“What about Margaret Miller? Looks like she’s still pretty angry with you. Could she have done this?”
She glanced toward the dark television screen. “I don’t know. The woman lost her sister. She’s clearly still hurting. My intent is not to hurt her. I just want the DNA test.”
He eased into the room still careful to give her space. “Old wounds can generate a lot of hate.”
“Jeb deserves to have that test run. Which by the way, I’ve not seen results on yet.” Fire sparked in her eyes.
Good. He didn’t like seeing fear reflecting back. “I checked with the state lab. They haven’t finished the testing yet.”
She latched onto this bit of normalcy with a drowning woman’s zeal. “When do you think they will be finished?”
“A week. Give or take. They’ve a hell of a backlog.”
“Jeb’s case should be moved to the front of the line. He’s been asking for this test for a decade.”
Her irritated bark drew him closer. “If he’d had you in his corner ten years ago then he would have gotten his results.”
“That a compliment?”
“Let’s say I know a pit bull when I see one.”
She wiggled the finger of the hand in the sling. She winced. “I’m not feeling much like a pit bull now.”
“You put on a good show.”
A smile tugged the edges of her mouth. “That’s good to know.” A silence settled between them before she dropped her gaze to her phone’s keypad. “I better try Colleen again. They won’t let me out of here without an escort.”
“Have you heard about the X-rays?”
“Not yet. But I don’t want to wait anymore. I hate hospitals.”
“I’ll find the doc.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Her thready voice suggested mustering energy bordered on Herculean. Shit. One thing to go head-to-head with a pit bull, but it was another to kick a dog when it was down. No need to let her struggle. He had enough pit bull for them both right now. “Be right back. Do not move.”
“Look, you don’t need to—”
Her protests were swallowed up by the sounds of the hospital. It didn’t take him long to find the doctor and insist that he be informed of Rachel’s results. Fifteen minutes later Deke and the doctor returned to discover Rachel had wrangled on her jogging pants up under her gown and slipped on her running shoes. Her shoelaces dangled free and the tight jogging top lay on the unmade gurney, clearly discarded in frustration, leaving her stuck with the billowing mint green gown as a top. He pictured her walking out of the hospital half dressed, her head held high.
“You’re leaving like that?” Deke asked.
She gathered the gown and balled it at her waist so that her pants showed. “If I have to.”
Admiring her, or liking her, was not supposed to be in the cards. He chalked up this unexpected tenderness to fatigue. “Before Ms. Wainwright heads out of here half dressed, Doc, can you tell us about her injuries?”
The doctor, slim, young, and tired, peered through thick glasses at the report. “Ms. Wainwright did not sustain any fractures or breaks. And there is no damage to the shoulder, which had been my initial worry. There is deep bruising and she’s going to be sore for days but with rest and lots of ice packs she’ll be fine.” He pulled a pen from his pocket and clicked the end. “I’ll write you a prescription for a painkiller.”
“I don’t need drugs,” she said. “I’ll make do with aspirin.”
The doctor eyed her. “We gave you a mild sedative before your X-ray and that’s deadening some of the pain. It will wear off soon.”
“I have aspirin at home.”
Deke nailed his gaze on Rachel. “Write the script, Doc. And ask the hospital pharmacy to fill it.”
Rachel glanced at her jogging top as if considering how she’d get it over her wounded shoulder. “I don’t do drugs. I’m fine.”
When the doctor hesitated, Deke glared. “Get the meds.”
The doctor pulled the script pad from his coat pocket. “I’ll be right back with them.”
She tossed the jogging top aside again and this time sat in a chair. She leaned forward to tie her shoes but pain halted her halfway.
“You’re stubborn,” he said.
“Tell me what I don’t know.”
He tapped his belt with his forefinger. “Did you try Colleen again?”
“Yes.” She glared at her phone as if willing it to ring. “She’s not picking up. Likely on a date.”
He knelt in front of her and grabbed the laces. With a hard jerk he tied and double knotted the first shoe. “She’ll ignore a call from her partner?”
Rachel shrugged and winced. “Especially from her partner who calls her far too often late at night with work-related issues.”
He tied and double knotted the second shoe. “Anyone else you can call?”
She clutched her phone tighter. “No worries, Detective. I’ll catch a cab.”
Translation: she had no one to call. “I’ll drive you home.”
She shook her head as if this indignity was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “Not necessary. Really. Not necessary.”
“But it’s what’s going to happen.” He rose and unfastened his button-down shirt.
“What are you doing, Detective?”
“Giving you the shirt off my back, Ms. Wainwright. I’m wearing a T-shirt underneath so you are safe.”
That made her laugh. “That’s a relief.”
He shrugged off the shirt and held it open for her. “Turn around and I’ll help you put it on.”
She stood slowly and let the gown fall to the floor. The sight of the darkening bruise slashing across her back stoked his temper. Shit. She’d taken a hell of a hit.
Rachel slipped her good arm into the sleeve and he draped the other side over her other shoulder.
She fumbled with the shirt’s buttons. “I won’t be getting any dates in this getup.”
He’d never thought about her in the context of a love life but now found himself curious about the kind of man she dated. Whoever the poor bastard was he’d have to be one tough customer. When she turned he brushed her hands away and buttoned the shirt. As his knuckles grazed the shirt the muscles in her body tensed. She smelled of clean air and the faintest scent of basic, practical soap.
At that moment a nurse arrived with a wheelchair. She glanced at Rachel’s attire and nodded. “That will work.”
Rachel moved slowly toward the wheelchair as the nurse pushed it toward her. Gently, she lowered into the seat, flinching when her shoulder bumped the edge slightly.
The nurse, a tall fit woman with dark brown hair, held up the bottle of pain meds as she leveled her gaze on Deke. “I know you.”
He looked at the nurse and flipped through his memory. For a moment her name escaped him and then he remembered. “Brenda.”
“That’s right. We met a month ago.”
“Right.” She dated his partner KC. He only knew about her what KC had shared. She seemed to be good for the guy so he took her on face value.
Brenda smiled. “I guess we’ll see you on Monday at his retirement party.”