She was about to close up the medical record when she frowned at the number on the left-hand corner. The ten-digit patient ID was thousands and thousands of numbers away from the ones given to new admits, and she checked the date the file had first been opened: 1974. Flipping through, she found two admits to the ED: one for a knife wound, the other for a drug overdose; '71 and '73 were the dates.
Ah, hell, she'd seen this before. Zeros and sevens could look alike when you wrote them fast. The hospital hadn't made the move to computerized records until late in 2003, and before that everything had been handwritten. This record had clearly been transcribed by data processors who misread what was there: instead of '01 and '03, the person had transcribed the date back into the seventies.
Except… the DOB didn't make sense. With the one listed, the patient would have been thirty-seven three decades ago.
She closed the folder and rested her palm on it. 'We have to get better precision from that transcription service.'
'I know. I noticed the same thing. Listen, you want some time alone with him?'
'Yeah, that'd be great.'
Faye paused by the door. 'Heard you were pretty awesome in the OR tonight.'
Jane smiled a little. 'The team was awesome. I just did my part. Hey, I forgot to tell Shalonda I'm taking UK in Spring Madness. Would you-'
'Yup. And before you ask, yes, she's Duke again this year.'
'Good, we can abuse each other for another six weeks.'
'That's why she picked 'em. Public service so the rest of us can watch you guys go at it. You two are such givers.'
After Faye left, Jane pulled the privacy curtain into place and went over to the bedside. The patient's respiration was machine-driven through his intubation, and his oxygen levels were acceptable. Blood pressure was steady, although low. Heart rate was sluggish, and it read funny on the monitor, but then again, he had six chambers beating.
Christ, that heart of his.
She leaned over him and studied his facial features. Caucasian in derivation, most likely middle European. A looker, not that that was relevant, although the handsome thing was thrown off a little by those tattoos on his temple. She moved in closer to study the ink in his skin. She had to admit it was beautifully done, the intricate designs like Chinese characters and hieroglyphics combined. She figured the symbols must be gang-related, although he didn't seem like a boy to play at warfare; he was more fierce, like a soldier. Maybe the tats were a martial-arts thing?
When she glanced at the tube inserted in his mouth, she noticed something odd. With her thumb she pushed his upper lip back. His canines were very pronounced. Shockingly sharp.
Cosmetic, no doubt. People were doing all kinds of freaky stuff to their appearances these days, and he'd already marked up his face.
She lifted up the thin blanket that covered him. The wound dressing on the chest was fine, so she worked her way down his body, pushing the covers out of her way while she went. She inspected the stab wound's dressing, then palpated his abdominal area. As she gently pushed to feel his internal organs, she looked at the tattoos above his pubic area, then focused on the scars around his groin.
He'd been partially castrated.
Given the messy scarring, it hadn't been a surgical removal, more likely the result of an accident. Or at least, she hoped it had been accidental, because the only other explanation would be torture.
She stared at his face as she covered him up. On impulse, she put her hand on his forearm and squeezed. 'You've led a hard-core life, haven't you.'
'Yeah, but it's done me good.'
Jane wheeled around. 'Jesus, Manello. You scared me.'
'Sorry. Just wanted to check in.' The chief went around to the other side of the bed, his eyes going over the patient. 'You know, I don't think he wouldn't have lived under someone else's knife.'
'Have you seen the pictures?'
'Of his heart? Yeah. I want to send them to the boys at Columbia for a little look-see. You can ask them what they think when you're there.'
She gave that one a pass. 'His blood wouldn't type.'
'Really?'
'If we can get his consent, I think we should do a total workup on him down to the chromosomes.'
'Ah, yes, your second love. Genes.'
Funny that he remembered. She'd probably mentioned only once how she'd almost ended up in genetics research.
With a junkie's rush, Jane pictured the inside of the patient, saw his heart in her hand, felt the organ in her grip as she saved his life. 'He could present a fascinating clinical opportunity. God, I would love to study him. Or at least participate in studying him.'
The soft beeping of the monitoring equipment seemed to swell in the silence between them until moments later some kind of awareness tickled the back of her neck. She glanced up. Manello was staring at her, his face grave, his thick jaw set, his brows down low.
'Manello?' She frowned. 'Are you okay?'
'Don't go.'
To avoid his eyes she looked down at the bedsheet that was folded once and tucked under her patient's arm. Idly she smoothed the white expanse-until it reminded her of something her mother had always done.
She stilled her hand. 'You can get another surg-'
'Fuck the department. I don't want you to go because…' Manello pushed a hand through his thick dark hair. 'Christ, Jane. I don't want you to go because I'd miss you like hell, and because I… shit, I need you, okay? I need you here. With me.'
Jane blinked like an idiot. In the last four years there'd never been any suggestion that the man was attracted to her. Sure, they were tight and all. And she was the only one who could calm him down when he lost his temper. And okay, yeah, they talked about the inner workings of the hospital all the time, even after hours. And they ate together every night when they were on duty and… he'd told her about his family and she'd told him about hers…
Yeah, but the man was the hottest property on hospital grounds. And she was about as feminine as… well, an operating table.
Certainly had as many curves as one.
'Come on, Jane, how clueless can you be? If you gave me a thin inch, I'd be inside your scrubs in the next heartbeat.'
'Are you insane?' she breathed.
'No.' His eyes grew heavy-lidded. 'I'm very, very lucid.'
In the face of that summer-night sultry expression, Jane's brain took a vacation. Just flew right out of her skull. 'It wouldn't look right,' she blurted.
'We'd be discreet.'
'We fight.' What the hell was coming out of her mouth?
'I know.' He smiled, his full lips curving. 'I like that. No one stands up to me but you.'
She stared across the patient at him, still so dumbfounded she didn't know what to say. God, it had been so long since she'd had a man in her life. In her bed. In her head. So damned long. It had been years of coming home to her condo and showering alone and falling into bed alone and waking up alone and going to work alone. With both her parents gone she had no family, and with the hours she pulled at the hospital, she had no outside circle of friends. The only person she really talked to was… well, Manello.
As she looked at him now, it occurred to her that he truly was the reason she was leaving, though not just because he was standing in her way in the department. On some level she'd known this heart-to-heart was coming, and she'd wanted to run before it hit.
'Silence,' Manello murmured, 'is not a good thing right now. Unless you're trying to frame something like,
