Killer Scents (26 page)

Becca lay in a tent-like structure hooked up to several machines. Her entire body seemed wrapped in stark white gauze, only her red face visible.

“
What I wouldn’t give to see those
beautiful
green eyes of yours
.” Randy splayed his hands on the glass,
praying
she’d somehow feel his energy.

“You’re not alone, Red. We’ll get through this together, baby, if you’ll let me.”

He
hung his head
. None of it mattered if she didn’t
survive
the night.

If you harm one hair on her head...
“Oh, my God.” Did I say that one time too many and somehow aided in it coming true?
An overwhelming sense of powerlessness consumed him and he fell back in a chair. For the first time since
he was
a child
,
he closed his eyes
and prayed.

Becca’s nurse convinced him to go home to shower and get some sleep
,
with the promise she’d call him if her condition changed no matter how little. At five in the morning
,
he rode into his garage. After a long, hot shower, he stretched out
on
his bed, but sleep eluded him. Every time his eyes closed, he’d see Becca lying in the hospital fighting for her life.

The clock on his bedside table read
seven
a
.
m
.
when he finally gave in to the call of the open road. He could think of no better remedy for his state of mind. On more than a few occasions
,
t
he magic
of
the
wind
had been his saving grace.

H
alf an hour later
,
he
rode
through the sleepy streets. All the tension in his body ebbed as it
dissipated
in the
breeze
that rushed around him. The phone in his shirt pocket vibrated
,
and he pulled over to the curb to answer it.

“Hey
,
Randy, I thought you’d be up. How about meeting me for a coffee at the hospital?”

He
heard the exhaustion in the chief’s voice. “I’ll be there in ten minutes. Everything’s alright isn’t it?”

“
No worries.
Becca is
holding her own.”

Randy pulled out into the street and realized the chief didn’t really answer his question. If it wasn’t Becca, what could possibly be wrong? He reached the hospital and parked
around back in the reserved parking for police and other government officials.

The sounds of the waking hospital greeted him. Nurses with carts delivering morning medication rolled down the otherwise barren hallways. Only a handful of people were scattered throughout the cafeteria. Staring off into space, seemingly deep in thought, Chief sat up against the wall at the far end of the room.

The heavenly scent of coffee lured Randy to the counter where he filled an extra large cup, black, desperate for the full caffeine effect. It wasn’t until his chair scraped against the tile that the chief looked his way with a start, slopping his
drink down
the front of his t-shirt.

“You know, it’s not nice to sneak up on people like that.”

Randy chuckled. “Who said I was nice?”

Chief
scowled
and made a futile attempt to rub the stain out with a napkin. “Becca’s nurse sounded hopeful she’s out of danger. Our Becca’s a
tough
one. I just hope she’s
strong
enough for the long road ahead of her.”

“With a little help from her friends, she just might be okay.”

Chief
pressed his lips firmly together.
He looked like he was going to say something but thought better of it. His expression grew serious. 

“I have something to tell you..
.
.”

Chapter Thirty

After three weeks in isolation and a skin graft
to
her arm and thigh, Becca was finally moving to a room of her own, which meant he’d be allowed
to visit
. The doctor was very adamant only one visitor at a time for no longer than fifteen minutes.
He couldn’t stress enough how
important her psychological well-being played in her recovery. 

I
n just a few minutes
Randy would
actually see her face to face for the first time in weeks.
He
was prepared to keep positive and not bring up any topic that might
upset
her. He prayed she didn’t ask any questions he wasn’t prepared to answer, at least not right now.

Becca’s door opened
,
and her nurse stepped out. “You have fifteen minutes. She’s a little groggy from the pain medication. Remember, don’t
upset
her.” She waggled her finger at him like a protective mother.

Randy flashed a smile and inched his way past her into the
r
o
om
. Becca
lay
with her eyes closed, an angel
swathed in white. The bandages hid the extent of her burns. He slowly made his way up to her bedside and gazed down on her.

Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked at him with such tenderness it brought tears to his eyes. He lightly pressed his lips to her cool forehead before stepping back to pull up a chair.

“It’s good to see you,” she rasped. Her gaze travelled to a bowl of ice on the table by her bed.

“Do you want some?”

She
nodded slightly and parted her lips. The medication was obviously doing its job. In fact
,
she
looked a little spaced out like she’d just smoked a joint. He tipped an ice chip off the end of a spoon and into her mouth.

“You don’t know what a relief it is to see your beautiful eyes.” Randy squelched the rush of emotion rising up in him. “Are you in much pain?”

She smiled. “Not at the moment.” Becca frowned as she eyed him up and down. “You look like shit.”

He laughed. “Now there’s my Becca. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“When is the last time you slept?”

“I have a feeling I’ll be able to sleep like a baby tonight. You had us all worried.”

Her eyes closed. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry
for.”
He
cupped the side of her face and watched her slip back
into slumber
. He pressed his lips to her forehead once again. “I love you
,
Becca.”

Randy cleared his throat and walked quietly to the door, taking one last
glance
back before leaving the room. There was lightness
in
his step, the weight of the world lift
ing
from his shoulders. He’d been so worried about how she’d react to him
. Even with the amount of drugs they pumped into her, he caught a
glimpse of the Becca he’d come to
love
.

But n
ow was not the time to tell her.

With her
fingertips
,
Becca’s feathered the bandages covering her head. Her beautiful purple
w
isteria
tattoo
peeked above the gauze
wrapped
around
her arm
.
What will my tattoos look like once my burns heal?

Her leg rest
ed
in a suspended sling
,
t
he extent of her burns still a mystery
behind the dressing
. She couldn’t even venture a guess as her pain was controlled by drugs. A line from an old Pink Floyd song played over and over in her mind
.
‘I have become comfortably numb.’

“Good morning, Becca.” D
r.
Swanson breezed into the room. “How’s my favourite patient doing today?”

“How would I know? You’ve got enough juice pumping into me to keep a whole football team high for a week.”

He
chuckled
and jotted something down on her chart. “I can definitely decrease the dosage, but I warn you, you’re going to feel like you’ve been hit by a truck and barbequed.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine today.”

“Why don’t we take a look under those bandages before making any changes
,
okay?”

Becca nodded rendered speechless at the mere thought of seeing her burns. Her eyes filled with tears.

Dr
.
Swanson called for a nurse to assist and
then
sat at the edge of
Becca’s
bed. “Before we do this, I want you to remember it won’t look this way forever.” He squeezed her hand. “I give you my word.”

She
smiled weakly, afraid to speak for fear of losing the last thread of her composure. Tiny scissors snipped away at the gauze. The sensation of air against her burns brought bumps to her skin.

“There we go.”
The d
octor stepped back and stroked his jaw. “It’s going to heal quite nicely, Becca.”

“Can I see?” Nurse Debbie stood on the other side of her bed and passed a long
-
handled mirror to her. The doctor covered her hand with his.

“Remember
,
it needs time to heal
and won’t
look like this forever.”

Becca swallowed hard before lifting the mirror
. She
clamped her hand over her mouth as she tried to process the image
looking
back at her.
A
ngry welts covered her scalp, where long red hair
once grew
.

Becca
let her
gaze travel from the doctor to the nurse and back to her reflection. Through a veil of tears she
stared
in disbelief, not knowing what to say or how to react.