Self-Defense by Jonathan Kellerman

and
twirled the tube with the other.
    “Now you listen to me,” she said. “We’re
busy and we don’t have time for fooling around. Do you want us to run tape all
the way around your head to keep the line in? It’ll have to be really tight,
and believe me, your headache will get a lot worse. Do you want that?”
    Lucy bit her lip and shook her head.
    “So be still, it’s for your good. We’re just
trying to take care of you and fix you all up.”
    Nod.
    The line went back in. “Good girl.” The
nurse checked the monitors. “Your pulse is up to ninety-eight. Better relax.”
    No response.
    “Okay?”
    Nod.
    The nurse turned to me. “Are you family?”
    “Her therapist.”
    Quizzical look. “Well, that’s good.
Maybe you can get her calm.” She headed for the door.
    “About her pain,” I said.
    “She can’t have anything. Not until we
really make sure she’s been cleaned out.”
    Lucy croaked.
    “Sorry, hon, it’s for your own good.” The
nurse swung the door open, letting in fluorescence and noise. “Just try to
think of something pleasant. And don’t get upset again, it’ll only make your
head feel worse.”
    The door closed. I picked up Lucy’s hand
again. Lifeless as a glove.
    She said, “I didn’t. ”
    I nodded.
    “Really!”
    “I believe you, Lucy.”
    “G’home?”
    “They want to watch you for a while.”
    Her back arched.
    “Please?”
    “It’s not up to me, Lucy.”
    She tried to push herself up from the bed.
The line flew out, hissing and coiling on the bedcovers like an angry snake.
The monitors were dancing.
    “Listen to me,” I said, putting my hands
on her shoulders and easing her down without resistance.
    Again, I replaced the line. She pushed up
against me.
    “Take m’home!”
    “I can’t, Lucy. That nurse was no
diplomat, but she was right about one thing: You need to relax right now. And
to cooperate.”
    Terrified looks, roller-coaster eyes.
    More coughing.
    “Why,” she said, nearly breathless, “can’t...
home?”
    “Because they think you’re a suicide
attempt. They’ve got you on something called a seventy-two-hour hold. That
means legally they can keep you here for three days and offer you psychiatric
treatment. After that, if you’re no danger to yourself or anyone else, you’ll
be free to go.”
    “ No!” She moaned and rolled her head
from side to side.
    “It’s the law, Lucy. It’s for your own
protection.”
    “No!”
    “I’m really sorry you have to go through
this, and I want to see you up and around as soon as possible. That’s why you
need to cooperate.”
    “You... treat?”
    “I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m not on the staff
here. A psychiatrist named Dr. Embrey will be treating you, a woman. I’ll talk
to her first—”
    “No!”
    “I know it’s frightening, Lucy, but please
ride it out.”
    “Three days ?”
    “I’ll stick by you. I promise.”
    More moans. She flinched and managed to
raise a hand to her temple.
    “Ohh!”
    “Settle down,” I said. “I know it’s hard.”
    “Ow!”
    Her hand left her head and settled at her
side. She poked her rib cage with one finger.
    “What is it?” I said.
    “Broken.”
    “You think you broke a rib?”
    Headshake. “Me. Broken.”
    “No, you’re not,” I said, stroking her
face. “Just a little bruised.”
    “No... broken.”
    “You’ll be fine, Lucy. Try to get some
rest.”
    “Milo.”
    “You want me to tell Milo you’re here?”
    “Tell him... someone—”
    “Someone?”
    “Someone—” Struggling for breath, she took a deep, wheezing
inhalation.
    Her heart rate had climbed over a hundred.
A hundred and ten...
    “Someone—” she repeated. Poking her ribs. Terror in her eyes. “Someone...”
    “Someone what?” I said, leaning in closer.
    “Killing me!”

CHAPTER 9
    She sank back and fell asleep. It took the
monitors another minute to slow down.
    I waited a while, then left to find some
coffee. A man down the hall said, “Excuse me, are you her