The EMTs threw questions at Harvey, and he tried to answer as they took his pulse and blood pressure.
Finally Mike came over again. “Can’t you move this guy to Maine Medical? He can’t breathe! He’s gotta have cracked ribs at the least.”
They put Harvey on a wheeled stretcher, and he almost lost consciousness, the pain was so bad. Pulling air into his lungs was excruciating.
“Eddie, ride with him,” Mike said. “I’ll go tell Jennifer.”
Sarah said, “I’ll follow you in, Eddie.”
Harvey was glad Eddie rode with him. It was reassuring to have him near his head, with his hand on Harvey’s left shoulder. Eddie’s badge hung down on a cord outside his vest, swinging as the ambulance navigated the turns and uneven pavement.
“You’re gonna be okay, Harv,” Eddie said.
“Thanks, buddy. If I’m not—”
“You will be.”
Harvey nodded, but persisted. It was too important to leave unsaid. “If I’m not, you tell Jenny—” He winced.
“That you love her?”
“No. Well, besides that. Tell her it’s true.”
“What?”
“She’ll know.” He quit trying to keep his equilibrium and closed his eyes. A sudden stab of pain jolted him. “Yow! What are we doing?”
“IV line,” said the EMT, inserting plastic tubing where the needle had penetrated the skin on the back of his right hand. “Just fluids.”
The siren was muffled, but still obnoxious. Harvey looked up and saw that Eddie had pulled the crucifix he wore on a chain from inside his shirt, and his left hand clutched it. His right hand came down on Harvey’s shoulder again.
*****
Jennifer was disappointed when Harvey called, saying he would be late. He’d been working late a lot, but this seemed different, and she couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling. She tried not to worry, but it kept gnawing at the edge of her thoughts as she changed into jeans and a sweatshirt.
She had counted on seeing him. Underlying her calm facade was the need for his reassurance that she’d done the right thing. She’d actually quit her job. Mr. Owen had begged her to reconsider, but she’d told him with a tight smile that she would not stay. She had been offered another position. She didn’t tell anyone it was in an airless office in the basement of the police station, typing and filing reports. And after the maternity leave was over, what? How would she support herself then?
Somehow she had to find the stamina she’d need to call her parents and tell them. And she’d have to compile a résumé if she hoped to get a real job later. Yes, she definitely needed a shot of confidence from Harvey.
Beth and Ruthann drove up in Beth’s car, with the babies in their car seats in the back. The trunk was full of boxes and suitcases. Rick followed in his mini-wagon, with a mattress crammed into the back. They took Ethan and Clarissa inside and started moving Beth’s things in while Rick put the bed frame together.
It was nearly seven when they sat down to eat off paper plates.
“Where’s Harvey tonight?” Rick asked.
“He was going to come, but he called me at five and said he had to stay late,” Jennifer replied. “Would you ask the blessing, Rick?”
“Sure.”
She added, “Could you also pray for Harvey? I’m just a little concerned about him and his partner tonight.”
“Oh?”
“Well, this late assignment. It could be a drug raid or something. I just don’t know.”
They bowed their heads. Rick thanked God for the food and for Beth’s new living quarters and asked him to protect Harvey and the other officers on the job. Jennifer wished she could pray herself, but hearing Rick’s petition made her feel a little better.
After they ate, Clarissa drooped on her mother’s shoulder, half asleep. Rick and Ruthann began gathering up their belongings.
“Call if you find anything I forgot, and I’ll pick it up tomorrow,” Beth said, as Rick adjusted the babies’ car seats.
“All right. You two enjoy your first night as roomies.” Ruthann handed Beth a box of microwave popcorn, then kissed her and Jennifer on the cheek and settled into the front seat.
When they had left, Beth and Jennifer cleaned up the kitchen.
“Harvey said he’d call,” Jennifer said as she wiped off the table. “We’re supposed to go up to my parents’ this weekend, but we haven’t really settled the details.
“He’ll call,” Beth assured her.
“I think I’ll get in the shower. Do you mind?”
“No, go ahead,” Beth said. “If he calls, I’ll tell you. I just need to make my bed up.”
