bed?” Julio asked with a thick Spanish accent.
Tracey glanced at Julio with a critical eye.
“Bad.” She smirked, shaking her head sadly. She drew closer to the two-way window watching Maggie move cautiously toward the edge of the narrow bed. She sat there for several moments, looking confused.
Tracey pressed the call button again.
“Dr. Thompson, please dial 399. Dr. Thompson, dial 399.”
Tracey loved a mystery, and this girl epitomized the word.
Maggie Payne was the twin sister of the latest missing persons case. Rebekah Payne, her sister, had disappeared while the two were attending a concert at Shoreline in San Francisco. Maggie had arrived, unconscious, at the hospital’s emergency center.
She had been housed in a private room, one reserved for celebrities and other dignitaries, and her bill had been paid in advance by a “concerned citizen.” A private nurse had been employed around-the-clock to see to her needs.
The phone buzzed. She picked it up on the second ring.
“Dr. Thompson.” The voice sounded harried. A loud thud followed, and the line went silent.
“Shit! Hello.”
Tracey laughed. “You got it now?”
“I think so,” he finally said. “What’s up?”
“Maggie Payne.”
“I’ll be right there.” He hung up, unusually brisk.
A piercing scream caused the hair on the back of Tracey’s neck to rise. She turned to the sound. Maggie’s eyes were wild, staring at herself in horror.
“Crap,” Tracey exclaimed, watching as Maggie grabbed a handful of long black hair, pulling it out by its roots as she continued screaming.
Julio moved first, storming through the door like a blitzkrieg.
He took hold of both Maggie’s wrists as she struggled, twisting, and turning until she was able to slip from his grip.
Her eyes were wild, staring at the two psychiatric technicians like a cornered animal.
“W-where is he?”
Maggie was appalled at the sound of her own voice.
“Oh my god.”
She looked behind her, taking in the barred windows and curtained bed. It didn’t look like a hospital.
“Where…Where is my sister?” She looked truly terrified.
“Maggie, I know you’re scared,” Tracey said gently.
“It’s going to be all right, though. I’m Tracy, and this is Julio. We are here to help.”
“Help?” Maggie said uncertainly.
“Yes,” she said with feigned excitement.
Maggie was feeling the pull of something foreign in her. A hunger for something she didn’t understand.
She turned her eyes to the tall man. He smelled overwhelmingly male. He had a wide mouth and large white teeth. He was closer now, too close.
She flew toward him; her mouth latching onto his broad neck. Her teeth sinking into him.
“Shit!” He howled, grabbing her behind the neck, smashing her face into him until she released her bite.
He tossed her like a feral cat, his eyes wide with disbelief as he felt the warmth of his blood seeping through his fingers as he held fast to the open wound.
“Bitch!”
She huddled on the floor in a tangled heap, making herself as small as humanly possible.
Tracy looked over at Julio
“Are you okay?” Tracey asked breathlessly.
“No, I’m not okay!” He ground out between clenched teeth. “She fucking bit me!”
*****
Dr. Daniel Thompson had a fast, easy smile, one that brightened his face with intelligence and good humor. He was as large as a defenseman, yet there was a peacefulness about him that belied the physical.
Maggie was intrigued by the smells coming from his muscular frame—male, powerful scents. She tried to move, finding the act hampered by a series of straps and buckles at her hands, waist, and legs.
“Good morning, Maggie.”
He flashed a pin light across her eyes.
“Hmmm.” He frowned, somewhat startled.
Her eyes were a clear blue with triads of burgundy in their depths.
“What’s going on with your eyes there, kiddo?” She was of Indian descent; her eyes should be as brown as his own.
“Jewell,” he called out.
“Look who’s awake.” He shot over his shoulder. He turned back, wiggling big bushy brows.
“Maggie, you’ve been asleep since you arrived,” he said kindly.
“You should expect some difficulties with speech and maybe a few other basic motor functions.” He pulled back, studying her for a moment.
“According to your charts, you have some issues with men treating you.” He paused.
“I hope to be the exception to that particular rule.” He smiled. “We’re not all bad, you know.”
Maggie’s personality had become fractured at some point. Her early childhood had been a lurid tale of sexual and physical abuse. She and her sister had been a set of triplets, although only two survived past the age of seven, which was when the state of California was put to the task of placing the surviving siblings into foster care. Things didn’t get better for Maggie until much later.
She was twenty-six now. She’d spent the last three years living a relatively normal life, checking in with her psychologist every three months—basically, a success story. She was an exceptional artist. Her work was well known and shown in several galleries up and down California’s central coast. Only the truly fortunate were able to afford her latest works, subsequently, it was shown privately these days and to only a select clientele.
“I understand you know Jewell,” he said, motioning to the door.
“Maggie.” Jewell’s black smiling face appeared. “Girl, you finally wake up, and it’s at the end of my shift.” She walked in, shaking her head. Her large black eyes still bore straight into her, seeing more than most people wanted to.
“Jewell,” Maggie said harshly
“Hah!” The doctor laughed in astonishment.
“Okay, question,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you know where you are?”
She looked around her. “Yes,” she said dismally.
He smiled a crooked toothy grin. “What is the last thing you remember?” he questioned soberly.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the burning light of the sun.
“You’re at General Hospital. You came in with acute anemia.” He paused. “You also had a couple of wounds, possibly bite marks. Does any of this ring a bell?”
“It’s not my memory that I question. It is my sanity.”
“What makes you doubt your sanity?”
“Have you ever doubted the voice in your own head? Is it you that you hear, or is it someone else?”
She spoke the words directly to his mind.
He was conscious of time slipping by like a ghost as he digested what he could not even begin to fathom. He stood up abruptly,