Lost in the Wind

by Calle J. Brookes

  He helped her into his car. Nikkie Jean wanted to protest. This wasn’t right. Something wasn’t right. She was in the front seat of his car. He was next to her.

  She shouldn’t be in Wallace Henedy’s car.

  The hospital was right behind him. She shouldn’t be in his car. Fear for her baby flashed like lightning through her.

  Nikkie Jean’s hand tightened on the door handle.

  She shouldn’t be in anyone’s car.

  Especially now.

  She pulled in as deep a breath as she could and pawed at the handle.

  There was a stop sign up ahead. They were eight blocks from the hospital now, two blocks past city hall. If she couldn’t make it to the hospital, Annie was at city hall. Annie and the mayor. Annie would help her. The mayor would.

  She had to get to Annie. She had to.

  72

  WALLACE COULDN’T BELIEVE IT. He stared at her as she stumbled down the sidewalk, almost falling into traffic at one point.

  He had been stupid. He should have fastened her in. He could have belted her arms in as well. Hell, she was so small he could have wrapped his necktie around her arms and subdued her so easily that way.

  But he hadn’t.

  She stumbled through the crosswalk, barely missing getting hit by a two-door economy car.

  Damn it. They were close enough to two different hospitals.

  If she made her way to one, she might still be lucid enough to tell who had drugged her. If she stumbled into traffic and was injured or killed, there might still be enough drug in her system to show up on tox screens.

  And he was no doubt the first suspect. He’d delivered her tea, after all.

  He had to make his original plan work.

  He yanked his car over to the parking spots parallel to the sidewalk and jumped out. He could see her in the distance. Stumbling. Toward the rear entrance of the ER, off of Main Street.

  If he chased her, someone would see him. They could put it together.

  Wallace forced himself to stop. To think.

  He couldn’t chase a drugged woman down Main Street. That would just bring complications he didn’t need. Unless he was the one to “find” her.

  He would be the hero. Everyone loved Nikkie Jean. They’d circled around her since word of her pregnancy had spread and were treating her like the darling of the hospital.

  Wallace started out of his car, following her a good distance back and at a reasonable speed. The rain made it easy to do without getting noticed.

  She stumbled to the ground just as the air siren sounded.

  People screamed. At first…he thought it was because of Nikkie Jean.

  And then Wallace looked over his shoulder.

  And prayed, as he ran toward the nearest building, that he would survive this monster bearing down on them all.

  He hurried inside, remembering the young woman he had drugged after it was far too late.

  73

  IT WAS A WARZONE. Reece DeTerro stared at the destruction that stretched from the parking lot of County Gen to as far as the eye can see. There were going to be injuries. And there were going to be dead.

  He was halfway between Finley Creek County and city hall when he got his first real look at Finley Creek General.

  The front entrance, where the ER had once been, was total destruction. At least three floors were completely exposed.

  If anyone had been in that part of the hospital—and it was likely that they had—it would have been devastating.

  He hoped to high heaven the COM had evacuated everyone to a different part of the building.

  He cursed and picked up his pace. His plan had been to head to his own hospital and be ready—every available physician would definitely be needed in this kind of disaster—but no. FCGH would need him more.

  He was jogging across the parking lot of what had once been a bodega but was now a pile of debris when he saw the woman.

  Reece almost missed her. If she hadn’t been wearing florescent pink, he never would have seen her.

  Reece went to his knees next to her, giving her a quick visual inspection. Her hair, long and wet, hung in limp braids. There was blood on her temple. A quick check revealed it was relatively minor. But something had struck her.

  Rainwater ran over her in a continuous stream, soaking her more and more. Her face had been pressed next to the sidewalk.

  Directly in the runoff. Damn it. She most likely had a chest full of filthy floodwater. She could drown in that. That was the only reason he had risked turning her over in the first place.

  “Miss, can you open your eyes?” He waited. No response. He lifted her eyelid and checked her pupil. No reaction. He checked her vitals.

