“It’s not good that she hasn’t woken up?” I ask, glancing across from me, needing an expert to weigh in.
“Her vitals are steady. That’s good.” The paramedic looks through the small back windows. “We should reach the ER in a few minutes.”
I nod, noticing blood droplets on her shirt and what looks to be dirt from the street. Her coat lies on the bench next to the paramedic but appears no worse for wear from where I’m sitting. With her hands resting across her stomach, I can’t help but notice the rings on her fingers, and a single diamond dangles from a necklace off to one side. Matching earrings pierce each ear, but nothing else gives me any indication of who she is. And I have a feeling any identification disappeared with the bag.
What am I going to tell them when they ask her name? Or her age? Her address or her insurance coverage? I need to snap the hell out of this. I’m trained to think on my feet.
I run my hand over my hair and lower to rub my neck. My eyes return to her face, and silently, I ask myself, “What am I doing?”
“Sir?”
My gaze trails up to the paramedic across the ambulance from me. “Yes?”
“I asked her name. What’s her name?”
Without hesitation, I reply, “Tuesday.”
“Last name?”
Uh . . . what do I say that won’t have them shoving me out the doors of a moving ambulance? “Westcott?”
Not the best plan I’ve ever devised . . . Lying never is.
As an attorney, I can attest that lying in most cases will indict more than vindicate. Under this circumstance, though, it got me inside her room, at least for a short time. I’m standing beside her bed, unsure of what to do.
I’m also questioning whether I have a concussion myself. Because what the hell have I gotten myself into?
A nurse peeks in and then comes in when she sees me. She’s pulled her hair into a ponytail that’s given way throughout the day and loosened at the nape. Giving me a tight smile before turning her attention toward the e-pad at the end of the bed, she says, “I’m Nurse Belinda. How is she?”
“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.” I keep my voice low like hers. The darkened room and sleeping patient warrant it.
She starts to check her vitals on the heart machine. The steady beeps have kept me company for more than an hour. They’re quite soothing in their rhythm and had me settling in as if I belong here.
The nurse replies, “I think she’s doing well. The doctors expect her to wake any moment.” She sticks a temperature clamp on her finger and looks up at me. “I’m sure you’re anxious to talk to her, but I’d caution you to take it slow until the doctor examines her.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I reply as if I’m here for the long haul. Again, I’m not sure where this is coming from, but I won’t leave her. I know it to my core.
Emails are piling up, along with text messages from my assistant. But I can’t bring myself to care enough to get to them. I take a step back from the bed and sit on the vinyl sofa. The springs give way, creaking under my weight and causing the nurse to glance over at me.
“I hear you’re her boyfriend.”
“I’m Loch.” How long do I go on with this charade? Tuesday is in good hands. That should be my cue to leave, but I sit on this sofa and nod like I have a vested interest.
Her shoulders fall, and she peeks over her shoulder at the door. “You seem like a nice guy, Loch, making sure she got to the hospital, and concerned for her well-being, so I’m going to be frank with you.” Turning, she rests her hand protectively on the bedrail as she does her hip. “I’m guessing you aren’t really who you say you are. You seem like a nice guy, but we have to take precautions here, so an officer is coming to escort you out of the room.”
Fuck. This is not happening.
Getting arrested for falsifying information could be detrimental to my legal career. With that said, I know I could win a jury of my peers over if I risk being disbarred.
“I’ve given you a pocket of time by holding them off so I could speak with you first,” she says.
I square my shoulders, much like I do when I enter the courtroom, but I don’t speak. Only the guilty start rambling. I’m guilty of what? Being concerned about a woman who gave me a hard time and told me to have a nice day?
“Tell me the truth,” she starts again. “You’re not really her boyfriend, are you?”
“A friend.”
“A friend who doesn’t know her last name?”
Nurse Belinda hits hard. I study her unflinching gaze. She’s tough and would make a great witness on the stand. Unfortunately, I’m the one she’s interrogating at the moment. I’ve stalled about as long as I can. Like she said, she’s given me a short window of opportunity. Why? I have no idea, but since I’m on borrowed time anyway, I say, “I’m not one to bend the truth—”
“Good because I’m not a contortionist. Give it to me straight.” Nurse Belinda came loaded with jokes.
“We recently met, hung out a bit, and got coffee together. Nothing scandalous.” Though I feel guilty for how brusque I was with Tuesday after what happened.
Her head tilts just as her brows pinch together. She’s an older woman, older than my mom, and a kindness entered the room with her that has me trusting she’s being level with me. But she grins as if she knows I’m stretching the truth. “Listen, Loch, stick to that story. Kelly backed you up.”
“Who’s Kelly?”
“The guy who works at the coffee shop. He said you two were hanging out in the corner together, and it appeared to be a date.” Clearly, the kid is blind. He couldn’t be further from the truth, but it’s a good alibi that keeps my nose clean.
“Nice try.” Leaning in, she whispers, “I’m not naive. Give me the real scoop, or I’m calling Officer Langley in to arrest you.”
“The truth?”
“The whole truth.”
Feeling like I’m on the witness stand, I ask, “Has anyone ever told you that you should be a lawyer?”
“Yes,” she replies straight-faced.
She’s very good.
I glance at Tuesday on the bed, still sleeping. “We made small talk about the complexity of coffee, and then we parted ways. It was that simple.”
It’s never that simple, and she knows it.
“If you’d parted ways, why were you the first on the scene?”
“I wasn’t the first on the scene. I was just the only one who helped her.”
Belinda’s shoulders fall as does the pointed glare. Her whole being softens, and she exhales. “I knew you were a good guy. I’m a great judge of character.”
I’ve been honest both times I answered, but tackling the question using two different tactics buys me a little time. “What are you going to tell the police?”
“The truth.”
Saved by a sigh.
Tuesday takes a breath and releases a quiet hum that attracts our attention. The nurse jots something on the e-pad while I move to the opposite side of the bed from her.
A small smile embeds into Belinda’s cheeks. She glances at the door and then to me again. “You did the right thing by helping her. Timing is critical with a head injury.”