by R J Nolan
Logan took a deep breath, making sure her irritation wouldn’t show. “I’ve got it under control.” She went back to suturing the patient who’d been on the losing end of a bar fight. Up until now, she’d been perfectly happy with only his snores to keep her company.
“I really don’t mind,” Dr. Parker said as she came to stand on the opposite side of the gurney. “It’s pretty quiet. I’ll help you finish up, and then we can grab a cup of coffee.” She smiled, tugged a raised stool close to the gurney, then reached for a pair of gloves. “We haven’t had a chance to get to know each other.”
And if Logan had anything to say about it, that’s exactly how it would stay. She didn’t want to know anything about her coworkers or vice versa. “It’s not necessary. Really, I’ve—”
The sound of running feet drew their attention. Marco Martinez, one of the residents, grabbed the doorway as he slid to a stop. “Dr. Parker. Ambulance just pulled in. Motorcyclist versus a bus.” His eyes were wide. “It’s bad.”
Dr. Parker rose to her feet. “Marco, finish up here for Dr. Logan.” Her calm gaze met Logan’s. “Let’s go.”
Logan was right on Parker’s heels as she raced down the hall. They burst through the trauma bay doors together.
“Status,” Dr. Parker barked as she slipped into protective gear. “Someone call Dr. Connolly.”
Logan glanced at Dr. Parker and froze. Gone was the smiling, placid woman she’d been dodging all night. Her eyes had gone steely gray, her whole demeanor transformed. Here was a warrior poised for battle. Wow. She was a mesmerizing sight.
Shaking her head to force away the distracting vision, Logan focused on the scene in the trauma room. The resident hadn’t exaggerated; it was bad. The patient looked as if he had been dragged under the bus. She did a quick survey of his most apparent injuries: compound fractures of both tib/fibs, deep abrasions of the chest and abdomen, as well as a possible humerus fracture.
One of the nurses reeled off the patient’s stats, even as they worked to finish removing what was left of his clothes, draw blood, and attach him to various monitors.
Logan pulled down her face shield and moved to one side of the gurney. Parker took the other.
The pulse-ox monitor began to shrill.
“Logan, get him intubated.”
She moved to the head of the gurney and grabbed a 7.5mm endotracheal tube. Once she had the tube in place, she attached the Ambu bag. Giving the bag several squeezes, she listened on each side to confirm the tube’s position. A radiograph would have to wait.
Without being asked, she positioned herself opposite Parker and worked on stabilizing the injuries on her side of the patient. Even in the heat of the moment, Logan was aware of how well they worked together, without getting in each other’s way. It was as if they had done so a hundred times before.
The trauma bay door swung open, and a petite redhead blew into the room.
“Glad you could finally join us, Dr. Connolly,” Parker said.
What? Why was she ragging on the woman? From what she had seen of Parker tonight, it seemed out of character. It had been less than ten minutes since she had called for the doctor. She shot a look at Parker and caught her grinning behind her face shield. She was joking; it was a common ER coping strategy.
“Had to finish up my checkers game,” Dr. Connolly shot back. Her expression turned serious. “What have you got?”
Parker quickly summarized the patient’s injuries.
Logan stepped back as the woman, who, was apparently a trauma surgeon, took her place at the patient’s side. She felt a strange pang at losing that momentary connection she’d shared with Parker as they worked over the patient. What’s the matter with you? Angry with herself, she stripped off her bloody gloves and gown, then tossed them in the biohazard bin. All that mattered was work. And there were always more patients to take care of. Yet she couldn’t resist one last look over her shoulder at Parker as she headed out of the room.
CHAPTER 4
Logan parked in the space next to her motor home. As she got out of her vehicle, she caught sight of the front privacy curtain that normally covered the inside of the RV’s windshield. It had been knocked askew and partially pulled down.
Drake stared out at her from the passenger side window of the cab. When he saw her, he began to whine.
