my chest like a Subway commercial if I took a deep breath. I looked like a reject from the Village People.
Looking in the mirror, I finally saw the damage I incurred from the shovel. My forehead had a deep purple bruise running from my hairline down to my blackened right eye, which was swollen. Fortunately my nose didn't look broken and my lips weren't too puffy.
Before leaving I checked one last time to make sure Robertson's hands were secured to the bed. I put the extra pair of handcuffs he carried with him around his ankles. He now wore my hospital garb, which I'd been glad to be rid of. I couldn't have him alerting anyone to what had happened before I got out of the hospital, so I used his boxers as a gag. I tied them in place with the I.V. tube. He was coming to and didn't seem altogether pleased with the taste in his mouth.
"I have three things to apologize for. First, for knocking you out. Second, for stuffing your undies in your mouth. And third, for going commando in your uniform."
His grunts suggested he didn't accept.
"I'll try not to do any lunges on my way out."
Opening the door, I poked my head out and looked both ways. No one seemed to be paying any attention, so I locked the door and pulled it closed behind me. On the floor, beside the chair Robertson had been sitting on, was his hat. Jamming it on my head, I pulled it as far down to my eyes as I could.
I walked down the hallway as fast as I dared, which caused the pants to pull up my shins even higher, exposing bare skin above my socks. I kept my head tilted down as low as possible, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Pushing through double doors, I passed a nurse who eyeballed me from head to toe.
"I think you might need a new uniform, officer," she said.
"Damn dryers always shrink my clothes," I mumbled without slowing down.
Sitting on a cart off to the side of a hallway was a plate with a half eaten hamburger sitting on it. I grabbed it without breaking stride and shoved most of it into my mouth. Even though it was cold cafeteria food I thought it may have been the best burger of all time. Hopefully that would keep my stomach pangs to a minimum for awhile.
More than a few more people tried to suppress giggles as I walked by. As long as they didn't notice my beat up face, I figured I could make it out of the hospital.
Chapter 13
The cab driver spent more time looking at me in the rear view mirror than he did watching the road. Fortunately the trip was a short one so he didn't kill us in a head on collision.
When I emerged from the hospital, which I had just learned was Prince George's, I saw the taxi sitting there waiting for a fare. After making up a ridiculous excuse about my patrol car being in the shop, he took me back to the crummy hotel where I left Sammy and Nami. Though he didn't say anything aloud, he thought I was a male stripper. When we pulled up to the hotel I gave him all of the cash in Robertson's wallet. Most of it turned out to be singles, which solidified the driver's misgivings.
"I'm really not a stri—" I started before thinking better of it. "Never mind. I, Officer Jerry Robertson, am a gigolo. Lock up your daughters, or something."
The guy deserved it for sleeping with his wife's sister.
A tangible silence fell over the hotel room as I entered. Sammy and Nami stared at me in utter disbelief.
"Uh, this is a private room, officer," Nami finally said.
"It's me, Ash."
Their eyes roamed up and down my absurd uniform for several more seconds. Then the laughter started. Sammy, nearing hysteria, fell off the bed while clutching her stomach. Nami looked like she was having a conniption fit. Looking down at my ensemble, I couldn't help but join them. I laughed so hard that I started snorting. Pain flared in my chest so I tried to stop, which only made me laugh harder. When one of the buttons popped off the front of the uniform I thought I was going to suffocate.
The blood rushing to my head made the already
Looking in the mirror, I finally saw the damage I incurred from the shovel. My forehead had a deep purple bruise running from my hairline down to my blackened right eye, which was swollen. Fortunately my nose didn't look broken and my lips weren't too puffy.
Before leaving I checked one last time to make sure Robertson's hands were secured to the bed. I put the extra pair of handcuffs he carried with him around his ankles. He now wore my hospital garb, which I'd been glad to be rid of. I couldn't have him alerting anyone to what had happened before I got out of the hospital, so I used his boxers as a gag. I tied them in place with the I.V. tube. He was coming to and didn't seem altogether pleased with the taste in his mouth.
"I have three things to apologize for. First, for knocking you out. Second, for stuffing your undies in your mouth. And third, for going commando in your uniform."
His grunts suggested he didn't accept.
"I'll try not to do any lunges on my way out."
Opening the door, I poked my head out and looked both ways. No one seemed to be paying any attention, so I locked the door and pulled it closed behind me. On the floor, beside the chair Robertson had been sitting on, was his hat. Jamming it on my head, I pulled it as far down to my eyes as I could.
I walked down the hallway as fast as I dared, which caused the pants to pull up my shins even higher, exposing bare skin above my socks. I kept my head tilted down as low as possible, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. Pushing through double doors, I passed a nurse who eyeballed me from head to toe.
"I think you might need a new uniform, officer," she said.
"Damn dryers always shrink my clothes," I mumbled without slowing down.
Sitting on a cart off to the side of a hallway was a plate with a half eaten hamburger sitting on it. I grabbed it without breaking stride and shoved most of it into my mouth. Even though it was cold cafeteria food I thought it may have been the best burger of all time. Hopefully that would keep my stomach pangs to a minimum for awhile.
More than a few more people tried to suppress giggles as I walked by. As long as they didn't notice my beat up face, I figured I could make it out of the hospital.
Chapter 13
The cab driver spent more time looking at me in the rear view mirror than he did watching the road. Fortunately the trip was a short one so he didn't kill us in a head on collision.
When I emerged from the hospital, which I had just learned was Prince George's, I saw the taxi sitting there waiting for a fare. After making up a ridiculous excuse about my patrol car being in the shop, he took me back to the crummy hotel where I left Sammy and Nami. Though he didn't say anything aloud, he thought I was a male stripper. When we pulled up to the hotel I gave him all of the cash in Robertson's wallet. Most of it turned out to be singles, which solidified the driver's misgivings.
"I'm really not a stri—" I started before thinking better of it. "Never mind. I, Officer Jerry Robertson, am a gigolo. Lock up your daughters, or something."
The guy deserved it for sleeping with his wife's sister.
A tangible silence fell over the hotel room as I entered. Sammy and Nami stared at me in utter disbelief.
"Uh, this is a private room, officer," Nami finally said.
"It's me, Ash."
Their eyes roamed up and down my absurd uniform for several more seconds. Then the laughter started. Sammy, nearing hysteria, fell off the bed while clutching her stomach. Nami looked like she was having a conniption fit. Looking down at my ensemble, I couldn't help but join them. I laughed so hard that I started snorting. Pain flared in my chest so I tried to stop, which only made me laugh harder. When one of the buttons popped off the front of the uniform I thought I was going to suffocate.
The blood rushing to my head made the already
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