At her door, Nick pulled her into an embrace, tilting her chin up. “Tonight was perfect. I’ll see you soon?”
“It was perfect, and yes—soon.” She stood on her toes and kissed him before pulling away. “Hey, I forgot to thank you.”
“For what?” he asked, his eyes crinkling in curiosity.
“Last night. You were outside my apartment in your cruiser. Made me feel safe. Thanks.” She planted a quick peck on his cheeks. “I hate to end this night, but I’ve got to get some sleep. See you soon?”
He nodded. “Go on in,” he said. “I’ll wait until you lock up before I leave.”
And if she were the type of woman who swooned, she would have. “Goodnight,” she whispered.
Chapter Nineteen
The following morning, Jessie was greeted like a long-lost friend. “Welcome back! We missed you!” echoed in the still-quiet halls. The flurry of walk-in activity wouldn’t likely start until at least nine. Their usual patients—“clients” they were supposed to be called—were still asleep. It would be a while before they woke and decided that their aches and pains, however chronic, needed immediate attention in the ER. The ambulance entrance, on the other hand, was always busy. Heart attacks, gunshots, stab wounds, car accidents—none of them kept to any identifiable schedule, and that was likely the attraction of working in the ER. You just never knew. Quiet as a morgue one minute, and overwhelmed with trauma patients the next.
“Morning, Jess,” Donna greeted her. “Do you mind doing charge for both day and evenings? I have to get the next schedule done.”
“No problem. I’ll wash the floors too if you need that. I’m just so glad to be back.”
The crackle of the C-med radio interrupted their conversation, the whir of static filling the air. “C-Med to Boston City. Over.”
Jessie picked up the line remembering the last time she’d done this; it had been to get notification of the Harts’ imminent arrival. This morning, it was just a test. Jessie confirmed that the transmission was clear and hung up. She made out the day’s assignments and added herself to the trauma team. There weren’t enough nurses to fully staff the place. They’d just have to do the best they could, which was what Administration always reminded them. Today, she had no complaints about poor staffing as long as she was here, right where she belonged.
The first trauma of the day arrived shortly after Jessie did—a forty-year-old driver who’d had his left arm hanging out the door when a truck veered too close and crashed into him, severing his arm in the process. The patient arrived with his arm laid gently on top of the sheet that covered him. Luckily, he was in shock and didn’t seem to notice.
The team moved quickly—IVs were inserted, X-ray was called, Vascular Surgery and Reconstructive Surgery were paged stat. Labs were drawn. Jessie ran the hemoglobin test herself. “It’s nine,” she said. “But I’ll still order five units. Okay?” No one answered. Everyone was busy taking care of their own assigned tasks. A technician was doing an EKG, the other nurse was drawing up sedatives, and pushing them gently into the patient’s IV lines while the surgeon intubated the patent. Respiratory appeared just in time and began to bag the patient. The social worker pulled out the man’s ID. “I’ll try to reach his family,” she said hurrying from the room.
Thirty minutes after the patient’s arrival, Cheryl, the reception clerk, poked her head into the room. “OR’s ready,” she called. “Jess, welcome back and when you have a minute, come to see me, will ya?” Jessie nodded and turned back to the tasks at hand: packing the patient, his IV drips and pumps, his monitors and his belongings, for the trip to the OR. And when he was gone, and the team had scattered, she restocked the room, and paused by the intercom.
“Housekeeping to Trauma One,” she said smiling. They were suddenly the sweetest words of her day. It really was another day in paradise. The pace of the ER picked up quickly. Walk-ins crowded the waiting room and ambulances filled the ambulance bay, jockeying to slide in as one pulled out. She spent most of her morning in one or another of the trauma rooms helping to manage a heart attack, a stroke, and a stabbing victim whose injuries turned out to be so minor, he was discharged home after a few quick sutures.