  Her breathing was slow, raspy.

  Someone somewhere was missing this young woman. From the cartoon bunnies on the scrubs top, she worked pediatrics. But not in his hospital. He should know; he headed the pediatrics department at County.

  He hoped to hell she hadn’t been sucked out of the Finley Creek Gen building and flung this far. They were at least three blocks from the entrance to Finley Creek General. That would have been one hell of a ride for someone to survive.

  Thunder cracked overhead.

  There was no way in hell he was going to be able to leave her here while he went for emergency help. He looked up. There were more clouds building, fast. No. Reece wasn’t leaving her there. The woman turned her head, a whimper escaping. She was small and young. Probably no more than twenty-two or -three. A nurse, most likely.

  He had a special place in his heart for pediatrics nurses, considering what all they went through on the job.

  He lifted the scrubs top, looking for swelling or any obvious signs of internal injuries. Scrapes and contusions, but nothing concerning at this point.

  Thunder rolled overhead. He leaned over the woman. A pretty one, he’d bet. When she wasn’t soaked through to the skin and pale as a ghost.

  “Hang on, little darlin’. I’m going to get you someplace safe and dry.” He slid one arm behind her back, careful of her neck. He didn’t think there were any spinal injuries, but you never knew in these types of situations—his other arm went beneath her knees. Hot-pink scrubs. Those damned scrubs had been what had caught his attention.

  She turned toward him, obviously seeking warmth. It reassured him somewhat. No spinal injury. Just out. A rush of tenderness and protectiveness went through him. He’d always been a sucker for small and vulnerable like this. Poor kid. “Hang on, sweetheart. I’ll get you somewhere warm and dry real soon.”

  She didn’t weigh much. She could have been picked up by the storm and lost in the wind far too easily.

  Someone, somewhere, was going to be missing this girl soon. He did one more visual check of the area, making certain he hadn’t missed anyone else.

  The closest hospital was FCGH. No doubt she belonged there. Well, he would get her there as fast as he was able.

  74

  WALLACE RECOGNIZED THE hot-pink pants the instant the man in a black T-shirt and ragged jeans came hurrying through the parking lot. Sweat immediately formed on his brow. He’d hoped she’d be missing for a while longer. And that when they found her, she’d be dead. She’d have just been taken to the local morgues for later identification, and been considered a victim of the storm. Lost in the tornado.

  Then he wouldn’t have had to blame himself at all. The storm would have done it, taken care of her for him. Then the entire situation would have been out of his hands. Divine intervention.

  Now that she was back, he had to make a show. And hell, he didn’t truly want Nikkie Jean hurt. He’d just wanted answers. And wanted to clean things up for Jennifer. If he made things right, she’d come home where she belonged. “Where did you find her?”

  “Reece DeTerro, chief of peds at County. I found her about four blocks from here, in a damned puddle. She may be a nurse here. I don’t think I’ve seen her in my department before.”

  “She’s one of ours.
Pediatric surgical resident,” Wallace said, shortly. The man laid her out on the gurney they were using as an exam table. “Nikkie Jean Netorre. Clocked out a few hours ago.”

  “Shortly before the storm? I don’t know how long she was in that puddle. Or how much she breathed in.”

  Wallace immediately made a show of checking her vitals, as if she were any other patient. “I’ve got her from here.”

  Cherise, the nursing supervisor who had been working on Wallace’s team, leaned over Nikkie Jean. “Nikkie Jean, sweetie, open your eyes. Time to wake up.”

  Cherise checked her pupils. “She’s unresponsive.”

  Wallace did the calculations. The anesthetic should be wearing off soon. Wallace knew exactly how long it tended to take. He’d hoped to have finished with Nikkie Jean by now.

  But with the way Cherise was hovering already, that wasn’t going to happen tonight. “We need to get her inside. Get her hooked up to the monitors. Full panel. How far along is she again? Possible to hear the fetal heartbeat?” Cherise would know, even if Wallace made it look like he didn’t.

