She was wide-awake.
A soft object, maybe a pillow, was being pressed against her face, suffocating her.
More coughing came as her lungs desperately clawed for air.
Could she somehow signal one of the nurses? Where were they? How had someone walked right past them in the middle of the night and gotten into her room? She felt around for the call button, but came up empty.
Oh. God. No.
Desperate and afraid, she reached for her attacker. Her hand stopped on denim material. Must’ve been his leg, meaning he was most likely straddled over her. Beckett?
At twelve, Lisa had blamed herself for what he’d done to her. She’d been too embarrassed and too scared to tell anyone. Beckett had threatened to kill everyone she loved if she so much as breathed a word of his actions, and he had the power to follow through with his warning. He’d threatened to do worse to Lisa’s little sister. And if Lisa told, he’d said it would be her word against his, and who would believe her, anyway? He’d made a good point. She’d been a shy girl, in and out of the system, who’d mostly kept to herself. Worse yet, she was daughter of Henry Moore, the town’s constantly rehabilitating alcoholic.
Lisa wasn’t a little girl anymore. No way did he get to destroy her. She followed the inseam straight up to his groin, grabbed and squeezed with every ounce of strength she had.
He muttered a curse as he shifted position long enough for her to take in a swallow of precious oxygen. She clasped harder and he groaned, cursing her.
The weight on top of her lifted for a second as he wriggled his groin out of her grasp. His hold loosened on the pillow pressed against her face so she fought the pain burning through her as she drew her knees to her chest and then thrust them toward his face. They connected with his chin.
His head snapped back.
Lisa screamed for the nurse. She tried to launch another attack, pushing through the agony that came with every movement. Her arms felt like spaghetti and even a boost of adrenaline didn’t give her enough strength to keep fighting.
The mattress dipped and then rose as he pushed to his feet.
“I’ll be back. You’ll regret this, bitch.” The voice wasn’t Beckett’s. It was too dark to get a good look at the details of his face.
A fresh wave of panic seized her as she searched for something, anything on the side table. Her fingers reached the landline phone, so she hurled it toward the stranger’s back. “You won’t be able to hurt me from jail.”
What was taking the nurse so long?
The dark silhouette slipped out of her room and disappeared moments before the door reopened and the night nurse rushed in.
“Someone was here. He’s out there. In the hall,” Lisa said through coughing fits.
Light filled the room as the concerned nurse’s face came into view.
“I was just out there and didn’t see anyone. My name’s Alicia. I’ll be your nurse this evening.” She spoke slowly, calmly, as if she were talking to a three-year-old in the heat of a temper tantrum.
“I’m not making this up. I swear.” Lisa sat upright, heaving.
The way the nurse stared at Lisa, the questioning look, she knew Alicia was ready to call for a psych consult.
“I promise. A man was just in here. He had a pillow over my face. Can’t you see what he did to me?” Her breath came in bursts.
Alicia’s forehead crease and raised eyebrow gave away the fact that she was skeptical. With a quick look communicating that Lisa should be grateful Alicia was about to indulge the fantasy, she retreated toward the door. “I’ll check again, but I was just out there and I didn’t see anyone.”
All Lisa could think about based on Alicia’s reaction was that she most likely attributed this outburst to a very realistic nightmare or head trauma.
The expression on her face when she returned convinced Lisa of the latter.
“I know how this must seem to you but someone was in here,” Lisa said defensively. She glanced around on the floor. “Look. The pillow he used is there.”
“It’s okay,” Alicia soothed. The words came out slowly, again.
Great. The woman thought Lisa was crazy. Lisa wasn’t about to let the nurse get away with it.
“Look at me. I must have red marks or bruising. He shoved that pillow in my face and held me down.” She held her hands out to check herself over. A pillow on the floor wasn’t exactly a smoking gun. Even Lisa rationalized she could’ve knocked it off the bed during a nightmare.
The only real evidence was a black-and-blue display up and down both arms.
“You’ve been through a lot recently. Let’s see if we can get you to lie down again,” Alicia said as she began her exam, evaluating Lisa’s injuries.
She moved to the computer. “We’ll send someone down to speak to you.”
Either Alicia believed Lisa or the nurse was following hospital protocol. Neither mattered; the only person Lisa wanted to see right now was Ryan. He’d said to call if she needed him, day or night. As much as she didn’t want to push the boundaries of their friendship or drive him away she needed to be with someone she trusted.
Would he even pick up at this ridiculous hour?
What choice did she have? Her father was dead. Her sister was more than four hours away, not that calling her in the middle of the night was an appealing thought anyway. Lori would have too many questions and that could be deadly.
Once again, Lisa was frightened into silence. Could she call the sheriff? Tell him everything even after she’d lied to Deputy Adams earlier and said she didn’t know her attacker?
The deputy had simply shaken his head while taking down the details for his report, cursing the luck of her family to have both of these things happen within twenty-four hours of each other. He’d warned her to watch out because bad things usually came in threes. And with her father’s alcohol history, maybe the deputy had really wondered why something like this hadn’t happened sooner.
Adams had confirmed that her father’s death had been considered an accident. No one had argued differently. Her heart knew better.
Lisa knew for certain that her attack yesterday hadn’t been random. She’d seen Beckett with her own eyes after ripping off his ski mask. But whoever had slipped into the hospital wasn’t him. Maybe her brain was damaged and she’d imagined another person’s voice. Who else would do something like this?
Beckett could’ve hired someone to do his dirty work for him. Attacking her in a hospital setting was high risk. There’d be cameras. Maybe he feared getting caught this time. It might not have been him carrying out the actual crime, but her instincts said he had to be responsible.
What good did it do her to know? If she told anyone he’d be back to kill all the family she had left—her sister and nephew.
Panic gripped her. She couldn’t even think about anything happening to them.
They were safe. For now.
Lori and her infant son were everything to Lisa. And if she gave up the name of the man who did this to her, both of them would be dead in a heartbeat.
There had to be another way.
Calling Ryan was a risk she had to take. He’d be even more suspicious and he might think she was a little crazy. What was the alternative?
Stay there, unprotected, and she’d be dead by morning.
Try to leave by herself and she wouldn’t make it out the door.
As soon as Alicia stepped into the hallway, Lisa grabbed her cell from the side table.