SIX
ENTERING THE FAMILIAR doors of the ER, conspicuous in black pearls and a dress with a plunging neckline, it wasn’t the first time she’d been called in to roll up her sleeves. Passing the waiting area, she smiled at anyone familiar and got a wave or two, though most seemed perplexed.
At the front desk, Baer was arguing with Rufio, the clerk.
“I need to see ID,” Rufio said. “I’m sorry, sir—”
“I got the goddamn call five minutes ago,” Baer said, strain fraying his tone. “He’s about yay height…” He held out a hand at his side. “Light brown hair, dark eyes—”
“You gave me his name, sir,” Rufio said. “But security won’t allow me to direct anyone to a patient without confirmation they’re next of kin.”
Widening her smile, she set her forearms on the desk, holding her clutch in both hands, and pressed her elbows down to boost her height a little.
“Hey, Rufi,” she said, stretching her smile. “You’re not supposed to work nights… you prefer days.”
“Tell me about it,” Rufio said almost rolling his eyes at Baer. “Who you got in tonight? I didn’t get any flags.”
“I’m here with my friend,” she said, side nodding to Baer.
“He’s a ChilConn kid?” Rufio asked, standing to reach across the desk. “Are you sure? He didn’t say anything.”
Pulling a pink sheet from the bottom of the filing tray, he put a pen on top and slid it across the desk for her signature and initials.
“Is Dennis in?”
“Not tonight,” Rufio said. “You want me to call him?”
“No!” she said, casting her eyes off the form just long enough to see Rufio smile. “I want you to do the exact opposite of calling him.”
Rufio laughed. “Understood.”
She passed him back the form and the pen. “I’m cooking for Narmer and Justine next week… want to join us?”
“What day?”
She shrugged. “Don’t know yet… but I’ll promise not to make chili if you promise to come.”
“You’re on,” he said and picked up a file. “Exam three… You want a ride upstairs?”
“Anyone else in there?” Rufio shook his head. “Just keep it clear and we’ll be fine… We’re not waiting for a bed, are we?”
Rufio shook his head. “No, he’s not critical.”
“Is he being admitted?” she asked. “If he is, I’ll take him uptown.”
“Don’t think so… Zard will come talk to you.”
She nodded. “Anyone else in tonight?”
His smile softened. “I will check the charts.”
Turning, she offered a wave. “Thank you, Rufio.” Nodding past the scowling Baer, she tried not to make eye contact. “End of the hall along there.”
Spinning around, he stalked away, moving faster than she could with his long legs eating up the floor. There wasn’t an obvious pattern to the floorplan, but there was a door plate outside each room that declared its designation.
So it was no surprise that Baer found the room after she pointed him in the right direction. Keeping her distance, she gave him a chance to assess what was going on inside. Anyone could be in there, a wife, other kids, parents.
On coming into the hospital, she been unaware the patient was a child. Institutional knowledge could be useful. All she wanted to do was help. Hopefully Baer recognized that and didn’t think she was intruding on his life.
Getting closer, with no intention of going into the room, she stayed outside the open door, out of view.
“What were you doing over there this late?” Baer’s voice drifted from inside.
“I dunno,” came the grumbled response.
“Pres,” Baer said, softening a little. “Where’s Charlie? You’ve gotta tell me, man. Was he out there? Is he in trouble?”
“No! No, I didn’t take him. I promise… He stayed home.”
With his mother? Why wouldn’t the mother notice the second child missing? If that’s indeed what this Pres was saying. Curiosity got the better of her. As the pair continued to discuss the veracity of what was being said, she rolled her shoulder on the wall to peek around the edge of the doorframe.
The curtain was pulled part way around the rail, but she could see the boy in the bed, brown hair and dark eyes as Baer said at the front desk. Even though he was young, probably on the brink of being a teenager, she could already see he had the same coloring and features as the man standing on the other side of the bed looking down at him.
His son. Was this Baer’s son? Is this why he did what he did? To support his children? Did that mean he had a wife? Where was this boy’s mother? Were the two separated or had something happened to her? If they were still together, did she have a problem with what her husband did for a living? So many questions…
Oh, God, she’d kissed him. Guilt came quick. His poor wife. What she must endure knowing her husband was out there… And Baer, he had to share himself with other women just to support his family. What debt must they have? Why were they in this position? And just like that, she’d made up a whole narrative in her head. So much for questions.
“Whoa, ho,” the kid said all of a sudden, startling her. “Are you hitting that?”
Blinking and pushing upright, stunned, her eyes darted from the wide-eyed kid sitting in the bed, arm on a table set at his side, to Baer whipping around to glare at her. Soon as Baer registered who the kid was talking about, he smacked the boy on the back of the head.
“You show the lady respect.”
The kid ducked forward, rubbing his head as he turned a smile on her. “You’re hot… Really hot… Can’t you do better than my stupid brother?”