Jennifer showered and washed her hair, then put on her terry cloth housecoat. She pulled out her hairdryer and started methodically drying her long hair. She was glad she hadn’t cut it on impulse.
A knock came on the bathroom door. She shut off the hairdryer.
“Jennifer, there’s a man here to see you.”
She looked down at her bathrobe, and thought, No way!
She opened the door a crack. “I can’t see Harvey like this. He’ll have to wait while I get changed.”
“It’s not Harvey,” Beth whispered, clearly baffled.
Jennifer returned her look blankly, then shuddered as she remembered Billy Cassidy’s unplanned visit. She stepped out into the short hallway and tiptoed to the corner and peeked around it. Mike Browning stood near the computer, looking at the Van Gogh print. Jennifer had a sinking feeling in her stomach, but she stepped into the room.
“Captain Browning?”
“Miss Wainthrop,” he smiled graciously, ignoring her wet hair and housecoat. “I’m sorry to bother you tonight, but Harvey’s had a little mishap.”
She froze where she was.
“He’ll be all right, I think, but they took him to Maine Medical,” Mike said.
Jennifer felt lightheaded. It was what she hadn’t dared to think about.
Beth was beside her, her hand on her arm. “Jennifer, sit down.” She guided Jennifer to the computer desk, and she sat down with a thump, holding her bathrobe together tightly.
She looked up at Mike. “What’s wrong with him?”
Mike’s face was lined with concern. “Well, he took a shot on his bulletproof vest. Usually not too serious. Bruises and such. No bleeding. But we sent him over to be checked out. I can take you to the hospital if you like.”
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll have to get dressed.”
She went quickly into her bedroom and dropped the housecoat on the floor. Dressing rapidly in black slacks and a red cotton pullover, she fought back the panic that badgered her. She snatched her purse off the dresser and dashed back to the living room.
“Beth, I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“It’s all right,” Beth said. “I’ll be praying.”
*****
In the car, Mike told her calmly how they had gone after the bomb makers. “We didn’t want it to end this way, but they will resist.”
Jennifer fumbled in her purse for a tissue. She realized she hadn’t taken time to do anything with her hair, and it hung, slightly damp, over her shoulders. Mike sounded as if he were slightly annoyed with the Nason brothers. How could he be so calm, when several of his men had been injured?
She felt an overwhelming urge to pray, but she couldn’t. God wouldn’t hear those who didn’t believe in him.
All at once, she knew she could. She believed God was real, whether Harvey did or not, and she didn’t have to wait any longer to speak to God. Silently, she began to beg for God to spare his life.
When she opened her eyes, they had stopped at a traffic light, and Mike was eyeing her closely. “Miss Wainthrop, you and Harvey have been going to church. Do you believe in God?”
“Yes,” she said, surprised at the conviction in her tone.
“I don’t,” he said frankly, “but my wife does. But I’ve been thinking, isn’t it strange that God lets bad things happen to good people li
ke Harvey?”
Jennifer swallowed, wondering how to respond. “There aren’t any guarantees, but God is there, even when the worst happens.”
She had talked for a long time about that very subject with Mrs. Rowland on Sunday night, after Harvey had left her at the parsonage. Jennifer could see now that God had been with her, had protected her when she encountered Billy Cassidy, and he would be with Harvey now. And no matter what happened at the hospital, God would give her the strength she needed so badly.
“Well, now, I believe in justice,” Mike said. “How come the cops don’t always win, and the crooks don’t always end up in jail? God lets some people go to heaven and sends others to hell, for no reason I can see. Doesn’t seem fair to me.”
“It’s not fair,” Jennifer agreed. “We’re all sinners. If it were fair, we’d all go to hell.”
Mike drove in silence for a minute, then nodded. “See, now, that I can understand.”
Chapter 23
At the hospital, they stripped Harvey down to his shorts and put all his things in a bag. By the time they had him down to his boxers, he was nearly unconscious from the pain in his chest and back. Then they did all the things the EMT’s had done to him, all over again.
