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“Detective Malone,” I cut in. “I was inside that bank tonight with a desperate dad, so I’m just following up on what’s happening.”
“She’s in the OR now,” the woman sighs.
Stunned, I whip my head back and blink, once. Twice. Three times. “Suzanne Slade is in surgery? Right now?”
“Yeah. Doctor Cleary came out of her cholecystectomy about an hour ago and was bombarded with missed phone calls from someone who bears a similar name to yours.” She lifts a single brow and smirks. “She asked what the hell was going on, since she’d missed everything that happened at the bank. Then she turned herself around and took that girl in for surgery. Her mom is here.” She sobers so her expression becomes more serious. “She’s a complete mess, Detective. She knows what her ex-husband has done. But Doctor Cleary made the offer to operate, and the woman gave her consent. They’ve been in there a while now.”
I press a hand to my chest, only to spin at the sound of raised voices behind me.
Tim and Fletch stand in the doorway of our waiting room, arguing and, when Tim reaches across to grab my partner, Fletch’s hand swings down with lightning-fast speed and slaps it away. They exchange harsh words and angry expressions. Shouted demands, and when a nurse charges forward to intercept the loud pair, they speak that much faster.
When Tim reaches out a second time, Fletch shoves my brother back, then he turns on his heels and stalks along the hall, slamming the double-wide doors open and charging through until he’s gone.
He’s leaving, just like I fucking told him to.
So why does it hurt so much?
“Detective Malone?” My nurse’s voice echoes somewhere in the back of my consciousness. “Detective?”
“Yeah.” Slowly, with an ache thudding deep in my heart, I twist back and nod. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” I run a hand over my face, then down over my jaw so the rustle of stubble is loud enough, I’m certain everyone can hear. “Thanks. How long do you think the girl’s surgery would take?”
“A long while yet.” She takes a step away and folds herself back into the machine that is a trauma wing and operating rooms. “You may as well go find a seat,” she calls over her shoulder.
I remain in the middle of the hall as staff race past me in a rainbow of scrubs, chattering about the Copeland National hostage situation. When I glance around, I notice security at each door, and taking a moment to think that through, I realize that, with the little girl in surgery and her father not yet apprehended, this entire hospital is probably in lockdown.
On the inside, there’s not enough change to make that apparent.
But on the outside, this place is surely locked up tighter than Fort Knox.
“Arch.”
Tim’s voice so near surprises me so I jump and face my oldest brother. My big brother. My protector, even when he pretends he’s not watching.
Slowly, I bring my eyes up and meet his hard stare, but all he does is tilt his head and study me the way he long ago mastered. “What the fuck is happening?”
“Um… Suzanne Slade is in surgery,” I exhale. “Minka’s in surgery. The security guard is in surgery.” I press my fist to my mouth and shake my head. “The place is full and probably diverting incoming patients elsewhere.”
“Yeah.” He rests his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “I knew all that already. What the fuck is happening with Fletch?”
My heart kicks painfully in my chest. “Nothing.”
“Something’s going on!” he barks. “You just announced he’s dead to you, Arch.” He releases my shoulder so I stumble back a step. “That’s not nothing.”
“He didn’t help Minka when she needed it.” I take off back toward our waiting room, now that he’s gone. “He and I are supposed to have each other’s backs. He didn’t have mine tonight.”
“He was as involved as I was.” Tim grabs me at the door until my arm hits the wall. “He wasmoreinvolved than I was. But you’re not calling me out.”
“You’re a civilian.” I brush him off and start into the room to find Aubree and Seraphina sitting together. Not huddling. Not cuddling. Apart, but together. “You were ordered to stay back.” I turn at the front row of seats and plop down before my legs give out. “He’s a fuckin’ cop, Tim. And it was his job to have my back.”
“You were both civilians.” He comes to crouch in front of me so I can’t ignore his eyes. “You were both told to stand back and let the negotiations team deal with it.”
“Like how you let them get Aubree, right?” I glance over my shoulder and find her tear-streaked cheeks, and the smudges of another man’s blood on her chin.
Bringing my focus back around, I look into Tim’s eyes. “You are an actual, literal civilian, and they told you to stay on the other side of the barricade. But did you?”
“No,” he frowns, “but I—”
“You wanted to be there,” I conclude. “You demanded to be there, because you give a shit.” I slouch in my chair and slide my finger through the band hanging around my neck. “We all make choices. Fletch made his.”
