"And you never got the impression that Jilly was more than an infertile housewife?"
She shook her head, mute. "No. Neither of them ever said anything to make me believe what Jilly had told me wasn't the truth."
"Them's all the facts?"
"Yes, them's all the facts, the whole truth. I swear it."
"All right. Tell me, Laura, what kind of fish did you have for dinner?"
"Fish?" Her face was blank. "I don't particularly go for fish, so I really didn't pay any attention. Maybe it was bass, or halibut."
She'd gotten the fish right on the second guess. At least the rest of the meal was as Paul had described it to me, whatever good that did.
I felt suddenly so tired that I couldn't seem to think two words ahead. It crashed over me, dragging me under. I stood up quickly and began pacing. It didn't help. I felt like I was slogging through mud.
"Mac, what's wrong?"
I just kept walking around her living room. "I've got to go," I said. I needed to get out of there, breathe in some fresh air. What the hell was wrong with me? That was stupid, I knew exactly what was wrong. I'd been pushing my body too hard and now it was getting back at me. I hadn't felt this dragging sort of fatigue for more than a week, until now. I knew that I should keep questioning her, but for the life of me I couldn't think of anything else to ask.
"I'll see you later, Laura," I said and left. I heard her call my name, but I didn't stop or look around. I heard Nolan give a final squawk toward my back.
I rolled all the windows down in the Taurus, turned the radio onto a rock 'n' roll station, and cranked the volume up as high as it would go. I even stopped at a McDonald's and got more hot coffee.
I sang "King of the Road," and when I forgot the words, I hummed as loudly as I could. I couldn't keep my eyes open. I kept banging my forehead against the steering wheel. Three or four times I went off the road and scared the shit out of myself before I managed to twist the car back. I nearly hit a truck, which would have smashed me six feet under. The sound of his horn zinged through my head. Fear cleared out my mind for a few minutes. Then it was back, this overpowering, brain-numbing fatigue.
I knew that I wasn't going to make it back to Paul's house. I was sweating, remembering how close I'd come to biting the big one with that truck. The hospital, I thought. Yes, I could make it to the hospital. It wasn't more than six minutes away, maybe seven minutes. I managed to keep the car reasonably in my own lane. Only about half a dozen oncoming drivers honked at me. Finally, disbelieving that I'd really made it, I pulled into the Emergency Room parking area, clipping a bush on the way in. I watched my fingers try to turn the key off and fail. I felt like I was folding in on myself, that whatever strength I'd had until this minute was gone. I just let go because I didn't really have any other choice.
Odd, but I heard a horn blasting in my eardrums. It was the last thing I remembered.
Chapter Twelve
Mac. It's time for you to wake up. Come on now, you can do it."
I didn't want to move. I didn't want to open my eyes. The voice came again, low and insistent. I recognized that twangy voice vaguely, and I hated it. It made my head ache. Finally, I managed to get words out of my mouth. I said, "Go away."
Twangy Voice said, "No can do, Mac. Open your eyes. Let me see that you're alive."
"Of course I'm alive," I said, pissed now, wishing I could lift my arm and punch the voice out. "Just leave me the hell alone."
I heard the man speaking to someone else. "Slap his cheeks," a woman said. It was Mrs. Himmel.
Smack the man-that was a woman for you. "No," I said. "Don't hit me."
"He's coming around," Twangy Voice said, and I swear I could feel his breath on my skin. Skin? What did that mean? I felt something cold touch my bare chest. I didn't have my shirt on. How did that happen?
"Vitals are stable," another man said. I didn't recognize his voice at all. "Yeah, he's coming back now."
It pissed me off even more that this damned stranger would stick his oar in.
"Mind your own business," I said. "Nobody asked you."
Twangy Voice chuckled. "It will take him awhile to get back to normal. Just give him a few more minutes.
He's coming out of it just fine."
"Yes," I said. "Go away." Then I opened my eyes and stared up at Dr. Sam Coates, Jilly's doctor, Mr.
Twangy Voice.
"Ah." he said, smiling down at me. "You're back. Can you understand me, Mac?"
"Yes, I can understand you. What's going on? What are you doing here? Where's my shirt?"
"It seems you managed to drive nearly into the Emergency Room itself before you collapsed. You smashed down the horn with your forehead. There were a dozen nurses, orderlies, security, patients, and doctors with you within two seconds."
I remembered the loud noise. The horn blasting in my ear. "I've been pushing too hard, haven't I? My body's angry at me and finally just shut down?"
"Paul told us you'd been in a terrorist attack out of the country, and in the hospital until very recently. But no, this had nothing to do with any relapse. Actually, you had a high level of phenobarbital in your system. You've been out of it for about three hours now. Once we guessed the problem, we began treating you, but this kind of thing takes time. You're going to feel groggy for a while."
I thought about the likely treatment and nearly turned green. "Tell me you didn't pump my stomach. I saw that done once and nearly puked."
"Sorry, Mac, we had to. We didn't have a choice. But hey, you were unconscious. We also put some activated charcoal in your stomach. There's still some flecks of black above your mouth and a bit dried on your chest. Pretty gross, but it soaks up all the poison. Don't worry about the IV and the oxygen.
That's just in case something goes wrong. We'll keep them in for a while longer. Does your throat hurt?"
It did hurt. I nodded. My brain was finally kicking in again. "I was drugged, you said? With phenobarbital?"
"Yes. No one's suggested yet that you were trying to kill yourself. Who gave you the drug, Mac?"
I looked up at Dr. Coates, then over at Mrs. Himmel, whose face was shocked and still, and at a man I didn't know. "Well, damn," I said.
A few seconds later, Dr. Coates knew I was very much awake because I had his wrist in a vise as I said, "This is important. The cops need to get to Laura Scott's house in Salem. That's where I was this morning. She may have tried to kill me."
Dr. Coates wasn't a young man, but he could move fast. He was out of the room in a flash. Mrs. Himmel patted my hand. "You'll be all right now, Mac. Oh, this is Dr. Greenfield, he's the one you told not to butt in."
I looked at a skinny older guy who wore a thick black beard and sported a green and white dotted bow tie. "I'm alive," I said. "Thanks."
He said, "Your body's still not fully recovered. That must have been some terrorist, er, incident."
"Yeah, an incident."
"You're young and strong, Mr. MacDougal. You'll pull through this just fine. I'll leave you in good hands."
He turned on his heel, gave Mrs. Himmel a little salute, and left.
"He's our resident guru," Mrs. Himmel said. "Now you just rest, Mr. MacDougal. Why would this woman try to kill you?"
"I don't know. I drove to Salem early this morning to speak to her. I'd like to think she had something to do with Jilly's leaving the hospital last night, but I didn't find out anything. I drank her coffee, then got really tired. I left." I wanted to cry or howl, I didn't know which. How could I have been so wrong about her?