Eddie answered the questions for him, giving them Harvey’s name, age, and address, and describing how he had been injured. Harvey just lay there and tried to hold it all together. The ER doctor came in and looked him over, and Harvey gasped a request for his own doctor, Carl Turner. The on-call doctor said he thought Dr. Turner was in the hospital, and he’d have him paged.
Twenty minutes later, Carl came breezing in.
“Harvey Larson,” he said reproachfully. “You’re due for a checkup, old man. What are you doing in here tonight?” The on-call doctor handed Carl a clipboard, and he scrutinized it for several seconds. “Okay, let me look at you.” He pulled the sheet down. “Contusions there,” he murmured, poking Harvey’s chest where it hurt. “Anything else?”
“My back.”
Carl took hold of his hip and shoulder and started to roll him onto his side. Harvey yelled as the pain stabbed him, so Carl stopped, and felt along the back of his rib cage.
“You get shot in front or behind?”
“Front,” said Eddie, “but it threw him, and he landed on a concrete parking barrier.”
Carl touched Harvey in a place that made him want to suck air in, but it hurt too much to do that, so he just flinched and tried not to move at all.
“Okay, let’s get a chest x-ray, then we’ll talk.” Carl walked out. Two technicians came in to take Harvey to the x-ray department. Eddie left him as they went past the waiting room where Sarah had stayed.
Getting positioned for the x-rays was torture. Harvey wasn’t a complainer, but he wished they had given him some ibuprofen first. When they took him back through the hall, he caught a glimpse of Mike. Jennifer was beside him, her eyes wide in her white face, her hair loose and full. He wanted badly to see her, but at the same time hated to have her see him so helpless.
Eddie brought her into the emergency room in the wake of the stretcher. One of the technicians smiled at Harvey. “Looks like your wife’s here.”
Jennifer had been crying, he could see, but she pulled out a wobbly smile as she slowly approached the bed.
“Hey, I’m not dead.” He tried to smile.
She stepped up and touched his hand, where the IV protruded. Two tears spilled over and tumbled down her cheeks. Eddie brought a stool over, and she sat.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “What happened?”
It was too hard to smile. “Feels like a mule kicked me. Guess I found out one of the duo was vincible.”
Her lips twitched. “So, you got shot.”
Eddie said, “Technically not. He took it on his vest.”
“Thank God you wore the vest,” Jennifer said fervently.
Harvey looked past her at Eddie. “You should take Sarah home.”
Eddie shook his head. “It’s okay.”
“Go!” Harvey said hoarsely.
Eddie nodded deferentially and looked at Jennifer. “He’s going to be all right. Really.” He looked at Harvey.
“Go.”
Eddie went away.
Harvey sighed and closed his eyes. Jennifer was still there, and he made the effort to open his eyes again and focus on her. Her hair was a flowing sheet of gold as she leaned toward him. She smiled tremulously, and he was able to grasp two of her fingers and give them a little squeeze.
Carl Turner came back, jaunty as ever. He had been Harvey’s doctor for ten years, since the city had contracted with the HMO. He wasn’t much older than Harvey, and they had developed a perverse sort of friendship.
“One fractured rib and a small pneumothorax,” Carl said cheerfully.
“Which is?” asked Harvey.
“The rib nicked the lung, and it’s about ten percent collapsed.”
“A collapsed lung?” Jennifer stared at Carl in dismay.
Carl looked at her, then looked again.
“Can’t be Mrs. Larson. I’d have known.” He turned to Harvey expectantly.
“Jennifer,” Harvey said. It was too painful to make a lengthy introduction.
Carl held out his hand to her. “I’m Carl Turner, Harvey’s doctor. I’m pleased to meet you. Harvey’s got part of a lung down, and a broken rib. He should be fine in a few days, but I think we’ll keep him here overnight for observation. If things are stable in the morning, I’ll release him.” He bent over Harvey. “Hurts a lot, doesn’t it?”
“Yup.”
“We’ll put some pain killer in your IV and tape your ribs up. Can’t really do much else. It’ll be okay, but you’ll be sore for a while.” He turned to Jennifer. “Maybe you’d step into the waiting room and tell the captain. We’ll be sending Harvey up to ICU on the third floor in a few minutes. You can see him up there.”
