by Denise McGee
"Nicki?" She was lying on a jumble of broken table and papers. She was breathing, thank goodness. I was sure she was gonna have one heck of a headache when she woke up, though.
I could see the delivery guy taking on the blasted front porch and yard. His eyes found me crouching over the still form of Nicki.
"Do you have a cell? I need 911," I said.
He nodded but looked spooked. I hoped he wouldn't take off on me before making the call.
I bent back over Nicki, trying to assess if she had any more injuries than the bump on her head. Her breathing had an odd gurgling sound to it and I noticed blood spreading across her shirt along her side.
I settled beside her and pulled up her shirt, moving awkwardly because of the cumbersome boot. She had a gash that was about an inch wide nestled between a couple ribs and the blood oozing from the laceration was frothy.
"Dear Lord," I breathed. Turning to the thankfully still there driver, I added. "Tell them to hurry. Her lung is punctured."
By the time the ambulance arrived, Nicki had roused herself to a semi-dazed state. She kept forgetting she was injured, making keeping her prone difficult. I'm not sure what she hit her head on, but it had done a number on her.
I was also baffled by the wound in her side. I knew it had pierced her lung by the bubbles and her shallow breathing, but I couldn't find anything in the area that could have caused the damage. I also wasn't sure of treatment. Did I put a compress on it or leave it alone and wait on the paramedics?
The pizza guy had called his boss after calling 911 - and with a half-apologetic shrug – headed for his next delivery. He took my pizza with him. Not that it mattered, I wasn't hungry anymore and Nicki wasn't in any shape to eat it.
Besides, leveraging myself back off the floor to pay for it was gonna be a whole 'nother adventure. No need to rush into anything.
Once he was gone, I started getting jumpy. I worried that the mysterious figure would return and...do what? I hadn't a clue but the anxiety knot in my stomach grew bigger and bigger until it was the size of a soccer ball by the time the EMS arrived. Nicki had grown increasingly agitated and my attempts to soothe her had become futile. I let out a shuddering breath - blinking back tears – when the ambulance door opened and an EMT emerged.
"Lemme up," she slurred as he paused on the edge of the porch, calculating its stability. "I gotta go shtop....shtop the...you know...the thing."
"It's safe," I called, wishing he'd hurry up and get Nicole some treatment.
"Shafe," Nicki said. "No no. Not shafe at all. Knife...has a knife."
Hmm. A knife would explain the foamy slit in her side. She'd been stabbed.
"What's that?" The paramedic – a young guy who looked barely out of high school – had braved the porch and heard her words. His partner was getting the gurney from the back of the ambulance.
I looked up at him and said, "She said something about a knife. And look at this." I showed him the froth coated gash on her side.
"It's narrow but it sure does look like a stab wound." He fit an oxygen mask over her face and then called to his partner. "Hey, Jan. This lady looks like she was stabbed. Can you notify the hospital that she's got an open pneumothorax and that we need police here?"
"They should be on their way," I said. He placed a white patch over the sudsy-looking laceration. It made an airtight seal. I made a mental note to work it into my next book somehow.
"She took a nasty blow to the head, too. She was unconscious when I found her and has been barely coherent since she woke up. She keeps trying to get up and she can't remember she's hurt for more than a couple minutes." I kept a close eye on what he was doing. He was way too young and I wondered why the older tech hadn't been the one working on Nicki while this kid got the stretcher.
A couple cruisers pulled up as he started examining Nicole more thoroughly, shining a penlight into her eyes and gingerly assessing the condition of her skull. His partner finally made her way to the trashed living room but instead of taking over, she deferred to him as they rolled Nicki onto a backboard.
My expression must have shown what I was thinking for he grinned up at me. "In addition to being a paramedic for the last 6 years, I'm finishing up my last year of med school. Jan's only been an EMT for what? Six months now, Jan?"
"Seven," she said, not looking up from tucking the oxygen tank close to Nicki in preparation of moving her onto the gurney.