Suddenly, it was two p.m., the day shift almost over. Jessie had been able to ignore the grumblings of hunger in her stomach as the day wore on, but they’d grown exponentially and now, she knew she had to eat. “Cheryl,” she called as she passed by the reception desk. “I’m just running to the cafeteria for some food. Want anything?”
“Nothing for me, but don’t forget—I want to see you.”
“Oh, no. I did forget. Sorry. I’m here now. Can you tell me what it is?”
“It’s that reporter who was bothering you.”
Jessie’s hunger pains were suddenly replaced by a swell of anger that threatened to burst from within. “What about him?” she snapped.
Cheryl’s eyelids fluttered as she stepped back. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft.
Jessie reached out a soothing hand and gripped her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just… never mind. When was he here?”
“A couple of days ago. It was your last day in the ICU, I think.”
And she remembered the text he’d sent that afternoon. I need to speak with you. Please call me at this number. It’s IMPORTANT! Bert. “You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”
Cheryl shook her head. “No. I just said you weren’t here. I didn’t know who he was until Donna saw him leaving and asked what he wanted. She told me then that he was the one who’d been bothering you. I’m sorry, Jess.”
“That’s okay. No harm. Just let me know if he shows up again.”
“There’s something else. I haven’t told anyone, but I think I have to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“He came here the morning after that shooting. Said he was with the mayor’s office. He looked the part—overcoat, suit, official. You know what I mean?”
“I do. That’s his scam. Pretend he’s someone else to get a story.”
“Well, I believed him. I sent him up to the ICU.”
“Oh, hell,” Jessie muttered. Cheryl seemed to wither at her words. “Sorry. Don’t worry, and don’t say a thing to anybody. He probably never got in to see Hart. No harm done.”
Cheryl forced a weak smile. “Sorry, Jess.”
“Cheryl, he’s the problem, not you. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back shortly. Okay?”
Jessie had lost her appetite but knew she’d need something to eat to get through the rest of her double shift. She took the stairs to the second floor and arrived at the cafeteria just as they were closing. “Please,” she begged. “I just need a sandwich. I’ll be quick.” The lady waved her through and offered her the last of the lunch selections—a roast beef sandwich with chips. “You, my friend, are an angel,” Jessie called as she headed back to the ER.
She inhaled the sandwich while she clicked onto the internet and searched for a photo of Bert. It didn’t take long before she recognized him—his beady eyes, balding pate and crooked teeth filled her view. She hit print. She’d run up to the ICU later to ask if they’d seen him.
C-Med sputtered to life once more, reporting the imminent of arrival of a gunshot victim, the wound in his buttocks. Jessie met the ambulance in the bay and directed them into Trauma One for a quick assessment by the surgeon. The superficial wound was nowhere near life-threatening, but as a precaution, they X-rayed him, started a line for antibiotics and sent labs, all while their patient, a fifteen-year-old covered with gang tattoos, cried for his mother.
An hour later, C-Med buzzed once more, this time reporting that a sixteen-year-old male with a gunshot wound to his thigh was en route. “It’s non-stop. The gang of midgets is back,” the surgeon muttered.
Jessie laughed. “Seems like it.” She wondered if the gang unit would be in—those undercover cops dressed in tight jeans and leather jackets, their silver shields hanging from chains aroun
d their necks. The very sight of them made every nurse stop what she was doing for a look. It seemed that model good looks were a requirement for the job, not to mention a sense of humor.
It was the cops who’d dubbed the shooters and their victims “the gang of midgets.” They were nuisance shootings, the wounds never serious just an inconvenience and a likely badge of honor for the victims, but a nuisance for the ER staff and police who had to deal with them. The shootings, the police said, were likely part of gang initiation and subsequent retaliations—a vicious cycle that, once started, would go on for months until the bitter cold of Winter would put an end to it. In the Spring and Summer, the shootings might start again, but you never knew. This could be the waning days of the gang of midgets. At least she could hope, Jessie thought.
