to mind. It was the language of alarm and stress, hysteria kept under control by sheer necessity. In that one instant, everything had gone wrong. With the photographs burned, I thought the worst had passed, but it had only begun.
I watched Dodie with a curious sense of detachment. She was conscious, and while she had no way to assess her situation, she knew she was in trouble. I believe that in such circumstances a victim can decide whether to choose life or to let it go. Whatever the severity of her wound, we could talk her into staying with us if she accepted what we said, which was she was fine, she was okay, that she’d make it, help was coming, that she was doing great, that we were with her. It was a litany of life-affirming promises, a pledge that she was safe, that she’d be whole again, fully mended, and without pain. She was teetering on the brink, the abyss opening up before her. I watched her look down into the dark hole of death and then her eyes rolled back into her head. I gave her hand a shake. She opened her eyes again and looked from my face to Pinky’s. A message passed between them, silent and intent. If he was capable of calling her back, I knew he was doing so. The question was whether she was capable of responding to his plea.
I heard sirens and moments later saw lights flashing beyond the living room windows. I left Pinky with Dodie and went to the door, waving my arms as though that might hurry them along. The miracle of emergency personnel is the calm response to situations that would otherwise disintegrate into chaos. There were four of them, all men and younger than seemed possible, a team of children with all the optimism of skill and training, four strong boys rising to the occasion. I could see Dodie taking in the sight of their faces, caring and kind. Even Pinky seemed soothed as they tended to the immediate first-aid measures. Pulse, blood pressure. One put in an IV line and another administered oxygen. The four of them wrapped her in blankets and lifted her onto the gurney. It was a practiced and smoothly coordinated effort, and she seemed to give up her confusion and surrender to their care as though reduced to infancy.
As soon as she was out the door, I put an arm around Pinky’s shoulder, which was both solid and oddly bony, a small man in a protective armor of muscle. As we emerged from the house, I noticed that his next-door neighbors had turned off their lights, not wanting to be roped in. I walked Pinky to my car and let him in on the passenger side. I made sure he was reaching for his seat belt so I wouldn’t slam his fingers in the door. I went around to my side and slid in under the wheel. I turned the key in the ignition, put the car in drive, and eased away from the curb. I thought I was speeding, but the car seemed to move at a crawl as I covered the distance from Pinky’s apartment to the hospital. There was no conversation between us, though I reached for his hand at one point and squeezed.
The ambulance had reached the ER ahead of us. I dropped Pinky at the door and told him I’d find parking. Dodie’s gurney disappeared through the sliding doors in a rolling flutter of white coats. She’d been swallowed up, leaving him behind. By the time I pulled into the nearby lot and scavenged the closest possible parking spot, my composure was fading and my heart had started to thunder. I grabbed my bag from the trunk and then jogged the half block back. The reception area was bright with overhead lights, and the waiting room was empty. Pinky was sitting in a glass cubicle with a woman in civilian clothing who was typing information onto a form, filling in the blanks as Pinky provided answers.
I took a seat, keeping an eye on the two until she’d finished with him. He looked miserable as he left the cubicle and plodded to the front door. I followed, watching as he sank to the steps outside with his head between his knees. I sat down beside him and we waited. It felt like two in the morning, but when I looked at my watch, it was only 8:35. This was a Tuesday night, and I was guessing the emergency-room personnel had been enjoying a respite from the usual weekend onslaught of the injured and half dead. I pictured cuts and bloody noses and allergic reactions, food poisoning, heart attacks, broken bones. Also, the host of minor illnesses that by rights should have been relegated to the nearest clinic the next day. We were lucky Dodie wasn’t having to compete for attention. Wherever they’d taken her, I knew she was in good hands. I got up and went inside, where the aide, a young black guy in scrubs, was sitting at the desk.
I said, “Hi. I’m wondering if you can tell us anything about Dodie Ford, who was brought in by ambulance a few minutes ago. Her husband’s been filling out the paperwork and I know he’d appreciate word.”
“I can check.” He got up and crossed to the double doors that opened onto the medical bays in back. The glimpse I caught of the interior showed two empty gurneys with the curtains pushed back along the tracks laid in the ceiling. There was medical apparatus at the ready, but no sign of nurses or doctors, and no sense of hubbub. The aide closed the door behind him and returned in less than a minute.
“They’re taking her up to surgery. The doctor will be out in a bit. Sorry I can’t tell you more. I’m telling you what they told me.”
I went outside and gave Pinky the paltry information I’d been given. I was wearing my windbreaker, but the fabric was light and I might as well have done without. He’d gone through four cigarettes, lighting each from the one he was about to stub out. I said, “Why don’t we go inside? I’m about to freeze to death out here.”
“They won’t let me smoke in there.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue and I didn’t want him sitting by himself. I resumed my seat, tucking my hands between my knees for warmth. Beside me, he sighed and hung his head, shaking it back and forth. “My fault. Shit, shit, shit. This is all my fault. I shoulda left well enough alone.”
“Pinky, don’t get into that. It’s not going to help.”
“But why’d I go after him? That’s what I’m asking myself. It was over and done and if I’dda kept my cool, he’d have been gone.”
“You want to talk about it? Fine. If it’s going to make you feel any better, I’m listening.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Anything happens to her, I’m going to kill that prick. Swear to god I am.”
“Dodie’s in good hands.”
He turned and looked at me. “How am I going to pay for her care? You should’ve heard what the lady in there was asking me. And what was I supposed to say? We got no insurance, no credit, no savings, nothing in the checking account. Dodie’s hurt bad and we’re racking up thousands in medical bills. She hasn’t been here an hour and I’m already in the poorhouse. She’s bound to be laid up, which means no income from her. I’m an ex-con. I can’t get a job for shit. And look at all the other bills we got. How will those get paid?”
“I’m sure there’s some form of financial assistance through the county,” I said.
“I don’t want handouts! Me and her are proud. We’re not deadbeats, we’ve just been down on our luck, and now we’re totally sunk…”
I kept my mouth shut and let him ramble. Dodie’s fate was unknown. He didn’t dare assume she’d live and he couldn’t own up to the fact that she might just as easily die. He was superstitious enough to avoid talk about either possibility lest he tip the scales. Instead, he focused on the financial upheaval, which he was equally ill equipped to deal with. He must have felt safer thinking about the bills he’d be facing, which were at least concrete and more nearly in his control than Dodie’s perilous state. I crossed my arms, hunching over to keep warm, thinking he could just as easily give vent to his worries in the hospital waiting room. He never once mentioned running out on his obligations, but his fretting was self-perpetuating. I felt like a Hallmark card when I suggested he deal with his troubles one day at a time. What was this, a meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous?
I said, “Let’s talk about something else.”
He was silent, still brooding. “You know how all this started, don’t you?”
I shook my head.
“With Audrey Vance.”
“Audrey?”
“Yeah, I thought you must have figured it out. I was there the day of her arrest. I borrowed Dodie’s Cadillac late afternoon to take a little spin and got busted on a DUI. Audrey was brought in about the same time.”
“You knew her?”
“Oh, sure. Her and me go way back. I did a couple jobs for her and don’t ask what because I’m takin’ that to my grave.”
“Did you talk to her?”
He shook his head. “I only seen her in passing so I never had a chance. Next day she called in a panic because of what she witnessed that night.”
“Which was what?”
“When she came out of the station after her boyfriend posted bail? There sat Cappi in a parked car with Len. She knew who he was because she worked for his brother. Didn’t take a rocket scientist to know Cappi was on the
