Page 25 of The Ashes of Summer

She doesn't answer straight away.

The keyboard starts again, faster this time. I hear her muttering to herself, flicking through something as she searches, the occasional medical term slipping under her breath before disappearing into another tap of the keys.

"There is..." she says eventually, uncertainty creeping into her voice. "It's not something we'd routinely use. Midazolam can be reversed with Flumazenil, but only in very specific circumstances. It isn't without risk."

I hear her pull the phone away from her ear before footsteps echo across the line, followed by the muted swing of a door. Voices replace the silence. She isn't talking to a colleague. I know the difference. The way she explains instead of argues. The way she waits instead of interrupts. She's asking someone whose answer carries more weight than hers ever could.

Most of it is lost beneath the crackle of the connection, but fragments drift through clearly enough for me to catch them.

"Midazolam..."

"Reversal..."

"ICU..."

I hear another voice answer. An older man. Whatever he says is enough to end the conversation before it has the chance to become one.

While I wait, I type the drug into my browser. The screen fills with words that mean nothing to me—sedation, benzodiazepines, contraindications, adverse reactions—but one phrase keeps appearing over and over. Reversal. Which means there's a way. By the time Tamara comes back onto the line, I already know what she's going to tell me.

"I asked the consultant in charge of his care," she says quietly. "He said no."

"Why?"

"Because your John Doe isn't an appropriate candidate. The risks outweigh the benefits." A tired breath leaves her. "Jacob..."

"I need him awake." The words come out quieter this time, but they land with more weight than if I'd shouted them.

"I could lose my license," she says, her voice barely above a whisper now that she's closed herself behind another door. "This isn't a joke."

I let the silence sit. "Then don't.” Silence settles between us. "I'll come down there and do it myself."

Nothing. Just the faint hum of the line stretching between us.

When she finally speaks again, the hesitation is gone. "How soon can you be here?"

I snatch my keys from the desk and head for the door.

"I'm already on my way."

Chapter 7

The Sheriff is Coming

Summer

The birds started an hour ago. I know because I've been counting the silences between them—the gaps where the sound drops out and the room presses in until all I have left is the weight of where I am and what happened last night to get me here.

I haven't slept. I don't think I was ever going to. Not in this bed that doesn't belong to anyone. Not with that red light pulsing in the corner of my vision every time I closed my eyes.

Sometime during the night, my bladder became impossible to ignore. I lay there for as long as I could, hoping the feeling would dull if I stayed perfectly still, but it only grew more intense until I couldn't pretend anymore. When I finally forced myself out of bed, I stood in the middle of the room staring at the bathroom, my eyes dragging over every wall, every corner, every inch of the floor as I searched for somewhere the camera couldn't see me, but without knowing the distance and width it caught, I couldn’t be sure if there was anywhere I could hide.

In the end, it came down to two choices. I could stand there until my body gave out, or I could let whoever was behind that camera watch me do something no stranger should ever have the right to see. I closed the bathroom door, even though I already knew it wouldn't make a difference.

I still have the red dress on from the warehouse, so hiding myself would be a struggle. It's too tight to just pull up and drape over my legs. I would have to physically lift it over my thighs to allow me the exposure needed. In one quick motion, I rolled the dress up and took a seat as fast as I could. Relief swept through me, but my body still tingled with the vulnerability of a prey animal.

I’d walked back over, sat against the headboard, and stayed in that position.

I think about Jacob.