Page 74 of Don’t Open Your Eyes

“Yeah,” Scarlett croaked, her hand going to her neck reflexively. “Throat hurts.”

“It will for a while. So glad to see you’re back with us, Scarlett!”

James and Annabelle each took one of her hands. Annabelle wiped the tears from her face with her free hand. “Sweetheart, thank God you’re awake.” She wanted answers, but the doctor had warned them to go easy at first.

Scarlett looked at Annabelle. “Him. It was him!”

James and Annabelle looked at each other quizzically.

“What are you talking about, sweetie?”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out and she yawned. Her eyes closed again. Panic seized Annabelle. She looked at the doctor.

“Is she going into a coma again?”

He glanced at the instruments by the bed, then back at Annabelle. “No, she’s just exhausted. There’s still some sedation in her system. She’s just sleeping.”

Annabelle breathed a sigh of relief. “When can we take her home?”

“We’ll need to monitor her for a while. I want her to have some respiratory therapy as well, since she’s been on a vent all this time. We’ll have to play it by ear.”

After Dr. Matthias left, Annabelle turned to James. “What do you think? Is she in the clear?”

He nodded. “I think so. They’ll do some cognitive tests when she’s fully awake again, but her scans and vitals all look good. Looks like there was no damage to her brain, thank God.”

She exhaled. “Okay, okay. What do you think she meant about him? Do you think she was referring to the man she met?”

“I don’t know. She could be confused. We’re going to have to wait for answers, as hard as that is. I can’t believe the police have made no progress at all. If only that damn alley had cameras.”

“It burns me up. Do you think the person who hit her was the same one she met? Or maybe she was trying to get away, and someone else hit her?”

“We may never know that. They did say it was a white vehicle; that much they could tell from the paint transfer. But that’s not very helpful, is it?” James said.

She shook her head. Why couldn’t she dream about this? That would be helpful. But since Scarlett had been struck, Annabelle hadn’t had any more dreams—or at least none she remembered.

Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up from the chair where she’d been sitting.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Reynolds?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Detective Stanton. We have some new information. We’ve tracked down the IP address of the person who set up that Instagram account.”

“Who is it?”

“I can’t disclose that yet. But the IP address allowed us to trace it to the physical address where the computer is located. We’re waiting for a warrant now. Hoping to go in shortly. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Why can’t you tell me who it is?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, I promise to give you that information as soon as I can. I know you’ve been frustrated with the lack of progress, so I wanted to let you know we were making headway.”

“Please let me know as soon as you have more information.”

“What was that all about?” James asked when she ended the call.

She filled him in.