Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Gray
"It wasn't Prince's fault! He's such a good horse. I shouted, but the guy must have had in earphones, because he just walked right in front of us!"
The man in the black velvet suit and top hat was pleading with a police officer. I registered the words, and even knew they were related to the heads-up Maggie had sent to my pager. But I couldn't bother with that now. I ran past them.
MAGGIE: The guy who was in twice tonight, Patrick Bocker? He's back. Run over by a horse carriage??!
Two medics stood at the entrance to the secure ER doors. The two Jims. One of them called to me. "Doc! The guy we just brought in. Third time tonight. Take care of him, okay?"
"Yeah, maybe a mental health check," said the other Jim.
I thought about asking them how Patrick was, but I would find out for myself in about ten seconds. I used my badge to get through the secure door, then hustled past the bays, looking at the charts. I found what I was looking for in bay two.
There, in the bed, lay Patrick Bocker, eyes closed, rolling in pain, while Rebecca stood next to the bed trying to take his blood pressure. "Can you just lie still for sixty seconds for me, hon?" she asked in a compassionate voice.
I hurried to the other side of the bed and put a hand on Patrick's shoulder. "Patrick?"
Patrick opened his eyes. They were filled with agony. "H-hey," he said, and his teeth chattered a little.
I couldn't stand it. I didn't believe it, first of all.
No one was this accident prone. Could Patrick be trying to land in the ER?
But that didn't make sense. He didn't seem like the type.
Plus, he wasn't coming in complaining of something vague like stomach cramps or asking for drugs.
He had broken bones. People didn't put themselves through this kind of torture on purpose.
"One-thirty-six over eighty-eight," Rebecca reported.
That was slightly elevated, but to be expected with a patient in pain.
"I heard you had a run-in with a horse carriage," I said. I had to work to keep my voice steady.
"Mostly the horse," Patrick corrected. He squeezed his eyes shut in pain. "Oh God, my foot."
"Yeah?" I moved the blanket to take a look. Patrick's right foot was still in a tennis shoe and looked normal. The left, though…. The shoe was gone, and the foot was swollen up to twice its size, red, with a deep bruise forming over the top. Just about the size of a horse's hoof.
I felt a strong urge to hit something. I took several deep breaths, trying to get my anger under control. I was aware this was not a normal reaction, but that didn't make it feel any less real.
"Looks like the horse left you a Yelp review," Rebecca quipped as she took off the blood pressure cuff, but she glanced at me worriedly. Though whether she was worried about me, Patrick, or both wasn't clear.
I pulled it together and raised Patrick's pant leg. "Any pain in the ankle or shin?"
"No."
"What about the other foot?" I gently pressed around the shoe.
"No."
"This leg?" I moved carefully up the calf.
"No. Just my left foot. Ow." The teeth chattering grew worse.
"Patrick, I know it hurts. I just need to make sure you don't have any other injuries. Did the horse or carriage hit any other part of you?"
"No."
I moved to the side of the bed and lifted Patrick's shirt to get a look at his stomach—flat, pale, and adorably freckled. I forced myself to focus on my job. "What about when you fell or were knocked aside? Tell me if it hurts, okay?" I pressed around his stomach looking for any sign of pain.
"Just my foot."
"What about your head. Did you bonk it again?"
"N-no."
I went to Patrick's shoulders and nodded at Rebecca who helped me gently ease Patrick forward so I could examine the back of his neck and head.
I carefully felt around the goose egg that had been the first thing to send Patrick to the ER.
It was slightly smaller than before, thank God. There was no new swelling, no blood.
"Any trouble with double vision? Fogginess?"
"No. I was f-fine until the horse decided to dance on my shoe."
"What about your cast? Did you bang your arm at all?"
"Don't think so. Can't feel anything but my foot."
What the hell were you even doing in the park? I wanted to shout. Because I'd seen the Uber pick up Patrick myself. But now was not the time.
Patrick attempted to joke, though his voice was still shaky. "At least I get to see you again, though. Right?" He gave a weak "Yay!"
I grimaced. "There are easier ways to get my attention than body-surfing under livestock." I backed away from Patrick, which took a surprising amount of willpower, and looked at Rebecca. "We need an X-ray on the foot stat."
"Right."
"And give him 5 milligrams of oxy."
Rebecca raised her eyebrows at that. Normally, we'd wait until after X-rays. Plus opioids were guarded like the state jewels these days. But I had no doubt the foot had broken bones, and I couldn't stand to see Patrick suffer.
"I'll be back after your X-rays. Hang in there," I told Patrick.
Then I walked out, anger burning in my chest.
"Explain to me how you didn't see a man standing there," I demanded of the carriage driver.
