Page 48 of His Last Shot

Do You Need the Room?

Johnny

I burst through the emergency room doors, the harsh fluorescent lights momentarily blinding me as I spot Scott pacing the waiting room floor, his face etched with worry. “Scott!” I call out, my voice echoing through the crowd. He turns, charging toward me, his eyes wide and wild.

“Johnny.”

“Where is she? How is she? What's going on?” The questions come out in rapid succession.

“I’m still waiting. I don’t know anything.

” He heads in the direction of the hard plastic chairs, and we both sit.

The smell of sickness clings to the air of the busy ER.

The same ER I was in just a week prior when Rachel stitched me up.

Scott’s despair weighs heavy as I put my hand on his shoulder; his head is bowed low, elbows on his knees, hands clenching and twisting.

While resting at home, binge-watching yet another TV show while I’m off work for my hand, I got the call from Scott that Laura was in an accident while leaving work.

My stomach bottomed out. Not just for Scott but for Laura as well.

She’s like a sister to me. I can’t even imagine if she—I shake the possibility from my head. “Do they know what happened?”

He nods, still staring at the stained floor.

“The officer over there”—he glances to the registration desk—“said that it looks like the brakes went out in her car. Which makes zero sense. We just had it looked at last week. You know, the annual check-up I always have her get because I’m so anal about her car being safe. ”

I turn to regard the cop; his eyes, narrow slits of ice, tear into me, and a prickling sensation spreads across my skin as a chill travels down my spine.

Scott turns his whole body and looks around.

“What is taking so long?” Irritation laces his tone.

“They said that I could go back with her, but that was like an hour ago. I’m going out of my damn mind.

I just need to be with her.” With determination, he stands, but I pull him back down into the chair.

Mad Scott is the last thing that poor registration woman needs while she’s trying to do her job.

“You sit. Let me ask her. Plus, I want to talk to the cop. Did you ask about her car? Like where they took it?”

“No.” He runs his hands through his hair. “God, I can’t even think straight right now.”

On shaking legs and a stomach full of knots, I stand. “Stay here. I’ll go over and try to get some answers.”

He looks up at me, a faint, tight smile on his lips. “Thanks, man.”

“SCOTT GIVENS!” Scott bolts out of his chair as both of our heads whip around to a nurse standing in front of industrial-size doors wide open. A few groans echo out from the other patients, frustrated it’s not their name being called.

He practically runs over to her. “That’s me.”

She greets us with a warm smile. “Mr. Givens, your wife is doing fine. You can join her now, and the doctor would like to talk to you as well.” It’s almost as if ten years of stress leaves his body as he sags in relief and lets out a huge sigh. “Would you follow me?”

Scott turns to me, his eyes questioning, and I nudge my head toward the big open doors. “Go be with your wife. I’ll wait here. Come out and let me know what’s going on, though.”

With a strong grip, he pulls me into a bear hug, his hand slapping my back with a resounding thud. “Thanks, Johnny.”

“She’s okay now,” I reassure him as we break apart .

Scott and the nurse disappear through the doors as they close automatically so he can be with the love of his life.

But I have a feeling what happened to Laura has to do with mine and the stitches she gave me last week. And with how that cop is staring at me, I know I’m right.

Does he have the cops in his back pocket also?

With a pounding heart, I head in his direction, and the moment I reach him, he turns and strides down the ER hallway.

I follow.

Past chairs filled with sick patients, past the coffee and vending machines, and through another set of double doors. He turns right, nodding to a few people as we continue our descent into the hospital. We eventually stop at an office with a plaque on the door that reads CHARGE NURSE.

He knocks. A second or two passes, then the door opens. A woman who looks to be maybe in her sixties stands in front of us wearing scrubs that are too small and crocs on her feet.

“Hey, Aunt Helen,” the cop greets her as the biggest, goofiest grin spreads across her face. He’s probably her favorite nephew.

