Raspberry Danish Murder (Hannah Swensen #22)(108)

“It’s Joyce Meiers.” The nurse leaned closer. “Just relax, Mr. Larsen. You’re doing fine. I’ll get the doctor.”

He was in a hospital. It was clear now, the small room with white furnishings. He was in a room at the Nisswa Clinic, on the far edge of town. But what was he doing here?

“Well, well . . . you finally decided to join us!” Dr. Hinkley’s face swam into focus. “One more little pinprick and we’ll talk . . . all right?”

There was another stab in his arm, and Dan flinched. “What am I doing here? What happened?”

As he asked the questions, he knew. The snowmobile. The sudden storm. The accident. And Laura. What had happened to Laura!

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” His voice was slow and thick as the shot took effect. Tranquilizer. “You said something about a . . . a funeral. Laura’s dead.”

“I’m afraid so, Dan.” Dr. Hinkley reached for his hand, practiced fingers taking his pulse. “Would you like something to put you back to sleep?”

“No.” Even though his voice was weak, the word was definite. “I’ve slept enough. How long?”

“You’ve been in a coma for three days.” The doctor’s voice was kind. “You had a nasty blow to the head, Dan. Now that you’re awake, we’ll do some tests.”

Laura was dead. His baby was dead. Dan tried to think, but his mind was fuzzy. “Marian?” he asked. “Where’s Marian?”

“She’ll be here in a few hours.” Dr. Hinkley released his wrist and wrote something on the chart at the foot of his bed. “Don’t try to think about anything now, Dan. Just concentrate on getting well.”

Was he dying? His body was numb. His legs felt like lead. He tried tentatively to move, but nothing happened.

“My legs!” Dan’s eyes widened. “They’re gone!”

“No . . . It’s all right, Dan,” Dr. Hinkley said soothingly. “Your legs are fine . . . nothing wrong at all. You’re just experiencing some difficulty in moving, that’s all. It’s probably a simple blockage caused by the accident. Nothing to worry about. Now, relax and let us take care of you.”

Just as panic started to set in, there was another prick in his arm and a wave of soft grayness settled down over his mind. Another shot. Don’t think. It was all a bad dream.

*

The sun reflecting against the highly polished desktop hurt her eyes, and Marian shut them for a moment. She wished the sun weren’t shining. Something should be changed, in honor of her grief. The scene outside the plate-glass hospital window was straight out of a Currier & Ives Christmas card, but her baby was dead. How could this afternoon be so beautiful when Laura was lying in the frozen ground?

“Marian?” Dr. Hinkley pushed a box of Kleenex across the desktop, and Marian realized that tears were running down her cheeks. Why now? And not at the funeral?

“Do you want a tranquilizer for tonight? It helps sometimes, just to get a good night’s sleep.”

“No, thank you.” She had the insane urge to giggle. He sounded as if he were offering her a pastel mint at a party. Would you like a mint, Marian? No? Then perhaps you’d care for an after-funeral pill.

Marian realized with a start that she wasn’t paying attention. Dr. Hinkley was trying to tell her something.

“We think it might be conversion hysteria, Marian.” She tried her best to concentrate. “That’s a term for acute anxiety converted to dysfunction of parts of the body. In Dan’s case the problem is his legs. He regained consciousness briefly this morning, and we immediately ran tests. There’s no sensation in the lower extremities. Even though the paralysis is only in his mind, it has the same effect as a break in the spinal column.”

“Wait a minute.” Marian tried hard to understand. “Are you saying Dan can’t walk?”

Dr. Hinkley nodded slowly. “I’m afraid so, Marian.”

It was just too much to take. Laura was dead now, and Dan was paralyzed. The bright room was closing in on her. There was a sound growing around her, a thin, high-pitched wail. She was shocked to find it was coming from her own throat. And then the afternoon sun began to darken alarmingly, and she was pitching forward, falling into Dr. Hinkley’s arms.

*

There was a metallic taste in her mouth as Marian struggled to open her eyes. She must have made some sort of sound, because suddenly a nurse was there beside her.

“Good morning, Mrs. Larsen. We had a wonderful night’s sleep.”

The nurse was holding a glass of water to her lips. Marian gulped thirstily. Her lips were stiff. The words formed slowly in her mind.

“Dr. Hinkley? I need to see him.”

“He’ll be here in a few minutes.” The nurse smiled. “You can doze off again, if you want. Dr. Hinkley said to give you the royal treatment.”

She must have responded somehow, for the nurse left and she was alone again. Marian made herself sit up straighter. She knew she had to play a part again, the part of an alert, competent woman. Then the doctor would let her go home. It was important that she didn’t let anyone guess how helpless and frightened she was inside.

Things were better when she applied the light makeup she carried in her purse. The hospital coffee was weak, but it helped. She was ready when Dr. Hinkley came. This time she would not faint.