“He…likes…you,” Paula said, coming out of the bundle of blankets on her bed then coughing hard enough to shake the whole thing. Her face was pale except for the red-flushed cheeks and the deep circles under her eyes. “Hi, Boss.”
“Oh, my God, Paula, you look horrible,” Brianna said rushing over to the bed.
“Feel pretty…crappy, too.” Paula covered her mouth with the part of her blanket as she coughed again, the reached for a tissue in the box near the bed to spit out whatever she’d coughed up.
“How long have you been like this?” Brianna laid her hand on her friend’s head. “You’re burning up.”
“Funny…feel…like…I’m…freezing,” Paula managed between wheezes.
“She needs to go to the hospital,” Aaron said, coming forward to examine some of the discarded tissues.
“No…hospitals,” Paula said again, this time her wracking cough was back.
Brianna gave him a questioning look. “Maybe just a clinic?”
Aaron handed Paula a clean tissue. “By the wheezing and the looks of what you’re coughing up, you probably have pneumonia.” He turned to Brianna, “Get her some shoes and her coat and we’ll take her to the Cleveland Clinic.”
“No!” Paula said, struggling to stand up, and collapsing back on the bed, her dark eyes wide with fear. “Not there.”
“Is that where your ex worked?” Brianna remembering the one conversation they’d had about the bastard who beat her. Paula had told her the ex who’d pimped her out, had a day job as an orderly at one of the local hospitals. Said that’s why she didn’t like them.
Paula nodded, shivering now that she was out of the blankets.
“Okay, we won’t take you there.” Brianna pulled a quilt off the bed and wrapped it around her friend and looked pointedly at Aaron as she said, “How about St. Vincent’s Charity hospital? Would that be okay?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me, she just needs to get treated ASAP. Pneumonia is nothing to mess with. It can kill you.”
The deep and certain way he said it and how he insisted Paula needed to be seen immediately struck Brianna as more than just a worried concern on his part. Aaron’s lost someone to pneumonia. This wasn’t the place or time to ask, so she focused on helping Paula get her shoes and jacket on. When she finished, she turned to find Aaron standing in the doorway holding a woman’s leather handbag in one hand and a leash attached to Stanley in the other.
“He…really…does…like…you. He…won’t…listen to…me,” Paula whispered as she tried to stand, then sank to her knees, with Brianna holding her.
Before Brianna could help her friend back in the bed, Aaron gently pushed her aside and scooped up the thin young woman in his arms as if she were no more than a child. “I think Stanley just knows when he’s near the alpha dog.”
Paula giggled.
“Or it could be those dog biscuits you stuffed in your pocket,” Brianna said, snagging the dog’s leash and Paula’s purse.
Again, Paula giggled, but this time she ended with coughing and wheezing, almost unable to catch her breath. Brianna exchanged a concern look with Aaron, who nodded towards the door.
Once they’d locked up and were in the car Brianna sat in the back with Stanley in her lap, while Paula sat up front where the heater could warm her as Aaron drove them west to St. Vincent’s. He parked in the lot outside the hospital, then turned to face both Brianna and Paula.
“You guys wait here,” he said and was out the door, leaving the car running.
“Your…boyfriend…is…nice,” Paula said.
“Oh, no. Aaron isn’t my…I mean, he’s a friend, but we’re not…” Brianna realized she was sputtering and acting way too defensive. She stopped to take a deep breath before explaining. “Aaron is a police detective who helped me a few years ago. Since then, well, we’ve become friends and he’s one of the few people I trust, especially when I think another friend might be in serious trouble.”
“I…get…it.” Paula’s wheezing seemed to be getting worse and she leaned back against the seat, the simple act of talking exhausting her. “He…is…nice…though.”
“Yes, he is.”
“And…handsome.”
Brianna nodded. “Yes, he’s that, too.”
“And…sexy.” Paula giggled, then quickly started coughing.