It was seven p.m. before Jessie had a chance to catch her breath. Walk-ins and even the ambulances slowed down. Tomorrow was Thanksgiving, and everyone was out shopping or at home cooking, preparing for families to celebrate. For Jessie, it was just another holiday to get through. By Friday, the Christmas spirit—decorations, shopping—would be underway and she’d have to somehow manage to navigate the whole month of family holidays—late November through late December, which might have been pretty simple except for friends and co-workers who were eager to include her in their plans.
“We’d love to have you,” Donna said every year. “I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I won’t be alone, I’ll be working and then seeing friends.” Jessie repeated the same lie every year, knowing full well that she chose to be alone rather than with strangers. Someday, she’d have her own family.
In the meantime, she had things to do. The calm that had settled over the ER allowed Jessie a quick respite, and with her pager on, she took the elevator to five to see if anyone there had seen Bert. The police guard was gone, the entry quiet as Jessie slid her ID over the sensor and walked into the unit. Ellen sat at desk typing into a computer. She turned at the sound of the door. “Hey, Jessie. Are you coming to give me a heads-up on a new patient?”
“Not this time. But I’m glad you’re here. I want to ask you something.”
“About where your favorite patient is?” Ellen laughed and nodded toward the room across from the desk, Rob Hart’s room.
Jessie’s gaze followed Ellen’s. The room was empty, the monitors quiet, the lights off, the bed ready for another patient. A wide smile broke onto her lips. “When?” she whispered. “And how?”
“Yesterday. Administration said his insurance wouldn’t cover his stay any longer, and the hospital couldn’t afford to keep him. And that was that. He did ask me to tell you how much he appreciated you. He actually asked for your number. Said he wanted to tell you himself.”
“You didn’t…?”
“No, but don’t be surprised if he shows up in the ER, or calls looking for you.”
“Oh, God, that’s all I need. Another stalker.”
“Another stalker?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m just being dramatic, but I do want to ask if you’ve seen someone.”
“Who?”
Jessie pulled the photo from her pocket, smoothed the folds and passed it to Ellen. Have you ever seen him? Maybe visiting Hart?”
Ellen peered at the image of Bert and bobbed her head up and down. “Yeah. He came in the morning after the shooting. Said he was with the mayor’s office. He spoke to Hart. Why are you interested?”
“He’s not with the mayor’s office. He’s a reporter. His article is the one that got me into trouble.”
“Jessie, I’m sorry. I’m the one who let him in. He seemed legit. Hart even asked what the direct number to his room was so this guy could call him.”
She clenched her jaw. “That son of a bitch,” she muttered. “He had a hand in planting those stories, and stupid Bert went along.” She folded the photo again and jammed it into her pocket.
“Huh?” Ellen asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Never mind, but thanks, Ellen. I’ve got to get back to the ER. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“Hey,” Ellen called as Jessie pushed open the door. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
She felt a thickness rise up in her throat. “You, too,” she said softly. “You, too.”
When she got back to the ER, she texted Sam.
I have some information about Hart. Call when you get a chance.
By the time Thanksgiving morning dawned, Sam had yet to reply. Maybe he’s away for the holiday. Seems everyone is, she thought, her fingers tapping the steering wheel as she drove towards the hospital. The streets were deadly quiet, and except for true emergencies, she expected the ER would be too. And she was right. A handful of walk-ins arrived, all with minor complaints. The regulars were at the shelters or drop-in centers where politicians and local celebrities would serve them dinner early enough so they’d make the evening news.
Jessie knew that her distrust of just about everyone’s motives was a problem. Once she’d lost her dad, and without a mother to comfort her, she’d found herself resentful of everyone else’s happy families. She’d developed a great big chip on her shoulder. She might have already found someone to share her own life with, but instead of being open and loving, she inevitably pushed the good men away and pined for the impossibly bad, bad boys. She was probably doing that again with Nick and Sam. She knew that Nick was the best man for her. He just might be the one to help her knock that chip off. She smiled at the thought. It was definitely Nick she wanted.
