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She shook her head and immediately wondered how the movement could spread more pain. “I want to stay awake. The shooter.”
“I heard the shots—two shots. He ran out, fired at me. Missed. I returned fire and winged him. Got his plate number, the make and model of the beater he jumped into, but I couldn’t pursue. You were on the floor, bleeding.”
“Something off—counterman terrified. I had my hand on my weapon, but he swung around, fired. Twice?”
“Twice.”
“I didn’t even draw my weapon.”
“Yeah, you did, sis. It was in your hand when I got to you. I called for an ambulance and relayed the plates, vehicle, and suspect description. They had him by the time they were loading you in the ambulance.
“Push the button and I’ll tell you the rest.”
She pushed it, and the pain backed off a few inches.
“Okay, responders spotted the car, driving erratically, and no shit, since I caught him just under the armpit. He lost control of the beater, sideswiped a tree—beater lost that battle. And the dumb shit came out firing. DOS.”
“Anyone else hurt?”
“No.”
“The civilian, counter guy.”
“He’s fine. He was shaken up, may have pissed his pants. But he grabbed a T-shirt from the rack so I could use it to put pressure on the chest wound.”
“He shot twice. It’s not real clear, but…” Confused, she lifted a hand to the right side of her forehead, felt the bandage.
“Yeah, no penetration. You got about ten stitches on that one.”
Head shot, she thought. The sting of a thousand angry wasps. “Could’ve been worse.”
“Could’ve been.”
“Mom, Dad, Drea. They were here, right?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s blurry.”
“They said that would happen for a while. Don’t worry about it. They were here the whole time. I talked them into going home, seeing as they came with the clothes on their backs and not much else. They’ll be back in the morning.”
“When can I get out of here? Shouldn’t I talk to the doctor?”
“You did talk to the doctor.”
“When?”
“This afternoon. You’ve been in and out. They’ve run a bunch of tests, and you’re doing pretty good. They’re probably going to get you up tomorrow, get you to walk a little.”
“When can I get out?” She wanted to whine, and came very close. “It smells like sick people in here.”
As she’d said exactly that the last time she’d surfaced, he just smiled. “You are a sick person, sis. They’ve gotta monitor for infection and shit like that. And they’ve got to get you up and around a little. Look, the bullet clipped the—give me a second.”
He closed his eyes. “Manubrium. Yeah, that, and a rib. So they picked bone fragments out. You got a busted rib and a hole in your chest. Not to mention the gash in your hard head. So sit back and relax. It’s going to be a few days.”
“I really want to talk to the doctor. Can you just get the doctor?”
“Sloan, it’s past two in the morning. Give the guy a break.”