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“Ah, Lieutenant, I know you’ve got to get going, but I just wanted to say…I know you saw my mother the other night.”
“Yeah, we ran into each other. She’s a nice woman.”
“Isn’t she great?” His face lit up. “She’s the best. My old man ditched us when I was a kid, so we’ve always, you know, taken care of each other. Anyway, she told me how you hung around, waited until I was out of surgery and all.”
“You went down under my watch.” Your blood was on my hands, she thought.
“Well, it meant a lot to her that you were here. I just wanted to tell you that. So thanks.”
“Just stay out of laser streams,” she advised.
• • •
Down on the next level, Kenneth Stiles stirred in his bed, glanced toward the nurse who checked his monitors. “I want to confess.”
She turned to him, smile bright and professional. “So, you’re awake, Mr. Stiles. You should take some nutrition now.”
He’d been awake for a considerable amount of time. And thinking. “I want to confess,” he repeated.
She walked to the side of the bed to pat his hand. “Do you want a priest?”
“No.” He turned his hand over, gripped hers with a strength she wasn’t expecting. “Dallas. Lieutenant Dallas. Tell her I confess.”
“You don’t want to get overexcited.”
“Find Lieutenant Dallas, and tell her.”
“All right, don’t worry. But in the meantime, you should rest. You took a nasty fall.”
She smoothed his sheets, satisfied when he settled, closed his eyes. “I’ll go see about your nutrition requirements.”
She notated his chart and slipped out. She paused by the uniformed guard at the door. “He’s awake.”
From her uniform pocket, she took out her memo pad and informed Nutrition that Patient K. Stiles, Room 6503, required his midday meal. When the guard started to speak, the nurse held up a hand.
“Just a minute. I want to get this in so they get it up here before midnight. Nutrition’s been running behind all week.” Since the patient had neglected to fill in his lunch choices from the authorized menu, she ordered him a grilled chicken breast, mixed rice with steamed broccoli, a whole wheat roll with one pat of butter substitute, skim milk, and blueberry Jell-O.
“That should be up within the hour.”
“Whoever brings it has to be cleared,” the guard told her.
She gave a little huff of annoyance, took the memo out again, and made the necessary notation. “Oh, Patient Stiles was asking for someone named Dallas. Does that mean anything?”
The guard nodded, pulled out his communicator.
• • •
“He’s got cop juice for blood,” Peabody commented as they walked down the corridor.
“The juice is still green, but it’ll ripen.” When her communicator beeped, she dug it out of her pocket. “Dallas.”
“Lieutenant. Officer Clark on guard duty, Kenneth Stiles. The suspect is awake and asking for you.”
“I’m one level up and on my way.”
“That’s good timing.” Peabody punched for the elevator, then sighed and followed Eve to the exit door. “I guess we’re walking.”
“It’s one patient level.”
