Free Death by Haunting by Abigail Keam Page A

out in my room when I opened the door. “That’s funny,” I said to myself. “I thought I left them on.”
    That’s when I sensed someone behind me and heard a whoosh sound.
    Then my lights went out.

26
    I remember only bits and pieces. I remember flashes of crawling. I remember struggling for my cell phone but it was out of reach on a table. I remember pushing the table over.
    I remember pushing a number on the phone. I remember saying the name Goetz. I remember hearing a siren.
    But that’s all.

27
    S omeone shook my shoulder and said, “Sleeping Beauty’s awake.”
    “Let me take a look at her.” Someone shoved a light in my face. “Follow the light, please.” Then it was, “Can you feel this?”
    “Where am I?” I asked.
    “In the emergency room.”
    “Goetz?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Why are you here?”
    “You called me.”
    “Hey, that hurts,” I snapped at the doctor.
    “Only been conscious for a few seconds and already bitching. Seems normal. Can I take her home now, Doc?”
    “Yes, but someone needs to stay with her. If she vomits or feels dizzy, bring her back in.”
    “Sounds like a fun night,” groused Goetz.
    “What happened?” I asked as Goetz put a coat around my shoulders.
    “Someone rang your bell.”
    “Huh?”
    “Tapped you on the head. Remember anything?”
    I shook my head. “Ow, that hurts,” I cried, holding my head. There was a bandage on the back of my skull.
    “So don’t shake your head.”
    “You’re all sympathetic.”
    “I was just settling in for the night with a roast beef sandwich and my favorite TV show when you called.”
    “I called?”
    “You said my name and then the phone went dead.”
    “Oh.”
    “I first went to your house and couldn’t find you but that dog of yours ran up to Lady Elsmere’s house, so I followed. Otherwise I wouldn’t have found you.”
    “Baby?”
    “He’s okay. He’s with a woman named Bess. Oh, by the way, you’re going to have to get a new lock on your front door.”
    “Why?”
    “I shot the lock off.” Goetz hesitated for a few seconds. “You might need a new front door as well.”
    “Let me guess. You kicked in the door.”
    Goetz shrugged.
    “My knight in shining armor.”
    Goetz’s face morphed into a look of annoyance, then brightened when he realized that I was being serious.
    “How many women can say that a man shot and kicked in a door to save them. Quite sexy, reeeallleee,” I murmured, dozing off.
    Goetz shook me. “I doubt you will feel that way when you see the mess. Come on. Let’s get you home. I have to baby-sit you for the next twelve hours.”
    “What about work?”
    “I called in. I’m taking a personal day.”
    But I didn’t hear Goetz as I had fallen asleep.
    Goetz checked the time on his watch. He put my purse in my lap and held onto the back of my coat as he wheeled me out of the waiting room.
    Goetz seemed placid and almost serene but there was no mistaking the anger emanating from his eyes. He was going to find out who did this and beat the stuffing out of him . . . or as we say in the South . . . horsewhip him . . . or in less genteel circles . . . whup his ass.

28
    I awoke to the sound of whining. It took a while to rotate my stiff neck toward the source of the irritating sound.
    It was Baby trying to jiggle the mattress with his head. When he saw my opened eyes, his tail pounded a delighted dance upon the floor.
    This thumping did nothing to encourage the cats, either lying on my chest or along both sides of me, to move. I was covered in a furry shroud. They blinked their sleepy eyes as I shooed them, remaining in their comfortable positions.
    Baby licked my hand.
    “What time is it?” I glanced at my old-fashioned radio clock. It was the afternoon.
    Pushing the cats off, I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed. Sitting for a moment, I reassessed my condition. I didn’t feel nauseous or dizzy or even constipated. That was always a plus . . . not