Radclyffe - Sheltering Dunes

“No problem,” Chris said.

Tory walked over to Flynn and picked up the clipboard on the bottom of the bed. She scanned it quickly. Vital signs were all normal, although her pulse was rapid and her blood pressure high. An area over her right temple and cheekbone was swollen and discolored. She leaned down and squinted at the area. Not a fist. A shoe, most likely. Anger simmered but she pushed the distracting fury aside and rested her hand on Flynn’s wrist. Her pulse was bounding. Stress, fear, pain. “How are you feeling?”

“Not bad.” Flynn’s voice was reedy and thin.

“Show me where your chest hurts,” Tory said as she fit her stethoscope to her ears. Flynn covered an area on her lower right side, and Tory avoided the spot as she moved her stethoscope over Flynn’s lung fields. Breath sounds were present, but depressed. Flynn obviously wasn’t taking a deep breath. She set her stethoscope aside and pushed Flynn’s shirt up. A five- by eight-inch area over her right lower rib cage was mottled purple. She gently palpated the area, and Flynn stiffened, trying unsuccessfully to hide a wince. Tory didn’t feel any crepitus from air in the tissue or grating from shattered bone ends grinding together, but the degree of Flynn’s pain suggested a fracture. “We’ll need to X-ray you.”

“Have you seen Mica yet?”

“The other patient?”

“Yes.”

“Not yet. Mica. Wait a minute. The girl who was hit while riding her bicycle?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

Tory made a few notes on the clipboard. Red flags were waving from every corner. “That’s a pretty unlucky coincidence.”

“The driver of the van was from up-Cape,” Flynn said slowly. “This guy wasn’t from around here. Not related, I don’t think.”

“Well, you don’t need to figure it out for me. Reese will be talking to you in a little while. What we need to do now is get you X-rayed.”

“Can I talk to Mica first?”

“If it will keep her from running out again, yes. But she’ll have to come to you. I don’t want you moving around until I’ve seen your X-rays.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

“Let me finish looking at you, and then I’ll get her. Where else do you hurt?”

Flynn closed her eyes. “I think that’s about it.”

“That’s enough.”

Flynn nodded, saving her breath. Every inhalation was like swallowing fire, and her stomach, even though it was empty, was still in revolt. She did not want to vomit. All she wanted was to see Mica, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen unless she cooperated. The sooner she got her X-rays, the sooner she’d be able to see her. She needed to make sure Mica was all right, and she needed to make sure she didn’t disappear.

The trip to and from X-ray was an exercise in torture—every movement incited another surge of stabbing pain. Tory gave her some Percocet, and after a few minutes that started to help. Flynn concentrated on keeping her breathing even and her heart rate quiet. Prayer was like meditation for her, and after so many years, she could easily slip into that self-contained zone where mind and body existed on separate planes. The meditation helped dull the burning pain, but knowing she’d see Mica after the procedure helped even more.

Chris, who had volunteered to transport her to the X-ray bay, wheeled her back to the treatment room just as Tory came out of the room opposite.

“Mica?” Flynn asked.

“She’ll be over in a minute. I’m going to go read your films.” Tory nodded to Chris. “Thanks. I think you and Vince can take off.”

“Sure thing, Doc.” Chris leaned over the stretcher to Flynn. “You take it easy, you hear? I don’t want to see your face at work for a few days.”

“I’ll call the captain in the morning,” Flynn said.

“I’ll take care of it.” Chris squeezed Flynn’s shoulder. “Just get some rest.”

“Hey,” Mica said, sidling up to the stretcher. A red, angry swath of bruises encircled her neck. Fingerprints.

Flynn pictured the shadowy figure clamping an arm across Mica’s throat and dragging her away. She reached for Mica’s hand and when Mica immediately took hers, Flynn’s pounding pulse settled. “Did he hurt you?”

“Nah,” Mica said with a shrug. “He was too busy whaling on you.”

Flynn smiled. “I’m glad I could offer a diversion.”

Mica stroked Flynn’s arm, her dark eyes wide and worried. “He really did a number on you. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey. Not your fault.”

Mica bit her lip, looking as if she wanted to say something, but she remained quiet.

“When we get out of here,” Flynn said, “will you tell me what’s going on?”

Mica flicked her gaze to the door as if worried someone might overhear. “You don’t want to know. There’s nothing you can do and—well, you see what kind of trouble you can get into just being around me.”

Flynn gripped her fingers more firmly, sensing her wanting to withdraw. “You weren’t the one making the trouble. Don’t run out on me.”

“You ask a lot.”

“Do I? Do you mind?”

“I don’t know.” Mica frowned. “I just don’t want you getting hurt anymore.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that.”

“Because you don’t seem to have much sense.”

Flynn smiled and tried not to laugh. She couldn’t breathe enough to laugh. “You know, you really make me feel special.”

Mica grinned. “Good.” She blushed. “’Cause, you know, you are.”

“Mica,” Flynn said seriously, “the police will want to talk to us. Can you do that?”

“Sure,” Mica said quickly. “Why not.”

Flynn recognized the bravado for what it was, an attempt to cover up her uncertainty. “I know these people. You can trust them.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“I wish…”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Look, when this is over, I want you to come home with me.”

“Um, I think your timing needs a little work.”

“Not that way,” Flynn said. “I don’t think you ought to be alone. And besides, I’m not going to be very functional and I could use the company.”

Mica narrowed her eyes. “I think you’re playing me now.”

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Maybe.” Mica ran her fingers through Flynn’s hair. “Maybe I feel a little bit sorry for you.”

“Thanks.” Flynn leaned her cheek against Mica’s palm, relieved that Mica had agreed to stay with her. Whoever the guy was, he was still out there, and Mica was vulnerable. She wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her.

Allie strode through the door. “Hey, Flynn. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” Flynn tugged Mica a little closer, afraid she would bolt. “A few bumps and bruises is all.”

“Uh-huh.” Allie didn’t look like she believed her, her cool gaze assessing Mica. “Dr. King said it would be okay if we got your statements now. I’ll take you,” she said to Mica, “first. Come with me.”

Mica glanced at Flynn, and Flynn nodded. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Wordlessly, Mica followed Allie from the room. Flynn fought down a wave of fear that she wouldn’t see Mica again. She tried telling herself she was overreacting, but she knew better. Sometimes people walked out the door and never came back.

Chapter Seventeen

Tory sat at her desk finishing her notes. She looked up when Reese appeared in the doorway, talking on her phone.

“Hold on a second,” Reese said to whoever she had on the line and looked at Tory. “Status report?”

“I’ll fill you in when you’re done.” Tory gathered the files and moved over to the sofa in the small sitting area across from her desk. A minute later, Reese joined her.