Prologue
Fresh blood had smeared on her face, the deep hue splattered on her brown hair, painting the streaks crimson. She’d come in via an ambulance through the emergency department with no ID and no way of telling us her name. We referred to her as Jane Doe.
“Whisshfs,” the girl mumbled, but it was so incoherent I couldn’t understand her. I’d been monitoring her vitals for the last half hour since she’d come back from surgery.
She had pretty hazel eyes, though the bruises around them and the wound on the back of her head told me she’d been through hell. It was probably what caused her confusion, and I was surprised she still tried to speak at all.
I leaned down and held her hand, whispering in a timid voice, “My name is Kelly. I’m one of the nurses here. You’re in the recovery ward at the emergency hospital. You’ve had minor surgery, and you’re being monitored. You’re safe now. Can you tell me your name?”
“Whisshfs,” she whispered with strained, gasping breaths. It must have been painful for her to speak. I tilted my ear close to her lips when she tried to say something else. “Whiskers.”
“Whiskers?” I straightened my body but left my hand still gently closed over hers.
She managed a slight nod and then winced at the pain from the head trauma she had endured. A bandage wrapped around her skull, the blood had been cleaned from her face and hair, but the bruises had darkened. Jane was swollen, like she’d just had a round or two with a world champion boxer and lost.
I tapped her lightly on the back of her hand. “You get some rest now. You need to heal.”
Dr. Wilcox was just outside the curtain and was talking to a police officer. I didn’t want to leave her alone, but figured I should let them know what she thought was important to say, using what little breath she had.
“Jane Doe has had severe head trauma, and we won’t know the extent of it till the swelling goes down,” Dr. Wilcox explained. “No sexual trauma, but obviously she was beaten up to an inch of her life.”
“We’re still trying to work out who she is,” the cop said. “No one has reported her missing as yet, and we’ve run her prints, but it came back empty.”
I pulled the curtain and closed it again before immersing myself in the conversation. “She managed to say something to me.”
“She did?” the cop questioned. I nodded. “Did she tell you her name?”
“I asked her, but all she could say was ‘whiskers’,” I relayed. “Nothing about who she is. The oxygen helps her, but she can barely speak right now. She’s due for her next round of pain medication.”
“Thank you.” The cop jotted something down in his notebook and then looked back up at Dr. Wilcox and me. “It was a violent and senseless attack. We believe it was a robbery or domestic violence dispute, but we’ll know more once we’re able to ID her.” He pulled out his business card and handed it over to the doc. “Please let me know if she says anything else.”
I’ve seen some pretty messed up shit working here for the last two years. Jane’s injuries were horrid, and I knew the person who did this was a psychopathic monster with a shit ton of rage.
I hoped we’d find out her name soon because she shouldn’t go through this alone. Jane needed someone by her side, and until that happened, I’d stick by her for as long as we were both around. She needed to recover and have enough breath to tell us who did this to her so there was no chance they could hurt anyone else.
And maybe, just maybe, she could feel safe again.