She looked into the side window of the driver’s compartment. What the heck…? The two captain’s chairs were turned to face the cabin of the motor home. Somehow, Drake had managed to wedge himself into the small space between the backs of the chairs and the dash. In all their time on the road, he’d never pulled a stunt like this before. The only way she could see to easily get him out was to open the passenger door.
Logan unlocked the door and swung it open. “What the hell do you think—?” Her words cut off when the stench hit her. She stepped up onto the running board and peered past Drake into the motor home.
He whined and ducked his head.
Ugh! Her aggravation with him instantly vanished. From the look of the mess, he’d had a major accident—probably more than one. He tended to get diarrhea when he got upset. “Oh, buddy. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you. It wasn’t your fault. Come on out of there.”
She opened the main door of the coach just long enough to grab his leash; then they headed for the pet area.
When they returned, Logan tethered Drake to the picnic table at their site. She opened the door and stood on the top step to survey the damage inside. His bed was a mess, as was the front of the couch and several cabinets. Talk about a shit storm—literally. An irrational urge to toss a match inside and close the door struck. It was so overwhelming, she didn’t know where to start.
“Excuse me.”
She turned, surprised that Drake hadn’t warned her of someone’s approach.
A petite, older woman, who she recognized as the park manager, stood several feet from Drake. They had met briefly when Logan checked in earlier in the week, but she didn’t remember her name. Logan never got to know anyone at the many RV parks where they had stayed. She was happy to remain anonymous like all the other transient people passing through.
“I need to speak with you,” the woman said, her stern expression making it clear it wasn’t a social visit.
Now what? Logan needed to get this mess cleaned up and get some sleep, not deal with more aggravation. She left the motor home door open in hope that it would air out and walked over to the woman. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes. I got several complains about your dog barking last night and this morning.”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” I hope.
“I came by earlier this morning and you weren’t here.” Frowning, the woman looked her up and down. “One of the other residents said that you were gone all night. You really shouldn’t leave him unattended in your coach for such a long time.”
This was getting worse by the minute. She’d never had a problem leaving Drake in the motor home while she worked. “I wasn’t here because I work nights. Drake normally does fine and is very quiet.” Logan moved close to Drake and stroked his big head. “I’m sure he won’t cause any more problems.”
“Well, I wanted to make you aware of the situation.” The woman crossed her arms over her chest. “If I get any more complaints, I’ll have to ask you to leave the park.”
Damn it. This was the closest park to LA Metro, and it was a twenty-two-mile drive from here to the hospital. She hated the thought of having to find a new park even farther away or face having to board Drake overnight every time she worked. He loved day care but hated staying in a kennel at night.
“I’m sure it was a one-time thing.” Logan ran her hand down Drake’s back. “Something he ate must have disagreed with him and he had a bad accident. That’s why he was barking last night. And to top it off, I got caught in traffic this morning coming b
ack from work and was late getting here.”
The woman glanced at the motor home, then back at Logan. “Where do you work?”
Logan stiffened. She never told anyone anything about her life. Damn it. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to make an exception. It might be the only thing that kept her and Drake from getting evicted. “I’m temporarily covering the night shift in the ER at LA Metro for a doctor who is ill.”
“You’re a doctor?”
Logan made sure her irritation at the surprised tone didn’t show. “Yes.” When the woman continued to look at her expectantly, she forced herself to continue. “I provide coverage for physicians who need time off or when a hospital has a staff shortage.” She could see the woman reassessing her opinion of her.
For the first time since the woman had arrived, she smiled. “My grandson Danny wants to be a doctor.” She joined her next to Drake and held out her hand. “I’m Bernice, by the way, in case you don’t remember. You’re Ashlee—right?”
Logan flinched at the name. Ashlee had ceased to exist two years ago on a cold, snowy night in Boston. “I go by Logan.”