Before Brianna could answer that statement, thankfully Aaron returned with an orderly pushing a wheelchair. He opened the front passenger door, once again scooped up the non-protesting Paula and deposited her in the wheelchair, while Brianna managed to scramble out of the back with Stanley and both her and Paula’s bags.
Aaron reached for the dog leash and nodded to the orderly pushing Paula towards the ER entrance. “You go with your friend. I’ll take Stanley to take care of his business before we join you.”
Brianna paused. “Oh, I don’t think they’ll let him inside.”
“Already cleared it with the charge nurse. It’s amazing what rules people will be willing to bend when they know you’re a cop.”
She opened her mouth to ask more questions, but he stopped her, leaning past her to grab one of the bottles of water she kept in a case in her backseat. “We’ll talk about it inside. Right now, your friend needs someone with her. Given her history, this can’t be easy for her.”
He was right. Paula needed her and her questions could wait. She hurried to the hospital entrance, glancing back to see Aaron squatting down and offering the pup a drink of water from the bottle. Paula was right. Aaron was a nice man. And if she let herself think about it, he was sexy, too. Problem was, she’d been fooled once before by a handsome, sexy man and almost died.
Being friends with Aaron was one thing. Trusting him with more than that? She wasn’t ready to take the chance.
4
Once Stanley finished his outdoor business and could be trusted indoors, Aaron picked him up and carried him into the ER, past the triage nurse’s desk and straight into the private room where he’d asked them to put Paula. Brianna sat in one of the two plastic straight-back chairs against the wall. The center of the room was completely empty.
“They took her to get her chest x-rayed,” she said, looking up from the smart phone she was tapping away on as he came through the door.
He took the seat beside her and set Stanley on the floor on the other side. “Stay,” he said with one stern look at the dog, who curled up on the cool tiles, but otherwise didn’t move. He reached in his pocket and handed the dog a treat.
“Paula’s right. He likes you,” Brianna said. She didn’t smile, but he could hear it in her words.
“I told the charge nurse he’d behave. I’m just making sure he knows that, too. So how’s Paula doing?”
“They whisked her right in here and started asking questions. One of the nurses listened to her chest with a stethoscope and suddenly people were coming and going. They started an IV and drew blood. It was very cool that they could do that with only one stick.”
“How’d you feel about that?” he asked, meeting her blue-eyed gaze and seeing the shadow flit across her face.
She inhaled and slowly let the air out. “I have to confess, it was hard watching the rapid-fire chaos, even from a spectator’s perspective. It brought back some bad memories of the night they airlifted me to the hospital. I never thanked you for being with me through the trip there and those first few hours.” She reached out and squeezed his hand briefly, leaving a warm sensation coursing through him even after she slipped her hand back in her lap.
“You did thank me,” he said, hoping she’d leave it at that.
“I did? I don’t remember it. Between the pain, the surgery and those god-awful months of recovery and then testifying…” She paused and tilted her head quizzically. “When did I say thank you?”
“The night I picked you up out of that bed, all beaten, cut, bruised.” Once again anger at the men who’d treated her so badly surged through him. He tamped it down. It wouldn’t do
her or him any good now.
She blinked. “I was so out of it, so confused. I remember your arms holding me tight as you carried me out of there and to the helicopter.”
“You just kept saying, Thank you, thank you, oh God, thank you.” He swallowed before continuing. “You broke my heart as I carried you to the copter. Then you wouldn’t let go of my shirt, so they let me fly with you to the hospital.”
“Oh, I thought,” she glanced away in embarrassment, that she shouldn’t feel.
“And I was happy they did,” he said, leaning over to touch her chin and get her to look back at him. When her eyes met his, he smiled. “You were so frightened and seemed so alone. I didn’t want to leave you either.”
Her tentative smile warmed his heart. “I’m sorry I forced you to come in here. It occurred to me while I was outside that you might be uncomfortable.”
