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The curtain opened and a smiling nurse stood there. “Zander, I presume?” she asked.
“Yes. Where’s Heather?”
“In here.”
“Zander, come in,” Heather said, her voice sounding funny. The nurse waved him inside where the biggest RCMP officer he’d ever seen stood scowling beside Heather’s bed.
Zander stepped toward Heather and stopped cold. He gasped. “Jeez,” he whispered. “What the hell happened?” He rushed to her side.
Her face was black and blue, her head swaddled in a large bandage, her left leg was in an inflatable cast. He closed his eyes and swallowed away the pain stabbing at him. This happened because he abandoned her.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. He stroked the back of her unbruised right hand.
“Not your fault.” Her voice was garbled.
“Can we continue?” the officer demanded. “Sir, can you sit?” It wasn’t a question.
Heather patted the bed, and he perched on the edge beside her, careful not to jostle her. He held her hand.
“Okay,” the cop said, “Let’s go over it one more time.”
“I’m pretty sure it was an accident. I was at the concert,” her voice shook and was almost unintelligible through the swelling in her face. “I was late going in.”
“Why was that?”
Heat crept up Zander’s face even as Heather’s cheeks started to flush. “Because I just broke up with my boyfriend and he left me there.”
The cop scowled. “This yahoo?” His voice was heavy with danger.
“Guilty,” Zander said.
“You sure you want him here?”
“Yes.” She winced and went on. “I was watching on the landing, waiting for the break between songs to head to my seat. I ran into someone I know. Or rather he ran into me. His wife pushed past me and the next thing I knew I was going backwards. I woke up here.”
“And this guy’s name?”
She told him.
“What the hell is he doing here?” Zander demanded. “Doesn’t he live halfway across the country?”
“Sir. If you can’t be quiet, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Heather squeezed his hand in hers and he mimed zipping his lip.
“They’re from Ontario. Came out for the concert.” She stretched toward the bedside table and winced.
“What do you need?” Zander asked.
“Wa’er,” she mumbled.
He passed her the glass, and she sipped carefully before handing it back. The cop resumed his questions. They went on and on, and eventually satisfied, he sat and wrote out a statement. “Read this and sign it if it is accurate.” He passed it to Heather. She read through the two-page report twice and scrawled her name at the bottom. “I’ve got your information. I’ll be in touch once we talk to these people.”
“I don’t want to press charges,” she said.
“You may not have a choice. In cases like this, the RCMP may choose to do it on your behalf. I’ll let you know. Have a good night.”
“Oh, Heather. I’m so sorry. I never should have left you there.”
