“Say Adrian’s name again.”
Detective Miller’s voice cut through the room.
Vivian jerked around so violently that the pillow slid from my face and struck the metal bed rail.
Air tore into my lungs.
The first breath felt like a blade beneath my cast, but I dragged in another, then another, each one accompanied by the frantic alarm of my oxygen monitor.
Detective Miller stood inside the doorway with one hand raised and the other near his holster.
Two uniformed officers waited behind him.
A tiny red light blinked on the body camera attached to his vest.
Vivian stared at them, then at me.
The cruelty disappeared from her face.
In its place came disbelief.
“She was choking,” Vivian said.
Her voice was suddenly soft, maternal and offended.
“I was trying to help her breathe.”
Miller glanced at the pillow on the floor.
“With both hands?”
“She panicked.” Vivian pointed at me.
“She has been confused since the accident.
The doctors warned us about medication.”
One of the officers stepped forward and took Vivian by the wrist.
She recoiled as though he had touched royalty without permission.
“Do you know who my husband was?” she demanded.
“Yes,” Miller said.
“Do you know where your son is?”
The question changed her.
Only for a second, but I saw it.
Her eyes moved toward the window.
Her mouth opened, then closed.
She was not worried about Adrian’s safety.
She was calculating what he might already have told them.
“I want my attorney,” she said.
The officer turned her toward the wall and secured her wrists.
Vivian looked back at me while he read her rights.
“You ungrateful little fraud,” she said.
“You trapped me.”
I could barely speak, but I made myself answer.
“No.
I survived you.”
They led her into the hallway.
Her heels struck the floor in furious, uneven beats until the sound disappeared.
Detective Miller picked up the pillow with a gloved hand and placed it inside an evidence bag.
Then he closed the door and came to my bedside.
“You held too long,” he said.
His anger was quiet, which made it feel more sincere.
“I needed her to say his name.”
“We already had enough to arrest her for attempted murder.”
“Her,” I whispered.
“Not Adrian.”
Miller studied me for a moment.
“You heard what she said.
The Cayman transfers.
The railing.
The insurance.”
“I heard it.”
“Then arrest him.”
