In all the confusion of visitors and trying to self assess his situation, Harry had missed something.
It had nothing to do with the case, or maybe it did, but what it meant could either be a good thing or a very, very bad one.
He was looking at a brown envelope sitting on his bedside table. It hadn’t been there before he had nodded off to sleep, and had magically, if that was the word, appeared while he was asleep.
The nurses who had come in first thing to check everything, and give him some pain killers had no idea where it came from or who had brought it, but seemed totally unconcerned about it.
Perhaps he should be equally calm about it, but a single what-if was swirling around in the back of his mind. What if it was from his kidnappers? How could they have found him? Would they finish the job?
Or was it something else.
The envelope had something thin an narrow in it, so it wasn’t just a letter, perhaps written in cut-out letters, a laborious attempt at delivering an anonymous threat.
He lay there for at least a half hour, staring at it, his mind creating scenario after scenario about what it meant, why it was there.
Perhaps there was a more simple explanation.
Perhaps if he opened it, and looked inside.
He reached up and pulled it down onto the bed. It was relatively heavy, and it felt like a mobile phone, and, when he opened the envelope, it was just that, a phone and nothing else.
He could virtually see his blood pressure rising on the monitor.
He pushed the 'on' button and the screen lit up, displaying a message, ‘press the phone key and call me’
Who was me?
It took another ten minutes before curiosity defeated wariness.
The number rang for a minute, then another before it was answered by a familiar female voice.
“You took your time.”
© Charles Heath 2016-2019