Hostage Negotiation. Lena DiazЧитать онлайн книгу.
you stop already?” Cole shifted in his chair. “You’re making everyone around us dizzy. And you’re making me want to slug you. Sit down.”
Zack was surprised to realize that most of the dozen or so people scattered around the large waiting room were indeed watching him. He rubbed the back of his neck and made himself sit beside Cole. But keeping still proved impossible. Nervous energy had his foot tapping up and down as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the tops of his thighs.
After a few minutes of sitting, he jumped to his feet again.
Cole let out a low curse.
“The ambulance brought our Jane Doe here over two hours ago,” Zack complained. “Someone should have told us something by now. What if she’s...what if she’s dead? What if she’s alive but paralyzed? I tilted her head when she was lying on the road, shoved one of my socks under her neck to keep her face angled up. What if she had a spinal cord injury and I made it worse?”
“Is that why you’re acting like a caged tiger? You blame yourself?”
“Well, of course I blame myself. I ran her over with my truck. Who else should I blame?”
“Her. She ran out in front of you. And you didn’t run her over. You tapped her with the bumper.”
“Tapped?” Zack gave his friend an incredulous look. “She went somersaulting through the air like a rag doll and...” He fisted his hands, trying to block out the memory of her body flipping end over end, landing in a crumpled heap. That she’d still been breathing when he’d reached her was a miracle. But then, when blood had bubbled from her mouth, he’d... “I shouldn’t have moved her head.”
“She was choking on her own blood according to what you told the EMTs when they arrived. The reason you propped her head up was so she could breathe. Or am I wrong about that?”
“No. But I—”
“But nothing. You did what you had to do to save her life. So jump off the guilt-trip train already. Instead, ask yourself what she was even doing there in the first place. You saw her clothes—dirty, torn, not just from the accident either, is my guess. And she wasn’t even wearing shoes.”
“Yeah, I know. Her hair was matted, really matted. And her skin was grimy, as if she’d been out there a long time. There’s something really wrong here. But I can’t even begin to focus on starting an investigation until I know whether she’s going to be okay.”
And, God, please, with no life-altering deficits caused by him.
“Since you’re still setting up the police department in Mystic Glades, my boss has already sent men out to the swamp to start checking things out. And he’s fine with me staying here as long as needed, until we get some answers. And an update on our Jane Doe.”
Zack nodded his thanks.
On the other side of the waiting room there was a short hallway that led into the bowels of the emergency room. Doctors and nurses kept going in and out of the door at the end, but so far none of them had spoken to either him or Cole.
“Why hasn’t anyone come out to talk to us?”
Instead of answering, Cole crossed his arms, obviously giving up on trying to talk Zack out of worrying.
The door to the ER opened again. And just like dozens of times before, a nurse stepped out. But this one didn’t hurry away. Instead, she stopped at the information desk and spoke to the volunteer sitting there. Zack watched them intently. The volunteer checked her clipboard then pointed toward Zack and Cole. Finally.
As the nurse hurried toward them, Cole rose to stand shoulder to shoulder with Zack.
“Just remember—” Cole kept his voice low “—no matter what she tells us, none of this is your fault.”
Maybe. Maybe not. But nothing could change the fact that it was his truck that had slammed into the young woman who was fighting for her life right now, assuming that she was even still alive. If he’d killed her...no, he wouldn’t go there, couldn’t go there. Having something like that on his conscience was a burden he didn’t think he could bear. She had to make it.
“Chief Scott, Detective Larson?” She looked from one to the other, her brows arched in question.
“I’m Chief Scott,” Zack clarified. “And this is Detective Larson.”
“Ma’am.” Cole nodded.
“I’m Miss Murphy, one of the ER nurses. Doctor Varley is attending to your Jane Doe and wanted me to give you an update.”
“Then she’s...she isn’t...” Zack stopped, not wanting to voice his fears out loud, afraid he’d jinx the outcome.
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “She’s alive, if that’s what you’re asking. And she’s doing very well, all things considered.”
He let out a ragged breath. Then her words sank in. “All things considered? What does that mean? Is she paralyzed? Is she—”
“No, no, goodness, no. She’s not paralyzed. Her prognosis is very good, actually. I take it from your response that you’re the one who hit her?”
He winced. “Yes, ma’am.”
She patted his forearm. “Rest assured. A slight concussion, bruises and a minor tear in the soft tissues of her throat are all that you can take credit for. Most everything else is inconsistent with being hit by a car.”
Zack exchanged a confused look with Cole. “Everything else?”
It was her turn to look confused. “Well, yes. The burns, the dehydration, cuts, abrasions.”
“Burns?” they asked at the same time.
“Dehydration?” Zack added.
Her brows drew down. “You didn’t know?”
“Know what?” Zack asked. “Did she burn herself in a campfire then go looking for help and got lost? Is that why she was dehydrated?”
She looked around then stepped closer as if to make sure that no one else could hear her. “Your Jane Doe has extensive bruising all over her body. Judging by their coloration, many of the bruises are days, or even weeks, old. She’s malnourished, and chunks of her hair look as if they’ve been pulled out by the roots. The burns that I mentioned? No campfire would cause the circular patterns on her abdomen and back. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re cigarette burns.”
From the expression on his friend’s face, Cole was just as shocked as Zack was. And just as angry.
“Like I said, the concussion and esophageal tear,” she continued, without giving either of them a chance to ask her any questions, “can be attributed to being hit by a vehicle. But the other injuries don’t appear to be from an accident.” She cleared her throat, looking uncomfortable.
Other injuries. Did she mean more than what she’d already mentioned?
“Miss Murphy,” Zack said, “you called her Jane Doe. Didn’t she tell you her name?”
She shook her head. “No. She hasn’t spoken. She was unconscious when she arrived and woke up inside the CT scanner, confused and combative. We had to sedate her for her own safety. The doctor should be finished stitching her up soon. Then we’ll admit her, take her upstairs to a private room, where she can sleep off the effects of the sedative. I’d say that you can ask her questions then, but as exhausted and frail as she is, she’ll probably sleep for hours. Maybe even until late tomorrow.”
The idea of waiting that long to question the woman certainly wasn’t welcome. But right now Zack was more concerned with discovering the details that the nurse seemed to be holding back.
“The other injuries that you mentioned, can you be more specific?”
She hesitated, biting her lower lip in indecision.
“Ma’am,”