Dead on Arrival (6 page)

She let him but grabbed his arm and said, “You can stick something else into—”

“We're gonna take you on a little trip to the hospital, Virginia,” Dano interrupted.

Since she didn't look in any immediate danger, other than mental health-wise, I had to smile.

Virginia wiggled and jiggled in the bed. “Why? Why? Why?”

“Just to make sure you are all right, ma'am,” Buzz interrupted, standing at attention.

Dano turned to him.

“Uhn, sorry.” Buzz kinda faded into the background of the shrine-room.

I felt sorry for him, but intrigued that Jagger stood so silently near the doorway. Was he merely letting them do their job, or was a sexy, gorgeous nut like Virginia hard for him to deal with? Interesting.

Virginia took a tissue from under her pillow and started to wipe her hands. She rubbed at each nail as if taking polish off, although there wasn't any on. The compulsive behavior continued while Buzz went to get the stretcher, Jagger offered to help him, and ER Dano and I stayed in the room, listening to Virginia, who now chanted something.

Sounded like a Gypsy Rosalie stripper tune.

Dano leaned near. “What'd you take today, Virginia?”

I was amazed at his gentle yet firm tone.
Even I would have answered him
, I thought as she turned to him.

“La, dee, da,” she said, then stopped. “Vodka.”

“And?”

“What makes you think there's an ‘and,' handsome? You are one hot guy, buddy.” She reached up to him, grabbed his tie, and pulled him near enough to give him a kiss, but Dano was apparently on the ball at all times. Before she could, he'd taken her hands and firmly released them.

“Let's keep to ourselves, Virginia. What'd you take with the Vodka?”

“You married, handsome? Kids? Good sex?” she asked.

I found myself leaning forward to hear better then caught myself.

“Gin?” Dano asked.

For a few seconds, she looked like a child. Her eyes grew watery, her lips pouted, and she took a few deep breaths. “He broke up with me. He broke up with me.”

Dano rolled his eyes but not until after he'd turned his head away. “Yeah, sometimes life sucks. Maybe it's for the better. Look, kid, no guy or anyone for that matter is worth dying for.” He looked around with a “Where the hell is that stretcher” look. “So, pills?”

“Pills. Pot.”

“Kinda pills?”

She looked toward the bedside table, which was so crowded with statues none of us had noticed a prescription bottle hidden amongst them. I walked toward it and lifted it up. “Xanax. Antidepressant.”

ER looked at me. “No kidding.” He turned back to her. “Whose pills are they?”

I started to look at the bottle to see that the name was scratched off. Dano was one sharp guy. I wished he wasn't involved in the fraud. We could probably use his help.

Buzz and Jagger appeared at the doorway.

Virginia started to chant in some kind of tongue. Everyone ignored her as they covered her, re-covered her each time she threw off the sheet, and got her safely on the stretcher, where she promptly spit out a pill, most likely Xanax, which landed on Buzz Lightyear's crispy new shirt.

I don't think I've ever seen that kind of look of horror as was on poor Buzz's face right now.

Then Virginia said to Buzz, “You look like shit, buddy. You should be down here, not me.”

While she laughed, I felt sorry for Buzz, but Dano shook his head as if that wasn't the first time a patient had said that to Buzz Lightyear.

Virginia started to chant a Hail Mary.

Now her sister shook her head and looked at me, “We're Jewish.”

In a sitcom, that would be funny. I merely touched her arm and smiled.

“You drive,” Dano said to Buzz, who beamed with delight once we were outside.

I knew Buzz just couldn't wait to turn on the lights and sirens.

“Back for you, Nightingale.” Which meant Jagger was up in front with Buzz.

Jagger looked pissed.

I smiled to myself as we quickly took our places, and Buzz drove out of the driveway.

And damn but I didn't even shift in my seat.

The ride went along smoothly, considering Virginia vacillated between crying, wiping her nails, chanting, and stripper maneuvers. Occasionally she'd say the Our Father prayer, which I might add, she did damn well for a Jewish girl—except for the “who
aren't
in Heaven” part instead of “art in Heaven.” I had to wonder what that said about her beliefs.

Dano seemed to ignore her while he wrote on his daily run sheet but did occasionally stick the nasal canula back in her nose so she got her oxygen.

I leaned back to rest and contemplate my job.

Suddenly she bolted up in her seat.

“Get down, Virginia, before you get hurt,” Dano ordered. “What the hell are you doing anyway?

She leaned toward him, “I'm waiting for the Immaculate Conception.”

I bit back a smile and said a quick prayer for some type of mental health recovery for the girl. How the heck did a Jewish girl even know about that?

“Fine. Good. Lay back down,” Dano said, barely looking up from his clipboard.

She laid down. “I'm a virgin, you know.”

Dano and I looked at each other. “Of course you are,” he said, in what I thought a very professional tone.

He'd almost convinced me.

Virginia remained still.

Amazingly enough, riding in the back of an ambulance wasn't anywhere near as motion sickness-inducing with Buzz Lightyear driving. I looked at ER Dano. “How sad about Payne.” Not sure where that came from other than the fact that I needed to pump him for fraud info, and being stuck back here with self-proclaimed Virgin Virginia seemed like an opportune time since she wasn't in critical condition or requiring us to be working on her en route.