Bernice’s brow furrowed. “Okay. Logan.” She patted Drake. “So this big guy was sick?” Without waiting for an answer, she walked over to the motor home and looked in. “Oh. My!” She came back over and hugged Drake. “You poor thing. Do you have any Pepto-Bismol? I know when my husband and I had dogs, it always took care of their upset stomachs.”
“I’ve got some medication for him.” That was a lie, but Logan didn’t want to be beholden to anyone. She’d get him something after she took care of the mess.
“Will you be continuing to work nights?” Bernice asked.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
What is this—twenty questions? Logan barely resisted scowling. Damn, this woman was nosy. But she was also the manager of the park, and it wouldn’t do to alienate her. Logan had paid for two weeks when she checked in. “Six weeks altogether.”
Bernice looked back and forth between her and Drake, then seemed to come to a decision. “If you’d like, I could let Drake out for a bathroom break at night before I go to bed, then again in the morning. I’m up early. That way he wouldn’t have to hold it so long.”
Drake pressed against her side before she could say no. When she looked down at him, guilt tugged at her. He looked pretty forlorn. And he wasn’t a young dog any more. Was it really fair to him to turn down help because she didn’t want to be obliged to anyone? You don’t deserve help. She refused to give in to the dark thoughts. This wasn’t about her; she had to do right by Drake.
Logan pushed down all the conflicting emotions and made herself meet Bernice’s gaze. “That’s very nice of you. If you’re sure, Drake and I would really appreciate it.”
Bernice smiled. “I’d be happy to.” She stroked Drake’s neck. “Are you sure you don’t want that Pepto-Bismol?”
Drake looked pretty miserable, so maybe his stomach was still bothering him. She’d come this far. “Ah… Yeah. I guess that might be a good idea after all. Thank you.”
“Hang in there, big guy.” Bernice gave Drake a pat. “I’ll be right back.”
Logan pulled a blanket from the back of her SUV and spread it on the ground for him. No sense in him having to stand while she was cleaning up, and she didn’t want him lying on the cement; it really took a toll on his elbows.
Pushing up her sleeves, she trudged over to the motor home. This was not going to be pleasant. Talk about the understatement of the year.
CHAPTER 5
Dale pushed open the door to the staff lounge and was surprised to see Logan sitting on the couch along the back wall with a cup of coffee in her hand. The woman rarely took a break, much less hung out in the staff lounge. Logan was something of a mystery. She was always unfailingly polite and one of the hardest-working physicians Dale had ever worked with, but—other than her first name, Ashlee—she didn’t know any more about her than when she’d started work three weeks ago. And she had only found that out by reading it off her ID badge. While Dale respected Logan’s privacy, she couldn’t help being curious about her. Something she’d seen in Logan’s eyes when she thought no one was watching struck a chord with Dale. It was the all-too-familiar haunted look lurking just beneath the surface of so many veterans’ gazes. Could Logan be a vet?
Not wanting to miss a chance to spend a few minutes with the enigmatic Logan, outside of working on a case, Dale passed on the cup of coffee she had come in for and went straight to the couch where Logan sat.
“Mind if I sit down?”
“Sure. All yours.” Logan popped up from the couch.
Dale shook her head and smiled, keeping her disappointment hidden. It was worth a try. She waved Logan back down. “Never mind. Don’t let me disturb you.” She paused for a moment, hoping Logan would invite her to sit after all.
She didn’t.
Not at all surprised, Dale offered a departing nod and headed for the coffee mess in the corner.
The lounge door swung open, and Donna, one of the nurses, stuck her head in. “New arrival. Three-year-old with GI distress. Martinez and Lane are busy with other patients.”
Dale set down the coffee pot. “Okay. I’ll—”
“I’ve got it.” Logan was out the door before Dale could protest.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and moved over to the couch Logan had abandoned. Knowing many veterans suffered in silence, she needed to break through Logan’s overly polite reserve. She was determined to let her know that there were others who understood what she was going through and that she didn’t have to suffer alone.
