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Hogan’s Heroes men. Someone named “Klink.” A stupid bad guy. And a nice black guy. And “Hogan” himself, all smirky cute.
    I switched off the TV show in my brain and concentrated on gulping bites of ice cream as I planned my next move. Dabbing at my mouth with a napkin, I met Carin’s gaze with what I hoped was a sane expression. “Can I ask you a couple of things, Carin?”
    “Sure.” Her blue eyes widened. “Anything.”
    “Did someone die in the car accident I was in?”
    Neither of us knew where this question came from, but I hid my surprise better than she did.
    Her mouth fell wide open, as if hinged at her chin. “Oh.”
    “Is that a yes?”
    She jumped to her feet. Her arm hit the dinner tray across my bed, sending stuff careening in the air. Ice cream, tissues, a brush and my carton of apple juice went flying. Carin scrambled to pick things up, apologizing.
    I kept my eyes on her. “Who was it, Carin? Who died in the accident?”
    “I’m not supposed to talk to you about that.” Carin clutched the ice cream trash against her nurse’s uniform, which had teddy bears and crescent moons patterned on it.
    “Why not?”
    “Why don’t I go get Dr. Badu?”
    I grabbed her wrist and squeezed. “Did I kill someone? Is that what’s going on here? Who did I kill?”
    Dr. Badu appeared at the door like a genie. “Carin, why don’t you clean up this stuff and leave Roxanne and me alone for a few minutes.”
    I let Carin go. I felt like I was going to vomit. And then I did. The nurse grabbed for the pink vomit catcher, and managed to get some of it in the plastic container. She wiped my mouth with a wet washcloth.
    “I hope you feel better, honey.” She hurried out, streaks of vanilla ice cream gunk and vomit across her uniform, water in her eyes.
    I felt horrible then, about everything. Especially about Carin. And the guys in Hogan’s Heroes .
    I started to chortle again, much to my own and Dr. Badu’s alarm. When I looked at her I imagined a green-tinged aura around her.
    “So, who did I kill?” I demanded.
    I was sure Dr. Badu was going to say ‘your mother,’ or ‘three orphan babies,’ or ‘a dozen nuns,’ but instead she gave me a steadying look.
    She clasped my hand. “A week ago last Saturday you were driving a car. A truck struck you head-on, from across the median. The driver was drunk. He was not injured badly. He’s in jail. Your friend, Cathy Chance, was sitting beside you in the front seat.”
    Roaring filled my head, as if I was being swallowed by the ocean. Chance. Cathy. Cathy Chance . The names pinged against my brain, but bounced off. “Where were we going?”
    Dr. Badu thought for a second. “Lunch. And a doctor’s appointment of some kind, I think your family said.”
    My head and heart pounded in unison. I lay back on the pillows. Grief stabbed in my stomach as I considered how upset, how frightened, the people who were in my room earlier must have been. Worrying about me. And this Cathy person. “Who were the people in here earlier? The women?”
    “One is your mother, Betty Haverty. The other is your grandmother, Ruth. Ruth is Betty’s mother.”
    “My mother has a different name than I do?”
    “Yes, I guess so.”
    “But my name is Ruiz?”
    “Yes. Your mother said she and your father were divorced when you were an infant.”
    “Where’s Ruiz? My father?”
    “I don’t know,” Dr. Badu replied. She watched me for a few moments. “The man who was with them is Michael Cimino. He’s your friend.”
    I frowned. “Boyfriend?”
    “I’m not sure. I think he may be an ex-boyfriend. Your mother said something to that effect.”
    “That woman is not my mother.” The words jumped out of my mouth.
    “You don’t remember her?” Dr. Badu cocked her head to the side.
    Panic returned, swelling into a bubble that enveloped me. My tongue stuck to my teeth. “No, no I don’t. The guy, Michael, is very good-looking.”
    “Yes, I’d say he is.”
    “But I