“Sad. Yeah, but not surprising.”

Bingo. Had to be a bingo with that statement. “Not surprising?”

Dano never looked up. “Come on, Pauline, I'm sure an intelligent woman like yourself has figured out that Payne Sterling was a weirdo and not well liked. Not only was Payne nuts, he was hated.”

“By?”

As Dano started to open his mouth and before I could even move, Virgin Virginia was standing up on the stretcher.

“Oh!” I shouted.

“Get down!” ordered Dano who looked as if he was trying to get up, the clipboard still at his chest—and in seconds, Virginia on top of said clipboard—and said
Dano
.

The way she straddled him said she was
not
a virgin.

Dano tried to struggle free, but Virginia had long shocking pink nails, which she dug into the back of his neck.

“Aye!” he shouted. “A little help here, Nightingale!”

I started to get up to help. Suddenly a sharp pain centered in my abdomen, sending me sailing back toward the wall, down the side of the bench, and in the corner of the ambulance only to realize Virginia's leg was aimed out straight at me. The drug-crazed vixen had kicked me!

Now the pain came from the back of my head, and stars danced around both Dano and the proclaimed virgin.

He kept trying to get her off, but she was like Velcro and kept sticking to him, all the while her nightie bunched up around her thighs from what I could see with my blurry vision. Nausea sped up my throat from the smack on my head, and I couldn't move if I wanted to.

“You all right, Pauline?” Dano shouted, as he tried to lift Virginia's arms from the death grip on his neck.

“Mentally ill people are very strong,” was all I could manage.

Dano turned toward the window in the front of the ambulance. He couldn't reach it but leaned over far enough to kick it with his black boot.

Jagger swung around, his eyes wide open, while he shoved the glass to the side. “What the hell. Dude, cut it out! Pauline? Stop the ambulance! Dano, cool it! Help Pauline!”

Virginia yelled, “He's mine!”

And Jagger countered with, “Trust me, I don't want him.”

Dano growled. “Get her the hell off of me, but don't piss her off. Those nails are lethal.”

Buzz must have been confused, but we all sloshed about as he pulled over to the side of the road. My head throbbed like the dickens, and my vision hadn't cleared.

I tried to take a few deep breaths and leaned to the side when suddenly the back doors opened—and I landed in Jagger's arms.

“Jesus, Pauline!” He held me for a few seconds. “Get her off of Dano,” Jagger ordered to a very confused looking Buzz.

In a few minutes, I was sitting on the bench with an icepack to the back of my head, the virgin was nestled all snug in her stretcher—with restraints to hold her in place—after ER called in the “problem” and got orders from the ER doc, and Jagger was sitting next to me.

I vaguely remember he and Dano arguing about who would sit in back during the rest of the ride.

I smiled at Jagger, squinted from the pain, and looked at Virginia, who grinned at me and said, “He left me. Aren't there eight ways to leave your lover? Eight?”

Eight
?
Eight
?

Was that coincidence or something to do with the threat against me and my case?

Because those were Robotman's exact words.

Dano ordered me to sit in a wheelchair while Jagger then pushed me into the ER following the stretcher with Virginia now chanting in tongue.

“She banged her head,” he said to a male nurse who hurried over toward us.

“Hi, I'm a nurse here. Ted. Ted Grosch. How you feeling?”

“How do I look?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Gorgeous.”

I laughed, grabbed my forehead, and said, “Ouch.”

Jagger stepped forward. “Come on, buddy. CAT scan her or MRI her or something. Could be internal bleeding.”

Ted paused and glared at him. “You a doctor?”

Jagger ignored the dig and said, “Do something fast!”

This time I had to chuckle no matter how much it hurt.

In a short time, Ted had me in the exam room (who wouldn't with Jagger standing guard?), seen by the doc, and off for a scan, which thank the good Lord came back negative. Once the doctor pronounced me just bruised with a prize-winning egg-sized bump, I was released.

When I was rolled out to the waiting room, I smiled—to myself since it hurt less. There sat Buzz, wiping at something on his shirt—I think Virginia had spit on his sparklingly crisp top. ER Dano leaned against the wall with his eyes shut, but then opened them when Ted said my name, and Jagger, who looked the worse for wear, straightened up.

“What a pathetic looking crew,” I said.

Dano stood up and grabbed Buzz by the shoulder. “Back to work. She's all restocked.”

I knew he meant the ambulance was restocked with supplies from the ER, but he didn't go out with Buzz. Oh no. There seemed to be a challenge between Jagger and ER as to whom would sit in the back—to watch me.

How cute.

In a few minutes, I was sitting on the bench next to ER Dano.

Hm. Jagger seemed to have lost his grip on that one. I guessed Dano was king in his ambulance, and no one, not even the mysterious, infamous Jagger, could knock him off his throne.

Did that mean Dano had a stake in the company? He had been there a very long time. Being so burned out, one would think he'd have quit and moved on in life to something less stressful.

I leaned back, shut my eyes, and sighed.

“What?” I heard him say.

One eyelid opened, “Hm?”

