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Stina’s eyebrows shot up. “I think that I’m done drinking for the night at that.”
“Yeah. I think I’m done being out, too.”
“Denny’s?”
“You know, I’m too keyed up to go right home. Yeah.”
CHAPTER THREE
Antony was running on three hours of sleep, save for the catnaps he’d gotten in the uncomfortable hospital seat while Charlie went through her tests. By the time they’d pulled up to the ER door, she’d been drifting in and out of consciousness, slurring at his increasingly loud questions. Antony had called ahead, and speed dialed the lieutenant, who was waiting just inside the door when he pulled up.
Charlie would be okay. The ER doc told him she had one of the worst reactions he’d seen from the rash of drugging incidents they’d been having. Whatever it was, that asshole had given her enough of it to where they’d been concerned about her heart stopping.
The hospital was holding her until whatever drugs in her system worked out, and by the time Antony and the LT had left hours later, she was more coherent. Unfortunately, the results of the drug screen would take a few days.
Antony flipped his turn signal on and slid his hand along the leather steering wheel of his ‘69 Trans Am. Once the oncoming traffic cleared, he turned the wheel and punched the gas a little, growling the engine. The smile of that action quickly dimmed as he pulled into an open slot far away from the door. He hadn’t seen Dr. K. for a while, and even though he’d embraced therapy after he got back from Afghanistan, he was uneasy about this session. While he blamed the night’s events, he had been on edge for a long time. He felt something shifting inside of him, but didn’t know what.
Probably just overtired, he figured. It had been an emotional night dealing with Charlie. He spent so much of his time watching out for people, both as an investigator, and also off duty at the clubs. Seeing her so weak, knowing how strong she normally was, terrified him. Once she was away from that asshole, and safely in the hospital, rage took over and Antony had gone on auto-pilot, making arrangements with the club to get the video and notes in the ever-present notebook he carried in his wallet.
He felt the crash coming hard, he realized, as he approached the reception desk in the psych area of the hospital. Ted, as noted on his nametag, looked up.
“Hey Ant,” he said.
Antony nodded. “Hi Ted. How’s the family?”
Ted smiled. “Good, good. Hey, Dr. K’s ready and waiting for you. Go on back.”
“Thanks, man.” Antony walked down the hall and rapped his knuckles on the second door on the right. A muffled sound came from inside, and he turned the knob to find Dr. Marlina Kovacevic standing on a step stool, reaching for a large, leather-bound tome on one of her top shelves. He rushed forward as she teetered and caught the book as it toppled from her hands. Gold gilt Cyrillic letters graced the cover, deeply embedded in the deep red leather.
As the doctor stepped down, he handed the book over to her. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s an old book of fairy tales from my family,” she explained, setting the book on her desk. “My daughter has been asking for stories from my childhood.” She looked over the rim of her glasses at him and pursed her lips. “Now, let’s sit down and catch up. You look twitchy.”
Antony sighed and sat in the familiar chair he’d spent hours in over the last couple of years. “I am,” he admitted. “It’s been a shitty night.” He quickly recounted the events and subsequent trip to the hospital.
Dr. K. stayed quiet for a moment. Whenever she did this, Antony imagined her digging around in his head to find the things he wasn’t saying. Then she spoke and confirmed that either she could read his mind, or that he was ridiculously transparent.
“What were you doing before this happened?” she asked.
Lesley’s face, glowing and rapt, flashed in his mind. The feel of her, of her soft hand, the muscles moving in her back as she moved against him, the way the lights played off of the ink on her skin. He fell silent, lost in his thoughts until a voice intruded. “Antony?”
He blinked the memory away and cleared his throat. “I was dancing when this happened. If I were there, this wouldn’t have happened to Charlie,” he drifted off.
“Are you blaming yourself for Charlie being drugged?” Dr. K. asked.
He nodded.
“You’ve not been keeping up with your exercises, have you?” she asked.
He shook his head slowly. “I thought I didn’t need them anymore,” he muttered.
“Mmhmm. Is that working well for you?” she chided.
Antony enjoyed the rapport he had with Dr. K., even when she gave him hell. She was right, of course. He probably shouldn’t have stepped down to maintenance sessions when he did, but part of getting through this was making mistakes. “I guess I should probably get back on your regular rotation for a bit, eh?” he said, sheepishly.
The doctor shrugged. “Maybe, but you’re doing better than you think. Now, stop deflecting and tell me about this woman you were dancing with.”
“Her name is Lesley. She’s got tattoos on her arms. That’s all I know,” he said. “Oh, she’s tall. Good dancer. I like that.”
Dr. K. gave him that look again. She sat quietly, waiting him out, and he settled in to out-stubborn her. He cracked in less than a minute.