One of the officers helped me up and we stepped outside as the EMTs wheeled Nicki to the ambulance. He wasn't wearing a uniform and was good-looking in that clean-cut cop way. Not as sexy as Aaron, but close. "I'm Sergeant Kyle Dean. Can you tell me what happened here, ma'am?"
"I don't really know. We'd ordered pizza and when the doorbell rang Nicki went to pay for it. I heard a noise and came to check on her. I thought she'd dropped the pizza and was bending over but it was some guy bending over her instead. He started to come after me but the actual pizza guy pulled in the drive and he bolted."
"Did you get a good look at him?"
"No, the lamps in there are all broken and the streetlight was at his back."
He stepped over to the waiting pair of officers and they immediately fanned out, searching the yard. The sergeant returned to me and started updating his notes. "Ok, I need the victim's name."
"Nicole Bowman," I said, barely getting the name out of my mouth before he gave a startled "What!" and deserted me to race to the ambulance. The other officers started rushing after him, half-unholstering their weapons. He waved them off.
"What set him off?" one of them asked me. I recognized him from the day of the explosion but had never gotten his name.
"It's Nicole Bowman," I answered, nodding toward the departing ambulance. I braced myself for his reaction to yet another one of the department being injured at my house. This kept up and I wouldn't be able to get a cop to come within six blocks of the place.
He merely whistled, however, and said, "No wonder Kyle reacted like that." I wondered if it was personal or professional on Sergeant Dean's part. I hoped it was personal. He seemed like a nice guy and she'd had a rough couple of years.
My new inquisitor was named Gadomski according to his nametag. He must have asked me a question but I hadn't heard him. He was repeating "Ma'am?"
"Sorry?" I shook my head to clear the cobwebs.
I saw his eyes flick to the bandage on my forehead and a twinge of concern colored his face. "Do you need a seat, ma'am? I can fetch one for you." He had a delightfully charming drawl.
I smiled my acquiescence. My ankle was aching and starting to swell. "There's a couple chairs in the kitchen that aren't broken. If you stop calling me 'ma'am' I'll let you get me one."
He grinned and made a mocking salute. He started up the steps then paused, head cocked to the side. Something about his stillness caused my earlier anxiety to repopulate my midsection. He turned back to me. "Is anyone else in the house?"
I shook my head and whisper-croaked through my suddenly dry mouth. "No one's gone in since they took Nicki out."
I watched him motion for the other officer to circle around to the back of the house. I remembered the laundry. "Do you think you're hearing the dryer? We'd stopped by so I could get some clean clothes." He was shaking his head almost before I'd finished.
"There's definitely someone rummaging around in there. In the bedrooms or that area."
"We have offices back there, too"
He nodded again and – drawing his weapon – spoke quietly into his shoulder mic. "You ready, Hausner?" I heard the affirmative answer. Gadomski admonished me to move back to the waiting patrol cars and disappeared into the house.
Sergeant Dean must have left with Nicki because he hadn't reappeared. I limped to the drive, tension coiling around my shoulders. An unnatural silence fell over the yard. I was alone, or so I hoped.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Out of the Hospital
AARON
My awakening the following morning wasn'
t nearly as pleasant as the one the previous day. For one, Laurel wasn't sleeping in the corner so the view wasn't as nice. For another, the meds that Andy had pumped me full of left a foul taste in my mouth and gave me a slight headache.
So I was already cranky when Kyle Dean walked into my room. I glared at him and said, "Bout time you got your ass in here." It was a measure of how ill-tempered I was that I verbalized the obscenity.
He held up his hands in a placatory gesture. "Whoa, man. She's gonna be ok. Don't make this my fault. No one thought there was still any danger at that house." He stopped at my blank look. "If you aren't pissed about Nicole then what's got your knickers in a twist?"
"Something's going on with Nicki? Something I should be upset about?"
"Well, yeah," he paused, looking uncertainly at the door.
"Rescue ain't coming. Spit it out."
