to choke it off. Rape. Was that what happened? Was that what drove her to the railroad tracks?
"Does that surprise you? She says she fell. The same story you gave." Edmonds took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. His authority seemed to evaporate, and for the first time, Nicholas saw before him a man more puzzled and weary than threatening. "And frankly, I can't understand why a rapist would carry his victim to a hospital and wait around to see how she is."
"That would be a little insane, wouldn't it?" said Nicholas, feeling complacent enough to use a word he almost never spoke out loud. No use putting ideas in people's heads.
"I admit you haven't heard the whole truth here tonight. But I would never hurt Trissa. I promise you that, Dr. Edmonds." Nicholas drank the last of his coffee and stood. "I want to see her now."
"Room 320," Edmonds said. "But Brewer, if I ever see her in here again with a mark on her, I won't wait to hear your stories or your promises. Do you understand me?"
"Yes. Fully." He left his empty cup on the table, shoved in his chair, and strode away from him with an air of jaunty confidence that was all pretense. He didn't see Bryant Edmonds' clenched fist reach out and smash his cup flat. But he heard it.
Chapter Four
Tormented by doubts, Nicholas sat at the foot of Trissa's bed through the night. He had moved the chair out of her direct line of vision. He didn't want to startle her if she should wake and see him there. His scuffed face and disheveled clothing would not make a good first impression. His already fragile confidence seemed to wither with each hour that passed, the wisdom of his waiting decaying into folly. Eventually he was no longer sure whether it was sympathy or apathy that had motivated the night duty nurse to allow him to remain in Trissa's room all night.
"She's not critical. It's not usually allowed," had been her first response to his request.
"I understand that. It's just that I haven't spoken to her since the accident. I'm worried she might wake and not know where she is or how she got here. She'd be frightened by that, don't you see?" His mind raced to devise more reasons if this one failed to convince her. He had no intention of relinquishing his hold on Trissa, however tenuous. If she awoke and he wasn't around to plead his case, he feared he wouldn't be given another chance. He simply had to stay.
Yet, he'd been surprised when the preoccupied nurse had shrugged and sighed, "Suit yourself. It isn't my job to throw you out." The victory seemed too easy to count as foreshadowing. He had won this time, not through his charm but through her weariness.
In the dim light from the hall filtering through the partly open door, the dark purple of Trissa's bruises stood out against her pale skin and the stark white sheets. The tracks of shed tears still showed on her cheeks, and he wondered how long she had cried alone while he was being detained by Edmonds. He kissed two fingers, touched them lightly to her hair, and began his vigil.
He shifted restlessly in his chair as his body made him aware of the jarring he had taken in his tumble over the tracks. Eventually, he slumped down to a position that, despite his best intentions, soon had him dozing, his head bobbing like the marionette of a drunken puppeteer.
Nicholas found his dreams visited by the shades of his own troubled memories. He was on the railroad tracks again, this time on a trestle that narrowed in one direction to a vanishing point. There was no escape to either side, for the trestle spanned a deep, rugged gully with a ribbon of river twinkling with starlight far below. Acrid smoke billowed up behind him, and he whirled to see the rails burning, sputtering and sizzling toward him like twin fuses.
"I can get you out of this, Nicholas. Take my hand, jump with me." Doreen's voice was filled with exhilaration, and he was surprised to feel her so close where seconds before he had been alone. He turned to look into her beautiful, beaming face and, as always, it suffused him with light and joy. She kissed him and tossed back her gypsy-dark curls then gripped his hand tightly and he yielded to her gentle tugging. They teetered on