Page 119 of The Fallen Man

18

Caitlin

St. Anne’s Hospital

Caitlin opened her eyes and tried to focus. There was an annoying beeping somewhere. She finally focused on Jamal lying on a bed across the room and reading aSports Illustrated.It looked like a hospital bed. That meant she was probably in a hospital? That was probably good. She felt like she should be. What had happened? She had been getting ready for work…

Caitlin felt her heart rate pick up as the memories came flooding back. She looked around the room again.

There was a big dreadlocked guy in a chair by the door who was looking at his phone. He looked like one of Vince’s people, although she didn’t recognize him. She looked back at Jamal—he was staring at the centerfold.

If Jamal wasn’t worried, she could probably just go back to sleep. She looked back at the dreadlocked guy again. He had noticed that she was awake. He was wearing a shoulder holster and a gun. He smiled at her. She gave a weak smile and felt her heart rate dip down again. Sure. Giant dude with a gun in her room. What did it say about her life that this made her feel like everything was totally fine? She closed her eyes. She couldn’t deal with that right now.

The next time she woke up, the dreadlock guy was talking to Vince, and Jamal was bouncing up and down like an excited puppy.

“Vince,” she said, then said it again because no sound came out. “Vince.”

“Hey Katie,” he said, coming over and leaning down.

“Vince, there were some guys.”

“Yeah, we know. Don’t worry about it.”

“I may have…”

“Stabbed one of them in the neck with an ice pick? Yeah, we noticed. The cops are going to come and talk to you about it.” She gulped. “Don’t sweat it, though. It’ll be fine.”

“They wanted something of my dad’s.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Don’t sweat it.”

“It’s in the ottoman.”

“What?”

“The ottoman lifts open and it’s in there. I shoved all of his paperwork in there under a blanket so I wouldn’t have to look at it.”

“Don’t’ worry about it. I think the cops have it now.”

“There were two guys,” she said. She kind of thought that the guy she’d stabbed with the ice pick might be dead. There had been a lot of blood. But there had been another one. The one calling the shots.

“Katie, stop worrying. Jackson took care of it. Everything is fine.”

She blinked up at him in confusion.

“You get some sleep,” he said, tucking in her blanket. “We’re going to go now. I’m going to take Jamal home and Angela will be by in the morning with some real food. Don’t worry about anything. Everything’s fine.”

“OK,” she said feeling slow and stupid and tired. He couldn’t have said that Jackson took care of it. Why would Jackson take care of it?

The next time she woke up, dawn light was creeping in around the curtains and Jackson was in the second bed that had beenpreviously occupied by Jamal. He was asleep, but she could see a bandage wrapped around one hand.

She scratched at her hand with the IV in it. She felt better, but still foggy.

Jackson moved and she turned to him. He rolled to face her more directly.

“Hi,” he said. He looked tired.

“Hi,” she said.