Alan was still at the foot of her bed.
The cuffs were off, but Elizabeth's wrists remembered them. The red indicator light near the ceiling blinked its steady warning.
“Elizabeth Harper?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
A nurse stepped in with a blood pressure cuff. “Arm."
Elizabeth extended hers with stiff obedience. The cuff tightened.
“Pulse is elevated," Alan said after checking the monitor.
“I'm having the time of my life," she muttered.
His mouth twitched. “Still sarcastic."
He continued the physical exam without fanfare—temperature, lungs, reflexes—asking about dizziness, nausea, sleep, appetite. Professional. Calm. Not cruel.
And that, oddly, made her more wary.
He had helped her once in the cemetery. He spoke with the careful manners of a gentleman. But her instincts didn'
