Mike awoke to the smell of disinfectant and the steady beep of medical apparatus. The blinds in the private room were drawn, yet two intense shafts of deep light lanced through the dimly lit room thanks to a couple of slats that were slightly askew. They picked up otherwise invisible dust motes that span and swirled it the deep light until they passed into shade and out of view.
Stood at the foot of his bed, dressed in grey trousers and a light blue short-sleeve shirt, collar open and wearing no tie was Mark Samuels. In his left hand, he clutched a notebook and pen, the kind of notebook Mike used to take everywhere with him when he"d been on the force.
“What – where,” Mike croaked in confusion from his dry mouth and through dry lips. The last thing he could clearly remember had been the
