Leave Yesterday Behind Read Online Free PDF

Circles under his eyes. World-weary air about him.
    “I want . . . to talk. To him,” she rasped.
    Everyone turned and looked at her as if she were crazy. Maybe she was. Maybe she had died and gone to hell and this scene would be played over and over again. Oh, and ‘It’s a Small World’ would be constantly sung in the background. Yep, definitely her idea of hell.
    “Let me speak with her first,” the doctor said in a clipped, professional tone. “I want to see if she’s coherent enough for you to question her. She may remember very little of the trauma at this point.”
    “And she is right here , Mr. Medical Man,” Callie spat out. It hurt her to speak up, but she wanted their attention. She needed some answers. “Talk to me. Not about me.”
    The nurse rolled her little pig eyes. Callie could see The National Enquirer’s headline tomorrow: SOAP STAR A PRIMA DONA TILL THE END. Old Nancy Nurse here would be their source, spouting off about how demanding Callie Chennault was, right up until she expired.
    Well, who cared? She wiggled her toes. She was definitely alive. Not paralyzed. Ready to find the son of a bitch who did this to her—whatever this was.
    The physician cleared his throat. “I am Dr. Maxwell, Miss Chennault.”
    “You pronounce it Shuh-No . It’s French Cajun.” Funny how a little detail like that mattered to her at the moment.
    “All right. Miss Chennault.”
    She managed a half-smile of approval at his pronunciation.
    “You were brought in last night by ambulance a little before ten.” He glanced at his watch. “Almost twenty-four hours ago to the minute.”
    Okay. So she’d lost a day. She nodded and was hit with another flash of hurt all over.
    “A young man found you and called 9-1-1. He almost stumbled over you lying on the sidewalk. It was very dark and rainy. Do you remember that?”
    She thought a moment. “Yeah. I remember the rain. Enough weather recap, Doc. What’s wrong with me?” She bit her lip. The pain was really, really bad now. And growing.
    “You’d been stabbed. Repeatedly. You lost quite a bit of blood. You’re not a common type, Miss Chennault. AB-negative. Just about used up our supply on hand.”
    Well, when she felt better, she would march on down and be a one-woman blood drive. Callie wished she had the energy to say all that, but she thought better of conserving her energy and kept her mouth shut.
    “You went into surgery. Came through easily. You’re in very good health, you know.”
    “Yoga,” she whispered.
    “Mmm.” The doctor frowned and glanced at her chart again. “You had a concussion, as well. Skull cracked. One eye swollen shut, probably from a heavy blow. Overall, though, you’ll be fit as a fiddle in several months.”
    “Months?” What would the show do without her? And what would she do sitting on her ass for months with nothing to do? That thought frightened her more than the litany of injuries he’d described.
    “Rest is imperative. But with lots of it and a thorough rehabilitation program, you’ll be able to function in a normal manner. You’re a very lucky woman, Miss Chennault.”
    She smiled weakly. At least she thought it was a smile. It was hard to tell with her eye all screwed up. It made her whole face feel off-balance.
    The doctor turned to the detective. At least she assumed he was a detective. Those were the ones who always investigated homicides and attempted murders on TV. Jessica had almost married a homicide detective years ago, but the actor hadn’t renewed his contract after an extended salary negotiation. Instead, he’d been pushed off a cliff by the serial killer he was hunting. Jessica almost married the killer, too, but she wound up killing him before he got her. It had been one of her favorite storylines. The bad-assness of it rocked.
    “She seems to have her wits about her. I think you could speak with her for a few minutes. But don’t press her. She may not remember many details or even the