“No, you were right. Paula needed someone to be here for her. Only that initial wave of the staff doing what they needed to, bothered me. Probably because I’ve had a few non-emergency trips to the hospital for my surgeries. But to be honest, hospitals still give me the heebie-jeebies.”
“So, they’ve started blood work and hydrating her?” he asked, trying to distract her from her memories.
“And they slipped oxygen on her, putting the stretcher up high to help her breathe. That seemed to help her color. Then they did something called a sputum culture. It was kind of gross. She had to spit mucous into a cup. It was greenish-yellow.”
“Yeah, I saw that on her tissues back at her place.”
“That’s why you knew she had pneumonia.” It was more a statement than question.
“My mom had pneumonia when I was a kid. She’d hack and cough up that pea-green shit over and over. My dad was working the day she took a turn for the worse. When she became unresponsive, I called nine-one-one.” He paused, clenching his lips tight and reaching in his pocket to pull out another treat for Stanley. “But it was too late.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
Thankfully, before he could embarrass himself further with dark reminiscence of his past, the door to the room popped open and the orderly backed in pulling the stretcher with Paula sitting up on it to the vacant spot. A fortyish nurse with a kind smile followed on his heels carrying a hospital blanket.
“It’s fresh out of the warmer,” she said draping it over Paula, who sighed. Then the nurse quickly put the IV on a mobile pole and the oxygen prongs back in Paula’s nose. “My name is Lana. I’ll be taking over as your nurse, Miss Nowak. We’ll get the results from all the tests in a little bit, but the doctor wants to start you on some antibiotics. I know you were asked this when you came in, but are you sure you’re not allergic to anything?”
Paula shook her head. “Not that…I know of.”
The older woman smiled at her. “I just wanted to double check. Sometimes people remember an allergy after they’ve been here a little while. This is some ibuprofen to bring down your fever,” she said handing Paula two white tablets and a glass of water. “We’ll start the antibiotics by IV and I’ll be giving you some steroids by mouth. In a little bit the respiratory therapist will be in to give you a breathing treatment.”
“Will it…hurt?” Paula asked after taking the pills.
“No,” the nurse reassured her as she set the water glass on the bedside table. “You just breathe in this medicine and it loosens up the crud in your lungs so you can cough it up and breathe easier. You’ll be getting it every four hours around the clock.”
Panic suddenly filled Paula’s face. She ripped the oxygen from her nose and struggled to get out of the bed. “I can’t…stay here around…the clock.”
Brianna and Aaron both jumped up to help the nurse keep her in bed.
“You don’t want to do that,” Brianna said, her hand closing over Paula’s stop her from pulling her IV out. “They’ll have to stick you with more needles to put it back in.”
“I’m not…staying. I have…to find…Art.” Paula tried to move, but Aaron laid one firm hand on her shoulder, making her focus on him.
“Who’s Art?”
A whimper came from the floor. Stanley was standing next to the chair, his tail wagging as he whimpered again.
Paula coughed and must’ve realized how bad of shape she was in without the oxygen, and suddenly slumped back into the bed. “Art is…Stanley’s owner.”
At Art’s name Stanley whimpered again and this time tried to jump on the bed. Aaron picked him up and set him beside Paula, where he snuggled in beside her. The nurse gave Aaron a pinched-lipped look but he just shrugged. She put the oxygen back on Paula and checked the status of her IV before leaving the room with instructions for Paula to try and relax.
“You’re watching him for Art?” Brianna asked once they were alone again.
Paula shook her head. “He’s missing. Been…looking for…him.”
That got Aaron’s attention. “How do you know he’s missing?”
“Art’s homeless…doesn’t go…anywhere without…Stanley.”
Paula paused as the door to the room opened again. In came a bald-headed man with a salt-and-pepper Van Dyke style mustache and beard combination, dragging a machine with him. “My name’s George and I’m going to be giving you a breathing treatment.” He looked at the monitor reading out Paula’s vital signs and wrote something on his clipboard, then began working on his treatment machine. “This is Albuterol and it will help ease some of your discomfort from all your coughing. I see you have a bed companion. Service dog?” he asked with a nod to Stanley.
