“You’re way off. I shoved them in a mail slot.”
“We actually checked that. There were none on the route that were large enough. No, sir, you had to have handed it to someone, and the only person I can think of is that old man you stopped just before you parked your car-the one with the umbrella. You stopped him to ask directions, then ran into him again at that corner. He told you his name, didn’t he? He told you how to find him.”
“You’re way off base.”
“You will tell us who that man is and how you were going to meet up with him again. If you don’t, then you will have suffered through a mountain of pain for nothing, because sooner or later we’re going to find him. We’re just going to go back there and work the neighborhood with enough money until we find someone who will send us to the right door.”
“Then do it.”
“I don’t think we’re going to have to. Do you, Dr. Krause?”
Krause pulled the table over near the chair and set his briefcase on it.
“I don’t believe so at all,” he said. “We have a bet, you and I, Mr. G., and I never lose a bet.”
Will felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Slick sweat materialized beneath his arms. He had passed out during Krause’s last go at him and had awakened with a merciful amount of amnesia. How far would his stubbornness take him this time?
“So, Dr. Grant,” Gold said, “you have just two choices at this moment. Tell us the name of the man you gave the films to, or take off your clothes for an encore of last night’s festivities.”
“Fuck you,” Will managed.
“Your choice.” Gold turned to the doorway. “Mr. Watkins?”
A black man the size of a pickup truck stepped into the room.
“At your service.”
“Mr. Watkins, our guest is complaining about feeling hot and also about a sudden desire to be up in that chair. Do you think you could help him out?”
“I would love to help him out,” Watkins said.
He reached behind him, brought in a metal bucket and a mop, and lumbered across the room toward Will.
“You only threw up once last night before you passed out,” Gold said. “Dr. Krause has promised me he won’t cut things so close today.”
CHAPTER 31
Lying in their darkened bedroom, Donna Lee felt her husband’s fingertips slip under her T and begin gently kneading the muscles in the hollow of her back and down over her buttocks. She had never been a very deep sleeper, especially over the year since little Davy was born, and she was awake in seconds.
“Honey, can’t you sleep?” she asked dreamily.
“I don’t want to.”
She stopped herself at the last possible moment from asking what would happen if one of the kids walked in on them and was it worth locking the door. When was the last time they had made love in the early morning? Maybe a couple of years. She rolled from her side to her belly and he responded by massaging her behind in slow, patient loops, one side to the other, the way she loved it-the way that never failed to turn her on.
“Oh, baby,” she moaned softly. “That feels so good. . so good.”
His hand slid between her thighs and helped her become even wetter than she already was.
She could feel his hardness against her. Responding, she raised her arms over her head, pointed her toes, and stretched her body out as taut and straight as an arrow. The trade-off for fewer surprises in their lovemaking was that each of them knew so well what pleased the other. Not predictable, really, just. . comfortable.
She pulled her shirt off and he turned her toward him, kissing her in the way no other man ever had or ever would-pressure just right on her mouth, lips apart, but not too much, tongue exploring, caressing, even as hers explored him.
“Oh, I love this, Jeff,” she said. “And I love you so much.”
She took him in her hand and stroked him rhythmically until he had grown so large she could barely get her fingers around him, and so hard it seemed he might break. Fifteen years of marriage, and rubbing him this way still excited her so.
“Don’t stop, Donna. Don’t stop. .”
“Donna?”
“Huh?”
“Donna. .”
Donna pushed away from her desk and rubbed her eyes. Anne Hajjar, arms folded, was looking down at her mischievously. Like Donna, she was dressed in a set of aqua scrubs and a flower-print hair cover. Beyond her, Donna could see the ICU pulsating the way it always did when the census was near capacity. Today, though, they were again short a nurse, so everything was, if possible, moving even faster.
“What’s up?” she asked, trying for a business-as-usual look.
“You were actually out, weren’t you,” her longtime friend said, teasing. “Asleep at the switch.”
“It was my break.”
“Come on, you looked like you were smiling there.”
“So?”
Anne peered down at her, then suddenly grinned knowingly.
“You had sex this morning, didn’t you?”
Donna raised herself up regally.
“I refuse to say.”
“You bimbo!”
“Jesus, Hajjar. You’re not a bimbo when you make love to your husband.”
“I wouldn’t know. I divorced mine before I could find out what it was like. Listen, go back to your daydreaming. It’s good that at least someone around here is smiling today. I’m jealous as hell and I hate you for Jeff, but I’ll still handle the new admission the ER just called about.”
“Nonsense. I’m up for the next one, and I’ll do it. I can put Jeff on pause. What do they have?”
“Sixty-eight-year-old man with chest pain. Looks like it may be an evolving MI. There’s still a chance they may want to take him to the cath lab to open up a couple of his arteries with stents.”
“So, this guy’ll fill us up. Do you want to ship someone out to keep a bed open?”
“If we can do it, sure.”
“Who do we have? Mr. Turnbull?”
“He had runs of extra beats all night, remember? Or were you busy reliving you-know-what during report?”
“Hey, cut me some slack. With three kids, this is not an everyday occurrence. What about Lila?”
“It’s either her or Patty Moriarity. All the others are too unstable.”
“I vote Lila. Her cardiac enzymes are down and her pacemaker’s working fine, and she’s even more of a demanding pain in the neck than she was the last time she was here. Besides, Patty’s still in a coma and hasn’t even been here for two days yet. Even though she’s medically stable and off the vent, Dr. Ng would go ballistic if we tried to ship her out to the step-down unit in this condition.”
“So would Dr. Grant. He was in there with her for a good long time yesterday.”
“Hmmm. Should we be crossing him off the hospital’s most-eligible list?”
“I think he crossed himself off the list with the fentanyl.”
“But he may be back on. I just heard he’s getting his license back. Something about somebody soaking the insides of his OR shoes with fentanyl.”
“I heard that rumor, too.”
“Who would do a thing like that?”
“I don’t know, but I am really relieved there’s an explanation for what happened. Will is a very good guy.”
“So, you think Will and Patty?”
“The doc and the cop. How romantic.”
“Were you in with her just now?”
“I was. She’s breathing easily and handling her secretions okay. Between the surgery and whatever she went through saving that guy’s life, she is really battered. Still, it’s probably just me, but I think she seems a little lighter than she did yesterday.”