Finally, after great effort, Yuri squeezed free from Connie’s near mortal clasp. He struggled to his feet gasping for breath. He was tempted to flee but found himself rooted in place while staring down at his wife’s now prone figure. He shuddered with a wave of unearthly fear. In her half-dead state, Connie had nearly exacted her revenge.

The distant sound of an approaching siren shocked Yuri into action. He had to do something. Explaining how his battered wife had ended up prone alongside a collapsed bed might be difficult. It would have been better to have left her in the bed where she’d been originally, but getting her back was an impossibility.

Knowing he had little time, Yuri squatted down. Pulling Connie’s arms he managed to twist her around so that her head was pointing toward the bathroom. Then, after rolling her over onto her back, he again seized her by the armpits and dragged her into the bathroom. His idea was to make it look as if she’d collapsed in there, hitting her eye on any one of a number of likely fixtures.

As the sound of the ambulance got progressively louder, Yuri checked himself and Connie for any last-minute problems. All seemed to be in order. Then he rushed back into the bedroom, where he hastily straightened the sheets that had been dragged with Connie when he’d pulled her onto the floor.

Vigorous pounding on the front door sent Yuri running. Two uniformed EMTs burst into the room as soon as Yuri pulled the door open. One was a woman, the other a man. Both were carrying equipment.

“Where’s the patient?” the woman barked.

Yuri pointed. “In the bathroom through that bedroom.”

Yuri followed the technicians as they ran to the rescue. They squeezed into the bathroom and began to administer to Connie. The first thing they did was get oxygen on her face. Yuri crossed his fingers that there wasn’t going to be a miraculous resurrection.

“She’s breathing shallowly and she’s got a heartbeat,” the woman said to the man. “But her color’s poor. We’d better bag her.”

Yuri watched as the technicians forced oxygen into Connie’s lungs. Her chest rose perceptibly higher than when she’d been breathing on her own.

“No obstruction,” the man said who was compressing the breathing bag at a set interval.

“What happened here?” the woman asked Yuri, who was standing in the doorway trying to look tormented. She worked while she talked, putting EKG leads onto Connie.

“I don’t know,” Yuri said. “She’d been having a little trouble breathing this evening, but it wasn’t bad. Then I heard her fall in here. That’s how I found her.”

The woman nodded. “Does she have a history of asthma?”

“Yeah,” Yuri said. “Quite a bit.”

“How about allergies?” the woman asked.

“Those, too,” Yuri said.

“Did she complain of any chest pain?”