wrapped the blood pressure monitor around Mike’s upper arm, “you might consider talking to someone about that. Not that it’s any of my business. But if I’d been through what you’ve been through…” She shook her head. “I’d want to talk to someone. I’d need to get something off my chest.”
“Like what?”
“I dunno.” She finished with the blood pressure and started the tricky task of trying to take an unconscious man’s temperature. Ben knew wires hooked up all over Mike’s body were monitoring his heartbeat and brain activity and other vital signs, but apparently Beatrice preferred to do some things the old-fashioned way. “The lingering fear that accompanies being in a horrific event. Anxiety. Grief.” She paused ever so slightly. “Guilt.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Ben said with more than a little crust. “I don’t like…talking. Especially not about myself.”
“Suit yourself.” She finished her work and gave Mike’s sheets a little tuck. “Sir, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. But you know—we’ll call you if there’s any change.”
“I know.”
“So…”
“I’ll stay. As long as I can.”
“As you wish.” She started out the door, then stopped. “Oh. Major Morelli has a visitor. I asked her to wait until I finished my business. Do you mind if I send her in now?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Very good, sir. Umm…could I bring you something to eat?”
“I’m fine.”
Beatrice nodded, then left the room.
When was the last time he had eaten? Ben wondered. He couldn’t recall. Perhaps that was why he felt so…feeble. Perhaps that was part of it, anyway.
He stared into Mike’s expressionless face.
Come back,
he thought, as if his mental urging might somehow make the difference.
Come back to us.
“Ben?”
Ben looked up, startled. It took him a moment to focus and make the proper mental connections. “Sergeant Baxter?”
“Would you call me Kate already?” The woman was tall and almost wiry thin. She had dark hair and eyes and, Ben knew from experience, was just as tough as she looked. She had been Mike’s partner.
He mentally corrected himself. She still was Mike’s partner, damn it.
“Kate,” Ben said, rubbing his hands against his face, trying to bring himself back into the world of the living. “How are you?”
“How am
I
?”
“Right. Stupid question.”
They both stared down at Mike, lying quiet and still on his bed.
“You know,” Kate said, “I’ve been telling him he needed to get more rest. But this is ridiculous.”
Ben tried to laugh, but it just wasn’t in him.
“Sorry I haven’t been here more often. But you know, it’s such a long drive from Tulsa. The Turner Turnpike is so boring.”
Ben didn’t say anything.
“Okay, I’m lying through my teeth. I just…I don’t know.” She pressed her wrist against her mouth, obviously trying to stop her emotions from spilling out. “I guess I don’t like seeing him like this.”
Ben nodded slowly. “It just isn’t him, is it?”
“No! Mike is always so full of life and energy and—” She caught herself. “I mean, he’s a sexist pig and I hate working with him and I only do so under protest but…” She let out a long sigh that said more than any number of words might have done.
After a long silent moment, she changed the subject. “Any word from the ex?”
“No.” Hell of a thing, wasn’t it? When you couldn’t track down your own sister. “I don’t know where Julia is. I don’t know if she knows Mike has been wounded. And I don’t really even know if she would care.”
“That’s harsh, surely.”
Ben said nothing. He was much too tired to argue. But he’d been dealing with his younger sister all his life. She had reclaimed her infant son—the one Ben had been raising for her—in a sudden frenzy several years ago, run off with some doctor, and he hadn’t heard from her since. Neither had his mother.
“So is
“Like what?”
“I dunno.” She finished with the blood pressure and started the tricky task of trying to take an unconscious man’s temperature. Ben knew wires hooked up all over Mike’s body were monitoring his heartbeat and brain activity and other vital signs, but apparently Beatrice preferred to do some things the old-fashioned way. “The lingering fear that accompanies being in a horrific event. Anxiety. Grief.” She paused ever so slightly. “Guilt.”
“I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Ben said with more than a little crust. “I don’t like…talking. Especially not about myself.”
“Suit yourself.” She finished her work and gave Mike’s sheets a little tuck. “Sir, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. But you know—we’ll call you if there’s any change.”
“I know.”
“So…”
“I’ll stay. As long as I can.”
“As you wish.” She started out the door, then stopped. “Oh. Major Morelli has a visitor. I asked her to wait until I finished my business. Do you mind if I send her in now?”
“No, I don’t mind.”
“Very good, sir. Umm…could I bring you something to eat?”
“I’m fine.”
Beatrice nodded, then left the room.
When was the last time he had eaten? Ben wondered. He couldn’t recall. Perhaps that was why he felt so…feeble. Perhaps that was part of it, anyway.
He stared into Mike’s expressionless face.
Come back,
he thought, as if his mental urging might somehow make the difference.
Come back to us.
“Ben?”
Ben looked up, startled. It took him a moment to focus and make the proper mental connections. “Sergeant Baxter?”
“Would you call me Kate already?” The woman was tall and almost wiry thin. She had dark hair and eyes and, Ben knew from experience, was just as tough as she looked. She had been Mike’s partner.
He mentally corrected himself. She still was Mike’s partner, damn it.
“Kate,” Ben said, rubbing his hands against his face, trying to bring himself back into the world of the living. “How are you?”
“How am
I
?”
“Right. Stupid question.”
They both stared down at Mike, lying quiet and still on his bed.
“You know,” Kate said, “I’ve been telling him he needed to get more rest. But this is ridiculous.”
Ben tried to laugh, but it just wasn’t in him.
“Sorry I haven’t been here more often. But you know, it’s such a long drive from Tulsa. The Turner Turnpike is so boring.”
Ben didn’t say anything.
“Okay, I’m lying through my teeth. I just…I don’t know.” She pressed her wrist against her mouth, obviously trying to stop her emotions from spilling out. “I guess I don’t like seeing him like this.”
Ben nodded slowly. “It just isn’t him, is it?”
“No! Mike is always so full of life and energy and—” She caught herself. “I mean, he’s a sexist pig and I hate working with him and I only do so under protest but…” She let out a long sigh that said more than any number of words might have done.
After a long silent moment, she changed the subject. “Any word from the ex?”
“No.” Hell of a thing, wasn’t it? When you couldn’t track down your own sister. “I don’t know where Julia is. I don’t know if she knows Mike has been wounded. And I don’t really even know if she would care.”
“That’s harsh, surely.”
Ben said nothing. He was much too tired to argue. But he’d been dealing with his younger sister all his life. She had reclaimed her infant son—the one Ben had been raising for her—in a sudden frenzy several years ago, run off with some doctor, and he hadn’t heard from her since. Neither had his mother.
“So is
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