Witness in Death (In Death #10)(79)

"Your face is bleeding, Dallas."

"I caught some glass, that's all." She swiped at the trickle with the back of her hand, mixing her blood with Trueheart's. "When I get done with Stuart and her hot-shots -- "

She broke off, looked back down at Trueheart's young, pale face. "Jesus, Feeney. He's just a kid."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Eve burst through the emergency room doors in the wake of the gurney and fast-talking MTs. The words were like slaps, hard and ringing. Under the barrage of them she heard something about spinal injuries, internal bleeding.

When they hit the doors of an examining room, an enormous nurse, her skin a gleaming ebony against the pale blue of her tunic, blocked Eve's path.

"Step aside, sister. That's my man down in there."

"No, you step aside, sister." The nurse laid a boulder-sized hand on Eve's shoulder. "Medical personnel only beyond this point. You've got some pretty good facial lacerations there. Take Exam Four. Someone will be along to clean you up."

"I can clean myself up. That boy in there belongs to me. I'm his lieutenant."

"Well, Lieutenant, you're just going to have to let the doctors do what they do." She pulled out a memo board. "You want to help, give me his personal data."

Eve elbowed the nurse aside, moved to the observation glass, but didn't attempt to push through again. God, she hated hospitals. Hated them. All she could see was a flurry of movement, green scrubs for the doctors, blue for the nursing staff.

And Trueheart unconscious on the table under harsh lights while they worked on him.

"Lieutenant." The nurse's voice softened. "Let's help each other out here. We both want the same thing. Give me what you can on the patient."

"Trueheart. Christ, what's his first name. Peabody?"

"Troy," Peabody said from behind her. "It's Troy. He's twenty-two."

Eve simply laid her brow against the glass, shut her eyes and relayed the cause of injuries.

"We'll take care of him," the nurse told her. "Now get yourself into Four." She swung through the doors, became part of the blue and green wall.

"Peabody, find his family. Have a couple of counselors contact them."

"Yes, sir. Feeney and McNab are monitoring Stiles. He's in the next room."

More gurneys were streaming in. The injured at Grand Central were going to keep the ER busy for the rest of the night with cuts, bruises, and broken bones. "I'll inform the commander of the current status." She stepped back from the glass so that she could give her report without wavering.

When she was done, she took her position by the doors and called home.

"Roarke."

"You're bleeding."

"I -- I'm at the hospital."

"Where? Which one?"

"Roosevelt. Listen -- "

"I'm on my way."

"No, wait. I'm okay. I've got a man down. A boy," she said and nearly broke. "He's a goddamn boy. They're working on him. I need to stay until... I need to stay."

"I'm on my way," he said again.

She started to protest, then simply nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

The nurse pushed back through the doors, sent Eve one smoking look. "Why aren't you in Room Four?"

"What's Trueheart's condition?"

"They're stabilizing him. He'll be heading up to surgery shortly. Op-Six. I'll get you to a waiting area after you're treated."

"I want a full report on his condition."

"You want it, you'll get it. After you're treated."

The waiting was the worst. It gave her too much time to think, to replay, to second-guess. To spot every small misstep.

She couldn't sit. She paced, drank vile coffee, and stared out the window at the wall of the next wing.

"He's young. Healthy," Peabody said because she could no longer stand saying nothing. "That weighs on his side."

"I should've sent him home. I should've relieved him. I had no business taking a rookie on this kind of operation."

"You wanted to give him a break."

"A break?" She spun around, and her eyes were fierce, brilliant with emotion. "I put his life on the line, into a situation he wasn't prepared for. He went down. I'm responsible for that."

"The hell you are." Peabody's chin lifted mutinously. "He's a cop. When you put on the uniform, you take on the risk. He's on the job, and that means facing the potential of taking a hit in the line of duty every day. If I'd taken the left instead of the right, I'd have done exactly what Trueheart did, and I'd be in surgery. And it would seriously piss me off to know you're standing out here taking away from actions I took to do my job."

"Peabody -- " Eve broke off, shook her head, and walked back to the overburdened coffee machine.

"Well done." Roarke moved over, rubbed a hand on Peabody's shoulder. "You're a jewel, Peabody."

"It wasn't her fault. I can't stand seeing her take it on."

"If she didn't, she wouldn't be who she is."

"Yeah, I guess. I'm going to see if I can tag McNab and get an update on Stiles's condition. Maybe you can talk her into taking a walk, getting some air."