Prologue

A heart monitor's rhythmic beeping can get monotonous pretty quickly. True, it's an affirmation of life. But it also means you're confined and tethered ... and I needed to get out of there.

I hadn't been conscious long when several doctors on morning rounds trooped in. One of them read aloud my long list of injuries. I watched them glance up at me when each new entry was read, their eyes widening. I didn't understand half of it, but the reader's incredulous tone of voice made me feel lucky to be alive.

A nurse dressed in blue hospital scrubs trailed behind them, waiting for the doctors to clear the room before coming to stand next to my bed. She was blond and pretty, but she looked too young to be a nurse ... around my age, nineteen or so. Her name tag said "LPN - Debbie Connor."

"Good morning, Mark, it's nice to see you awake. How're you feeling?"

I tried to sit up, but stopped before my head left the pillow.

"Chest hurts," I replied with a wince. The rasp that came out of my mouth didn't sound like me.

She smiled sympathetically while carefully maneuvering the straw in a cup of ice water for me to suck on. A few of the metal filings I felt in my throat were washed away, but swallowing was still something to avoid.

"That's pretty typical with cracked ribs, I'm afraid." She rapped her knuckles on the cast encasing my left forearm. "They can't immobilize your lungs like the bones in a broken arm. Breathing isn't going to be painless anytime soon, I'm afraid."

I stared back at her, the lingering haze from painkillers effectively preventing any intelligent response.

"How long?" I croaked, trying not to panic.

"How long have you been in the hospital?" I gingerly tilted my head forward. "It's your first morning with me, your third day in the hospital. You were in surgery and intensive care the first two days. You'd taken quite a beating, Mark. It was touch and go when you were brought in."

Three days. Oh, God...

"Is my sister here?"

Nurse Connor's eyebrows rose momentarily before she shook her head.

"You haven't had any visitors on this floor yet. She may have come while you were in the intensive care unit. They let relatives in for a few minutes at a time. Hey, lie back!" she said sternly as I again tried to sit up.

"Can you find out if she's here?" I asked anxiously as she grasped my shoulders and gently but firmly pushed me back down. "Does she know I've been moved? Can you find out?"

"I'll call down there and see, okay? And don't go making any more sudden moves like that without my help. There's a lot of stuff knitting back together inside you that you don't want to mess up ... alright?"

I nodded weakly again as she stared down at me reproachfully. Eventually her expression softened just a little.

"Now, if you feel up to it, there's a policeman that wants to talk to you, to take your statement about what happened."

"Could he check on Sharon for me?"

"I don't know, Mark," she said patiently. "It can't hurt to ask him though."

I tried and mostly failed to smile. "It can't hurt any worse, that's for sure."

She smiled briefly. "All right; I'll see if he's still in the building. If I can catch him I'll let him know you're awake. You stay still now!" she said, shaking a finger at me for emphasis as she went out the door.