Cinderella Lane

by Alicia Donovan

  Cinderella Lane

  A Mercy Hospital Thriller

  Alicia Donovan

  Copyright © 2019 by Alicia Donovan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  "Do you see a purse? Some kind of ID?"

  "No, nothing. Wait. There's something here. It's way under there."

  "Be careful there's a lot of—."

  Something falling, like a million trickling marbles. No, not marbles…

  "Don't worry, I have gloves."

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah. Yeah, I got it."

  Scraping. The tingling of… glass. Yes, that was it—not marbles. Glass.

  Rummaging. A snap.

  "I've got her driver's license. Cindy. Cindy Ellerd. See if she responds to that."

  "Ms. Ellerd? Cindy? Cindy, are you with us?" A man's voice.

  Cool fingers touched the side of her neck. They stayed there for a couple minutes and left.

  "Cindy?"

  Were they talking to her? A flare of pain ran through her shoulder, causing her fingers to jerk. She moaned.

  "Cindy?"

  She grimaced and moved her hand as if to push the name away, but something wasn't working. Her hand didn't move, at least not the way it should.

  "Help is on the way, Cindy. Hang on. Just hang on." A woman's voice, soft and reassuring.

  Hang on? Something in her chest tightened. Why did she need to hang on? Dizzy and nauseous, her mind swirled around and around. It landed on dying. Was she dying?

  She opened her mouth to speak, to whisper, to scream. Anything. But there was nothing. Nothing to say, nothing to hear. No sounds except the wind, and their voices falsely reassuring her. And the glass, an unending stream of falling glass.

  She weakly pushed her foot against the soft floor. Was it a floor? She pushed harder. It gave way.

  Pain, sharp and deep, sliced through her belly. A scream welled up. The cry so shrill her ears rang.

  Someone scrambled closer. Hard hands pushed her down. "No! No! Don't move! Just stay—"

  Blessed darkness raced to envelop her.

  Chapter Two

  “Cindy? We are going to move you now. This isn’t going to feel good, but it will be over quickly.” A different man’s voice, the take-charge leader type.

  “Okay, guys. Here we go. One, two, three —“

  Agony from her depths, places she didn’t know could hurt.

  That piercing scream.

  Blackness.

  That fogginess as she came to again.

  “There’s glass all over her. Where did all this glass come from?”

  “The glass is the least of her problems.”

  Problems? What problems? Something terrible had happened, and she couldn’t remember what. Where was she? When she opened her eyes, but everything was a blur. She tried to speak, but the words stayed stuck in her head.

  “It’s okay, Cindy. You are in an ambulance. You’re okay. Everything is okay now.” The take-charge guy.

  She shook her head. No, he was wrong. It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay.

  Her body quaked. Until now, except for that quick, hard stab, she had been numb. But her body wasn’t numb anymore, the pain had begun. And it was everywhere.

  Chapter Three

  Swirling sirens. Every mile an eternity. She prayed they would please, please be there soon.

  Please let it be a hospital. Her rabid thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Of course, it would be a hospital. Why wouldn’t it be a hospital?

  Her mind skittered away from that question and came up with a new one. How had she gotten so far from her neighborhood?

  She was careful. Was she not always so very careful? Surely, she hadn’t wandered this far away from the city at night.

  A bump, bumps—maybe railroad tracks—added to her agony. She cursed all railroad tracks. She hated them, loathed them. The added agony they caused rippled through her body. Stop, please stop.

  Smooth roads for a while. Hands on her, poking and lifting, insisting and demanding. She begged they leave her alone. Just leave her alone.

  “I’m sorry, Cindy. I know this doesn’t feel well.”

  “I’m sorry, Cindy. It’s just a little pinch. There we go, good job.”

  Cindy? Again? They must mean her. She must be Cindy.

  She didn’t feel the needle slide into her skin. How could she? One tiny pinprick in an ocean of hurt.

  What had happened to her? Cindy jerked with surprise when her thoughts became words. “What? What…” Uncontrollable sobbing took over. She couldn’t stop it. At least she knew her mouth worked. Nothing else seemed to. No, that wasn’t true. Her ears worked. Her ears, mouth, and tongue. It was a start.

  A screech of tires. Cindy jerked forward and back. The straps holding her to the gurney drew tight. She wailed as the pain bit her again.

  The ambulance jarred to a stop. “Stay out of the way, you idiot!” the driver growled.

  He stomped the gas pedal, causing her to bounce again. Blood-red ribbons swirled through the darkness behind her eyes. The ache in her head grew. Stabs ripped through her belly all over again.

  This time when the darkness came, Cindy leapt into it.

  Chapter Four

  “What happened to her?”

  “I don’t…”

  The beep, beep, beep of a monitor.