“You made a sound.” He leaned forward as if expecting me to pass out.

“Oh. I'm fine.” I sighed again just on principle. “It just feels good to be all right. My head is better.” It really hurt like hell, but if I told him, he'd probably not talk and insist I lay down on the stretcher or something.

Dano leaned back toward his original position. “Good. Good.”

I smiled to myself. Sitting next to him was not unpleasant at all. For some strange reason (and I was blaming it on hormones) I wanted to touch him. Anyplace. His arm. His hand. His thigh. Yikes. I wanted to touch ER Dano!

Get a grip
, I told myself, rationalizing that the knock on my head was causing strange reactions in my libido.

However, ER Dano was one hot guy.

Even Jewish, pseudo-Catholic Virgin Virginia had thought so.

Then again, she was whacko. I looked at Dano, told myself to change the subject in my head, and asked, “How long have you been working at TLC?”

He looked surprised at the question, and I'm guessing, if I wasn't injured earlier, he wouldn't have answered. But he did look at me and say, “Long time.”

I forced a chuckle. Sounded pretty damn good to me. I wondered if I should take some acting course to help out with this career. “What's a long time?”

“It'll be twenty-one years pretty soon.”

“Wow. Twenty-one years at TLC. I'm impressed.” I really was, along with wondering how the heck old he was.

“Started at nineteen, Nightingale,” he said as if he'd read my mind!

“So this has been your only job?”

He nodded. “I started at TLC right after taking courses.” He looked off into space and said, “Hadn't really thought about it being my only job.”

Dano sounded a bit melancholy, which was certainly out of character for someone so tough, so rough around the edges, and so…edgy.

While still looking into space he said, “Twenty-one freaking years. No one should have to go through this that long.”

Wow. I should have remained silent, but I said, “Through this? What is this?”

He never looked at me but said, “Everything we see. Everything that can happen to a human body. Everything that can be done to a human body.”

“It is a tough job.”

He swung around toward me. “Tough? You don't know tough.” He leaned back and sighed. “Every night. Nightmares. Bodies. Parts. The ones you know won't make it. The ones you know won't make it, and there's no freaking thing you can do about it.”

I touched his hand. He barely acknowledged me, but at least he didn't push me off.

“It's like a bucket. Keeps getting filled with pain, dying, death. But there's holes in the bucket so the shit filters out.” He turned, looked me in the eyes, and said, “But it
always
gets refilled. Always.”

I patted his hand very gently and then took mine away. “I guess it never would get any easier no matter how long you work at it.”

“Nope.”

Time to lighten the mood, I decided. “Oh, yeah. TLC. How'd it start doing so much better?” I asked also to see if his story jived with what I already had heard.

Dano proceeded to tell me about Payne's uncle who had started the company after owning a gas station near the interstate. His wreckers were often forced to be used to take patients to the hospital since Hope Valley didn't have its own ambulance company. It was serviced by a few from Hartford and surrounding towns like Bloomfield and Glastonbury.

“When he got sick, his…nephew took over.”

“That'd be Payne?”

Dano didn't look at me. “That
was
Payne.”

A chill raced up my spine. Suddenly I could picture him dead on the floor, and the knife…sticking out. I swallowed in order not to get nauseous. “Who do you think killed him?” flew out of my mouth.

Dano froze.

Yikes.

For some reason I looked to see Jagger. Even the back of his head gave me some comfort. Dano really shouldn't scare me.
He was not a killer
, I told myself without a shred of evidence other then my gut instinct—which served me well in my nursing career.

But did I want to trust it when the issue was
murder
?

Well, I had nothing else to work with other than my gut instincts and very little evidence, so I looked directly into his eyes and waited.

Dano squinted at me. I wondered if that was so I couldn't read his pupils. Never could remember if constricting pupils meant someone was lying, or was it dilating ones meant it? What the hell good was looking into his eyes then?

“If I knew that, Nightingale, wouldn't I have already told the police?” He turned away.

So I couldn't see his eyes?

I sat still for a few seconds, contemplating the ever-confusing ER Dano. On the surface, he was hot, gorgeous, all man. On the inside, he was beginning to be as mysterious as Jagger. But at least with him, I knew it was always on the up and up. Jagger was the cowboy who should have worn the white hat.

I mentally looked up to Heaven and mouthed, “What did I do to deserve this?” Had to be to keep me on my toes and not become bored. “Of course, I know you would have, Dano.”

He looked at me as if confused.

“Told the police. I know you would have told them. Actually, I'd have no way of knowing if you told them or what you told them since I'm only a nurse and a new employee to boot. Well, even if I wasn't new. I mean if I was a long-time employee like you, the police wouldn't share any investigative information with me!”

I actually bit down on my own tongue.

What the hell had just happened? Dano had me spewing out words in a ramble by merely sitting next to me and looking. I reached up and rubbed my head to make him think I was going insane from the fall.

Obviously Dano was used to dealing with crazies since he ignored me and said, “But if I had to speculate as to who offed Payne—”

The ambulance stopped, most likely on a damn dime, ‘cause I again flew toward Dano, the doors opened, and Jagger stood there, with me landing…in Dano's arms.