"She was at that writer's house last night when someone broke in and attacked her. She's got a nasty bump to the head and the bastard stabbed her with some sort of stiletto or letter opener. Something real narrow anyway. It punctured her lung but she’s ok now. They kept her last night for observation but she'll be allowed to leave roughly the same time as you are." Anger colored his voice. He'd been half in love with Nicki for about a year now. He thought he hid it but the only one who didn't know was Nicole. And I wasn't so sure about that.
Writer? My eyes darted to the empty corner and back to Kyle's face. "And Laurel?" I asked. "I'm assuming she was there, too. It was her house, right? Is she ok?"
He made a dismissive gesture, his empty gaze on the view out the window. He was thinking hard about Nicki. I understood – I was in a similar emotional mess about Laurel – but my preoccupation trumped his dammit. If he didn't get over himself and give me the info I needed, I was gonna yank the rail off my bed and beat him with it.
"Kyle!" My sharp tone cut through his introspection. He stopped his distracted inspection of the dirty windowpane and grimaced.
"Sorry, Aaron. What did you say?"
"Laurel," I said, my words clipped. "She was there, right? At the house when Nicki got hurt? Is she ok?"
This time my tone and anxiety level got through to him. He gazed at me a moment and then ran a hand through his hair, looking a little sheepish.
"Aw shit, man. I'm sorry. I didn't realize... Yeah, yeah. She's fine. I guess she got a little freaked out and they had to sedate her, but other than that she's good. She's at her hotel with a couple guards."
"My Laurel's not the freaking out type. She kept it together even when we were both blown up. I can't see Nicki's attack bugging her that much.” I paused a moment. “Guards?"
He raised an eyebrow at the possessive. "It wasn't what happened to Nic that got her. It was after."
"I swear to God if you don't open your yap and start spilling I'll knock you on your ass."
"I can take ya."
"Only cuz I'm tied to a damn bed."
"What the hell, man. You never swear. If this chick is making you this crazy, maybe you need to rethink things."
"Screw you. Details. Now."
He rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable. "Well, I don't know all the nitty-gritty. I...uh...sort of lost it when Nic got hurt and I wound up going in the ambulance with her. She was confused about where she was and kept fighting the EMS until I sat with her. She settled down after that."
I nodded, impatient. "So you weren't there and something else happened?"
"Yeah. Hausner heard someone moving around in the house and he and Gadomski went in to check it out. Guy busted out a window and took off across some yards with them chasing. Some shots were fired and the bugger got away. Anyway, your Ms. Wentworth got left by herself on the front lawn. She'd worked herself into hysterics by the time Hausner got back. She was crouching down, bum leg and all, behind my squad car when he found her."
I swore. “I need to get out of here. I can't do anything from this bed!" The more I thought about someone being in her home and possibly hurting her the more resentful I was of my injuries. I wanted out of this hospital. I wanted to beat whoever was doing this to Laurel to a bloody pulp with my bare fists. I wanted to cave the bastard's face in and watch him bleed. I wanted to know for sure this dillhole would never do something like this again.
Most of all I wanted to see Laurel to reassure myself she was ok.
I was startled at the intensity of my emotions. It wasn't like me to get so fixated on someone. Especially someone I barely knew.
I took a deep breath to calm myself. It didn't work.
Kyle watched me the way you would a wild animal like he wasn't sure if I would attack...or sit down and lick my balls.
Unfortunately for him, I wasn't in a ball-licking sort of mood.
"Go find Andy and get him in here. I'm getting out of here RIGHT NOW."
"Sure thing, man. Who's Andy?" Kyle's voice was soothing.
"Dr. Reyes. And don't let him pull any bullshit like knocking me out again. I'm sick of being tied to this bed and having everything go to hell while I sit here diddling myself."
"Dude, I think that blow to the head scrambled something. It ain't like you to freak out like this. Maybe I should mention it to the doc."
I reminded myself Kyle was a friend as I took another deep breath and counted to ten.
"Shut up and go find him." I forced my tone to lack its previous bite and saw Kyle's shoulders relax. I hadn't realized how tense he'd been. It made me feel ashamed of my behavior.
"That's better. For a moment there it was like I was looking into some sort of funhouse mirror. I could see you, but I heard me."
He strolled from the room in search of my freedom.
