1
“Merry Christmas,” Alice said.
Her voice cut through the haze of sedatives Dr. Sabbagh administered to Marnie every few hours.
To keep the need tamped down. To allow Marnie to heal.
But Marnie felt it, here beneath the pain from her broken ankle and the various cuts and bruises all over her face and body.
The low and insistent thrumming through her nerves every second of every minute of every hour.
Fly. Fly now. GO.
Marnie would have to be unconscious for it to go away.
Or would some part of her still feel it even then?
“Merry Christmas,” she answered, smiling. Her voice sounded hoarse. She coughed to clear it.
She had talked a lot yesterday. Once she came out of the initial and heavier sedation, Ted Whitling was there to question her about everything.
How she knew about Santo
