Beyond Reach by Karin Slaughter

heard a toilet flush behind him. “Guess the nurse just finished her rounds.”
    They both waited, Sara leaning against the wall, Jeffrey pacing, reading the signs that had been taped to some of the patients’ doors. “No Water.” “No Solids.” “No Unattended Toilet.”
    Christ, they knew how to bring you low in these places.
    He heard water running from the bathroom faucet, then the familiar squeak of a paper-towel dispenser. Seconds later, the door opened and a gray-haired man in a uniform came out. He did a double take when he saw Jeffrey. “Chief Tolliver?”
    “Jeffrey,” he offered, walking over to shake the man’s hand. He realized a second too late that he wasn’t talking to the sheriff. The insignia on the dark brown and taupe uniform identified the man as a deputy. “This is my wife, Dr. Sara Linton.”
    “Donald Cook.” The man shook Jeffrey’s hand, nodding at Sara. He had a loud, booming voice, and didn’t seem to be worried if he woke up any of the patients. “Sorry if I kept y’all waiting.”
    Jeffrey got straight to the point. “How’s my detective doing?”
    “No trouble at all,” Cook answered. “She’s been quiet as a mouse.”
    In a different situation, Jeffrey would have made some joke about mistaken identity. “Was she burned? Your sheriff said there was some kind of explosion—”
    “She’s got smoke inhalation, some cuts and scrapes. Doc says she’ll heal up fine.”
    Jeffrey waited for Sara to press the man about Lena’s condition, but she just stood there, listening. This wasn’t like her. The hospital was Sara’s element. He’d expected her to at least ask for Lena’s chart or try to find the doctor in charge.
    Then again, Sara didn’t usually tag along when he was working. Jeffrey guessed she was trying not to interfere. He asked the deputy, “Can you tell me what happened?”
    “Best talk to Jake about that.” The man made his way behind the counter and fell back into the desk chair with a groan. He picked up the phone, saying, “Sorry I can’t offer y’all a seat.” He slipped on a pair of reading glasses so he could make out the numbers on the telephone. “They had a junkie in here last night who puked all over the chairs. Easier to just throw them out and order some new ones.”
    “No problem,” Jeffrey said, tucking his hands into his pockets, trying to resist the urge to resume pacing. Though Sara seemed to be keeping her own counsel, he could see that she was just as surprised by the situation as Jeffrey. Lena’s armed guard was a joke. The deputy should be sitting outside her room, not eating crackers and taking a crap when the mood suited him. Sara had been right. Jeffrey should’ve looked for Lena on his own instead of attempting to play the diplomat.
    Cook unnecessarily held up his hand for silence, saying into the phone, “Jake? He’s here. Yeah, brought a doctor with him.” He nodded, then hung up, telling Jeffrey, “Jake said he’s just pulling into the parking lot. Went home to get some supper. We figured it’d take a little longer for you to get here.”
    “What was she arrested for?” When the man didn’t answer, Jeffrey gave him some options. “Property damage? Criminal neglect?”
    Cook’s lips turned up in a grin. “Not exactly.”
    Jeffrey knew what a “not exactly” meant—they had charged her with something small in order to buy time to figure out how to charge her with something big. He glanced back at Sara, feeling pulled in two different directions. Bringing Sara here was probably not one of his brighter ideas. Everything about the hospital was likely reminding her of the malpractice suit, the fact that somewhere back in Grant County her professional and private lives were being raked over the coals.
    With some effort, Jeffrey shifted his focus back to Lena. “Can we go ahead and see her?”
    “Might not be a good idea,” Cook said, sliding a cracker out of the pack. Jeffrey felt his stomach rumble and