Wrecked (Josie Gray Mysteries #3)(99)
When Nick pulled up to the emergency room entrance Vie and two EMTs were ready with a stretcher. They loaded Dillon up and whisked him away as Josie followed. Once they had reached an examination room, Vie stepped in front of Josie and put a hand out to stop her.
“Stay out here, Josie. We have a job to do. We’ll take good care of him. The doctor will come get you as soon as we know something.”
Josie stood in the hallway and watched the doors swing shut. She felt her body physically pushing to follow Vie, wanting to stand guard over Dillon. She wanted to see with her own eyes that he was going to survive. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Otto smiling kindly at her.
“You did good work tonight.” He put his arms out and wrapped Josie in a hug.
“He’s going to make it, Josie. Delores has called the preacher and they’ve got the prayer chain going. Dillon’s in good hands.”
Josie nodded, wishing she had his same faith.
Otto pointed behind him toward the emergency room door. “Nick is staying in the Suburban. He’ll stand guard tonight at the hospital. If Dillon is cleared to go home tonight, he plans to take him to your house, given your new security system. He’ll follow you if Dillon is moved.”
Josie followed Otto into the waiting room and was shocked to find Mayor Steve Moss walking through the entrance. His face was unreadable. She wondered if he was here to place her into custody for crossing the border illegally. Instead, he walked up to her with his hand outstretched. He clasped her hands with both of his. “Excellent work, Chief Gray. Excellent.”
She looked in confusion at Otto, who nodded slightly.
“Chief Gray saved a life tonight,” Otto said. “And confiscated nine million dollars of drug cartel money in the process.”
“Well done.” The mayor patted her on the back again. “I just wanted to stop by and tell you in person. I’ve got an interview with WKIX at the city office first thing in the morning, but I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.” He walked out, his cowboy boots clicking across the shiny floor, the thick scent of his Polo cologne remaining behind.
She looked at Otto after the mayor left. “What the hell just happened?”
“On the drive to the hospital I texted Moss to give him the basics. Thought he should hear it from us first. No surprise he’s already turned it into a media event.”
*
An hour later the emergency room physician came out to talk with Josie. By that time, Delores had arrived to wait with them. They all stood as the doctor approached Josie.
“At first glance I have good news,” he said. “Dillon is severely dehydrated, but he’s responding well to fluids. My biggest concern is kidney failure from the water loss. We’ll keep him at least overnight. He’s receiving fluids through an IV, and I’ve ordered a full line of blood work.”
“He’s so thin,” she said. “I hadn’t expected that after just a week.”
“It’s the dehydration. Seventy-five percent of the body’s weight is from water. He’s probably lost fifteen pounds just from the lack of it. The symptoms of shock and the physical weakness are from the dehydration as well.”
“Can I stay with him? Stay in the room?” Josie asked.
“That would be fine. We can roll you in a bed if you’d like.”
“The chair’s okay. Can I talk to him yet?”
“He needs sleep, time for his body to recuperate. You can see him, but he won’t be able to talk due to the sedative.” The doctor put a hand out and gently squeezed Josie’s arm. “I’ll be back at seven tomorrow morning. By then, I’ll have a better idea what kind of care Dillon may need.”
After promises to keep Otto and Delores informed, Josie finally ushered them to the exit. Otto said he would drive her jeep to the emergency room parking lot and leave the keys with the nurse so that she could get home in the morning. Josie gave Otto and Delores hugs and they left. Josie knew they were worried about Dillon, and most likely her too, but her mind was beyond offering assurances that everything would be fine. She was too exhausted for assurances. She needed physical proof. She needed to see Dillon.
*
She entered the patient room, and closed the door behind her quietly. Dillon was lying flat on his back, his head facing up. He looked as if he hadn’t moved since they rolled him into the building. The lights were off in the room except for the soft white glow of a bedside lamp that allowed the nurses to check the IV drip and read his chart. Josie approached the bed tentatively. She hadn’t talked to anyone about her fears for Dillon: at this point she was more worried about his emotional health than his physical health. He had experienced extended trauma that most people never encountered in a lifetime. For seven days, he endured abuses that he might never be able to talk about. And if he did want to talk, she had no idea how she’d respond. She had no training or background or even understanding of PTSD. She realized, as much as she wanted him awake, she was also terrified of what she might find.
She stood by his bed for a long time, staring at his face, at his pale skin and rough beard. He’d been so meticulous with his appearance; she’d never seen more than a day’s growth of stubble on his face. His hair was dirty. She wanted to take him home, draw a steamy bath, and soak him, gently wash away the memories, if only for a moment. Then she would feed him dinner. She’d find good recipes, fix his favorite lasagna and cheesecake. She reached out her hand and laid it across his forehead, then brushed it down his cheek. She leaned farther over the bed and placed both her hands on his shoulders, then ran them slowly down his arms, and then his chest, feeling his body under the covers, reassuring herself he would be fine. He was just thin, but he was okay.