Spencerville

Keith told her and added, "He's a delightful man. I had a chat with him last week."

She frowned.

Keith realized this was not what she wanted to hear from a head injury patient, so he added, "Just kidding."

She nodded.

He tried to sit up, but she put her hand on his shoulder. "Lie still, Mr. Landry."

He regarded her a moment as she hovered over him. She was about mid-thirties, plump, friendly face, but with enough experience, he guessed, to be stern if he got frisky. He asked her, "What time is it?"

"It's eight-fifteen A.M. You've been unconscious for about thirty-six hours."

"Oh..."He felt a little foggy, and his head and body ached, but otherwise he thought he was all right. He tried to remember exactly what had happened, and he recalled parts of it, but it was like a piece of broken china whose fragments had to be fitted together.

The nurse asked him, "What is your address?"

He told her, and she kept asking those kinds of questions, and he saw now that she was marking a sheet of paper as he responded. He wanted to think about what happened, but she was going on and on with the questions. Finally, he remembered the last minute or two before he blacked out, and his hand went down beneath the covers and between his legs. He said, "I'm okay."

"You're fine. Good vital signs, good responses, good..."

"Good. I'm out of here." He sat up again, and again she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Lie down, Mr. Landry, or I'll have to call an attendant."

"Okay. When can I check out?"

"When the doctors sign off on you. The neurologist is making his rounds now."

"Good. Where are my things?"

"In that closet."

"Does this telephone work?"

"No. Do you want me to have it turned on?"

"Yes, please." He asked her, "Do you know what happened to me?"

She didn't reply immediately, then said, "I understand you were assaulted."

"That's right. I was with my girlfriend. Do you know anything about her?"

"No, except that there are a few items of women's clothing in your closet." She added, "A police ambulance brought you here, and the police inventoried all the personal items that were found with you and brought everything here. I can go through it with you later, if you're concerned."

"No. I just need my wallet. Can you get that for me?"

"Later."

He thought a moment, then asked her, "Do the police want to question me?"

"Yes, they've asked that we notify them when you're up to it."

"Okay. But not today."

"We'll see."

"What is my prognosis?"

"Well... favorable."

"Did they do a CAT scan?"

"Yes. You have a hairline fracture, some internal swelling... I should let the doctor speak to you about that."

He questioned her further, but she was reluctant to give him specific medical information and only described his injuries in general terms — trauma to the midsection, the right shoulder, the left forearm, and to the head, no internal bleeding, a few contusions, lacerations, and so forth. He concluded that, if he could stand and get dressed, he was well enough to leave.

He asked her, "Where am I, exactly?"

"The Lucas County Hospital, outside of Toledo."

He nodded to himself. He was in the hands of the local government, and that included the local police, who considered him either a victim or a fugitive, or both.

She said to him, "I'll ask the doctor if you can have solid food. Do you want breakfast?"

He did, but it was time for him to play sick and feeble. In fact, he felt weak, but not too bad otherwise except for the headache. He said, "I just want to sleep."

"All right. I'll be back later with the neurologist."

"Fine. But I need some sleep now."

She left, and Keith sat up. At some point, the police would ask the hospital to sign a fit-for-confinement slip, and he'd be transferred to a prison sick bay or similar facility. He didn't know his legal status and wasn't completely clear on his medical status, but he had no time to waste finding out or straightening it out to other people's satisfaction. Headache and fogginess notwithstanding, he knew he had to get out of where he was, and get to Spencerville and find Annie.

He pulled out the two IVs, and his veins bled. There was gauze and tape on his bed stand, and he quickly wrapped the punctures. He put his legs over the side of the bed and stood slowly. His knees buckled, but he raised himself up and took a few tentative steps around the room.

There was an elderly man in the next bed, and Keith saw he was sleeping. Keith pulled the curtain around both beds to partially block the view from the open door. He could see the nurses' station off to the left.

Keith opened the wall locker and saw his suitcase and overnight bag wedged inside, along with his briefcase and a large plastic bag filled with assorted pieces of male and female clothing and toiletry items. He pulled his suitcase out, took off his hospital gown, and dressed himself quickly in his blue Italian silk suit.