Read Relentless (Elisabeth Reinhardt Book 1) Online
Authors: Nancy Alexander
Relentless (Elisabeth Reinhardt Book 1)
r
elentless
Nancy
J. Alexander
i.
Copyright © 2014 N
JA Productions
All rights reserved
ISBN: 1500298522
ISBN-13: 978-1500298524
i.
I would also like to thank Tiffany Carter. Tiffany, you are the glue and the catalyst. I am grateful to you for your dedication, hard work and your clear critical analyses. Without your drive and guidance, none of this would have happened. Your deep insights, knowledge about my characters and twisting plots, not to mention your tech support skills have been invaluable.
To Ashley Taylor of Inspired Statements, I want to say thank you for your high energy, your creativity and your willingness to guide me through the mysterious world of marketing. I completely trust that your knowledge and enthusiasm will catapult
Relentless
into the public eye.
To my audio-engineer, Julian Comanda, I say Wow! Your perfect pitch and dedication to helping to create a ‘perfect product’ has guided my life as an audio book narrator through five lengthy complex audio-books that are making their way to the listening audience. Your perseverance is amazing matched only by your much needed and greatly appreciated patience!
To my great niece, Maggie Siegel-Berele, I say your unique artistic style helped bring this novel to life. Thank you for your flexibility and ingenuity and helping me create my first thriller.
A special thank you goes to my patients who have over the years shared their traumatic, confusing life experiences with me. Thank you for trusting me to help you; through the process you allowed me to gain insight into your hearts and minds and through you to the complex world of troubled family dynamics and child abuse. You inspired me to tell your collective stories with sensitivity and understanding. It is my passionate hope that through these novels we can raise public consciousness about child abuse, the need for increased child protective services, family therapy, mental health services and nationally effective legislation that will enable vastly improved services to become a reality.
Relentless
THE LOFT
The little girl lay under the hay stack scarcely breathing. Sweat poured down her face and dripped into her eyes; her heart pounded through her thin chest. Tiny flecks of hay clung to her wet skin, making her itch. She squeezed her nose tightly afraid she’d sneeze. Eyes clamped shut, she lay there. Flies buzzed around her, crawling insects crawled on her. She didn’t move. She didn’t know how long she’d been there in the loft. She didn’t care how long she stayed. She could not move. Not yet.
She listened carefully to the sounds around her trying to identify them. Chickens scratched about, cows rustled trying to get out of the afternoon sun. She heard the tractor chugging through the corn field over the hill. A dog barked, shrill in the muggy air. The weight of the hay pile pressed down on her small back. Still she waited, listening, eyes shut, fingers gripping her nose, breath shallow.
Then she heard them. Footsteps! Alarm shot through her body like a lightning bolt. They were coming for her. The cousin and his friends... They were coming for her. She heard their leather boots on the mud and gravel, clumping steadily in her direction, just outside the barn. She heard them whispering to each other. “Did you look in here?” one asked. “Yea but that was hours ago, she could be here now.” “Wait till I get my hands on her,” the cousin said. The others chuckled, “Yea, just wait till we get our hands on her. Ha, ha, ha…”
Her heart thudded as she held her breath. She heard them enter the barn and start looking for her. Tears crept into her eyes, she felt like she was going to wet herself. “Come out
, come out, wherever you are!” she heard them chanting.” “Reggie Lee, we’re looking for you!” “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” three sing-song voices taunted her. She heard them rifling through the storage bins and moving things around. She heard the cows complain as the boys pushed through, disturbing them.
She was motionless. They began climbing the steps to the loft. “Get that pitchfork,” one of them said. She heard them slashing through the bales of hay getting closer and closer. She had to run now. She had to get away
before they jammed that pitchfork into her, before they got their hands on her.
‘
Run,
’
she told herself,
‘
Run
.’
She burst out the far side of the pile of hay where she’d been hiding. She heard them scream and charge after her. Running for her life, she flung herself out the open loft door falling, screaming ……
THE DOCTOR
The nursery was bustling with activity. Babies cried; nurses floated through the space, the loudspeaker demanded to be heard in several languages. Florescent ceiling lights hummed, enfolding the space with constant background noise. Tiny clear, plastic basinets with their neatly organized shelves holding infant clothing, diapers and hats lined pale green walls. In the center of each cluster sat padded wooden rockers; cheerful pink and blue animals hung swaying in the air. Two nursing stations, sported long, spacious counters studded with computer terminals, phones and reference books, stood at opposite ends of the room. Moveable metal carts loaded with patient charts and lifesaving equipment punctuated the space. Flashing monitors and intermittent mechanical ‘beep beeps’ added their tones to the mêlée. Bewildered parents rocked their infants or wandered about seeking comfort. This hospital with its fine staff and state of the art equipment specialized in crippling birth defects and lethal diseases.
Her fingers sped across the keyboard as she
sat typing patient notes and medication orders into a terminal. Gina Reynolds, MD racing the clock tuned everything out. She didn’t hear the babies crying; she didn’t hear the nursing staff chatting around her. Azure blue eyes locked onto the monitor, she was aware only of her thoughts and the words she typed. The room and everything in it blurred, fading into oblivion. She was alone in the midst of calmly frantic activity. At 34, Dr. Reynolds was a highly respected neonatologist having graduated at the top her class from the University of Chicago Medical School. She sighed as she logged off and looked around her. Now she absorbed everything she saw. She was brilliant, focused and completely dedicated to her work. She loved these babies - who were so very sick. She cared deeply for their families. She felt their pain and sadness. She wept with them when the babies were too sick to recover. She attended their funerals. She visited their homes when they recovered and were discharged. She was grateful for this job, for this opportunity to make a difference in the world. This was her mission, her life. She was a doctor. She could hardly believe it. It sounded unreal, but it was true. She was a doctor. It had been a long, hard road, unbelievable really, but she had made it and here she was.
Looking
around at the nursery, a surge of emotion pulsed through her body. ‘It’s a miracle’ she thought. I am so grateful that I’m here and I’m safe.’ Flashes of memory whizzed through her mind. She remembered herself barely a teen, shivering on the doorstep of her school counselor’s house, pounding on the door with her frozen fists. She recalled the freezing wind battering her soaking wet body and how her skin tingled as the warmth of the kitchen enveloped her. She remembered clutching the soft towels as Mrs. Goodwin wrapped her up, how she thought she would never be warm again. She remembered the steam from the teacup, the scent of the tea as she carefully sipped the burning liquid.
‘That’s the day my life
began,’ she thought. ‘I have gone from one life to another to another and now I’m here where I was meant to be. I can hardly remember what my life was like before that moment. When I pulled off the clothes I was wearing and tossed the wet heap in the trash, my old life went along with it.’
Looking
around the NICU, she felt her professional role had enabled her to function so successfully. More than her profession, medicine had become her identity. The University of Chicago Comar Children’s Hospital, had become her home and these were her people. Everyone from the nursing staff to the cleaning staff, the x-ray techs to the volunteers, were her family. She loved them all. This place and these people anchored her, allowing her to be the person she had become
.
