The heart monitor started beating faster. Zachary drew in his breath and couldn’t get enough oxygen. He gasped harder, trying to drag it in. The two officers looked at him with wide eyes. Farrell grabbed the call button for the nurse, clicking it repeatedly.
“Mr. Goldman, are you okay?” Savois asked, leaning right over Zachary’s face, competing for his oxygen. Zachary tried to object, but couldn’t speak while he was trying to breathe.
“What’s going on here?” A nurse came in. Skinny. With an accent that Zachary would have associated with blacks. Caribbean. Rastafarian. Something like that. But she was white, with big blue eyes and blond hair. “You said you wouldn’t be upsettin’ my patient. Go on, back up, get out of my way.”
The two officers quickly backed away from the small woman. The nurse looked over the equipment and laid a hand on Zachary’s arm.
“There,” she soothed. “None of that. Your machines are just telling me you’re a bit upset. Nothing serious. You just take a few breaths. Nice and slow and easy.”
“Can’t breathe,” Zachary gasped.
“You are breathing. Doin’ a fine job of it. In fact, if you don’t slow down, you’re going to make yourself pass out. Long breaths. Slow down.”
She picked up the chart hung on the wall, her eyes scanning it.
“You had a panic attack last night. Is this something you do a lot of? Are you on medication?”
“No—I can usually—control—it.” Zachary gasped between the words. His chest was hurting. Maybe it had been damaged in the accident. Maybe his heart had been damaged during the crash, and they didn’t know it. He was having a heart attack, and they thought it was nothing to worry about because he had a history of panic attacks. “I’m going—to—die!”
“You’re not gonna die, sweetie. Not on my shift.”
She went to the doorway and called for one of the other nurses to fetch her something.
“Just calm yourself, Mr. Goldman. It will all be all right. Keep breathing. Out with all the bad air. The problem is carbon dioxide, not oxygen.”
Tears started to track down Zachary’s face, but he was in too much of a panic to be embarrassed by his childish display.
Another nurse hurried into the room and handed the first a needle and a vial. The Caribbean nurse stood beside Zachary’s bed. It seemed like she was moving at glacial speed, waiting for him to pass out, before she stabbed the needle into the access hole on the vial and drew out a dose.
“I can give you a sedative, or you can relax and calm yourself down,” she advised him. “Do you really want the needle?”
Zachary breathed heavily, each intake burning all the way down his throat, chest, and side. Did he have broken ribs from the car accident too? Was that what Spencer felt like when he tried to breathe?
The nurse injected the contents of the needle into the IV tube that already fed into Zachary’s arm. He hadn’t been aware of it up until then. A coldness started to work its way up Zachary’s arm, and then it spread to the rest of his body. He could feel his muscles start to relax. The soreness in his lungs faded. The machines slowed their beeping. Zachary started to drift.
“You can’t talk to him any more tonight,” the nurse told the cops firmly. “You will have to come by tomorrow and try again.” She put her hands on her narrow hips. “And next time, try not to upset him.”
“Happy New Year.”
Kenzie looked surprised at Zachary’s greeting. She stopped and looked at him for a moment, looking confused. Then she smiled.
“Happy New Year,” she told him back. Her bruises were starting to fade. Or maybe she was masking them with makeup. Either way, he suspected she looked a lot better than he did.
“I guess I missed out on that kiss,” Zachary joked.
“What kiss?”
“New Year’s. The countdown. The kiss.”
“Oh.” Kenzie leaned over him and kissed him softly on the lips. Short, fleeting, and gentle. She didn’t linger, but gave him a silly sort of smile, then sat down in the visitor chair, where he couldn’t see her.
Zachary tried to turn his head to look at her and thought that maybe he made a small movement. The doctor had said that as the swelling went down, he’d be able to do more. Maybe it was starting to heal.
“You’re in a good mood today,” Kenzie suggested.
“I’m feeling pretty good. I’d like to get out of here soon…”
“I don’t think you’re going to be waltzing out of here for a while yet. Let’s wait until you’re mobile.”
“Soon,” Zachary insisted. “I’m getting better.”
“Okay, buddy boy. If you say so.”
Zachary sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “Do you remember the crash?”
“Vividly. Still a blank for you?”
“Yeah, mostly. I vaguely remember you being there, talking to me. Being upside down. Cold.”
“Yeah.”
“But not the actual crash.”
“It was freaking scary, so be glad you don’t have to. I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified in my life. I was sure we were both going to die.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know… but I feel responsible. If someone cut the brakes because they wanted me off a case… that comes back to me.”
“Someone cut your brakes?” Kenzie repeated in disbelief.
“Didn’t the police tell you?”
“No! I knew they didn’t work… that you hit the brakes and they didn’t slow us down. I thought… it was a malfunction.”
“Apparently not.”
“The letter! Do they think that whoever left the note on the windshield cut your brake lines? Tried to kill us? Or to kill you, at least?”
“Yeah.”
She swore softly and was quiet. Zachary couldn’t see her expression. Couldn’t reach his hand out to touch her and comfort her. “Are you okay?” he asked after a few minutes had passed.
“Sure. I’m fine. No worries.” She swore again, in a hard, flinty tone. “I guess New Year’s can now take the place of Christmas as your least favorite holiday.”
Zachary closed his eyes. She had no idea. Nothing would ever take the place of Christmas