  “What about this… abdomen?”

  “…taken out. Paramedics…”

  “…glass, all this glass. It’s going to take hours…”

  Metal clanged against the floor. Cindy jerked.

  “Get another one.”

  “She’s coming to.”

  “Cindy? You’re doing great. We gave you something for the pain. We’re going to take you into surgery now.”

  Panic flooded her. Surgery? For what? Why couldn’t she remember what happened?

  A tear escaped the corner of her eye, stinging her skin as it slid down the side of her face. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the air. She braced herself, but whatever they used it for, it wasn’t on her.

  “Is there anyone we can call for you, Cindy?” Was that the take-charge guy again?

  She frowned. Why did they keep calling her Cindy? Oh, that’s right, it was her name. Call someone? Who? Her mind spun with strange, incoherent thoughts. She needed to think. There should be someone.

  “Look at her phone. Does she have emergency contacts on it?”

  Cindy held her breath. Did she?

  “Nope. Nothing
under that.”

  Cindy froze. She clenched the rough cotton sheet on the gurney.

  “What about under regular contacts? A Mom or Dad on there?”

  Yes. There would be a Mom, there was almost always a Mom, right?

  “No…”

  “How about a Sis or Bro?”

  “No, there’s… well, there’s nothing.”

  “Cindy. Do you have family you want us to call?”

  Yes. Yes, she had a family. Surely, she had someone they could call. Someone who cared that she was here in this desperate mess. Someone. She needed someone. Sobs racked her body.

  “Don’t worry. It’s okay, we’re here.” The woman patted Cindy, then her voice turned away. “Okay then. Just start calling her friends.”

  “No, you don’t understand. She doesn’t have anyone on her contact list. No family, no friends, nobody.”

  “You’re saying her phone has no contacts? None at all?”

  “Nothing.”

  Chapter Five

  While Cindy's body was in surgery, her mind drifted somewhere else. Dark dreams raced through her mind. In her nightmare, it was a black night with little light from the tiny sliver of moon above. She rushed from one cobbled street to another dressed in a ball gown. It rained—soft, light drops that quickly turned into a downpour.

  Her wet hair fell across her eyes, and Cindy pushed the blond strands back. She scanned the unfamiliar empty streets and shivered. This wasn't right.

  Ahead, a small light shone like a beacon in the storm. Cindy raced to it, slipping on the slick road. The slight sheen of water on the street amplified the light. The closer she got, the brighter her surroundings became.

  There was music, big band style. Cindy stopped and twirled, looking for its source. In a bolt of lightning, she saw others forced to dance to the music. Thunder boomed, and she cowered then raced toward the light.

  Someone called to her, and she followed the voice until she stood in the center of a town filled with old whitewashed buildings in pristine repair.

  She stood in the middle of town, turning, seeking anything familiar. She found nothing.

  Someone pressed her from behind. A breath fanned her hair. A man whispered, "Cinderella, oh Cinderella, what will you do now?"

  Cindy's heart lurched. She gasped and turned toward the deep voice. The whisper became a thousand shards of glass. It showered her, sliced her. Then bounced against the cobblestones as if they were as innocent as raindrops.

  Cindy put a hand up to push away the whisper and the glass. She shivered as a cold drop of rain ran down her back. Her hands tightened into fists, closing on her hospital blankets. Fully waking, she breathed a shaky sigh. She was safe. Cindy shivered still feeling the cold rain on her, but she needn’t worry, nothing could get her here.

  “Are you cold, Cindy? I can get you an extra blanket, would you like that?”

  Cindy startled but nodded, not trusting her mouth to speak normal words yet. So far all it had done was plead. She felt the weight of another blanket over her.

  “There. How is that? Is that good?”

  Cindy nodded and smiled. She raised a hand to her face, trying to ignore the thousand angry pinpricks running up and down it. Cindy carefully felt her cheek. It was covered in bandages.

  “We had to wash out your eyes,” the woman’s kind voice said. “You had debris in them, but we believe we have it all out. The doctor wants to keep them covered for a few days, but don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you. If you need anything, I’m Nancy. I’ll be here with you.”

  A monitor uttered a beep and squawk as if it agreed with everything Nancy just said.

  “I’m your nurse this morning. Are you thirsty?”

  “Yes.” Cindy winced. Her voice sounded like a frog on a late summer evening, but at least it had obeyed a command. She had made a word go from her mind to her mouth in one straight line. A little smirk of pride curved one side of Cindy’s mouth.

  The sound of sloshing water filled the room, and her parched mouth began to ache for a sip.

  “Here it is,” Nancy said. Cindy felt the straw against her lips. As the liquid made its way down Cindy’s parched throat like a rainstorm in a desert arroyo, she swore she’d never tasted anything so sweet. How long had it been since she’d drank something? Cindy couldn’t remember and frowned. Why couldn’t she remember?