“No,” Paula said.
The respiratory therapist hooked up the machine and poured in the prescribed medicine to make the mist for Paula to breath in. “How’d you get him past the witchy charge nurse tonight?”
Paula nodded Aaron’s way. “Cop.”
“Ah, he a witness or something?” George said, handing the breathing apparatus to Paula.
“Something…like that.” Paula stared pointedly at Aaron before putting the mouthpiece between her lips and breathing in the medicated, humidified air.
“This will take about ten to fifteen minutes, if you want to go get some coffee or something,” George said to Brianna and Aaron.
They exchanged looks, reading each other’s minds. Given her history of domestic abuse and her fear of hospitals, neither Aaron nor Brianna were keen on leaving her alone with a stranger, even with Stanley firmly planted on the bed with her.
“Can I speak to you outside?” Aaron said to Brianna. Stanley sat up and whimpered as if he wanted to come, too. “Stanley, stay,” he said, and the pooch snuggled back down beside Paula.
Brianna followed him out the door but left it open so Paula could see them both as she breathed with the machine. “What’s up?”
“I think Paula’s telling us she’s been out looking for her friend Art, using Stanley as a sort of bloodhound on his trail.”
“I thought that, too. She told me once that when she’s not working with us, she helps out at some of the other homeless shelters and food kitchens in the area.”
“That may be how she got sick. The weather has been cold and rainy lately. Someone needs to stay with her, especially if we take Stanley with us to go look for his owner.”
“You’d do that?”
“Take Stanley?” Aaron shrugged. “He’s got his master’s scent. Makes sense to see if he can help us find him. Of course, we’ll need a description from Paula. A picture if she has one.
“No, I mean you’d go with me?”
He leaned one hip against the wall and studied her. “You’re going to go look for Art on you own anyways, right?”
A light blush filled her cheeks as she narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes, but how did you know?”
“Because he’s missing. You wanted to look for Paula because she was missing. I’ve learned things about you over the past few years, Brianna. You don’t like being told what to do. You don’t like people being missing, w
hether you know them or not, which has to do with your kidnapping. You like helping people, in fact, it’s like a mission with you. If I want to be sure you and Stanley are safe, I’m going to be going with you.” He pulled out his cell phone and punched in some numbers.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“Someone to come stay with Paula, so she won’t leave before she’s better.” When she started to ask another question the person on the other end answered. “Hey, Kirk F. Patrick. I need your help.”
5
You called Kirk F? I didn’t know you knew him,” Brianna said when Aaron pocketed his phone once more.
She’d met the young man three years ago, just after she’d been rescued by her friend Abby, her family the Edgars, and Aaron. Sure, there was a couple dozen State Highway Patrol and FBI people involved too, but to Brianna, the ones who came after her were personal. The first day she was home from the hospital, her doorbell rang.
“Who’s there?” she asked, coming to the door of her new condo. Abby’s boyfriend, Luke, had seen to it that not only did she have a new place to live, but her entire home’s security had been updated. She could see from a flat screen near the door that a tall, lanky teen with shoulder-length dreadlocks stood on her doorstep with an envelope and a flat square box in his hands.
“Castello sent me, ma’am,” the boy said.
Castello—the Deputy U.S. Marshall who was friends with Abby and the Edgars—one of her rescuers. The code word that this kid could be trusted. Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she punched in the security code, temporarily suspending the alarms, and stepped back to more than an arm’s length away. The kid might be trusted by others, but she still didn’t know him from Adam.
“I’m Kirk Patrick,” he said, stepping inside, sized her up from head to toe—more an assessment of her casted arm and her bandaged left eye from the first of her surgical repairs—then glancing around. “Nice place.”
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