Page 113 of Our Daughter's Bones

Robert hovered, his warm breath kissing her skin.

“Micky, are you mad at Daddy?” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”

She clutched the bed sheet in her fist.

Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine.

“What are you dreaming about?”

His breath formed a bubble around her. Every wisp of the bitter smell scabbed the inside of her lungs.

Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixty-five.

“I’ll go.” He pulled away, and fresh air diffused into the space. She took a deep breath but didn’t open her eyes.

Sometimes she thought of him as the Grim Reaper. He descended with darkness and cold. His presence was fetid in her soul. Like the angel of death, he brought finality. In this case, it wasn’t death. It was pain.

Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight. Ninety-nine.

The door opened and closed. She opened her eyes and sighed.

One hundred.

Sixty-Two

September 25

One hundred.

Mackenzie opened her eyes. Sterling’s face hovered above hers.

“Mack! You okay?” he gasped.

She squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a wiggle. One by one, all her senses woke up. She smelled chemicals and disinfectants. She sniffed until she identified the distinctive smell.

Iodoform.

She was in the hospital. She shot up from the bed like she had been electrocuted.

“Take it easy!” Sterling rubbed her shoulders. “How are you feeling?”

“What happened?”

She was behind the privacy of the thick blue curtain but could hear the ruckus on the other side. Doctors shouted orders. Feet and wheels swiveled on the floor. Patients hummed complaints. She looked around her small area. There was one chair, a hand-sanitizing station, garbage disposal and a cabinet with gauze and bottles sitting on top. She felt a sharp jab on her arm. She was hooked onto an IV.

“You passed out at work.” Sterling cupped her face with one hand. “I was so damn scared. I ran out of court.”

“But I feel fine.”

“You were dehydrated and stressed out. They’re pumping some electrolytes into you.”

She groaned. “Can I leave?”

“No,” he chided. “I told you to take it easy. I didn’t realize it was this bad. When was the last time you ate?”

She shrugged.

“You’re not a child. Why can’t you take care of yourself?”