The smell of mud and mildew was replaced with antiseptics that stung Creed’s nostrils. It already hurt to breathe. He saw needles in his arm and tubes trailing from his body. And all he could think about was his dog.
He craned his neck. Tried to sit up and was met with pain. Lay back down on sterile pillows and white sheets stained with his blood. Machines gurgled and whirred somewhere beside him. His vision wouldn’t focus, breaking everything into pieces with halos of bright light around the edges. Still, he strained to lift his head enough to see over the bedrails. He needed to see if his dog was okay. If Rufus was safe.
Never leave their side. No matter what.
Not like Brodie. He should have gone with her.
Something startled him and Creed sat up. But he wasn’t in a hospital. He was back in his cot. Back in the high school gymnasium. Grace stirred beside him and looked up at him, ears perched forward. Concern in her eyes. On the floor in between his cot and what had been Maggie’s cot last night was Bolo, stretched out on the floor, fast asleep.
He realized the antiseptic smell came from his own body. He was shirtless beneath the blanket. Fresh bandages wrapped around his chest. But these weren’t tight. Instead Creed could see that they were used only to keep a thin ice pack the length and width of his chest pressed against him.
He fingered his face and felt stitches now where the butterfly bandage had been. He looked around the open space. Almost all the cots were empty. No one was milling around. And through the small windows near the roofline he could see clouds rolling by. So it wasn’t nighttime. But that was all he knew.
His body felt numb but he could breathe again despite the stabbing in his chest. The pressure in his head threatened to explode. He tried to think. Tried to remember. He stroked Grace but she still stared at him. He let his fingers run over her paws and she didn’t flinch.
“You okay?” he asked. “Is my girl okay?”
Her body wiggled against him. Ears went back and she relaxed.
“I’m okay, too,” he told her.
“You had us all worried.” He heard a voice behind him.
Dr. Avelyn came around and sat on Maggie’s cot where he could see her and she could observe him.
Suddenly he remembered the rush of water that had knocked him off his feet, that had separated him from Bolo. Creed had been battered against the rocks and debris, and so had the dog. He jerked up and his eyes darted around to where Bolo was lying.
“Whoa!” Dr. Avelyn grabbed his arm. “He’s fine. A few minor scrapes. He’s exhausted.”
Creed watched the big dog until he was satisfied. Then he asked Dr. Avelyn, “You the one who patched me up?”
“I wrapped some ice packs against your ribs. Not tightly. Maggie’s right. The medic probably shouldn’t have ACE’d you so tight like that on the first day. Compression wraps used to be recommended for broken ribs. But they just make it harder for you to breathe and double your risk for pneumonia.”
“Do I have pneumonia?”
“Not yet. And hopefully not on my watch.”
He nodded. “So is this what you’d do with a dog with broken ribs?”
“No, I’d wrap his chest tight.”
He raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “Then how did you—”
“Did you know that Maggie was premed before going into forensics?”
He smiled and felt light-headed but otherwise no major pain. He looked back at Dr. Avelyn. “You gave me something?”
“If you’re in a lot of pain you won’t breathe as deeply as you need to. Don’t worry, it’s nothing that will incapacitate you.”
“Thanks.”
And he didn’t worry. Dr. Avelyn was one of the few people he trusted explicitly with his dogs. It would be silly not to extend that trust to include himself.
Which reminded him. “Is Maggie okay?”
“Some scrapes and bruises, but yes, she’s fine.”
“Any idea where she is?”
“That I can’t help you with.” She stood back up. “I need to get to my post.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “The crews will be coming in for the night. I’ll check on you at dinner.”
“Do you know where Jason is?”
“Said something about an assignment you gave him this morning.”
Morning had been a long time ago, but Creed pretended to know when he had no idea. Maybe she was right about a concussion.
“Promise me you’ll stay put and get some rest?”
He nodded.
“No really.”
“I’m not leaving Grace and Bolo.”
That satisfied her and he watched her leave. What he failed to mention was that he could take both dogs along with him.
57.
You need to tell me what’s going on,” O’Dell told Peter Logan.
When he hesitated, she added, “I pulled your sorry ass from being washed downstream.”