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I shove through the hospital doors and come to stop in the middle of a bustling emergency room. Busy, but not chaotic. Glancing left, I find rows of beds, and curtains pulled between each for privacy, then I look right and find a desk overflowing with staff in scrubs. Nurses. Doctors. Even a pediatrician in soft lavender.
“Hi, sir, you can’t—”
I turn and meet the eyes of a woman who can’t be more than an inch above five feet tall. Taking out my badge, I pause as her eyes scan the details. “My name’s Detective Archer Malone. I’m looking for Doctor Cleary.”
The woman’s eyes widen with fear. Her cheeks pale. “Has something happened? Has…” She swallows. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. We just need to speak with her. Is she working today?”
“Sh—” She nods. “Yes, she’s working today.”
“Can you show us the way?” I ask.
Now she shakes her head. “I can’t leave the ER, b-but Doctor Cleary is on the third floor. She was called up only a few moments ago. I heard…” Shakily—cop-shy, I suppose—she points to the speakers nestled in the ceiling. “I heard them call her.”
“Third floor.” Fletch gives the woman his patentedall-women-wanna-fuck-mesmile as though to put her at ease. Then he studies her chest… or possibly the name tag attached to it. “Nurse Henderson. Thanks for your assistance.” Then he taps my arm and moves toward the elevators.
“Wait.” The woman spins and follows us with helplessness in her eyes. “Is Doctor Cleary in trouble for something? Does she need help?”
“She’s fine.” I wave her off and turn to follow Fletch. “She’s jumpy.”
“She thinks her colleague’s a fugitive,” he laughs.
Slapping the elevator call button, we step to the side and wait as the doors open and personnel file out like a wave breaking past the rocks. Navy scrubs. Light blue scrubs. Pink. Yellow. There’s a shade for every color in the rainbow, and each of them move in a different direction when they’re free of the eight-foot cube.
When the lift empties and it’s just us going up, we move inside, and I select the third floor.
“Most folks get a little twitchy when we’re flashing our badges,” he continues. “It’s human nature.”
“Not Minka or Aubree.” I look across and finally smile. “They don’t give a single fuck that we’re cops.”
“Nor the beautiful Seraphina Lewis.” Dropping his hands in his pockets, he rocks back on his heels and grins. “She might even consider it a challenge. Is it illegal to tell a cop to fuck himself with his own black dildo?”
“Er… nope.” When the doors open, I start into the hall. “Do you own one of those?”
“No. But she offered to buy me one if that would help me get where I’ve gotta go.” He laughs. “And just so we’re clear, it’snotillegal to sass a cop?”
“Nope. Which means you don’t get to cuff her without her consent. Nicki!” I see her at the very end of the hall. The doctor I dated one time. The medic who met her husband that very same night and ended up going home with him. There were no hard feelings and no weird day-afters. There was just a happy couple, and a few months later, a wedding with a beautiful bride.
When her head whips up and her eyes come to mine, I walk faster. She speaks to a nurse and signs her name on a paper held by a clipboard. Passing the pen, then nodding an answer to someone else who comes her way, she turns to us and waits with a sly smile.
It’s not often I come to see her. And when I do, it’s typically because I want something.
“Detective Malone.” As soon as I’m close enough, Nicki steps in and gives me a side hug. Then, “Detective Fletcher. You’re looking devilish as ever.”
“Doctor Cleary, you’re requested on the first floor. Doctor Cleary. First floor.”
She looks up to the speakers that garble her name, then she sighs and starts walking. “I’m honestly sick of hearing that thing talk.” She leads our trio but turns at the fire stairs instead of the elevator. “How can I help you, Detectives? Am I being arrested?”
“Have you done something illegal?” I skip down the steps just two paces behind her. “Guilty conscience?”
“Often,” she counters easily. “But I won’t confess to a thing. Who’s injured? What do you need?”
“We have questions,” I tell her instead. Though I definitely don’t mention the bullet that pierced my shoulder not all that long ago.
Before she can charge onto the next flight of stairs, I grab her arm and bring her to a stop on the middle landing. “We have a dead body, Nicki.”
Finally staying in one place, she studies my eyes. Then Fletch’s.