  “Eleven or twelve weeks. We may be able to hear the heartbeat with Doppler.”

  Wallace shook his head. “Better with ultrasound.”

  “Jillian has one over in the next tent.”

  He did a cursory examination, as the man who’d found Nikkie Jean slipped out of the tent.

  “No sign of outward injury. Except the scalp laceration. Most likely a concussion. But I don’t like that she’s unresponsive.” Chances were good she wouldn’t recall a damned thing. Wallace forced himself to remember that. “Strap her down. We’ll get her over to Rafe and Jillian. Move on to the next.”

  “But—” Cherise started.

  Wallace held up a hand. “I know. It’s Dr. Netorre. But tonight, we can’t afford to spend too much time with any one patient. I suspect she’s just hit her head, and is going to be out for a while. There are no signs she has internal bleeding or anything other than a hit to the head, and probably a drop or rise in blood pressure. She was in the storm, probably saw it coming right at her. I’m more concerned with potential water in the lungs. We’ll get her to Courtney, get a full scan. See what’s going on. In the meantime, let’s just get her where she can be monitored. I want to start her on antibiotics to prevent infection. Cephalexin should be safe enough for the fetus.”

  He checked her pupils again. Still no real response. He frowned. He had given her a heavy dosage, yes. But she should be waking up by now. Of course, he may have miscalculated. It was an experimental drug, after all, and based on knowing the patient’s weight. She’d lost some weight in the last few weeks. Hey may have overestimated. With a knock to the head and pregnancy, she may just be out for a while longer than he thought.

  It shouldn’t have caused any harm to a developing fetus, but the amnesia afterward had been what he had wanted. He forced himself to take a deep breath. That amnesia was more likely with a concussion. And trauma.

  Nikkie Jean wouldn’t remember what had happened at all. He just had to play it cool. And take care of her like the physician that he was.

  She wouldn’t remember a thing. “Nikkie Jean, open your eyes.”

  To his surprise, her eyes flickered open. “Caine? Where are you?”

  “No. It’s Dr. Henedy, Nikkie Jean. You’re at the hospital again.” He nodded at Cherise and pointed toward the exit of the tent. He waited until the redhead was gone to lean over the woman on the bed. “Do you remember what happened?”

  “I was supposed to meet Jillian…” Her eyes closed again as her words slurred off. “My head hurts. Was going to talk to Jillian about the babies. Cousins…Caine…”

  Wallace patted her hand, not knowing what else to do. He couldn’t exactly cover her mouth and smother her here. Someone could walk in at any moment, even if it would be far too easy.

  Nikkie Jean would never be able to put up a fight.

  He didn’t know if he could do it. Not with her just lying there so helpless. And the autopsy would reveal she’d been suffocated, if he did. No. He had to wait.

  Drugging her and tossing her body into the Value Reservoir if necessary had been one thing. But to do it right there, with her so…helpless…as his patient? That was a line Wallace just couldn’t cross.

  Even to keep his secrets.

  He just couldn’t do it. He’d sworn an oath to never hurt a patient. He took that seriously. Just like he did the oaths he’d made on his wedding day.

  The curtain flap opened again. A familiar pair stepped in.

  Jillian immediately went to the head of the gurney. “We will take her across the parking lot. Get her inside.”

  “She came in unresponsive, but was able to answer me when I spoke to her a few minutes later. She said she was meeting you soon.”

  “That was yesterday. Tonight, she was supposed to meet Annie downtown.”

  “She was found near city hall,” Wallace said. Two more orderlies came in, and Jillian started giving orders. Wallace just shook his head. The redhead was getting too big for her britches at times now that she was married to the head of the hospital. But at least he could say he’d rarely heard her be wrong when it came to patient care. She would have made a damned fine doctor instead of a nurse. Or a drill sergeant. “It’s raining. We’ll need to move fast. I’ve radioed ahead. We’re handing her off to Hannah once she’s inside.”

