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Then she answered her own question, muttering: “Unless they’re preparing for the inevitable. If he ain’t dead yet, it’s only a matter of time.”
Jes?s Jim?nez looked at her with a blank face.
He thought, If you only knew…
The nurse then pointed. “ICU 303. Around the corner, at the end. Can’t miss it. Look for the woman cop.”
Woman cop? Jesus, Jimenez thought.
Shit!
But he simply said, “Gracias,” and began pushing the gurney in the direction she’d pointed.
“It’s so good of you to come by, Matt,” Mrs. Andrea Benjamin said after she had given him a big hug. “It’s such a terrible time. Did you see Chad?” She looked down the corridor. “He was just here…”
“Yes, ma’am, earlier,” Payne said. “He sent me a text message saying he got a call and had to run an errand.”
James Benjamin was not in the mood for niceties.
“Matt, this situation has all the makings of that goddamn Skipper Olde. You know he’s a no-good sonofabitch. Had to be his drug deal gone bad. And he dragged in my girl.” He paused. “You can’t charge her with anything for just sitting in her car in a damned parking lot!”
Payne, out of the corner of his eye, saw the blue shirt look up from his paperback.
Well, that got the bored guy’s attention.
“James!” Mrs. Benjamin said softly. “Please.”
“Mr. Benjamin,” Payne replied, “I’m not charging anyone with anything. That will be someone else’s call, most likely a white shirt at the Roundhouse. There’re a lot of questions yet to be answered.”
And that really got his attention.
Then one of the swinging doors to the ICU beside the cop opened.
“Dr. Law!” James Benjamin said. “Any news?”
Matt Payne turned to see an absolutely beautiful blond woman in the white coat of a doctor step out into the corridor. She pulled a powder-blue surgical mask down from her face. She looked to be not quite thirty, five-feet-five and maybe 110 pounds, her golden hair pulled back in a short ponytail under a surgical cap. She had the lean look of a runner, and an air about her of complete confidence.
Jesus! Payne thought. Now, that is a gorgeous woman!
Bright, intelligent face and eyes.
And the body of a goddess.
She walked up to them, a clipboard under her left arm.
Payne’s eye went to the left patch pocket of her white lab coat. There, enhanced by a magnificent mound of bosom beneath the fabric, was stitched in blue: Amanda Law, M.D., F.A.C.S., F.C.C.M.
Payne mentally translated the alphabet soup:
A medical doctor who’s a Fellow of the American College of Surgeons and the American College of Critical Care Medicine.
Correction: An absolutely stunning Fellow.
Payne decided he must have been staring, because Dr. Law suddenly turned and looked at him questioningly.
“Doctor,” Mrs. Benjamin then said, “this is an old friend of the family. And of course Becca’s. Matthew Payne, Dr. Law.”
Dr. Amanda Law looked at him again, curtly nodded once, then turned back to the Benjamins.
