Slander Me Tender: Gaslight My Life

By Preston and Reed

Lucas Bowen’s wife is missing. She is not in the hospital where she was supposed to be for her life saving surgery. And all she can remember is waking up in the hospital. But the wrong hospital! How her surgery was cancelled will confound and madden them as they uncover the twisted tale of lies and gossip that led to her coma and her rescue by Luke’s call to the sheriff.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798369417713

Book preview

SLANDER ME

TENDER

Gaslight My Life

PRESTON AND REED

Copyright © 2024 by Preston And Reed.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 03/06/2024

Xlibris

844-714-8691

www.Xlibris.com

807672

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

PROLOGUE

Rebecca woke up in a hospital bed surrounding by beeping machines.

Her first instinct was to sit up and look around. But she found that her stomach muscles weren’t working. In fact it hurt just thinking about sitting up.

So she laid there and looked at the ceiling.

The room was somewhat dark.

At least there weren’t bright lights shining in her face.

But she honestly did not know what was going on. All of this exhausted Rebecca and she dropped back into the sleep of the dead.

The next time she woke up out of a dream and remembered it clearly. She had been traveling down a tube. Darkness surrounded her. But the light down there somewhere beckoned her. Comfort and warmth abound. Peace from the stress and confusion. Follow me, follow me.

Then she heard another voice. It was cold like stone. Like something back behind her. She turned around and saw a face looking at her. Its lips were moving. Rebecca? Are you awake? I’m here for you.

Rebecca? Are you awake?

Rebecca’s eyelids fluttered like moths on a hot lamp. She could see shadows. She could see a person over her. She grimaced, but more from pain than from recognition.

Rebecca grunted and moved her head and groaned. And the figure over her said more things. It didn’t make any sense. The pain everywhere was too much. And she dropped back into the sleep of the dead once again.

ONE

S ir, You cant be in here anymore!" said the nurse as she bustled into the room. The lights were down, and I was just laying watch.

My wife is laying in the bed in front of me.

I was struggling with the unreality of it. She had been surfacing for moments then getting a shocked look on her face then sinking back into unconsciousness.

Visiting hours are over, sir. You’re going to have to leave, the nurse said again.

But, my wife? What is going on here?

"What do you mean going on? You called us, remember? she said putting her empty hand on her hip. The other hand held a chart of some kind on a clip board. She motioned with her hand, and said, Let’s go out to the front desk and talk."

I hoisted myself up off the deep visitor chair in my wife’s hospital room and followed the nurse out to the front desk. Down antiseptic halls lined with quiet semi-dark rooms. A few moans from their occupants. I glanced at my watch. 2100. Or 9 PM normal human time. I’d served in the coast guard and my whole family had served in various military branches most of our lives and we never got off military time.

My mind snaps back to reality of the hospital when nurse Ratchet says to me, Sir! She shoved the clip board over toward me. We need to have you sign this.

I picked it up and tried to read it with blurry tired eyes. Do Not... a long word beginning with the letter R.

A resuscitation order. We need to have you sign it, she said with a hard practical edge to her voice.

No, I’m not signing that, and I shoved it back at her. What is going on with my wife? I said a little too loudly.

Don’t you know? You’re the one who brought her in!

What are you even talking about?

I’d been away for a work meeting for a couple days and had expected a call from her doctor. And when it hadn’t come that day, I worried, but had to sleep. The next morning, still no call. No note at the front desk of my hotel, no message on my cell, then I panicked. She told me never to do it but I had to. Out of town, no one there, no sense panicking her family if what I suspected had happened actually had happened, so I called the sheriff local to our little ranch and had them do a welfare check on my wife. They called me later and told me she was in the hospital.

I had felt relieved. She was in the hospital. Like she was supposed to be in the first place.

But the doctor had never called and that registered as strange in my mind.

So I called the hospital but she wasn’t there where she was supposed to be. I hadn’t asked then which hospital, so I started calling all the local hospitals in the area, finally hitting on the one she was at after an hour.

I’d given them my name and her name, and they asked, So, who are you?

I’d said, Her husband.

But your name’s wrong.

My wife had kept her name because she is a little famous for her artwork, and she didn’t want to change it. We joked maybe I would change mine to hers. It was funny at the time, but a source of endless grief anytime we tried to do anything official. Always questions and doubt.

I assure you I am her husband, I said trying to keep the irritated edge out of my voice. If you’d like, I will bring a copy of our marriage certificate for you to have, which