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“Tell her, LT,” Turner said, addressing Noah. “She needs to do that compliment sandwich thing. You know, start by saying something nice, make a suggestion and then say something else nice.”

Shannon and Christian watched the exchange like they were watching a ping-pong match.

Ignoring Turner’s request, Noah said, “Are you here to take Trinity’s statement?”

“Sure am.”

“Well then,” Christian said. “On that note, we’ll leave you to it.”

Shannon looked like she’d only leave if someone dragged her, kicking and screaming.

“We can go check on Wren,” Christian added.

That did the trick. Five minutes and several hugs later, they were gone.

Six

Josie checked her phone again. No messages from Wren. The dread blooming in her gut billowed. There was a light knock on the door and Dr. Jacob Holmes stepped inside. He had treated both Josie and Trinity earlier. Josie had seen him around for years but hadn’t had much contact with him. Dr. Nashat was almost always on shift when she had to visit the emergency room, but his wife had just given birth.

“Good news, Ms. Payne,” Dr. Holmes announced with a clap of his hands, striding toward the bed. “We’ve got a bed for you. It may still be a while but⁠—”

“How long’s a while, Doc?” Turner interrupted. “I’ve got a statement to take.”

The doctor’s brow pinched as he shifted his attention to Turner. “I’m sorry. You are?”

“The detective taking Ms. Payne’s statement. Thought we established that already.”

Beside Josie, Noah stiffened. If rudeness was a sport, Turner would be one of the highest-paid players in the league.

Drake watched the two men face off with a frown. Holmes was almost as tall as Turner but stockier with a little more weight around his middle. Josie estimated him to be in his mid-sixties. Thick silver hair was brushed back from his forehead. Dark blue eyes assessed Turner curiously. “Right, well, Ms. Payne is my patient, so⁠—”

“I need to know how much time I’ve got, Doc,” Turner interrupted again. “I got shit to do. A lady was murdered today and these two…” he hooked a thumb in Josie and Noah’s direction, “are on the IL right now.”

“Turner,” Noah said, a note of caution in his voice which Turner promptly ignored.

The skin at the corners of Dr. Holmes’s eyes crinkled as he forced a smile, clearly confused. “The IL?”

Turner sighed. His fingers drummed against his thigh again. Josie could tell he was already losing interest in the conversation, or confrontation, however you viewed it.

“The injured list,” Drake supplied.

“You don’t watch baseball, Doc?” asked Turner.

“No,” Holmes muttered. “I don’t have time.”

“You should.” Turner pulled his phone from his jacket pocket.

Josie had no idea where the hell he was going with this, but who knew the mysteriously infuriating ways of Kyle Turner’s mind?

Dr. Holmes looked at Josie and Noah for the first time since entering the room. One of his brows arched. “There you are, Miss Quinn.”

“Detective Quinn,” Turner, Noah, and Drake corrected in unison.

Josie shook her head, muttering under her breath, “For the love of all that’s holy.”

Trinity laughed until it turned into a cough and everyone in the room looked back at her. Drake stood and tried to adjust her cannula again until she waved him off. “Carry on, please. I’m enjoying this.”

Puzzlement strained Dr. Holmes’s features. “Detective Quinn,” he said. “I see you’ve liberated yourself from the ER. There is paperwork we need you to sign before you go.”