Chapter 48
48
Emery
I expect to arrive at the hospital and be met by ambulances, cops, and chaos, but nothing appears to be out of the ordinary.
I pay for the cab and head into the ER, collaring Kacie as she walks by with a tray.
“Hey, what’s happening?” I ask. “Jess called and said there was a category 1 incident, and all doctors were being called in.”
A tiny line forms between her brows. “No one has seen Jess tonight; she was supposed to be here ages ago, as were you. Luckily, it’s been pretty steady, just a couple of falls and minor traffic collisions.”
Her eyes search my face like she’s trying to figure out whether she needs to call psych and get me a bed. “Did you say a category 1? Nope. One or both of you got your wires crossed somewhere.”
I’m not crazy—Jess really did tell me there was an emergency. She sounded so afraid, and there’s no faking that kind of thing.
But fear can be authentic even when the reason behind it is a lie.
I realize Kacie is staring at me, and I plaster a smile on my face. “Sorry. It’s been a weird day. Jess might be having trouble with her carer for Bobby.”
“She needs to call in,” Kacie says. “Debra in resourcing will lose her shit.”
I’m not listening, my mind racing with horrible possibilities. Then I remember the other thing Jess said.
“The little boy in room twelve,” I say. “Desi. Is he meant to be leaving us?”
“Tomorrow. But he’s scared to go. He’s been asking for you, and I told him you’d see him before he goes, so I’m glad you finally showed up.”
She holds up the tray. “I gotta take this morphine to a patient; he got in a fight with a table saw.”
“Yeesh. I’ll catch up with Desi, and then I’ll be back.”
Desi’s room is cool and dimly lit. He’s asleep, and I watch him for a moment, glad to see he’s peaceful.
His chart makes for interesting reading; although he’s healing well, he’s quite malnourished and struggles to eat much.
The social worker thinks the hospital environment is doing him no favors, so now that he’s physically capable of making the move, she’s signed off on a transfer to the specialist orphanage upstate.
That place used to be a wonderful facility, run by sensitive and caring people, but grants were withdrawn, and donations dwindled.
Now, it’s dilapidated and understaffed, and there are persistent but unsubstantiated rumors that kids disappear, sold into the very system they came from.
There’s a strong possibility that Desi, alone and unprotected in the world, will find himself back in the hands of criminals, a slave once more.
But there’s nowhere else for him to go.
I sit on his bed, and he opens his eyes, blinking rapidly as he comes around.
“Doc Bright,” he says, propping himself up against his pillow. “Hello.”
“Hi, Desi.” I pat a tuft of his hair that’s sticking up, and he smiles. “You okay?”
His smile wavers, and he shakes his head. “No.”
He has so few words to express himself, but I understand. Desi knows he has to leave, and he’s afraid.
He gestures at the bedside table, and I notice a Serbian-English phrasebook. The social worker must have brought it for him.
I hold it out, and he takes it with shaking hands and flicks through it.
“I need,” he begins, faltering at the unfamiliar feel of the words in his mouth, “a home.”
I frown, confused. Desi’s eyes fill with tears, and he tries again.
“Desi stay? No go big house. Desi be good.”
The last part needed no checking; he must have been practicing it. My heart breaks as the meaning becomes clear, and the pain is unbearable.
He doesn’t want to go to the orphanage. He’s asking me to find him a home.
“Oh, Desi. I don’t—I mean, I can’t?—”
The door opens, and a man’s head appears.
“Cleaner,” he says. “Just gotta wipe down the bathroom and empty the trash cans, that okay?”
I’m glad of the intrusion; I need a moment to gather my thoughts.
“Go ahead.”
The man bustles around Desi’s ensuite, and the strong, acrid scent of bleach stings my nostrils—stronger than usual, sharp enough to make my eyes water.
I hold Desi’s little hand, stroking it gently with my thumb as I try to think.
Too much is happening at once.
Where is Jess? She called me in here with a made-up emergency, and I can only think of one reason—someone made her do it, knowing I’d take the bait.
And Desi. She threw that in there, too, a last twist of the knife to make it personal, although that part was true.
This is bad . I can’t yet tell how bad, but I’m not safe here, and neither is Desi.
“‘Scuse me,” the cleaner says behind me, jolting me out of my thoughts. “Can I just?—”
His tone is different. Not polite anymore. Too casual. Alarm bubbles up inside me, but it’s too late.
He leaps on the bed and wraps an arm around my neck, choking my scream. A strong-smelling cloth is clamped over my nose and mouth, and I recognize the sweet pungency that the bleach masked.
Ether. My doctor’s brain rattles off the notes even as my consciousness fogs:
Low cost, easily obtained. High therapeutic index with minimal cardiac and respiratory depression.
My fingers claw at his wrist, nails digging in, scraping skin. It’s like trying to fight through syrup—slow, heavy, useless.
Somewhere in the hazy distance, Desi is crying and trying to fight my attacker. I see the boy fall to the ground, his head cracking against the corner of the nightstand with a sickening thud, but then he’s on his feet, his eyes desperate but fiery.
I want to tell him to run away, but I can do nothing. My limbs are sagging, my body sinking onto the bed as though gravity itself is increasing.
The man’s sneering face appears above me, his voice like an echo in a cave.
“Don’t worry, Emery. Have a sleep; things will look very different when you wake.”
Leon… I’m sorry.