“Hi, pumpkin. Do you need the room, Jason?”

Cop man Jason nods. Aunt Helen arches up onto her tip-toes as he leans down, kissing him on the cheek. “Take your time. I’ll see you on Sunday for dinner. You bringing your famous corn casserole?”

“Of course!”

“And what about that special friend of yours?” sweet Aunt Helen asks with a wink.

“Penny will be there.”

She claps her hands together. “Yay! I can’t wait to meet her!”

Seriously! My patience is hanging on by a thread, and these two are going about their family business like it’s nothing.

And would someone please warn Penny to stay away from this guy?

With their dinner plans firmly in place, she steps around us, out into the chaos .

Jason and I walk into the typical office, dread coursing through me with each step. A messy desk, filing cabinets, a chair on wheels, a coat rack with a purse and jacket hanging off of it. It’s all here, closing in on me. Jason shuts the door and blocks it.

I’m trapped.

He turns, a slow, deliberate movement, while crossing his arms over his chest. “Dexter warned you.”

Rage shoots up my body as I step forward, invading his personal space, my eyes locking on his, the tension in the air palpable. “Was it you? Did you mess with her brakes?” Spit flies from my mouth as his hand rests on his gun. Ready.

We are nose-to-nose now, his breath ghosting against my skin. But I need to remind myself.

He’s a cop.

We are in a hospital.

Dexter is still in control.

I’m royally screwed.

Jason chuckles under his breath. “Laura was lucky. It could have been significantly worse. Dexter thought you needed another warning. I guess destroying your truck wasn’t enough.”

I hold up my bandaged hand. “We didn’t plan it!” My words are strained, strangled with fear. “I came to get care. She just so happened to be working. I didn’t even know she worked here. She was doing her job!”

It’s pretty obvious sweet Aunt Helen is indeed the charge nurse here. Her little pumpkin is a dirty cop, more than likely on Dexter’s payroll, and he uses her for information on patients and also keeps an eye on Rachel.

The whole thing makes me sick.

More than likely, Helen saw her treat me when I was a patient in the ER that day and reported back to Jason. He then told Dexter. They probably sliced the break line while Laura was working.

Laura’s fortunate.

It could have been so much worse.

The thought of Mallory and Jake losing their mom or Scott losing his wife is sending me into an internal tale spin. My dinner churns in my stomach as my sight blurs, but my reality is still front and center.

When will this end?

Jason reaches behind him, holding onto the door handle. “Dexter won’t be so kind next time. Instead of coming to see your family in the ER, you will be called to the morgue to ID them. It’s your choice.”

The door swings open, and I’m all alone in Aunt Helen’s office.

Laura could have died because I got hurt and Rachel had to do her job and stitch me up. How does this whole situation keep getting worse? But more importantly, who has to die for it to stop?

Taking a moment to steady my breathing, I return to the ER, just as Scott appears, his eyes quickly searching the waiting room for me.

“Scott!” I call out.

He turns, a determined look on his face, and heads in my direction. “I couldn’t find you. I thought you left.”

“Sorry, I went to the restroom, and then I tried to find that cop but lost him.” More lies. “How’s Laura?”

“The doctor said that she will have to be admitted for observation, but it just looks like a bad concussion with some bruised ribs and a broken collarbone from the seatbelt and airbag. She’s shaken up and worried about the kids, of course.

I’m going to stay overnight with her.” He glances at me; tears brim his eyes as the shock slowly wears off.

“Can you take Jake and Mallory for the night?”

“Of course. Whatever you need,” I reply. I nudge my head toward the double doors. “Go be with your wife. I’ll take care of the kids.”

“Okay. I’ll call in about an hour to talk to them.” I nod as he quickly turns on his heels, heading back to Laura.

Each step to the parking lot is a struggle, the weight of my sadness pressing down on me, the air hung heavy and still.

Facing a life destined to be forever without Rachel.