“What’s Trueheart’s condition?”
“They’re stabilizing him. He’ll be heading up to surgery shortly. Op-Six. I’ll get you to a waiting area after you’re treated.”
“I want a full report on his condition.”
“You want it, you’ll get it. After you’re treated.”
• • •
The waiting was the worst. It gave her too much time to think, to replay, to second-guess. To spot every small misstep.
She couldn’t sit. She paced, drank vile coffee, and stared out the window at the wall of the next wing.
“He’s young. Healthy,” Peabody said because she could no longer stand saying nothing. “That weighs on his side.”
“I should’ve sent him home. I should’ve relieved him. I had no business taking a rookie on this kind of operation.”
“You wanted to give him a break.”
“A break?” She spun around, and her eyes were fierce, brilliant with emotion. “I put his life on the line, into a situation he wasn’t prepared for. He went down. I’m responsible for that.”
“The hell you are.” Peabody’s chin lifted mutinously. “He’s a cop. When you put on the uniform, you take on the risk. He’s on the job, and that means facing the potential of taking a hit in the line of duty every day. If I’d taken the left instead of the right, I’d have done exactly what Trueheart did, and I’d be in surgery. And it would seriously piss me off to know you’re standing out here taking away from actions I took to do my job.”
“Peabody—” Eve broke off, shook her head, and walked back to the overburdened coffee machine.
“Well done.” Roarke moved over, rubbed a hand on Peabody’s shoulder. “You’re a jewel, Peabody.”
“It wasn’t her fault. I can’t stand seeing her take it on.”
“If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be who she is.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m going to see if I can tag McNab and get an update on Stiles’s condition. Maybe you can talk her into taking a walk, getting some air.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
He crossed to Eve. “You keep drinking that coffee, you’ll have holes in your stomach lining I could put my fist through. You’re tired, Lieutenant. Sit down.”
“I can’t.” She turned, saw the room was momentarily empty. Let herself crumple. “Oh God,” she murmured with her face pressed to his shoulder. “He got this stupid grin on his face when I told him I was pulling him with me. I thought I had him covered, then everything went wrong. People trampling people, screaming. I couldn’t get through fast enough. I didn’t get to him in time.”
He knew her well enough to say nothing, just to hold on until she steadied herself. “I need to know something. You’ve got strings here,” she said, easing back. “Pull a few, would you, and find out what’s happening in surgery?”
“All right.” He took the recycled cup out of her hand, set it aside. “Sit down for a few minutes. I’ll go pull those strings.”
She tried to sit, managed to for nearly a full minute before she was up and after the coffee again. As she drew another cup, a woman stepped into the room.
She was tall, slim, and had Trueheart’s guileless eyes. “Excuse me.” She looked around the room, back at Eve. “I’m looking for a Lieutenant Dallas.”
“I’m Dallas.”
“Oh yes, I should have known. Troy’s told me so much about you. I’m Pauline Trueheart, Troy’s mother.”
Eve expected panic, grief, anger, demands, and instead stared blankly as Pauline walked to her, held out a hand. “Ms. Trueheart, I very much regret that your son was injured in the line of duty. I’d like you to know that he performed that duty in an exemplary fashion.”
“He’d be so pleased to hear you say so. He admires you a great deal. In fact, I hope it won’t embarrass you, but I think Troy has a little crush on you.”
Instead of drinking the coffee, Eve set it down. “Ms. Trueheart, your son was under my hand when he was injured.”
“Yes, I know. The counselors explained what happened. I’ve already spoken with the patient liaison. They’re doing everything they can to help him. He’ll be fine.”