Jennifer went, and Carl set to work, doing the tape job himself.
*****
Mike Browning and a uniformed officer were in the waiting area. Mike held the plastic bag containing Harvey’s clothes and gear. He introduced Jennifer to Nate Miller. “His partner Jimmy got his leg torn up,” Mike said. “How’s Harvey doing?”
“His lung is partly collapsed, and one rib is broken.” Jennifer was unable to keep a slight quiver out of her voice.
“Sounds serious,” Mike said with a scowl.
“They’re putting him in the intensive care unit tonight, but the doctor says he can go home tomorrow. He seems to be in a lot of pain.” Jennifer glanced around. “Did Eddie and Sarah leave?”
“Yeah, Eddie said he’ll be back later and take you home.”
“I guess I’ll get going, Captain,” said Nate. “They’re keeping Jimmy a couple of days, but his wife’s up there now. I’ll come in and see him tomorrow.”
“What about Ted?” asked Mike.
“They fixed him up, and he went home.” Nate said good-night and left.
“How about a cup of coffee?” Mike asked. Jennifer didn’t really want to go farther from Harvey, but there didn’t seem to be a point in standing where they were. They walked down a hallway to the coffee shop. It was nearly deserted. Mike paid for their coffee, and they sat across from each other at a square table.
“This bomb thing is over now, Miss Wainthrop,” Mike said.
“You’re sure the men you caught were the ones who tried to kill Harvey?”
“I’m sure. They threw a similar pipe bomb out the motel window when we knocked on their door. Two of my men got hurt by that one. It makes me mad, I’ll tell you.”
“Did they say why they did it? To Harvey, I mean?”
“We hope LeRoy Nason will tell us that, if and when he regains consciousness. If he can tell us who hired him and his brother to do the job, I will be very happy.”
“So I don’t have to check under my car anymore?”
“I don’t think it’s necessary.” Mike drained his coffee cup. “
So. Are you coming to work for the P.D., Miss Wainthrop?”
“Yes, thank you, captain.” She could smile then. “I appreciate the recommendation you gave me. I think it carried a lot of weight.”
*****
Upstairs in ICU, the nurses moved Harvey into a regular hospital bed. It didn’t hurt quite so much since Carl had taped him up and the medication was beginning to take effect, but he wished they would just leave him alone and quit moving him.
One nurse bent over to check the data on his wristband against the chart. Her photo ID hung on a chain around her neck. “Sherri,” he read. The picture looked just like her: short, dark hair, lively brown eyes, glasses, and a ready smile. She was nearly his age, he guessed, but she was wearing braces.
“I’ll be taking care of you tonight,” she said, like a waitress would. She checked his IV, then she and another nurse hooked him up to a fancy monitor. They stuck six electrodes on different parts of his chest, between the bands of adhesive tape, with a special paste. The wires from them came together in a pigtail that fed into a cord that went to the monitor. Then they clipped a thing like a clothespin on the index finger of his left hand. It had a cord that went to the monitor, too. They would have put a johnny on him, but he protested violently. Carl came in, told the nurses to leave him alone, and checked the monitor himself.
“I can’t sleep with all this stuff on me.” Harvey was finding it easier to talk, and he was feeling grouchy.
“Sure you can.” Carl scrutinized the monitor and made a note on his clipboard.
“What are we looking at?” Harvey asked.
Carl touched the monitor screen with its three lines of data. “This is your heart rate.” He pointed to the top row, where it said 74 on the right. “The middle one is respiration rate. Twenty-six is a little high, but your pneumothorax accounts for that. The bottom one is blood oxygen. That’s what the finger clip measures. Ninety-five and fluctuating. That’s not so good, hence your presence in ICU. This thing will automatically take your blood pressure every half hour, so the nurses don’t have to bother you too much. They’ve got a screen out at the desk that gives them all of this information, but they’ll pop in on you once in a while to check your condition.”
The Priority Unit (Maine Justice Book 1) Page 27