my lip gloss?” Madison wailed. “Can’t you do anything right?”
Madison slammed the door in Riley’s face and locked it. She took out her brush and counted to one hundred as the bristles smoothed her long auburn hair.
Knocks pounded on the door. “Come on, Maddy. I have to get ready, too.”
“No way. I’m getting ready all by myself from now on. And I’m locking my bedroom door so you can’t sneak in at night.”
“Maddy . . . ,” Riley whined. “I get scared in the dark.”
“Too bad. You’re being stupid. Monsters aren’t real. All you’re doing is scaring yourself.”
After all, a girl starting seventh grade knew ghost stories were told to scare you, and unlike her sister, Madison never got scared.
That night, however, Madison Lambert would learn some monsters are very, very real.
CHAPTER FOUR
Four years of medical school, three of residency, and an emergency medicine fellowship could never have prepared Cheyenne for this.
A dungeon—because that’s the only way she could describe the windowless prison she found herself in—was no place to operate.
And yet here she stood, scalpel in hand. The other med students and residents had thought she’d gone crazy signing up for every surgery elective throughout her education, but she’d known coming back to Singing River to practice medicine, she’d be on her own. She’d imagined search and rescue, car accidents, someone on the wrong end of a bull’s temper and no time to transport. Definitely not being kidnapped so she could perform an appendectomy in the middle of nowhere.
Right now she sent up a prayer of thanks for every moment she’d spent in those surgery rotations. She could do this.
But would her makeshift assistant survive without fainting?
She glanced over at him. Ian stood next to the instrument tray, his face pale but his posture determined.
They might actually pull this off.
She checked her patient. The sedative had taken effect. Cheyenne administered the local anesthetic. No way could she put the woman under with a general. Too risky. She had no one to monitor her vitals. Luckily, during her Emergency Medicine Under Austere Conditions fellowship, she’d learned how flexible medicine could be.
She made the first incision and set to work, letting instinct and training take over. Every so often she glanced at Ian, but he hadn’t fainted yet.
“Retractor,” she ordered.
His eyes grew wide and panicked. She pointed out the instrument, and he handed it to her.
She pushed aside the tissue and revealed the woman’s appendix. Cheyenne froze.
Pink. Perfect. Healthy.
Oh God. What was she supposed to do now?
“Is something wrong, Doctor?” Ian whispered, tone laced with fear.
“Of course not,” Cheyenne lied, her mind racing.
The door creaked open. Adelaide stepped in. “Father says you should be finished by now. He wants a report. Can I tell him Bethany’s going to be fine?” Her trembling voice left no doubt Adelaide prayed Cheyenne could say just that.
So, Cheyenne finally knew her patient’s name. “Bethany would have a better chance if you’d let me take her to a hospital.”
“She can’t leave.” Adelaide took one step toward the makeshift operating table, her expression desperate. “Please, Doctor. Father must know. Will Bethany recover?”
“Yes, she’ll be fine.”
“Thank goodness.” Adelaide turned to leave, then paused. “Father wishes to see her appendix,” she said, tone apologetic.
Cheyenne’s gut knotted. “I need to concentrate, Adelaide. Come back later, but please think about what I said before. My father can help us all.”
Ian’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. The woman bit her lip and nodded before locking them inside the room.
Cheyenne’s gaze lingered on the steel door for a moment. Then she stared down at the healthy tissue, a plan forming in her mind. During most abdominal surgeries, the appendix was removed, since it served no function. She’d follow
Learning to Kill: Stories