I explained that you are too weak but he insisted to see you. He said that it was important. I'm sorry."

A man in his fifties comes closer, and sits beside my bed. The doctor gets out of the room.

"I am police officer. My name is Shipler," the man says.

During the next fifteen minutes he is pouring me with questions.

"How come you fell into the well?"

"I was pushed."

"Who did it?"

"I don't know her. She was tall and blond, in her thirties."

"Did she say anything?"

"Not much," I say, and then recount all that I remember.

"What do you think? Why did she try to kill you?"

"I don't know. My ex-husband Steven Corbett called and said that I was in danger, and I have to hide somewhere. I rented the lodge. I thought I would be safe there. He didn't explain anything to me. Is Steve OK?"

"He is OK. He surrendered."

"What has he done?" I ask anxiously.

The police officer fixes his grim eyes on me, and then he quickly averts his gaze as if confused by the sight of my mutilated body.

"We are working on this. Mr. Corbett is quite supportive. That's all I am entitled to say."

Shipler leaves. I look at the ceiling, brooding over the conversation. The thoughts spoil my already spoiled mood.

An hour later, Nora comes and checks the IV line.

"You have another visitor," she says.

"I am tired and I do not want to see anybody."

"Then, I will send her away."

I sighed. Who knows that I am here?

"Let her in!" I say.

The young woman introduces herself as Tiffany. She is walking on crutches. Her right leg is casted from the base of her toes to the hip. Her short skirt covers the top of the cast. I notice that her left arm is casted up to the elbow. Despite this plaster outfit or due to it, she looks great. Her figure is slender, and her waist is very small. The charming face and the fair hair make her look somewhat childish. The tiny figure strengthens this impression. I think that she would have looked like a bimbo if her green eyes were not so serious and intelligent.

"I'm so sorry about you. They will catch her. You'll see. She deserves to rot in jail," Tiffany says angrily.

"The woman who... attacked me?" I ask.

"Of course."

I point at the chair. Tiffany slips the crutches off her armpits and sits clumsily on the chair. Her casted heel clacks on the floor. She flinches.

"Did she attack you as well?" I inquire.