Chapter Forty-Eight

 

RYAN

 

I don't know how long I've been sitting in this room, waiting for something to happen. Long enough to remember that I hate hospitals. Long enough to remember why I hate hospitals, other than that most injuries I get are from the sorts of things that you don't go to hospitals after you do them.

If you get shot robbing a place, you don't go to a hospital. Cops are all over the place looking for that sort of shit.

I don't know if they'll be in here, looking for me. I know that there's going to be trouble, sooner or later. I just don't know how bad yet, and I don't know where it's coming from.

Part of me frustratedly wonders which will show up first—a real doctor, or someone planning to have me shot or arrested. Cops will only shoot you if you resist, after all. Very different.

I haven't even seen Davis in a little while. Then again, she was asleep in the lobby when the nurse came to take me away. Let her sleep. She looked like hell. Like she was only half-way in the living world.

A nice long nap will do her a lot of good. Once she wakes up, things will hopefully turn around.

I hope to hell she gave them a false name. I reach down to try to grab my own chart, read the name off of it. It's not there. The bin, where I'd expect a chart to be, it's just empty.

How wonderfully typical. I have always hated hospitals, hated staying in them, and this only proves that I was right not to like them. Well, nothing I can do now. I'm already inside, already too deep to do anything to change my situation.

I'd like to have a gun. I know damn well that there's nobody in here checking for them. Maybe if you blocked really badly, and a security guard saw. You could get checked for them. Could even get ejected from the building.

As far as metal detectors? Nah. So someone clever just carries something small, keeps it in someplace where it won't show too bad. Small of their back, maybe. Then they walk right in.

The call with Scheck ended quite abruptly. I don't think he got the chance to hang up before the crash, which means she'll have heard it. I don't know how good she is at figuring things out from sound alone, but putting the pieces together won't be hard.

She just has to turn on the damn television and see the news. Big old crash on the I-10. It'll have coverage across Arizona. Anywhere she goes, it'll be on the news, at least every few minutes.

If I'm not there, and I'm not, then the questions start piling up, and the answers aren't hard to figure out. Not for anyone smart enough to run their own damned drug empire.

Which means that it's a matter of time before someone figures out where I am. It's only a matter of time, and I'm going to have to hope to hell that I'm out of here before that time comes. It's feeling unlikely.

I lay my head back against the starchy pillow and try to relax. One of three things has to happen. A man in a white coat walks in, Davis walks in, or trouble starts. In a god damned hospital gown, I'm in poor condition to deal with any of them.

But there's nothing I can do about that. My gun is still in the trunk of Donaldsen's car. Evidence transfer, in theory. I never used it for anything criminal, but it sure would be nice for them if I had.

What that means is that I might as well rest until something happens, because no matter what it is, I'm not going to stop it now.

I don't know how much later it is, when something finally does happen. It could have been a very long sixty seconds, or an hour, or more. I just don't know. But eventually, a doctor walks in, carrying a manila folder and flipping through papers.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Blake." I silently thank Davis for having the forethought to bother with fake names. "It says here you were in a car accident. Can you tell me about it?"

"Guy driving wasn't looking at the road. I hit my head, uh… I was holding on pretty tight to the, you know, the overhead handle? And we spun pretty bad, so… my shoulder hurts pretty bad."

He nods. He's got a look on his face like he's pretty impressed with himself, but he's putting on a solemn expression purely for my benefit. As if, the son of a bitch.

He drops the chart into the space at the foot of my bed, and then comes on over.

"Tell me if this hurts." He rubs at my elbow. Nothing much. Then he moves up a little, a little more. The minute he hits the shoulder, though—

"Ah!"

"Okay, we'll have to get an X-ray on that. Could be a strained muscle, could be a fracture. Now, look into this light for me?"

He pulls out a light. Hard to look right at it. I try my best, but…

"How are you feeling?"

"I dunno. Tired, I guess. Long day." I hadn't really thought about it.

"Can you stand up?"

I haven't tried. I tell him so.

"Alright, then. Give it a shot now. I'll be right here, I won't let you fall and hurt yourself."

I don't need his assurances of that. I'm not going to hurt myself trying to stand up.

I come up to my feet. It's a little hard to stay up. My legs still feel like jelly underneath me. As if I'm trying to stand on the deck of a ship, rather than a solid floor.

The doctor frowns. "Okay, you can lay back down."

I do as I'm told. I'm already in this mess, no reason to cause trouble now.

"Yeah, possible concussion. Hm. Okay. Well, we'll get you into an X-ray as soon as we can."

"Wait—doc, how's my brother? He came in at the same time as me, lost a lot of blood."

He blinks. I don't like it. He's hiding something, but it might just be surprise, since the next words out of his mouth were, "I'm sorry? I don't have anyone like that on my rounds. Might be we have another doctor handling him."

"Could you have a nurse check on it for me?"

"Of course. Lay down, you need your rest. We'll get you into an X-ray as soon as we can for that shoulder, and then you can get some food."

"Alright."

"Good?"

"Good."

He stands off to the side of the entrance on the way out the door. Someone else is coming in, and he's going to let them. I'm more than a little relieved to see a breathless Jada Davis at the door.

"Are you alright?"

I smile at her, and I hope to hell that I don't look half as bad as I feel. I wouldn't want to worry her.

"The doctor just came in, told me I'm as healthy as a horse."

He's not there to correct me, and that's about how I'd hoped for it to go.

She settles into one of the chairs beside the bed. She looks more worried than I think she'll admit to me, or anyone else, for that matter.

"Healthy as a horse, huh?"

"Sure."

"Good, cause you look like you got kicked by one."

"Now hey, that's not fair." I can't get the smile off my face, not even to look pouty. Something about her being there just forces the smile on. "That's got nothing to do with the way I look, I was born this way."

"Do you need me to get you anything?"

I lay my head back. "Don't you go babying me, Davis. I don't need that kind of shit."

"I talked to the nurse. Your brother's in surgery. I couldn't get anyone to give me anything more than that, but he's going to be fine. Okay?"

"When you say it like that, makes me nervous."

"Well," Davis says, letting out a long breath. "Don't be."

"You're right. How could I have been so foolish?"

For a minute, joking with Jada, I almost forget that any time now someone looking to kill me is going to come through that door and make an attempt at it.