Song of the Blackbird (Albatross Prison #1) (12 page)

“So are you going to tell me?” Maxim prompted.

“Sorry, not now. Let’s wait until Monday.”
Why was he staring?
She wet her lips and Maxim’s stare intensified. Suddenly he made an odd sound and grabbed the napkin out of her hand. He wiped her mouth with the cloth in one fell swoop.

“You had chocolate there.” His tone was grim, almost accusing.

“You could have just told me.” Heat rushed to her face. “I would’ve done it.”

“More efficient my way.” Maxim’s gaze shifted. “There’s still a smudge on the left side. You should eat more slowly.”

“Gee, thanks.” She was sure her face was as red as a lobster.

Her tormentor grunted and walked away. Emma wiped her mouth and tossed the napkin into the nearest trashcan. The man was rude to the core. She couldn’t believe she’d been mooning over him a few minutes ago.

Chapter 14

Phineas.
That was what she’d call him. The blackbird flitted from branch to branch, looking strong and brave just as his namesake in Emma’s favorite novel,
A Separate Peace
. Sam had loved the book and also thought it a fitting him when she told him about it before clinic that Monday morning.

“I hope I can see him one day,” her brother said as he stacked reams of copy paper into the filing cabinet.

“You were up the hill that day when I first spotted you, right? Take a look next time. He may be there.” Emma sipped her coffee, wondering how to bring up what Charles had told her.

“That was a one-time thing. Another crew is delivering supplies up there now.”

“Maybe he’ll fly down here one day.”

“Yeah, right. You know how they like staying in their territory. Did you see any nests close by?”

“Not inside the prison.”

“They’re probably close by. Wish I could explore with you.” He gave her a crooked smile. “At least I know about him. Thanks for telling me. Hey. Did you hear about the latest comet?”

“No. Tell me about it.”
So he still liked comets.
Emma smiled, glad a core part of her brother was still there.

“I heard on the radio. Holmes is supposed to be coming the twenty-third or twenty-fourth of this month and be really bright, even visible with the naked eye.” Sam’s eyes turned dreamy. “I wish I could see it.”

“You can’t look up there at night?”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam scoffed. “My bunk isn’t even close to a window. And you know they don’t let us out at night.”

“I’m out there. I can take pictures for you, if you like.”

“Would you?” Sam’s brown eyes lit up. “You’re the best, Em.”

“Any time.” She touched his arm. “Do you need money or anything? I can deposit some in your inmate account.”

“No, thanks. Save it for your down payment.”

“What down payment?”

“I thought you and Carmichael were going to buy a house.”

“No. We broke up.”

“Really? But I thought you said he was the one. You were raving about him and said you’d bring him for a visit.” Sam broke off as understanding dawned in his eyes. “You guys broke up because of me, didn’t you?”

“He was afraid his parents couldn’t handle it.” Emma cleared her throat. “They’re in politics. It was all about projecting the right image.”

“Sorry, Em.” Sam’s big eyes were doleful. “If it weren’t for me, you’d be happily married by now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She squeezed his arm. “If he couldn’t accept you, then he couldn’t accept me. I was sad for a while but I’m over him now.”

“Good.” Sam looked more upbeat. “I never liked him anyway. He seemed so snobby in your letters.”

“Speaking of letters,” Emma said, glad she’d found her opening. “Why did you stop writing?”

Sam was quiet for a few moments before turning to look out the window. “I got in trouble, Em. I can’t tell you more but don’t worry. I’m okay now.”

“Was it drugs?”

“How did you—” He whipped his head to the left and right and seeing nobody proceeded. “Yes. It was drugs, but they weren’t mine. I swear it, Em. I haven’t touched the stuff since the day I got arrested.”

“That’s great.” Emma touched his hand.

She was about to say more but Madison brought in a patient with abdominal pain at that moment and clinic started. She did a history and physical and concluded the man likely had gastritis from too much ibuprofen. Emma prescribed him omeprazole and warned him to stop his NSAIDS. She next treated a few “spider bites,” big abscesses that she enjoyed incising and draining. Then came the usual upper respiratory infections and back pain.

