Chad just quirked a brow at Corinne, the nurse who was filling in for his usual partner in crime in the emergency room of Wilton Memorial Hospital. “Are you seriously not bored out of your mind?” So far, the most serious thing they’d dealt with was a septuagenarian with a shellfish allergy, who’d been in three times in as many months because he didn’t understand that removing the crawfish from their shells didn’t make them safe to eat. Mr. Spurling’s swelling was under control, but Chad wanted to keep him through his antihistamine nap to talk to him again about what was and was not appropriate for him to eat.
“I’m caught up on charting for the first time in two weeks,” Corinne continued. “I’m not gonna look that gift horse in the mouth. Besides, as long as things stay as they are, I can get out of here at a reasonable hour and maybe actually talk to my fiancé before he goes to bed.”
Chad felt a spurt of envy that she had someone to go home to. Two someones, as she and her young son had recently moved in with her fiancé. “Is Tucker keeping Kurt tonight?”
“They’re taking advantage of my absence for a Star Wars marathon.”
“Original trilogy?”
“Of course. We’re raising him right.”
“How are wedding plans going?”
Corinne gave him the side eye. “You must be bored if you’re asking about wedding plans.”
Chad used a couple of pencils as drumsticks to beat a tattoo against the counter. “It’s either that, or I’m running down to my office to grab my Nerf basketball set to keep myself awake for the back end of this double shift.”
She laughed. “Poor Dr. Phillips. Nights like this make you miss working in metro Atlanta, don’t they?”
“True story.” He was twitchy with the need to do something. He wasn’t asking for a big something. No shootings or stabbings. Maybe just some stitches or a broken bone.
“Why did you pick such a small hospital? Everybody’s heard of your hot-shot reputation. You could’ve gone almost anywhere.”
“I wanted a placement that would give me time for a life outside the hospital. Atlanta was a constant challenge, and I loved that, but it wasn’t worth the trade-off of hours.”
“Good for you. Work-life balance is important.”
“I wouldn’t mind a bit more work to balance out the lack of life side right now.”
“The search for Miss Right isn’t going well?”
“Eh.” Chad shrugged. “I’ve seen more casseroles and pie than I can shake a stick at. Does that count?”
“I suppose that depends on whether the way to your heart is through your stomach.”
Before he could reply, the automatic doors slid open and a gaggle of girls came inside. Not girls, he realized. Women. He recognized a couple of them in that way lots of faces in this small town were familiar, but he didn’t actually know any of them, except for Margot Thayer. He’d met the events coordinator of The Babylon Hotel and Spa several months back during his blessedly brief stint on Dancing With Wishful, a fundraiser for the local women’s shelter. She brought up the rear of the party, as two other women supported a petite brunette between them, who didn’t seem to be ambulatory on her own.
He could see the knot on her head before he even crossed the room. “What have we got?”
The usually unflappable Margot stumbled over words in her panic. “We shouldn’t have let her do it. She’d already been drinking.”
The blonde interrupted. “She’s completely hammered and fell. Cracked her head on a toilet in the women’s room at The Mudcat. We were worried about a concussion.” Something in her no-nonsense demeanor seemed vaguely familiar, but he filed that away for later.
The brunette groaned.
“What is it you shouldn’t have let her do?” Chad lifted the woman’s head with both hands, checking her pulse, even as he looked into unfocused brown eyes. Pupils appeared to be the same size. Her skin was pale and waxy, and she felt clammy to the touch.
“The Three Furies.”
“The what now?”
“Series of three shots,” the other woman supplied. “Tequila, whiskey, Jaegermeister.”
Apparently, there was some kind of a story there, but Chad was more concerned with getting this woman some fluids and doing a more thorough exam. “Let’s get her to the back.”
Corinne brought a wheelchair.
“Did she lose consciousness at any point?” Chad asked.