  Wallace just stepped back. Jillian knew exactly what he was supposed to be doing. If he stuck around too long, people would wonder why.

  He just hoped to hell the drug, one that was reputed not to show up in the bloodstream immediately, worked as well as it had been touted to. He really needed her not to remember what had happened before the storm.

  75

  CAINE SAW MORE PATIENTS after the storm than he had in the previous four months combined. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d run a hospital when he’d been injured. Nothing other than Mother Nature could compare to a hospital in a war zone. Henry and the children were fine, and the truck could be repaired. The hail damage over the top of it would be fixed. But his family—they were all safe.

  For a moment there, he hadn’t been certain he would be able to get Dalton inside.

  Caine shoved those memories aside as he finished up with the next patient.

  Dalton was fine. His family was fine.

  But his heart had yet to start beating again.

  He still hadn’t been able to locate Nikkie Jean. And it had been hours since the storm. He checked the clock quickly. Almost four in the morning. And he still hadn’t heard from her. Or found her.

  He’d tried, every second he could. Nothing.

  And calls weren’t going into the Finley Creek Gen switchboard. Cell services in the area were down for the time being as well. Rumor had it half the towers had been hit directly.

  He needed to know where she was. He needed to get to her.

  But he was in charge of this hospital and people were counting on him.

  Never had he felt so damned torn in two.

  “Caine, phone.” JoLyn handed him the main line almost frantically. She’d been trying to get calls out to everyone necessary, to make certain they had enough ambulances and support staff to send to other areas, if requested. Barratt County had been hit, but what they were hearing said it was nowhere near bad as Finley Creek County had. “It’s Holden-Deane, at FCGH. Hurry.”

  Caine grabbed it quickly. “Rafe? Where’s Nikkie Jean? I can’t find her. Tell me you have her and she’s safe.”

  “Do you have any beds? I need to transfer people out. Make room for more critical,” his brother asked instead. “We’ll…talk…about Nikkie Jean in a minute.”

  Caine checked the list. There had been something in his tone… “I have room for fourteen. Five of those are in my critical ward.”

  “Good. I got three stable but guarded coming your way.”

  “You all doing ok?” Obligation and caring he hadn’t realized he’d feel m
ade him ask. “The rest of our…siblings?”

  “Ariella fell on the stairs, getting the kids to the basement. Some tissue damage. Scared her husband. Everyone else is relatively unscathed. It’s not even storming in Garrity, so Zoey and Pen are fine. You?”

  “Caught on the road with the children. Barely made it home in time to get them all inside. Everett needed stitches, but he’s ok now.”

  His brother swore. “Glad to hear you’re doing ok.”

  “I can’t find her, Rafe. And I need to.” Even Caine heard the panic. He’d never panicked like this in his life. He’d always had to be the one in charge in a crisis. “And I can’t leave here to go look for her.”

  “I have her here, Caine…”

  “But?”

  “She was found outside after the storm. She’d been out there for at least a few hours. We don’t know what happened to her before. She woke a few minutes ago, but doesn’t remember anything that happened. And now she’s under again.”

  Sheer fear had his blood freezing, his lungs fighting to work. “How badly is she hurt?”

  “Mild concussion. Quite a bit of fluid in her lungs. She was found in a damned puddle, unconscious. We’re watching for infection, and she’s a bit banged up. We’re trying to figure out why she was out when she was found. There’s no signs of impact injuries, no concussion. We have her on fluids to prevent dehydration and are watching for complications from the concussion, but it’s a minor one.”

  “The baby?”

  “Seems ok at this point. Strong, steady heartbeat visible on the ultrasound. No signs of early fetal distress.”

  Caine closed his eyes as relief hit him for the baby, chased by fear for Nikkie Jean. “I’m coming for her, Rafe. I’ll be there as soon as I can leave here. I’m coming as soon as I possibly can. You make certain she knows that if she wakes before I get to her.”

  “She’s in room 403. I’m not going anywhere until you get here yourself.”