Toward lunchtime, Emma called Maxim’s secretary to confirm his availability for their three o’clock appointment. Unfortunately, one thing led to another and by the time three o’clock rolled around, Emma still had several patients left to see. She rushed through them but as she was wrapping up, a Code 1 was called over the radio system. Ms. Bryant and Madison ran to answer it.

“Man down, beaten in the bathroom,” a fuzzy voice said over Smith’s radio. “He’s barely breathing. There’s blood all over. 911 already called. On way to Urgent Care now.”

Oh, my God
. Emma yanked at her necklace. Could it be Sam? His shift had ended a couple of hours ago.
Someone had beaten him earlier this year—had they done it again? Was it her brother who was barely breathing? Where the heck were they?
Emma rushed out of the clinic as the nurses were pushing in a stretcher. An inmate lay on top, his eyes swollen shut, his jaw misshapen. Half his ear was hanging off.

He was white. It wasn’t her brother. Emma’s heart started thumping again.

“IV, O2, monitor. Now please,” Emma ordered, appalled at the bad shape the man was in. “What happened? Can you hear me?” The victim mumbled something incoherent. Emma seized her stethoscope, quickly performing the primary survey. “Airway intact. Trachea not deviated. Breath sounds decreased on the left. Pulse present in femoral, none in radial.”

“Blood pressure eighty-five over forty-five, heart rate one forty,” Madison shouted.

“What’s the pulse ox?” Emma yelled back.

“Ninety percent on one hundred percent non-rebreather.”

“IV in yet?” Emma asked. “I need two large bore ones.”

“Sixteen gauge in.”

“Hang a bag of normal saline.” Emma listened to the man’s chest again. “No breath sounds on the left.” She ripped open the man’s shirt. “Trachea deviated! Give me a fourteen gauge catheter!”

“Pulse ox fifty percent!” Ms. Bryant shouted. “He’s crashing!”

Madison tossed her the catheter. Mid-clavicular line, left second intercostal space. Emma pushed. A loud hiss gushed out some air.
Thank God.
She removed the needle. Trachea now back to midline.

“Good call with the angiocath,” Madison called out. “Pulse ox now ninety-five percent.”

“You saved him, Doc,” Smith said from the foot of the bed, his eyes wide.

“Thanks guys, but he’s not out of the woods yet. Keep the oxygen going.” Emma secured the catheter with tape and then listened again with her stethoscope. Yes, breath sounds now present on the left.

The patient twisted his head back and forth, mumbling something. There was something familiar about him. She leaned closer and held his hand. “It’s okay. You had a collapsed lung and I had to push a small tube in your chest. Try to relax. The ambulance will be here in a few minutes.”

The man cracked his eyes open. “You promised. You promised, Doc,” he said, his voice hoarse.

Goosebumps popped up on Emma’s arms. It was her patient staring back at her, the asthmatic she’d helped move.

“Mr. Cavendish?” Emma squeezed the man’s hand. Her heart lurched as a thousand knives danced in her stomach.

“Why did you tell them?” His voice was barely audible. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

“I didn’t tell them,” Emma breathed out. “I didn’t.”

“They got me in the bathroom. So many of them I couldn’t fight back.” Tears trickled down his swollen cheek. “Am I going to be okay?”

Abrasions and cuts flayed his chest. His face puffed out like a swollen watermelon, and his left ear seemed to be hanging on by a thread. Emma bit her lip.

“Dr. Edwards did everything she could, Cavendish.” Smith patted the patient’s good shoulder. “The paramedics are on their way. Hang in there, buddy.”

Emma tried to speak but couldn’t come up with anything. Soon the paramedics arrived and whisked Cavendish to the local trauma center.

“It’s okay, Doc.” Madison’s golden brown eyes were full of sympathy. “You didn’t know he’d get hurt. You were only trying to help.”

“I said his dorm was damp.” Emma felt a wetness on her cheek and brushed it away. “Not cigarette smoke. Steam. How could they do this to him?”

“They can be pretty vicious. It’s not your fault.”

“I want them arrested.” She caught herself and laughed, a small hysterical sound that burst forth. “But they’re already in prison. What else can you do to them? Oh my God. I can’t believe it. That poor boy.”