Dale had just taken the last sip of her coffee when the door to the lounge again swung open.
With a scowl, Logan marched into the room, muttering under her breath. A large, multi-colored stain marred the front of her lab coat. When she spotted Dale on the couch, she flung her hands in the air. “What kind of parent feeds their kid with an upset stomach Froot Loops?”
This was the first emotional response of any kind that Dale had seen from Logan. She struggled not to laugh but couldn’t tame a grin. “Wouldn’t have been my first choice.”
Logan stomped over to her locker, popped the lock, and pulled the door open. She tugged off the soiled lab coat.
Dale’s gaze swept Logan’s back. It was the first time she’d seen her without the coat. The tucked-in knit shirt and belted cotton slacks she wore did nothing to disguise her lush curves. As her gaze dropped lower to Logan’s well-rounded backside, she bit her lip. Nice ass. When Logan turned, she quickly glanced away.
Logan stared at her for a moment as if she had felt the appraisal.
Dale blushed. She pretended to take a sip from her empty coffee cup to hide her embarrassment at almost getting caught ogling Logan’s ass. “Um…if you need it, I have an extra lab coat you could borrow.”
“Thanks. I’ve got one.” She turned around and rummaged in the locker. After donning the new lab coat, she emptied the pockets of the soiled jacket, then attached her ID badge to the collar of the clean one. As she turned back around, she grimaced. “Hopefully, his stomach is empty now. This is my last clean one. The campground only has two washers, and it’s hard to get an open one most days.”
Campground?
Logan’s eyes went wide as if she just realized what she had let slip. “I better get back to him.” She fled the room.
A myriad of questions whirled through Dale’s mind. First and foremost was, why would Logan be living at a campground? The sound of sirens pulled her from her thoughts. The mystery that was Logan would have to wait.
Dale rubbed her aching knee and tried to keep from limping as she headed back to the nurses’ station. An influx of teenagers involved in a gang altercation had kept her, Logan, and both residents hopping for the last several hours. She jerked her hand awa
y from her leg when she spotted Logan standing by the counter watching her.
Their gazes met for a moment; then Logan turned and walked away.
When Dale reached the nurses’ station, she glanced up at the intake board and let out a big sigh. “Not sorry to see all of them go.” The gang members had been uniformly rude, crude, and exceedingly uncooperative.
“Yeah, all the gangbangers are gone.” Paul scowled. “But you should see the mess their homies left all over the waiting room. I called housekeeping.”
“Good. Thanks for staying on top of things. What have we got waiting?”
Paul glanced at the computer screen. “Five-year-old with lower leg pain after jumping off his bed.”
“Okay, I’ve got it.” After the gangbangers, a child would be a welcome change of pace.
Dale raked her hand through her hair. Damn it! What was supposed to be a straightforward lower leg injury had turned into something much more serious. The severity of the little boy’s injury didn’t match with the story the parents were telling. No way had he ended up with a spiral tibial fracture by jumping off a bed. Upon closer examination, the boy also had a number of bruises in various stages of healing. An old healed fibular fracture and old rib fractures, which the parents denied any knowledge of, were present on the skeletal survey.
Farther down the hall, the door to one of the treatment rooms flew open and banged against the wall with a resounding thud.
Mr. Granger, the young boy’s father, stormed out of the treatment room. He spun around and gripped the open door. “Get out of here. Right now.”
Connie, one of the county social workers, scurried out of the treatment room.
“And stay away from my son,” he yelled.
Dale sprinted toward the confrontation. The battering she’d taken earlier in the day was making itself felt with each jarring step. Sliding to a stop next to Connie, she bit back a grimace of pain. “What’s going on here?”
Mr. Granger scowled at her. “Keep that,” he stabbed his finger at Connie, “woman away from my son.” His face took on the shade of a cooked lobster as he turned a furious glare on Connie. “How dare you question my wife and me like that? We would never hurt Nathan.”
