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Mirror Me
Mirror Me
$31.95
Hardcover
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BOOK DETAILS

  • Hardcover
  • 9781892950697

Yvonne gives an overview of the book:

Hannah Danior is a young woman struggling to build a life after an unspeakable experience in her childhood. Now self-sufficient, she is nonetheless still tormented by her past... and the cruel demons of her childhood are not finished with her. At any instant and with no warning, she will inexplicably manifest the injuries of someone she’s never even met. Enduring everything from mere bruises to mortal blows, many of her wounds would kill a normal woman, but just as inexplicably, she heals-- at astonishing speed-- presumably so she can be victimized again. With her face and body disfigured by countless scars, Hannah desires only to be left alone. But fate has other ideas when a pair of detectives catch the similarity between her most recent horrific event-- where her throat is suddenly cut-- and the murder of a neighborhood woman. One demands answers she doesn't have...
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Hannah Danior is a young woman struggling to build a life after an unspeakable experience in her childhood. Now self-sufficient, she is nonetheless still tormented by her past... and the cruel demons of her childhood are not finished with her. At any instant and with no warning, she will inexplicably manifest the injuries of someone she’s never even met. Enduring everything from mere bruises to mortal blows, many of her wounds would kill a normal woman, but just as inexplicably, she heals-- at astonishing speed-- presumably so she can be victimized again.

With her face and body disfigured by countless scars, Hannah desires only to be left alone. But fate has other ideas when a pair of detectives catch the similarity between her most recent horrific event-- where her throat is suddenly cut-- and the murder of a neighborhood woman. One demands answers she doesn't have and the other, a man she doesn't recognize at all, raises instinctive alarms inside Hannah's head. When the unthinkable happens and one of the detectives falls in love with her, the search for the truth about Hannah's past and an unseen killer twists itself from the realm of the supernatural into the unforgiving streets of Chicago...

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    The trauma team at Illinois Masonic Medical Center was waiting when the Chicago Fire Department ambulance, lights flashing and siren screaming, careened into the driveway and lurched to a stop beneath the protective overhang at the entrance to the emergency room.  The men and women-- two doctors and two trauma nurses-- were experienced and capable, and no one among them had been with the group for less than a year, plus they'd gotten a heads up from the driver, so they all knew what was coming, had all the equipment ready.
    That she was alive, still, was a shock.
    "Female, early twenties, knife wound to the throat!" one of the EMTs shouted as he and his partner propelled the Gurney out of the back of the bus and into the half dozen reaching hands.  There was blood everywhere, and beneath an oxygen mask the victim's face was as white as the marble cross that hung in the chapel in another wing of Illinois Masonic.  Over the past several years, Dr. Ireta Tansey had seen that cross many times, too many, and she had also seen this young woman before.
    "Ready the suture tray," Dr. Tansey ordered.  As the patient was rushed into the ER, she paused only long enough to shoot a question back to the paramedics who stood stripping off blood-soaked gloves and looking disgusted at the mess inside their vehicle.  "ID?"
    The older one jerked his head toward a police car swinging over to the curb at street level.  "Randall's got it."
    The doctor gave a crisp nod.  "Tell him to bring it in, stat.  This girl's been here before and we can look up her records, save time on the blood type."
    He turned and headed toward the cop as she slammed back through the ER doors and followed the trail of blood into chaos.
    The trauma team had put the woman in the crash room, on the right and closest to the entrance.  Everyone was moving at once, juggling IVs, hooking up blood pressure and pulse sensors, hands changing off holding a wad of scarlet-soaked gauze in place over the gaping, happy-mouth of a wound that nearly circled her throat as tasks were switched back and forth.
    "Pulse is fifty-nine, respiration is steady, and blood pressure is holding at... one-twenty over seventy?"  Jeremy, one of the trauma nurses, scowled.  "What the-- that can't be right!"
    Before the doctor could make her way up to the examination table, everyone in the room just... stopped.  And stared.
    "Move your asses, people," Dr. Tansey snapped as she strode forward.  "Unless you want this girl to bleed to death in front of you!"
    "I don't think so, doctor," said Camila, the other nurse.  Still, at least the others were moving again, if only to step forward and peer at the ivory-skinned girl lying quietly on the table.  The other doctor, a young man named Sajag Bharat, looked back and forth from the monitors to the patient, then cautiously lifted his gloved hand from her throat.  It came away filled with sopping red gauze, but there was no fresh red pulse behind the material.  "She's stopped bleeding on her own."
    "What?"  Dr. Tansey scooted in closer and leaned over the victim.  The cut on her throat was fresh and deep, the edges separated enough to show muscle and the thin, creamier-colored layer of adipose tissue.  If it hadn't been for the steady beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor, Tansey would have thought the girl was dead-- at least that would have explained the abrupt halt of the blood flow.
    "Her name is Hannah Danior," the charge nurse called from the doorway.  Dr. Tansey glanced over and saw the older woman flipping rapidly through a bunch of cards obviously just handed to her by a policeman a few feet away.  "Here-- she's got an IM card.  I can pull up her data on the computer."  She shoved the rest of the cards back into the policeman's hands and disappeared down the hallway.
    Dr. Tansey straightened, feeling the gazes of the rest of the team.  She knew what to do next, of course, but for the first time in her career she couldn't explain what had just happened on the examination table in front of her.
    "Maybe it wasn't as deep as we thought," Jeremy suggested.  He sounded as unconvinced as she was, but at least it gave them all something to grasp, a lifeline in the midst of inexplicability.
    Dr. Tansey stared at the young woman, her eyes narrowing.  Yeah, even without the records pulled up, she remembered this patient.  It had been awhile, back in the spring perhaps, but recollections like that didn't die easily in someone trained to hang onto the most minute of details, and when she brushed the girl's hair away from her jaw line, the doctor's memory was confirmed.
    "Stitch her up," she said abruptly.  She pulled off her gloves and tossed them into the waste receptacle, then pushed back the strands of streaked blond hair that had fallen across her own forehead.  "Make sure she's stable and have her transferred... into the psych wing."

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Note from the author coming soon...

About Yvonne

Yvonne Navarro lives and works in the high desert of Southeastern Arizona, in a climate that’s supposed to be warm.  Alas, leftover cold from Chicago seems to have followed her there, at least in the winters, and global warming is screwing up the rest of the year.  Her novels...

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