“Ethan’s an FBI agent working on a big case.He left less than two hours ago and I have no idea where he wasgoing. His boss told me he was shot in the arm, and he’s insurgery. I need to get dressed and go to Mount Sinai Hospital.”
“Let me get Baz.”
“Huh?”
“Get dressed and wait for me,” she orders inher mom voice. “I’ll be back with Baz in five minutes, and we’llall go to the hospital.”
“You don’t have to come. Go out and enjoy NewYork.”
“You’re off your mind right now. I get that.But you’d be all kinds of crazy if you think I’m not going to sitwith my sister in a hospital waiting room while my almostbrother-in-law is in surgery because he was shot.”
My sister. Even while Iamall kindsof crazy, she makes me smile.
“Right. I’ll wait for you and Baz.”
***
Skip said I’d see cops and agents. He didn’tsay I’d see a platoon of cops and agents.
When we walk into the surgical waiting room,there isn’t an empty seat, and the walls are lined with stone-facedpeople leaning, but who appear ready to pounce at the sametime.
Before I was shot, I hadn’t had much contactwith law enforcement, but what I knew of them didn’t leave a goodtaste in my mouth. Three female patients had traumatic incidentswith officers who’d scared the shit out of them. The cops hadexerted power and authority in completely inappropriate ways. Oneof my patients had been pulled over on a highway at night when shewas driving to her parents’ house. She hadn’t been speeding, butthe cop made her get out of her car and sit in his cruiser. Hecreeped her out, and she thought if he expected a blowjob orsomething else, she’d turn him off if she started crying. She satthere sobbing for ten minutes before he let her go.
The cops who handled my case were decent,kind, understanding, and thorough. I’d like to believe theirbehavior was more than treating a victim with care. This sizeableturnout for Ethan surely represents the thin blue line standing upfor their own, but if Ethan is any indication of the character ofsome of people in law enforcement, then much like the generalpopulation, bad cops make it hard for good cops to do theirjobs.
Laura is holding my hand on one side and Bazis holding my hand on the other. Every head swings our way, and theexpressions of these hardened people becomes soft. At the sametime, three cops stand and motion for us to take their seats. Mybutt barely hit the padding when a tall woman who looks like sheeats nails for breakfast comes over and squats in front of me.
“Hello, Dr. Calapiano.” Her voice is muchsofter than I expect. “I’m Nadine Collier, the special agent incharge of the Joint Terrorism Task Force in New York.”
Joint Terrorism Task Force. Ethan had told mehe worked for them when we met in Boston, but only now does theweight of it sink in.
“Ah, hi.” I’m tongue-tied, but I haven’tforgotten my manners. “This is my sister, Laura, and her husband,Sebastian Davies.”
“Sorry we have to meet under thesecircumstances,” she says to them, and Baz nods.
The seat next to me is vacated and Nadinesits down. “Ethan went into surgery ninety minutes ago. We weretold to expect the surgery to last eight hours.”
My throat closes and I clasp my handstogether in my lap. Something more serious than getting shot in thearm happened. My breakfast is getting ready to make a reappearance.I pull in a deep breath through my nose and ask my feet, “Do youknow what happened?”
“There was a shooting incident in CentralPark between the NYPD and three gunmen who had been followingEthan. He and the NYPD gave pursuit, and he was shot in the arm byone of the gunmen, all of whom have been taken into custody.”
After the up-close and in-person violenceI’ve experienced, you’d think this wouldn’t shock me. But thethought of Ethan being involved in a shootout in Central Park seemsunbelievable. That he got hurt is almost incomprehensible.
I nod and say, “Eight hours is a long time.Do you know why?”
“Not all of it. I know his humerus,” she tapsher arm between her shoulder and
elbow, “is involved, and that it takes timeto remove bullets and bullet fragments before the doctors can beginrepair.”
Right. You’d think I’d know this, but gettingme breathing as close to normal was everyone’s focus. I never askedabout the surgery, or bullet removal. Maybe I should have.
I raise my head and glance around the room.Everyone is watching me, but trying not to look like they’rewatching me. “Do you know all these people?”
She shakes her head. “No. A few of my agentswho’ve worked with Ethan are here. I know the commanding officerfrom the twentieth precinct, where these officers are from.”
“They’re the ones who went into the park withhim?”
“Yes.” She gives me a small smile. “If it’sall right with you, their commanding officer, Captain Washington,would like to come over to speak to you.”