As if he’d known what she was thinking, Nick showed up, in uniform, at seven p.m. with a homemade turkey dinner in hand. When he peeled back the foil, the steam and scent spiraling into the air made her stomach grumble.
“Thank you,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I was just going to make a cafeteria run. You have perfect timing.”
“You’re not so bad yourself. What are you doing after work?”
“Are you kidding? After two doubles, I’m going home to bed.”
“Want some company?” he asked, the penetrating blue of his eyes holding her tight in his vision.
When he stroked her face and tucked a stray curl behind her ear, she felt weak in the knees. She needed this. She needed him. “Yes,” she whispered. “Bring wine.”
Jessie arrived home with time—or so she thought—to spare. She stepped into a hot shower, the steam rising in a smoky mist around her. She scrubbed away the melancholy that had so enveloped her earlier, stepped from the shower and lathered a scented cream over her skin. With a towel draped around her, she stood in front of her pencil-box-sized closet to decide what to wear.
And then she heard it. Someone was jiggling her doorknob.
Chapter Twenty
Jessie froze, every muscle in her body tensing up, her heart slamming hard against her chest. She slipped her arms into her bathrobe and crept softly toward the door. She could see the knob moving back and forth. “Who’s there?” she shouted, reaching for her phone, her finger hovering over the emergency call tab.
“Jess, it’s me,” Nick answered.
She slumped against the door before pulling it open. “You never heard of knocking?” she snarled.
“Hey,” he said softly, ignoring her anger. “Are you okay?”
“I thought someone was breaking in. You scared me.”
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry.” He ran his fingers through her wet hair, working out the tangles. “I did knock, and when you didn’t answer, I tried the door handle to see if you’d left the door open for me.”
She began to laugh, almost giddy with relief. “I’m just glad you’re here.” She nestled herself into his arms, the steady thump-thump of his heart soothing her. “Hey,” she pushed herself back. “I didn’t get to greet you the way I hoped.”
“Well, that was pretty close,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. “But do you want me to go out and knock again?”
“No,” she laughed, standing apart from him, her eyes wandering over h
is body. “I wanted to say—is that a gun in your pocket or are you happy to see me?” She doubled over with laughter. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
“I’ve always wanted to hear it, and the answer is—both.” He pulled her back into his arms, his lips grazing the top of her head. Jessie stumbled and then toppled onto the couch, Nick falling on top of her. He pulled himself up on his elbows. “Well, this happened even faster than I’d hoped.”
She pushed him away, and sat up. “Not yet. Let’s have some wine, listen to music, maybe dance?”
“You’re on,” he said, reaching for the wine. “I’ll get this opened and I’ll find some music.”
He kissed her once more before heading to the kitchen. Jessie slipped into her bathroom where she pulled on sweats, wound her hair into a loose braid, pinched her cheeks for color and joined him back in the living room where he was fiddling with her old iPod.
“Try this,” Jessie said, opening her phone and choosing a playlist she’d created on those nights she needed to decompress after work. As the first strains of the Righteous Brothers’ “Unchained Melody” began, Jessie sighed contentedly. They sat back, sipped the wine and before long, they were locked in an embrace, Nick’s lips searching for hers. He pulled her up and held her close as they danced slowly, their shadows close, their bodies closer. Jessie’s heart began to race once more, her skin growing hot. She tugged at her sweatshirt, at the sudden heaviness of it. He slipped his fingers under the fabric and played with her breasts before bringing his mouth to them, her hand cupping his head. Jessie arched her back to him before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom.
They hurriedly pulled at each other’s clothing before sharing a slow, deep kiss that Jessie knew she’d remember for the rest of her life. His hands gripped her buttocks as they fell onto the bed, his fingers and then his tongue sliding from her lips to her neck and then to her nipples where he lingered, his touch teasing, light as air. “Oh, Jessie,” he moaned. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you,” he whispered, his breath hot on her skin.
Dead Girl Walking: Absolutely addictive mystery and suspense (Jessie Novak Book 1) Page 12