Chapter 5
The ICU didn't look like the morgue, but it sounded the same. Machines beeped in a slow, even rhythm and the air smelled like clean plastic and cold metal. I was still in the wedding dress. They'd cut the left sleeve up to my elbow to get the IV in and the lace hung open, the floral applique torn. A nurse kept adjusting the blanket so it didn't pull on the line.
I hadn't slept. I kept touching the side of my neck where the red mark was. It had stopped burning and started to throb.
The detective came in just after seven. She was younger than I'd expected, maybe thirty-five, with her hair pulled back and no makeup. She wore a navy blazer and had a badge on her belt and a small notebook that was already half full. The ICU nurse came with her and stayed by the door.
"I'm Detective Morris," she said. "With county. Are you okay to talk for five minutes? We can stop anytime."
I nodded. My throat was still dry from the tube they'd taken out in the ER.
She pulled the chair close so we were at the same level. She didn't touch the bed.
"Can you tell me where you were when you were injected?" she asked. Her voice was low and even.
"In the dressing suite," I said. "At the church."
"What time, as close as you can get?"
"Before the ceremony. Maybe twenty minutes before I was supposed to walk. He came in and locked the door."
"Who came in?"
"My husband," I said. I paused. "He said he wanted a minute alone. He had something in his hand."
Morris waited. She didn't fill the silence.
"A syringe," I said. "Clear liquid. Short needle. He capped it after."
"Where did he inject you?"
"Here." I touched my neck again. "On the side. He held my shoulder so I couldn't move. It burned right away and then my legs went heavy."
She wrote that down exactly as I said it. "Did you see where the syringe went after?"
"No. He put it in his jacket pocket. He said I'd be okay, that I just needed to rest."
The nurse by the door shifted her weight but didn't interrupt. Morris turned a page.
"We're going to keep your dress and veil and your phone as evidence," she said. "And the instruments from the tray you were on. I need to log them now so no one can say they were moved or changed. Is that okay?"
I looked down at the dress. The veil was folded on the chair beside me, still carrying the faint smell of hairspray. "Yes," I said.
Morris stepped out and came back with a uniformed officer carrying four large paper bags and a clipboard, plus a brown envelope for the phone. The nurse helped me sit forward while Morris explained each step out loud as she did it.
She lifted the veil with gloved hands and placed it in the first bag. She sealed the top with red tape and signed across the seal, then had the nurse sign under her. She wrote the time, the location, and my name on the label. My name — not Jane Doe. Hearing it in that room made my eyes sting.
She did the same with the dress. She had to help me lift my hips so she could slide it free without cutting more of it. She folded it carefully and put it in the second bag, sealed it, signed it. The third bag was for the small stud earrings the nurse had removed and the gauze from my neck.
The phone was last. Morris held up the dark blue case so I could see it. The screen was still black.
"This stays locked until our lab does the extraction," she said to me and to the nurse. "No calls, no charging, no passcode attempts."
She put it in the envelope, sealed it, signed it. The tray with the tweezers was already bagged downstairs, she said — the morgue tech had handed it over directly and signed the same form.
Morris turned the clipboard toward me. "This is the chain of custody. It says who had what, when, and where. Once you sign as the owner releasing them, only the lab can open them next."
I signed with my right hand. The letters came out shaky.
After the officer left with the bags, Morris looked at the nurse.
"No husband access," she said clearly. "No visitors without my approval. No phone return until forensic extraction is complete. If he comes to the floor or calls the desk, you call me directly, not security first."
The nurse nodded. "We have you as a confidential victim-witness now. No info on the board, no name on the door."
Morris turned back to me. "You are listed as a victim, not a Jane Doe. I have opened this as an attempted homicide. That means we control the evidence and we control who gets to you. Do you understand?"
I swallowed and nodded.
May you like
"Rest now," she said. "We'll get the suite on warrant and we'll get that phone read. You don't have to do anything else tonight."
When she left, the nurse dimmed the lights and checked my IV. The room was quiet except for the monitors. For the first time since I'd opened my eyes on the steel table, my things were somewhere I didn't have to guard them.
