Chapter 6
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* * *
Don woke with a start. A cold sweat had formed around his hairline. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, he could feel his hands shaking lightly, but didn't look at them. Twice in two nights he had dreamt about the MacRaes. . . The phone rang abruptly and Don remembered suddenly that that was what had awakened him. He flung out his arm and pulled the phone to his ear.
"Hello?" He muttered into the speaker.
"Don?" A female voice sounded from the phone, "this is Melody Honeycut. I--- Mara just woke up. I just thought you should know. Kate is here. So am I. I just-- who knows how long she'll be awake. She was yelling horribly when she woke. I talked to Kate. . . she wants you to talk her. Please. . . can you come?"
Don had still been in a half-asleep state, but the news jolted him into action, "Yeah. . . yeah." He answered, "What. . . I'm sorry, what time is it? Oh nevermind, it doesn't matter. I'll be there. The methodist hospital on 23rd, right?"
"Yes," Melody answered, she paused and then added in a hushed voice, "hurry." Don nodded, though she couldn't see, and threw the phone onto the base. He grabbed yesterday's pants off of the sofa chair, tossed on a t-shirt, and ran for the door. He sped all the way to 23rd, only pausing for one red light along the way. Within twenty minutes, Don was walking briskly toward the sliding hospital doors, bracing himself for the smells and sounds.
* * *
Don strode confidently into the room, but felt none of the assurance he projected. The girl from the photograph was crouched timidly in her white hospital bed. Her smile from the snapshot was gone. She stiffened when Don entered, but made no effort to stop the single tear that was making its way down her cheek. Kate Richard sat at the side of the bed, a wary and protective guard to her daughter, and Melody Honeycut perched at her side, guarding her friend in turn. A stony faced attendant loomed in the corner, the watcher of them all. It was a room full of discomfort and uncertainty. No one knew what would happen next, and no one wanted to worry about any moment other than the one in motion. The future and past were too horrifying to contemplate.
A grim silence that made Don feel like cringing draped over the room. He bit his lip and shuffled his feet, but the only acknowledgment he received apart from the stiffening of Mara was a tired, empty look from Kate Richard. Melody's gaze was locked to the floor. Don took a deep breath, understanding that the women had assigned the icebreaking tasks to him, and at the same time not caring. Right now he was the job. Followed no orders, took no precautions. Don rolled his eyes at himself and took another step forward.
"Mara?" he asked. The girl swallowed and looked up. Her brown eyes locked with his and Don felt a small jolt in his stomach. She had the eyes of someone who had been to war and watched her best friend die. . . or maybe her little sister. Don had to fight not to close his eyes and back out of the room. For the first time, Don was facing a case that he didn't want to solve or even handle. A case that he wished would vanish and leave his life alone. But at the same time, a case that Don knew that he had to solve. Nothing would ever be right until it was over. "I'm Don Calder," he said, "Your mother hired me to investigate into your. . ." Mara spoke in good time, preventing Don from having to use the word 'case' again.
"Mom told me. But I can't help you. I told her that too. I. . . don't remember being attacked." A feeling both of disappointment and certainty rose in Don, neither of which he could quite explain to himself. Professionally, though, Don knew how to handle this.
"You probably remember more than you think," he explained "there are lots of psychological defenses that can prevent you from remembering everything, but sometimes when you try, it's not as hard as you think." Mara gave him a doubtful look, but Don smiled at her in return. Encouragement was generally the best way to get anyone to talk, no matter how old they were, but it worked especially well on kids, he'd learned. "It can't hurt to try, can it?"
Mara sighed. She dropped her gaze but shook her head no, it couldn't hurt to try. "Can I sit down?" Don asked. She nodded, her eyes still on her lap, and Don pulled up a chair. He looked toward Kate and Melody, in most situations, he would ask the to leave, but with the possibility that Mara could relapse at any moment, he didn't think it was appropriate. Instead, he drew his eyebrows together and simply asked, "Please don't say anything, okay? Just let us talk this out for a minute." Both women nodded, and so Don began.
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