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23
Washington Memorial Hospital
FRIDAY MORNING
“You have a concussion, Officer Trader. No, don’t move, it’s not a good idea for you to hop up and try to walk. Just try to relax.” Dr. Zugoni finished looking into her eyes with an ophthalmoscope.
“And a headache,” Joy said through gritted teeth. “A monster headache.”
“That’s expected, and I’m sorry to say we’ll have to take it slow with the pain meds.” He patted Joy’s shoulder. “Once we’re sure you’re fully awake and have no delayed neurologic symptoms, I can give you whatever you like and sing you a lullaby. You’re my second concussion in two days. Agent Sherlock was brought into my fine facility just yesterday. Like her, you’ll be fine.”
David Trader rushed into the cubicle, Sherlock behind him. She saw Dr. Zugoni, gave him a little wave. He did a double take, smiled. “It’s good to see you upright, Agent Sherlock, great name, impossible to forget. No aftereffects?”
“Not a one. Mr. Trader and I were outside and heard you say Joy has a concussion? I guess there’s some irony in that for you. The nurse told us we could come in.”
“That’s right, and a scalp hematoma behind her left ear. We’re going to be keeping her overnight. Now it’s time for a pain med,” and a nurse slipped a needle into Joy’s arm.
Dave Trader said, “I had a couple of concussions playing football and I was pretty miserable for a while. Are you sure she’ll be all right?”
Zugoni smiled at him. “We ordered a CT scan right away when the EMTs brought her in. It was normal except for the injury to her scalp. She’s as awake and alert as I’d expect after being drugged and knocked unconscious. I don’t believe the concussion is going to leave her with anything serious, but as I said, we’ll keep her here overnight for observation, make sure the neurologist examines her and agrees to let her back into the wild. We’ll take good care of your wife, Mr. Trader.”
“Dave? Is that you? I’m alive, don’t worry. Is Emma all right?”
“Yes, Emma’s fine,” she heard Sherlock say.
Then Dave was at her side.
Joy whispered, “That’s a huge relief.” She smiled up at him; whatever the nurse had injected had nearly wiped out the pain. “I feel mellow. It’s wonderful.”
Dave smiled. She sounded dreamy, like she was half asleep. He leaned in close, looked into her vague eyes, kissed her nose. “You hear that, sweetheart? You’re going to be fine. And you can rest up without any worries about the boys. Your sister insisted on taking them tonight.”
Poor Carol, five boys under one roof and only her husband to help her. “Agent Sherlock, I’m so sorry I screwed up. Did you catch the jerk who knocked me out?”
Dave Trader didn’t want to move, but he let Sherlock take his place. She took Joy’s hand, leaned close. Security has been checking through every inch of Kennedy Center and haven’t found anyone. When you didn’t check in, I went backstage looking for you, found you unconscious in the women’s room in your underwear. So they took your uniform, your badge, and your gun. Can you tell me what happened?”
Joy was staring up at Sherlock’s beautiful hair, at the red curls dancing around her fine-boned face. Her mind seemed to wobble and dip. “Your hair’s so pretty,” she said. Sherlock squeezed her hand, smiled down at her. “Thank you.”
“Oops, sorry, I guess I fell off the rails,” Joy said. She tried to take a deep breath, but couldn’t stop thinking how the ceiling paint was chipping. She whispered, “I can do this. Okay, the women’s room was my last stop before I was scheduled to text you. I didn’t see anyone in there, and checked the stalls. When I opened the last stall door, someone was crouching on the toilet seat with her feet up, so I wouldn’t see her unless I opened the door. At least I think it was a woman. She was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses and it all happened so quickly.” She frowned, tried to lift her head, felt Sherlock press her back down. “No, lie still, Joy. Go ahead.”
“She blew a dart in my neck or someone else did, I can’t be sure, then someone hit me with something hard, behind my left ear. I don’t remember anything else. One person or two? I’m sorry, it’s just too blurry. Could you tell me what happened again?”
Sherlock knew concussions, knew Joy’s brain wasn’t ready to operate normally yet. She said again, “I knew how punctual you were so it wasn’t more than thirty seconds after you missed your time that I headed backstage and retraced your steps. I found you unconscious, a dart on the floor beside your hand and a nasty lump on your head. I called 911, ran out into the hall and out the back door, but I didn’t see anyone. I told everyone to look for a woman, maybe in a police uniform since she took yours, but she must have already run. Was it her plan all along to take your uniform or did she decide on the spur of the moment to take it that very minute after you found her? She might have believed she could blend in backstage when Emma finished her piece and offer to escort her to the bathroom. More likely she hoped you or someone else would bring Emma to the bathroom yourself, planned on disabling you and Emma both with that dart, and take her out through the back door. But you found her while Emma was still playing, spoiled her plan, whatever it was. She couldn’t take the chance someone would come looking for you and had to run.”
Joy said, “I’m sorry, Sherlock, I let everyone down and now she has my gun and my badge. I’m never supposed to let that happen.”
“You were unconscious, Joy. It couldn’t be helped. The EMTs got you to the hospital in record time. I left all our people checking around Kennedy Center for the woman. As yet she hasn’t been seen so I imagine she saw me and managed to sneak past the outside guards. I called Lieutenant Raven, he called your husband, and here we are.”
Joy whispered, “I’m glad I wasn’t wearing a thong. They’re Dave’s favorites, but I could never bring myself to wear them under my uniform.”
As Joy Trader’s lieutenant, Ben Raven, opened the curtain to the cubicle, Dr. Zugoni said, “Come on in, Lieutenant Raven, most everyone else has.” They heard a beep. Zugoni looked down at his pager. “I’ve got to take care of another patient. I’ll be back to see you in a couple of hours, Officer Trader. I’ll leave it to you and Agent Sherlock to reassure your lieutenant.” He walked out of cubicle in a hurry, his white coat flapping again.
Joy looked after him. She felt all loose and vague and wondered how he got his white coat to move like that. There was no wind, but maybe he was going near the speed of light. Her brain flipped and whirled and wondered. Her last thought was of the footfalls she’d heard before the lights went out. Sherlock patted Dave Trader’s shoulder and reassured him his wife would be okay. She left him staring down at Joy’s still face. Was he praying?
Sherlock wasn’t surprised to see Dillon in the ER working on MAX, sitting with the half-dozen cops who’d come to the ER when word got out one of their own had been hurt. He looked up, his eyebrow arched.
“She’s got a concussion, ketamine in her system with the dart, but Dr. Zugoni—yep, he was here for Officer Trader, too—he says she’ll be fine. They’ll keep her overnight because of the blow to her head, hope to send her home tomorrow.”
“That’s good. Tell me what happened.”