I reached over with my good hand and tugged at the straps holding me to the bed, thinking about Kyle's words. He was right, I was sort of channeling him and I needed to regain my cool. It wasn't going to be easy with some nutcase on the loose, but I'd built my reputation on being the guy that everyone could rely on. Capable, reliable, imperturbable. That was me.
That wasn't how I'd been acting, though. Now that Kyle left, I felt even more ashamed. I wanted to wonder what was wrong with me but I knew. I was scared to death for Laurel and lashing out. Fear wasn't an emotion I normally felt. I didn't know how to handle it.
And I can't get this idiotic restraint undone!
I closed my eyes, striving for my normal calm.
It didn't come.
I reached up with my free hand and slapped myself across the face. My eyes stung as my cheek suffered through the abuse. But it seemed to work. My head stopped its circle of self-loathing and pity. I was able to focus on what needed to be done next.
I wiggled around until I was leaning over my trapped arm and – using my teeth and free hand – I worked the baffles that had so far confounded my attempts to get out of this bed.
I had just about finished the job when Kyle wandered back in followed by Andy. The doc gave me a censuring look.
"Your teeth? Really? How sanitary, Aaron. You didn't happen to spit on your stitches while you were at it, did you? Do a proper job of causing an infection."
"Relax man. It's not even damp."
He rolled his eyes but refrained from commenting on my sure-to-be bacteria-laden breath. I really could use a toothbrush, I mused absently. It'd been five days since I'd brushed them last. Being unconscious doesn't do much for your hygiene. I needed a shower badly too. I itched in places that shouldn't and I'm sure I stank to high heaven.
"Get me whatever paperwork you need me to sign so I can get out of here, Andy. I don't care what it takes. I can't stay here any longer."
"You're in luck. We're running a 'release all cops' special today. We just need one more set of x-rays and you can go."
Naturally it took longer than I wanted, but eventually, I was wheeled to the entrance. Kyle had disappeared while I was getting the x-rays taken, presumably to spring Nicki. He had promised to make arrangements for my pick up but I didn't see anyone waiting for me.
/> Wonderful.
The hospital helper monkey had ditched me as soon as she'd wheeled me to the entry. I'm sure it had nothing to do with my aroma. She just had other work to do. Hospitals are busy places, after all.
I stood up carefully, stretching muscles that were sore and stiff from enforced inactivity. I picked up the baggie of hospital crap and rummaged through it for anything personal. Just the release paperwork and a couple prescriptions were worth keeping. I removed the documents and tossed the cheap plastic bag onto the wheelchair. That used up a couple minutes. Still, no one to get me.
During the painful process of dressing myself, I'd found my broken cell. It hadn't survived the explosion. I'd loved that phone. It didn't do anything but make phone calls. No data, apps or texting. You know how hard it was to find a phone like that? I was more pissed about it being broken than I was about my arm. Funeral services would be held tomorrow.
So, without my phone, I couldn't even call someone.
Dammit. In my blasted, bloody and torn uniform, I wasn't exactly the poster boy for the public face of the department. I hadn't thought to have someone bring me something decent to wear. I'd been concentrating too hard on the leaving.
I'd just decided to say 'screw it' and head out into the street anyway when a dark van pulled up. A pair of legs climbed down out of the backseat. Well, I say a pair but I could only really see one. The other was covered in some sort of medical boot thing. The rest of the visitor was blocked by the doorframe and portico pillar but it didn't matter. It'd just be some other poor schmuck there for some treatment or other.
I stepped through the automatic doors, looking down to make sure I didn't bang my arm on the way out. Medical Boot stopped in front of me. I'd instinctively taken a step back when a light floral scent with a hint of grape kool-aid hit my nostrils. I looked up into Laurel's smiling face.
"It's good to see you upright," she said.
I smiled back, all my agitation melting as if it'd never been. Before I allowed myself to think, I leaned over and kissed her. It was meant to be a light kiss. An exploratory meeting of the lips, a quick release of some of the tension I'd been feeling all morning, an expression of my happiness at seeing her again.