8
I came to in the armchair with something acrid wafting into my nose: smelling salts.
“Are you all right, miss?” The young paramedic’s eyes looked into mine, and I could see his concern.
“I’m fine.” But I felt groggy, like someone had hit me over the head with a medical textbook.
“Here’s some water.”
“Thank you.”
Gabriel stood by the fireplace with the sheriff. His feet were square to Knowles, but he kept glancing over his shoulder at me. I raised my glass to show him I was okay. He inclined his head, but his back remained tense.
“Well, if that’s all, Sheriff, perhaps you can come take Doctor Fisher’s statement tomorrow,” he said. “I will be here all day as well if you think of anything else you’d like to ask me.”
Surprisingly, Knowles took the hint. “I’ll be by in the morning.”
