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“How’s Connor doing?”
“Restrained. He almost bit a nurse who was trying to put in a catheter. A patient care assistant yanked her back in the nick of time.”
I tensed. “Did Connor get his teeth on her at all?” If it was like his minor gator encounter, any break in the skin would do it.
“Not even close, thank god. That PCA was on the ball. I need to remember to tell his boss.” Allen opened a door to our right. “In here.”
I followed him into a treatment room where Connor writhed on the bed, wrists and ankles bound with padded leather restraints. A lanky black man in sky blue scrubs stood with his back to us as he made adjustments to a torso restraint. Connor’s head swiveled my way, milky eyes fixed on me and tongue lolling. “Uuuuugggguuurraaaah.”
I couldn’t control my startle when the “PCA” turned to face us.
“Angel,” he murmured.
“Dude, I’m so glad you’re here,” I breathed. Kyle Griffin. A former Saberton operative, he was now one of the Tribe’s best and most loyal combat and infiltration specialists. “Allen, this is Kyle. He’s, um, like me.”
Allen gave a soft snort. “No wonder you moved so fast. Good work there.”
Kyle inclined his head in acknowledgment. “The nurse was fortunate I was here.”
I peered at his name badge. It looked totally real, with Kyle’s name and picture. “Connor hasn’t gotten his teeth on anyone, right?”
?
?Not since he arrived,” Kyle said in his usual mild tone, “but his presence is an ongoing threat.”
Allen’s mouth tightened. “He should be in quarantine, but even that might not be sufficient.”
“Maybe we should try brains,” I suggested. “See if that helps.”
Kyle shook his head. “Already did so at Dr. Nikas’s request. Connor won’t eat. Just bares his teeth or snaps. We’re to hold off on any further attempts for now.”
I edged closer to the bed. “We need to get him the hell away from the hospital altogether, but I have no idea how we could pull that off.”
A nurse entered, clipboard in hand. “Any changes, Kyle?”
“No, ma’am,” Kyle said. “Vitals are still depressed. Restraints are holding.”
She gave Allen and me a professional harried smile. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask you to leave while I—”
“Dr. Renley signed off on my staying per family request,” Allen said then casually flashed his badge. “Also, we’re with the Coroner’s Office. I was hoping to have a word with the parish infectious disease doc if he comes down.”
Her brows knitted. “I haven’t seen Dr. Ingram today, but a doctor from the Louisiana Department of Health and Hospitals met the ambulance as it came in. She and her assistant wanted to get samples processing ASAP. They were in here with Mr. Connor but must have left right before Kyle came in.”
Kyle and I exchanged wary glances. How could they have known about Connor in the first place?
Allen didn’t waver for an instant. “Well, isn’t that a crying shame, Miss”—he peered at her nametag—“Patricia. I sure would’ve liked to speak with her. Do you happen to know what samples they took?”
Patricia gestured to the blood draw tube rack on the counter. “Four red tops and a gold, along with an opaque tube they brought with them. Saliva, cheek swab, mucosa scrapings, and even earwax, of all things. I’m not sure what else, but they may still be in the building.”
“Would you be a lamb and see if you can spot them?” Allen flashed a charming smile. I’d never known Allen was even capable of being charming.
Her smile brightened. “Sure thing!”
“You’re the best. And, if you don’t see them, would you mind checking the log for their names? I’d be ever so grateful.”
“My pleasure, Mr. . . .”
“Prejean. But please call me Allen.”
