Courting Death - Carol Stephenson [15]
He released me. When I raised my head, I saw the rage blazing in his eyes. I prayed to God his anger was directed at my attacker and not me.
“Did you see the bastard who did this?”
I lifted my shoulder. “No. He or she hit me from behind.”
Dr. Hassenfeld, a scrub mask dangling around his neck, appeared in the doorway. “What the hell’s going on here? This is a restricted area.”
The hospital administrator waved her hand in my direction. “Miss Sterling says she was attacked.”
“Not just attacked,” Sam interjected as he pulled out his phone. “She was placed in that body chamber drawer.” He punched in a number. “Bowie here. I need a unit at Oceanview Medical Center.”
Dr. Cruz started. “What do you think you’re doing, Detective?”
Sam gave her a razor-thin smile. “Calling it in. After all, you wanted to press charges.”
“I was upset.” She gave Dr. Hassenfeld a pleading look. “We don’t want any trouble.”
“Tough. A crime occurred here.”
The pathologist stirred. “Let me check the equipment. If no harm was done, then we’ll write it off as an accident.”
“Hang on,” Sam said into the phone and then scowled at Hassenfeld. “I thought this was a hospital. What aren’t you checking Nicole for a concussion? She has a knot the size of a buzzard egg.”
“I do not have a lump that big,” I protested. I gently probed the area and winced. Uh-oh. I didn’t know how big a buzzard’s egg was but the swelling was sizable.
Sam turned sideways and in a low voice fired off a round of instructions into the phone.
Hassenfeld approached. “Let me look you over.” His touch was light and professional. “Rosa, get a wheelchair. Let’s get her to an examination room stat.”
All I wanted to do was go home and shower. My skin crawled every time I glanced at the refrigeration unit. While I was sure they cleaned the drawers every time an occupant was removed, still…
“I’m fine.” I tried to stand but every muscle and bone protested. I ground my teeth together. “There’s nothing wrong that a hot shower and a few aspirin won’t cure.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” The pathologist was all doctor now and in command of the situation.
Within minutes I was wheeled to an examination room. For once I didn’t mind putting on a hospital gown. I didn’t want to see my own clothes ever again. Then a technician transported me on a rattling gurney to another room.
The cold would have caused my teeth to chatter, but it was the monstrous machine in the center that had me swinging my legs off the gurney.
“No, absolutely not.”
The technician blocked me. “Ma’am, you’ve had a blow to the head. The doctor is concerned about bleeding and has ordered a MRI. It’ll only take about twenty minutes. There’s no pain involved.”
Only the agony of once more being entombed. The gleaming drawer would carry me into the guts of the machine where sounds like gunshots would go on for what seemed like an eternity.
My mother had undergone several MRIs, and every time I’d sat beside the machine to keep her calm. While I may not have been claustrophobic before, never again would I be able to stand being confined in a metal tube.
“Sorry, but no way.”
“I’m going to have to call the doctor.”
“You do that.” Air stirred across my back as a door opened behind me. I suddenly remembered I was in a hospital gown with my naked butt exposed for all to see.
I whipped my hand around and gripped a handful of fabric.
A man’s dark chuckle sounded as Sam walked to my side of the gurney. “Too late, Red. I’ve already seen your very charming assets.”
Heat infused my face. I lifted my chin. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking on you.” His searching gaze didn’t miss a thing. “What’s wrong?”
The tech raised his hands. “She refuses to go into the machine.”
I couldn’t even look at the gaping hole waiting to swallow me alive. “Sam…”
I lifted a helpless hand, which he caught and enfolded in his large one. Although he had a powerful grip, his hold was gentle. “I know how hard a noggin you have, but you had a nasty blow.” His fingers tightened. “You need to get it checked out. Can’t take chances with head