Cavendish’s bloodied face and half-missing ear flashed before her eyes. Had she played a role in the attack? She should’ve spoken with Maxim earlier. Should have told him at the birthday party. Maybe he could have intervened somehow. Sent out more guards to monitor the place better. Better monitoring might have saved Cavendish.

Something had to be done to catch the men responsible. She couldn’t sit here and let the perpetrators get away. Emma shoved her stethoscope in her bag and ran up the hill to inform Maxim. Surely he’d want to know and help catch the assailants.
Please, please let him be in his office.
A few minutes later, she rushed into the admin building and flung open his door.
Damn.
No one was there. She knocked on the room next door and jerked it open.

“Is Mr. Chambers here?” she huffed out to the grim elderly woman sitting behind the desk.

“No.” The woman’s voice was as cool as ice.

“Ms. Lee, right?” Emma forced out a placating smile. “I’m Dr. Edwards. Can you tell me where the warden is?”

“Your appointment was for three o’clock. He’s already left.”

“Please. I need to speak with him.”

“Didn’t you get his message?” The woman glared at her. “I told him not to bother but he waited for over an hour for you to show up. He even called down there to try to talk with you.”

“I was busy with patients.”

“He’s available tomorrow between one and two. If you’re free.”

“No, thanks.” How could she wait that long? It was imperative she reached him today. Emma raced out the Eagle gate and was panting by the time she got into her car.
Where was that business card Smith had given her?
She flipped through her purse and finally found it wedged between two gum packs.

He’d told her she could always try him on his cell, hadn’t he? Or was it something polite he spewed out to everybody? The guy probably was furious with her for making him wait earlier. But it wasn’t her fault. She was busy taking care of his inmates. She punched the number in and waited. After the fifth ring, his distinctive voice came on the voicemail.

Just her luck
. Emma rubbed her temple and waited for the beep. Cavendish’s bruised and bloodied face flashed before her again, and she squeezed her eyes tight.

“Hi, Maxim?”
God, she sounded so pathetic
. She cleared her voice and wiped away the tears. “Sorry to bother you but it’s Emma. Emma Edwards. I need to talk with you. Where are you? I didn’t want to call but it’s an emergency. You see...” She swallowed a few times.
What was she doing?
Cavendish was already in the hospital. Where was the emergency? There was nothing Maxim could do tonight. She sounded hysterical and needed to pull herself together. The talk could surely wait until tomorrow, couldn’t it? She took in a deep breath. “Sorry. It’s actually not an emergency but I need to talk with you. Can you call me back? Please?”

Emma pressed the Off button and threw the phone back into her purse.
Okay, it wasn’t that bad, was it?
She’d seen trauma patients before. She’d rotated in the ER many times. And she hadn’t told anyone about the cigarettes. She wasn’t really to blame for the beating, was she? In any case, she couldn’t do anything tonight. She was going to head home and take a long, hot bath. And tomorrow she’d tell Maxim about the beating. Surely he was going to help somehow. He could investigate, find out who the attackers were, punish them as they deserved. Her cell suddenly rang.
Was it Maxim?

Emma fumbled in her purse and yanked out the phone.

“Hello? Maxim?”

“Emma? It’s me. John.”

“John.” Emma let out a huff of air. “I can’t talk right now.”

“What’s the matter? You don’t sound good.”

“I have to go.”

“But Em. I want to talk to you. I’m sorry about everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. So, your brother’s a criminal. I get that. I can deal with it.”

“You’ll deal with it?” Emma gripped the phone harder.

“Yes. He’s not going to get out for a while. We don’t have to tell my family. You can even take me to meet him.” She heard him swallow. “But there’ll be guards around, right? I don’t have to be alone with him, do I?”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“I know. You can thank me later.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“We’re done, John. Finished. Don’t call me anymore.”

“What? Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Bye, John.” She slammed the phone shut.
Why had she dated him for that long?
Riley was right. The guy was a total loser. As she was pulling out of the parking space, her cell rang again.

“Leave me alone, John,” she yelled. “We’re finished, can’t you get that?”