After She's Gone Read Free

celebrity news media that Allie Kramer, one of Hollywood’s brightest stars, was missing and feared dead. Speculation ran rampant that she’d been kidnapped or committed suicide or been murdered, or come to some deadly fate, but it was all just gossip. No one knew where Allie Kramer was, least of all Cassie, and she felt miserable about it. Allie who had been such a sweet, sensitive child until the monster had come. Long ago, in one of the coldest winters on record, their world had been shattered and Allie had never recovered. Nor, she supposed, had she. Now her insides shivered and she twisted the blanket in her fingers.
    Cassie’s mind wandered a bit. She’s alive, she thought, before suddenly coming back to where she was. The nurse, if she had ever really been standing near Cassie’s bedside, had left, slipping quietly away on her crepe-soled shoes.
    Cassie’s skin crawled.
    That terrible little voice that taunted her at night started nagging again.
    The nurse was all in your mind, Cass. You know it. No one dresses like that anymore except in the old movies you’re addicted to. Nurse Ratched—that’s who she was. “Big Nurse” in Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest . Right. All just your imagination running wild again. It’s not the first time you’ve seen someone who wasn’t there, now, is it? Or had a blackout? It’s not as if you haven’t “lost time” or seen someone no one else has. Ever since you were kidnapped, nearly murdered, you haven’t been completely able to sort fact from fantasy or even know what you may have done.... Remember the sleepwalking incidents? Of course not. But they happened. The hospital has the security footage to prove it. You’re losing it, Cassie . . . all over again, and God only knows what you’re capable of when you’re “out.”
    “Stop it!” Cassie hissed, then glanced wildly to the door. On the other side the nurses convened at a wide desk and they might hear her talking to herself again, or worse yet, to whomever or whatever was just here.
    You idiot, no one was here. No ghost. No apparition. No nurse, for God’s sake. Pull yourself together.
    She struggled, her brain at war with her senses. But she knew this time was different from the others, the hallucinations that had landed her here in this mental ward. Didn’t she still smell the odors of cigarette smoke and perfume?
    Goose bumps crawled up Cassie’s arms and she felt a chill as cold as the waters of the Arctic. This was nuts. No way had that nurse really been here. The weird-looking woman’s “appearance” was all part and parcel of the bad dreams, the result of exhaustion and fear. She was just stressed out. That’s all. Her guilt-laden mind was playing tricks on her. Again. And if the hallucination wasn’t caused by her own neurosis, then it was probably caused by the medication they were force-feeding, the stuff that was supposed to keep her “calm” and “stable.” Cassie wasn’t going crazy. Of course not. Just because the tabloids said—
    “Miss Kramer?”
    She looked up sharply. The door had swung open and this time a nurse in pale blue scrubs, a staff member she recognized as Leslie Keller, RN, stepped into the room.
    “Are you all right?” the RN asked, glancing from Cassie to the monitors surrounding her bed, checking her vitals. Tall and willowy, with springy black curls and smooth mocha-colored skin, Nurse Keller was all business. “I heard you speaking with someone.” Nurse Keller’s gaze swept the semi-dark room. It, of course, was empty.
    “Bad dream,” Cassie said.
    “Another one?” The nurse sighed and shook her head. “While I’m here, let’s get your BP.” She was already adjusting the cuff over Cassie’s arm.
    “Has anyone called? Or asked about me?” Cassie queried.
    Nurse Keller’s plucked eyebrows shot up and she gave Cassie an are-you-kidding look. “At three in the morning?”
    “I meant earlier.”
    She shook her head, wild curls