Sara leaned against the wall, arms folded over her chest. 'The nurse must be making rounds.'
'I guess we'll wait here.'
'We could find Lena on our own.'
'I don't think the sheriff would appreciate that.'
She gave him a curious look, as if she was surprised that he cared.
He was about to respond when he heard a toilet flush behind him. 'Guess the nurse just finished her rounds.'
They both waited, Sara leaning against the wall, Jeffrey pacing, reading the signs that had been taped to some of the patients' doors. 'No Water.' 'No Solids.' 'No Unattended Toilet.'
Christ, they knew how to bring you low in these places.
He heard water running from the bathroom faucet, then the familiar squeak of a paper-towel dispenser. Seconds later, the door opened and a gray-haired man in a uniform came out. He did a double take when he saw Jeffrey. 'Chief Tolliver?'
'Jeffrey,' he offered, walking over to shake the man's hand. He realized a second too late that he wasn't talking to the sheriff. The insignia on the dark brown and taupe uniform identified the man as a deputy. 'This is my wife, Dr. Sara Linton.'
'Donald Cook.' The man shook Jeffrey's hand, nodding at Sara. He had a loud, booming voice, and didn't seem to be worried if he woke up any of the patients. 'Sorry if I kept y'all waiting.'
Jeffrey got straight to the point. 'How's my detective doing?'
'No trouble at all,' Cook answered. 'She's been quiet as a mouse.'
In a different situation, Jeffrey would have made some joke about mistaken identity. 'Was she burned? Your sheriff said there was some kind of explosion-'
'She's got smoke inhalation, some cuts and scrapes. Doc says she'll heal up fine.'
Jeffrey waited for Sara to press the man about Lena 's condition, but she just stood there, listening.
This wasn't like her. The hospital was Sara's element. He'd expected her to at least ask for Lena 's chart or try to find the doctor in charge.
Then again, Sara didn't usually tag along when he was working. Jeffrey guessed she was trying not to interfere. He asked the deputy, 'Can you tell me what happened?'
'Best talk to Jake about that.' The man made his way behind the counter and fell back into the desk chair with a groan. He picked up the phone, saying, 'Sorry I can't offer y'all a seat.' He slipped on a pair of reading glasses so he could make out the numbers on the telephone. 'They had a junkie in here last night who puked all over the chairs. Easier to just throw them out and order some new ones.'
'No problem,' Jeffrey said, tucking his hands into his pockets, trying to resist the urge to resume pacing. Though Sara seemed to be keeping her own counsel, he could see that she was just as surprised by the situation as Jeffrey. Lena 's armed guard was a joke. The deputy should be sitting outside her room, not eating crackers and taking a crap when the mood suited him. Sara had been right. Jeffrey should've looked for Lena on his own instead of attempting to play the diplomat.
Cook unnecessarily held up his hand for silence, saying into the phone, 'Jake? He's here. Yeah, brought a doctor with him.' He nodded, then hung up, telling Jeffrey, 'Jake said he's just pulling into the parking lot. Went home to get some supper. We figured it'd take a little longer for you to get here.'
'What was she arrested for?' When the man didn't answer, Jeffrey gave him some options. 'Property damage? Criminal neglect?'
Cook's lips turned up in a grin. 'Not exactly.'
Jeffrey knew what a 'not exactly' meant – they had charged her with something small in order to buy time to figure out how to charge her with something big. He glanced back at Sara, feeling pulled in two different directions. Bringing Sara here was probably not one of his brighter ideas. Everything about the hospital was likely reminding her of the malpractice suit, the fact that somewhere back in Grant County her professional and private lives were being raked over the coals.
With some effort, Jeffrey shifted his focus back to Lena. 'Can we go ahead and see her?'
'Might not be a good idea,' Cook said, sliding a cracker out of the pack. Jeffrey felt his stomach rumble and realized he'd missed supper. Cook must have heard it because he offered, 'You want one?' Jeffrey shook his head, and the man held the pack toward Sara, who shook her head, too.
Cook sat back, chewing his cracker. He raised his eyebrows at Jeffrey. 'Bad situation.'
Jeffrey knew that he was being played by the old man. Cook was probably bored out of his mind doing babysitting duty. Tossing Jeffrey a bone and seeing if he'd fetch was obviously more entertaining than doing the crossword. What the deputy didn't count on was that the dog might bite. Jeffrey looked at his watch, thinking he had wasted enough time. He could get his chain pulled in the comfort of his own home.
He told the deputy, 'I'd really like to see her.'
'That explosion was deliberately set.' Cook's tone was a warning.
Jeffrey heard Sara shift behind him. 'That so?' he asked.
'Yep.'
He couldn't help himself. 'You think my detective started it?'
'Like I said-'
'Talk to Jake.'
'Right,' Cook said, crumbs dropping onto his uniform as he chewed the cracker. Out of nowhere, he announced, 'I worked with Calvin Adams.'
Jeffrey guessed he meant Lena 's father.
'Good man, Cal,' Cook continued. 'Took two in the head on a traffic stop. Liked to killed me when it happened.'
Jeffrey didn't respond, but he knew all too well the feeling of losing a fellow cop. It was a loss that haunted you every day of your life – harder, maybe, than losing a family member or a spouse.
Cook was still leaning back in his chair, fingers laced over his belly. 'You took me for the sheriff, huh?'
'Sorry?' Jeffrey asked. His mind had been wandering. 'Yeah,' he answered, realizing what the man had said. 'My mistake.'
'I've been wearing this uniform going on forty years,' Cook proudly stated. 'Finally threw my hat into the ring for the sheriff's job. Lost it to Jake.' Jeffrey knew that the sheriff's office was an elected position. He said a silent prayer of thanks that he didn't have to campaign every two years to keep his job. It was a good position if you could get it. The sheriff's pension and benefits were some of the best in law enforcement.
Cook said, 'Jake Valentine,' with a chuckle. 'Sounds like some kind of soap opera star. Boy ain't been off his mama's tit more than three years.'
Jeffrey wasn't in the mood to gossip about the sheriff. He wanted to know more about the explosion, whether it was deliberately set, who else was hurt, and what in the hell Lena had to do with any of it. He knew Cook wasn't about to offer up answers on a silver platter, so he asked, 'Do you know Hank Norton?'
'Sure I do. No-good piece of shit is what he is.'