That revelation prompted a step deeper into the room. “Your…”
“Did you lose a bet?”
“He’s your brother?” she asked Baer.
The kid snorted out a laugh. “She think you were the old man?” His amusement waned to a frown. “How’s your girlfriend not know you don’t have kids?”
“We’re just friends,” she said, speaking so Baer didn’t need to come up with anything. Having injected herself into the scenario, it wasn’t right that he be expected to explain her presence. Edging nearer, she pointed to the chart at the end of the bed. “May I?”
“You a doctor?” the kid asked. “Wow, you’re a doctor?”
“She’s an imposter.”
The male voice in the doorway spun her around. As always, the sight of Trey Zarden brought a smile to her lips.
“An imposter you say,” she said, going over to accept his one-armed hug. “You didn’t call me.”
Prodding a finger into his chest, she jabbed at him, gritting her teeth in a grimace.
“‘Cause all you ever want to do is poach me,” Zard said. “I’ve told you, Angel. I want sex from you. Not money.”
“How unprofessional,” she joked and pointed at what he was holding. “Those the x-rays.”
He held them up for her to take. “Yep.” Slipping them from their folder, she carried them to the light box on the wall. “Just a distal torus,” he said, moving in beside her as she waited for the lights to flicker on.
“Thank God,” she said, examining the x-ray.
“Cause?”
“Fall, we think,” Zard said. “Kid’s been kind of tight-lipped…”
“Any internal damage?”
“No,” he said. “Though, I’ve gotta say, I was relieved to hear you were on this…” Leaning closer, he whispered above her ear. “No insurance.”
“He has insurance,” Baer interjected.
She hadn’t even heard him approach, but when she and Zard turned, he was standing just a couple of feet away.
“I’m sorry, sir, I…” Zard stepped away, but glanced at her. “We haven’t been introduced… I’m Presley’s doctor, Trey Zarden.”
“Baer Claymore,” he said, offering a hand, and the two men shook. “Presley’s brother.”
“As you can see, your brother has a fractured radius. It’s nothing too serious, but it will require a cast.”
“No surgery?” Baer asked. Zard shook his head. “Like I said, he has insurance; money isn’t a problem.”
Zard turned his narrow focus to her. “I thought he was one of yours.”
“If he has no insurance, he is,” she said. “Is there a problem?”
Moving back, the doctor brought both her and Baer into his circle. “It seems, uh…” Clearing his throat, she didn’t blame him for being nervous if he was going to say something Baer might not like. Baer was bigger than him and, right now, looked a hell of a lot meaner. “It’s possible the injury was sustained during a break-in. Insurance won’t cover injuries sustained during a criminal act… even for a child.”
Whipping around, Baer set his sights on the sheepish Presley. “What the hell? You were inside? Why the hell were you inside—”
“Let’s all be calm,” she said, opening her arms and moving around to stand in front of the bed, protecting Presley while focusing on Zard. “If Presley requires additional tests or scans, do everything he needs. I’ve already signed the waiver. I’m paying now no matter what happens… Have the police spoken to him?”
“On their way,” Zard said.
“Who’s the—”
“Chapman,” Zard said, doing a terrible job of hiding the laugh blocked in his throat.
Groaning, her arms dropped as she sagged. “It had to be, didn’t it? Where’s Higgs?”
“Florida, I think,” he said. “His mom had a heart attack.”
“Good one, Mom,” she muttered. “I’ll… I’ll deal with it.”
“You know, his idea of payment from you will be a lot more depraved than mine,” Zard said, his lips contorting to a smile. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’s over the humiliation.”
“He will never be over his perceived humiliation,” she said. “His ego will never be over it.”
Forgetting that it was actually her who’d been disgraced.
Zard laughed. As she considered the merits of punching him in the face, he raised a finger.
“There is one saving grace.”
“What’s that?”
“It was a Monument site.”
Hope thrust her shoulders back and her lips circled in a hiss of interest. “Really?”
Bobbing his head, Zard smiled, pleased he’d given her an out.
“Yep,” Zard said. “You going to call Truman?”
“Not a chance,” she said, taking her phone from her clutch. “Duncan.”
Duncan, her grandfather’s bodyman, coordinated more than just Truman’s schedule and security. He was discreet and could keep a secret, which was exactly what she needed. Presley had broken into a Monument site. Monument was one of her grandfather’s companies, which meant they could choose not to press criminal charges.
Her grandfather wouldn’t be bothered about a minor break in, not perpetrated by a child. If the cops called him about something like that, or showed up about it, he’d be more likely to dismantle their department than go after the kid.
Duncan would get a call. Everything was fielded through him. Few people wanted to talk to her grandfather directly. They’d rather go through the bodyman or her, if they knew her, which a lot of people did. It didn’t always pay to be approachable.