He looked stricken. "As I told this officer here, I saw the guy all right.
He was by a bench, off the path. I assumed he heard us coming.
But at the last second, he turned and walked right into Prince.
I guess I shoulda made sure he seen me, but I didn't think of it. Honestly, it's been a long day."
That was a half-assed excuse, and I wanted to say so. But the cop was looking at me strangely, and there was nothing to be gained by berating the carriage driver. Maybe they attributed my outburst to a doctor's protective instincts for his patient. But it wasn't that, and I knew it.
I surrendered. And without a shot fired. I cared about Patrick. It made little sense, but I did. It physically hurt to see him suffering. And I was past fighting it. Patrick needed help. And I was going to get to the bottom of this if it killed me.
"What was he doing in the park?" I asked the driver.
He looked blank. "I dunno. Walking?"
There were no answers to be had here. There were, however, answers on the X-ray.
Or at least a diagnosis. I studied the images as soon as they came in, then went back to bay two.
It had taken an hour to get the X-rays, and the wait time helped me calm down.
That, and a macho guy in bay one who had sprained his penis having overly enthusiastic sex with his girlfriend.
It was all relative. At least that wasn't my problem. Or Patrick's.
Back in bay two, Patrick appeared to be asleep, and he was alone. I lifted the blanket over the foot carefully. It looked about the same, though the bruising had deepened.
"Give it to me straight, doc," Patrick said. "Will you have to amputate?" There was a false bravado in his voice, like he wasn't entirely joking.
I looked up into those big blue eyes. "Maybe I should, if it'll keep you from getting into more trouble."
Patrick's face fell. "Sorry."
"You have two non-displaced fractures in your left foot, in the metatarsal bones.
" I put the best X-ray up on the light board and turned it on.
Patrick looked at it, chewing his lip, as I pointed out the fractures.
"The good news is, you don't need surgery.
The bad news is, you're going to be in a boot for six to eight weeks.
And you'll need to follow up with your regular doctor and orthopedics.
" I turned off the light board. "Why were you even in the park, Patrick? I thought you left in an Uber."
I hadn't meant to ask that. It just came out.
"I tried to go home. I really did, Dr. Gray Eyes. I mean, Dr. Reynolds!" He clapped a hand over his mouth and stared at me, horrified.
"It's Gray," I said quietly.
"Huh?"
"My first name. It's Gray. So you weren't that far off."
He blushed. It was the first time I'd seen it on him, and like most redheads, the blush was a deep, rosy color and adorable. Not that I was going to let that distract me now.
The curtain swished and Rebecca came in. She looked at me questioningly.
"Put an ice pack on the foot for twenty minutes. Then I'll wrap it. And order a boot, a post-op shoe, and crutches."
"Yes, doctor." She started to leave, then turned with a smile and looked at Patrick. "Oh, I almost forgot. The Jims gave me this to give to you. They found it near you at the scene and figured it was yours."
She drew a little figure from the pocket of her tunic and laid it on the bed next to Patrick. "Ice coming right up." She left the room.
Patrick flinched away from the figurine and stared at it with horror. "That's not possible," he whispered.
I frowned and leaned in closer to look. The statue was about twelve inches tall, looked old, and maybe European.
It was a Christmas figure because it wore a red fur coat and hat, but the yellow face, black horns, and hooved feet were like no Santa I'd ever seen.
It was the expression on Patrick's face, though, that really disturbed me.
"I think you'd better tell me what's going on," I said.
"You wouldn't believe me. Could you, um, put this someplace else? Like over there?" Patrick waved a hand at a visitor chair.
I picked up the little figure and put it on the counter. Then I pulled up the visitor chair and sat next to Patrick. "Talk to me."
Patrick looked at me with those beautiful orbs. His pupils were a little dilated thanks to the oxy, but his speech was fine, and he seemed alert. Also: I had to understand. "You've had three fairly serious injuries tonight, Patrick. I need to know why."
"Need?" Patrick echoed with a slight smirk, as if I were exaggerating.
"Yes need," I said sternly. "Because I need to assess if you're a danger to yourself or others. I don't want to see you hurt any more, Patrick."
Patrick's smirk faded, and I could swear his eyes got a little damp. "I'm not crazy. And I'm not a masochist. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. You can check with my work. I haven't even taken a sick day since I started there a year ago."
I considered this. It was true that Patrick's medical records were sparse and didn't reflect any similar incidents. "So what's different about today? What happened?"
Rebecca came in with the ice pack. She seemed to read the room, because she applied it quickly and left again.
I waited.
Patrick swallowed. "Okay. You won't believe it. I don't believe it. But I'll tell you. You see, it all started with secret Santa…."