  “Whoa. Let’s just take a little break. You’re taking in a lot there, and you don’t want it coming back up.”

  Cindy clenched the glass. No, Nurse Nancy, she didn’t want a break. She wanted all this goodness and more.

  Nancy pulled the straw away. “Just for a minute. Give it a little time to see how you feel.”

  Cindy felt like she wanted more water.

  After a moment, Nancy guided the straw back to Cindy’s lips and asked, “Cindy, the police have been wanting to talk to you. Are you ready for that?”

  Cindy froze for a moment, then berated herself. She had done nothing wrong. She’d been hurt and didn’t remember how. Maybe they could find out.

  “Yes. I can talk to them.”

  Chapter Six

  The detective's step was confident as he entered the room. "Cindy, I'm Detective Pearson. Your case has been assigned to me." His voice was smooth and steady. If anyone had ever sounded like a detective, it was him.

  Pearson touched Cindy's hand, and she flinched.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

  "You didn't. I mean… it was unexpected is all." Cindy held out her hand to him. The detective took in his and laid his other hand over it, shook her hand and let go.

  "Can I pull a chair over to sit beside you?" he asked.

  Cindy nodded and turned toward his voice as he moved to drag a chair closer to the bed. It squealed against the floor until he picked it up, then clattered when he set it down. Cindy felt the air stir as the detective sat. He was closer than she thought he would be, and she wiggled back against the bed.

  "So, Cindy, Cindy Ellerd? That is what I have, is that right?"

  Cindy hesitated then nodded.

  "Do you have a middle name?"

  "I — I don't think so. I'm having a hard time remembering things."

  "Oh, I'm sure you do, most people do, you know. But we'll leave that for another time." Cindy heard the smile in his voice and relaxed. He rustled some papers. "How is your memory normally?"

  "Good. It is always good… except now. Now it's…"

  When she trailed off, the detective cleared his throat. Cindy imagined he sat there with a raised eyebrow and the expectation she would respond. But she couldn't be intimidated by what she couldn't see.

  "It's what?" he asked.

  "I'm… fuzzy. My head is kind of like my foggy throat. They said I had a bit of a bump, and my absent-mindedness is temporary."

  "Yes, the doctors advised me of your head injury. I hope you have a full recovery."

  "Me too."

  "Your eyes?" He sounded compassionate, much more so than she'd expected.

  "Also, temporary, thank goodness."

  "Very good."

  "Ms. Ellerd, let's talk about last night."

  Cindy nodded but found herself trembling. She folded her hands together, trying to hide her nerves but was sure it hadn't escaped his notice. Now that she could see his reaction, but since the man was a detective, surely he would be sharper than most.

  "It's okay, dear." Pearson patted her interlaced hands. "Nothing to be frightened by.” He blew out a long breath. "You were found on Route 40. Is that a road you normally travel?"

  Route 40? Cindy hadn't been wrong. She had been considerably further out from the city than usual. "No." She shook my head. "I rarely travel it. The last time I was out that way was a couple of years ago. I went with some friends to an apple orchard that way."

  Cindy heard the scratch of pen against paper, and she wondered if he carried one of those little notebooks she'd often seen the police have on TV.

  Detecti
ve Pearson cleared his throat. "Can you think of any reason you would have been out there last night?"

  Cindy twisted her hands as she tried to think. "No, I'm sorry, but I don't know. I just — it's just not there." Cindy tapped the side of her head. "Not right now, anyway."

  "That's fine," the detective's smooth voice reassured her. "Tell me what you remember."

  "Okay. Well, I — well, I must have been at work, right? What was yesterday?"

  "It was a Thursday.”

  "Yes, then I would have been at work. I get off work at five. Thursdays, I usually go out with my friends."

  "How long do you stay out?"

  "Well, dinner, a drink or two, I would say around two to three hours."

  "So, Cindy, that would be around seven-thirty to nine with travel time between the two places."

  She agreed. "Yes, that sounds about right."

  "Do you remember anything unusual happening at dinner?"

  Cindy hung her head. "I didn't really remember dinner last night. I just know that's always what I do."

  "Okay. Well, what is the last thing you are sure of? Something yesterday? The day before?"

  Cindy rummaged her memories, but there wasn't much to choose from. And what was there seemed all filmy somehow with nothing fitting right. Her sitting behind a glass window flashed across her mind. Another flash, her drinking tea. She hated tea. A tear slid down her cheek.

  Detective Pearson laid his hand on hers. He was careful when he did so, avoiding any of the many cuts that covered them. "Cindy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's okay if you are confused, I understand that happens with head injuries."