New River Blues by Elizabeth Gunn Page B

deeper swamp?
    â€˜And what’s worse,’ he said, scratching his sun-ravaged cheeks, ‘the victims are upper-crusties and so are their neighbors. All these witnesses are used to being in charge. They’re not going to like it one bit, us all over the place asking questions. They’re going to want it handled their way . But you’re good at dealing with people like that, Sarah. You grew up here and you understand them.’
    No need to slather it on, boss. You know perfectly well I’ll bust my butt for one good word from you. When the time came for her to be considered for his job, Sarah was going to need Delaney’s endorsement. He knew that and took advantage, piling work on her so he could build a reputation as the Homicide boss who closed more cases than his predecessor with the same number of detectives – as good a way as any to get your name shortlisted for Chief.
    They had built a nearly perfect symbiosis, she reflected as she watched him walk away. She accepted, without complaint, his unreasonable demands on her time and energy. He pretended not to know she was making a list of things she thought she could do better when she got his job.
    She looked at her watch. Almost eight. If Roger Henderson went to work early, maybe Ruth, the wonder secretary, did too.
    Before the first ring ended, a professionally cordial voice said, ‘Hen-Trax.’
    â€˜I’m hoping you’re Ruth,’ Sarah said.
    â€˜I am indeed,’ the voice said, warming up still more. ‘What can I do for you?’
    Sarah identified herself and then, picking her words carefully, told Ruth there was a problem at the Henderson house. ‘I can’t share any details until I’ve spoken to Mr Henderson, of course. Do you know where I might find him?’
    Deeply curious at once but flawlessly polite, Ruth said her boss had been at a meeting in Phoenix all weekend, but ‘I really expected him back by now. I’m waiting to hear from him.’ She probed all around the problem. Was there something she could help with? What message did Sarah want to leave for Mr Henderson?
    Sarah left her cell number, already rehearsing what she would say when he called.
    The second time Roger regained consciousness, he was on a gurney being wheeled down a hall. There were people around him, busy but calm, all talking to each other but not about him. The young man in blue scrubs who was pushing the gurney had been to a baseball game recently and was sharing his enthusiasm about a Diamondbacks pitcher. ‘That Brandon Webb, I tell you,’ he said, ‘he’s just a throwing animal.’
    Roger tried to sit up but his arms seemed to be fastened to the narrow cot. There was a needle in his left arm, too, he noticed now, and a tube running up to a nearly full bag that hung from a shiny stand like a coat rack. Another young man beside him was pushing the rack, keeping pace with the gurney so the IV stayed in Roger’s arm.
    He had not been in a hospital as a patient since he sprained an ankle in high school, and his first thought was that he didn’t want to be in this one now. But most of his waking hours were spent thinking about how systems worked, and in spite of himself his attention was caught by the clever coupling that fastened the IV tube to the needle in his arm. He admired it for a few seconds, thinking, Wouldn’t I like to hire the guy who thought of that. Then the here and now he had been hurrying toward came back into his mind, and he said, ‘Where am I?’
    The young man pushing the rack told him he was in Chandler Medical, and congratulated him for having his accident so near a big emergency medical center. ‘I mean, if you gotta mess up you did it just right,’ he said. ‘We zipped you over here in nothing flat, the triage doc’s already seen you and you’re on your way to a scan. You’re doing great, buddy. Just relax.’
    The world was