“They’re going to put me in jail. You have to look out for Britt. She won’t have anybody but Emily. And they don’t let her come around much.”
“I’m on it.”
Zane looked around the room, just a curtain to block it off, all the sounds of the ER outside. He kept his voice low. “You have to get into my house when they’re not there. Take my house key. It’s in my pocket.”
“Why?”
“I wrote it all down. I’ve been writing it down for a long time. In notebooks. They’re behind the vent over my desk. Maybe they’ll believe it if it’s all written down.”
“How long has—” Dave cut himself off as the curtain was pulled back. “Looks like it’s picture-taking time.” But he slid a hand in the pocket of Zane’s suit pants, palmed the key.
They took him to X-ray—with one of the officers lingering.
Afterward, they wheeled him back, but this time to a treatment room with a door. And the officer right outside.
The doctor came in. She made Zane think of a barrel—short, stocky. She had her hair, a lot of gray in it, tied back in a braid.
“Hey, Zane. I’m Dr. Marshall.” She picked up his chart. “Let’s have a look at things.” Her eyes, dark as a crow’s, narrowed, then she flicked them at Dave. “Do you know why Zane hasn’t been given any pain medication?”
“His father said he might be on drugs. He’s not, but they won’t give him anything until they get the tox back.”
“I’ve just looked at it. He’s clean. Goddamn it—Sorry, kid.”
She slapped open the door again, yelled for a nurse, started barking out orders like a general. General Barrel.
And in a few minutes, everything went light and easy.
“His fingers are numb,” Dave murmured. “The skin at the elbow’s cold.”
“I’m reading the chart, Dave. Okay, Zane, here’s the good news. Your ankle’s not broken. You’ve got a nasty sprain, some torn ligaments. We’re going to keep treating that with ice, rest, elevation, give you a nice boot for compression. I’m going to give you a list of what to do, how to do it. In a few days, we’ll start some PT.”
Floating on the painkiller, he smiled at her. “What’s the bad news?”
“You’ve got three bones in your arm, and you hit the triple play. You’ve got yourself a broken elbow, kid. I’m going to splint it, and that’s going to help with the pain, help keep it stable. You’re going to keep it elevated over your heart as much as you can. In a few days, when the swelling’s gone down, we’ll hit those bones with sound waves, get you a cool cast. It may be you’re going to need the extra cool pins and screws, but I’m going to take another look when you come back.”
Floating, hazy, he smiled at her. “Doesn’t sound so bad.”
“That’s the spirit! If you need surgery, well, I’m damn good. Plus, you’re young and handsome, and got some really nice muscle tone going. We’ll get you back in shape. Got it?”
“Yeah, okay. Will they let me out of jail for it?”
The smile in her eyes faded. “Doctor’s orders. I’m just going to give you a going-over first. That handsome face needs a little help, too, right?”
“He didn’t break my nose this time. I know how it feels.”
Those crow’s eyes went extra bright like, to Zane’s thinking, a fire had blown up behind them.
“There’s good news. So any double vision?” she began, and her hands, gentle as butterflies, moved to his face.
He heard shouting—Emily—and tried to get up.
“Stay down,” Dave ordered. “Let the doctor do what she does. I’ll be right outside.”
“Tell her about Britt.” Through the haze, it all tumbled back. “You have to find out about Britt. He hurt her. I tried to stop him. I’m stronger than I was, but he’s still stronger.”
“Who hurt her?” As she worked, Dr. Marshall signaled to Dave to go.
“Graham. That’s what I call him in my head. Since December twenty-third. Not the last one, the one before, when he broke my nose and stuff.”
Dave stepped out, found Emily shouting at the officer.
“Come on, Jim. You know Emily. She’s Zane’s aunt.”
“I’m just following orders. I got orders nobody but medical personnel goes in. What am I supposed to do?”
Dave only shook his head, took Emily’s arm. “Let’s talk.”
“What the hell is going on? How bad is Zane hurt? They wouldn’t even let me see Britt.”
“I’m going to tell you what I know. I’m going to tell you what your sister and brother-in-law told the cops, and what Zane told me. And I’m telling you I believe Zane.”
He laid it out, no sugarcoating, watched her brace herself against the wall, go pale.
“I should’ve known. How could I not have known? My God, they’re just kids. How long has—”
“I don’t know. You don’t doubt what Zane says?”
However pale her face, the eyes in it went ferocious. “Not for one damn minute.”
“They’re sending him to Buncombe, the detention center here in Asheville, after he’s treated.”
“They can’t just—It’s Graham.” She set her teeth, breathed through them. “He’d make that happen, he’d find the strings to pull. Can I post bail?”
“I don’t know. Em, Zane gave me his house key. He asked me to get into the house, to get notebooks he’s got hidden. He’s been writing it down. I don’t know if it’ll help, but I’m going to find a way to get them.”
“Can you—It’s a lot to ask.”
“He’s depending on me. He’s a good kid, Emily. He’s a good friend to my boy, and the way I see it, he’s been kicked around by that son of a bitch for years.”
She swiped at her face, stared down at the wet of tears. How could there be tears, she wondered, when she felt such rage?
“And Britt?”
“I don’t know, but my impression is this might be the first time Graham went after her.”
“They won’t let me see her, won’t tell me anything, not even her room number. Dr. Bigelow’s orders. No visitors.”
“Mild concussion, bruised cheekbone, a lot of bruising. I’m sorry,” he said when Emily’s eyes filled again. “He sedated her at the house. I know a lot of the nurses, and got the update on her. She’s resting comfortably. Sleeping.”
He glanced back at the officer, moved Emily a few more steps away. “I’m going to check, make sure Graham and Eliza are still here. She had some pretty severe facial injuries, so did he.”
Emily balled both hands into fists, white at the knuckles. “I’d like to give them both a few more.”
“I hear ya.” He glanced back again. “I didn’t want to leave Zane until you got here. I’m going to let him know you’re out here, tell him Britt’s okay, just sleeping. Then I’m going for the notebooks. They’re going to take him, Em, nothing we can do about it. You have to go to the cops, tell them what I’ve told you. I’m coming back with the notebooks. We’ll show them to the cops here in Asheville. Not the Lakeview cops.”