Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jody stared out her window, seeing only a parking lot. No wonder there are so many people in the psych ward, she thought, I'm gonna lose my mind here.

She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of the previous events. She heard motion by her bedside and, hoping to see a visitor, opened her eyes. Instead, she saw a nurse. She recognized as Karen.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" she asked in a bubbly voice.

"Other than mentally distressed? Peachy keen, Karen," she snapped, wanting Holly to visit more than anything. Bringing good news and her iPhone, of course.

"You could've just said 'fine'," Karen murmured, obviously intending for Jody not to hear.

She settled back into the sheets, somewhat painfully, and adjusted the bed. Finding a partially comfortable position, she shut her eyes again, trying to think about anything but Cal.

Just the name brought tears to her eyes. She remembered the contorted look of pain he wore the last time she saw him and flinched, hoping to never see that look again. The thought of seeing him at all made the tears spill over.

She let herself cry for a few minutes, not wanting to dwell so much on the bad. If Holly hadn't come over and called 911, she probably would have bled to death. For that, she was extremely thankful.

She had finally managed to get some sleep when she felt someone muss her hair and say, "Hey, Jody, it's Holly."

Excited for a visitor (he most awaited one, at that), Jody nearly bolted out of the bed. Or tried to, at least, considering all the tubes, wires, and machines she was hooked up to.

"Jeez, relax. This is NCIS Special Agent Josh Chinora," she said, gesturing towards the very attractive man also in Jody's room. "He's part of the team trying to find Cal, so he's got to question you a little bit, okay?" she asked soft and soothingly, her caring attitude reminding Jody of her mother.

Thinking of her mother automatically reminded her of home, back in her Virginia hometown. Boy, did she miss those days and that place.

"Hi, Jody," Josh said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm gonna go psycho trapped in this place. And yourself?" she asked, only out of politeness.

"Eh can't complain. Now, has Cal had any history of steroid use?" he asked, his tone going from light and conversational to all-out business. She was disappointed.

"No. I had no idea he was taking them at all," she answered.

"You didn't notice any significant behavior or physical changes?" he asked, not believing her.

"Not until last night when he came back from a weekend fishing trip," she answered. He jotted this down on a notepad.

"What exactly happened last night?" he asked, staring at her intently.

She took a deep breath and began, "I was in the kitchen, finishing his favorite meal; steak, rare and french fries. I poured two glasses of grape wine and set the table. I ehard him come in the door and went to go greet him, carrying the wine glasses in my hands. He seemed angry, so I naturally asked him what was wrong. He said he wasn't in the mood for wine, so I set the glasses on the coffee table. Then he started yelling about how I can't do anything right and I never satisfy him. He got closer and closer and backed me into the wall and then grabbed my shoulders, hard. He kept shouting about nonsense and the next thing I knew I was soaring through the air. I slammed into the wall at an awkward angle, then I blacked out."

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