“It’s Drew. Drew is the GSW. Oh God, Barb, it’s bad. It’s so bad. Please. You’ve gotta get in there,” I pleaded with her.
Barb stopped short of the doors, turned back to me to say, “I promise, I’ll do everything I can,” then sprinted into the room.
“Barb, wait. I want an…update.” But it was too late, the door was closed and the curtain drawn. Now I had to wait, something I didn’t do well under ordinary circumstances. Being on this side of the door was a horror I had never contemplated.
Pacing the corridor, I thought of the times I came out here myself telling patients’ families to have a seat and someone would be out shortly with an update. Heaven help the person that tried to say that to me right now. Chances were good I’d punch them in the throat if they did. I really didn’t know the extent of Drew’s injuries, but I knew enough to surmise they were bad. Really bad.
Standing across the hall from Drew’s room, I shed my gear, then leaned back against the wall and slid down until I clutched my knees to my chest. Dear God. This wasnot happening.
Our father walked out on us when I was nine years old, then my mom was killed in a drunk driving accident two weeks before my eighteenth birthday. There was no way God would be cruel enough to take Drew from me too. Silently, I prayed to the heavens above not to take the only family I had left. Drew wasn’t just my brother, he’s my rock. He has always been there for me, even when I didn’t want him to be.
Pulled from my thoughts as a strong, hand landed on my shoulder, I looked up from my not so comfy spot on the floor to see Bobby Gray, Drew’s best friend and partner. He held out a calloused hand to help me up from the floor.
Wrapping his strong tatted arms around me, he pulled me into a tight hug and whispered, “I am so sorry Lei. What can I do?”
Tears threatened yet again, but I pushed them down. “There’s nothin’ we can do. They won’t let me in there with him. They haven’t even come out to tell me anythin’. I don’t know what to do right now…damn it. Please tell me y’all got the asshole who did this.”
“Yeah, we did babe. Drew actually got him. Clean shot right between the eyes. Dead before his sorry piece of shit body hit the floor.” Whispering so quietly I could just barely hear him, Bobby added, “’Tween me and you, I put another one in ’em just for good measure. Seems like he deserved it.”
Bobby released me just as the curtain and door to Drew’s room flew open. Barb was perched on top of Drew, counting out chest compressions as they ran down the hall toward the elevators that went up to the OR. Dr. Miller nodded once, signaling me to walk with him.
“Leila, quickly. We’re lookin’ at a single GSW, left chest with hemothorax. We got a chest tube in and are movin’ to the OR. I’m not gonna lie, it’s bad, but we’ve seen worse cases come in and walk out. Drake’s on and Barb said she is staying with him. I’m gonna go up and assist. And before you ask, he’s not regained consciousness. I’ll send you a text in a while to update you,” he said hastily looking back toward me while still moving toward the elevator.
In the blink of an eye, he was gone and my heart sunk. Although I was surrounded by a truckload of officers I considered friends, I felt hopelessly alone.
I couldn’t lose my brother.
Mustering courage I didn’t feel, I gestured to the crowd. “Hey, y’all don’t need to sit around here and wait. I’ll tell Bobby as soon as I have an update. Ya know, it’s probably gonna be hours before Drew comes out of surgery and the waiting room up there isn’t very big. Go on home. Bobby’ll send out a text as soon as we know more.”
Heads nodded in agreement and after a few mumbles, the SWAT guys slowly filed out of the corridor. Everyone left, except for the two who I knew wouldn’t budge. Bobby and Jasper. They were family.
Jasper walked over, draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me toward the elevator. “He’s gonna be okay sweet pea.”
Bobby shook hands with the last few guys as they were leaving then turned to follow us up to the waiting room to wait for news about Drew.
Chapter Three: Leila
More than two and a half hours had passed, and several of the nurses and techs from the ER stopped by to ask about Drew. I must have heard a half dozen times that I needed to go downstairs and take a break or go get something to eat. Politely, I shook my head and told every one of them I would not leave until I knew Drew was okay.
After I had paced the same pattern around the chairs in the waiting room for what seemed like the hundredth time, I heard a smooth, deep voice ask about Drew. I turned toward the information desk, set just inside of the surgical waiting room, to see a man I’d never met. He was dressed in a sharp, custom-tailored suit. Cautiously, I moved toward the desk. When he turned to face me, I stopped dead in my tracks.