Song of the Blackbird (Albatross Prison #1) (9 page)

Chapter 10

Pound! Pound! Pound
! Maxim slammed his fist against the punching bag. Since four in the morning, he’d been at it. He should break off to do his usual five-mile run but the memory was too fresh.
Pound!
She’d looked terrified.
Pound!
She’d been wedged against the table and the wall.
Pound!
That bastard had had his hand around her throat. She’d collapsed on the floor and he’d never felt more terrified in his life. Except for that one time fifteen years ago.
Pound! Pound! Pound!

The sweat poured off his face like water but he didn’t feel it. His hands were probably cracked and bleeding through the gloves but he didn’t feel them either. He was numb all over. Emma had been so brave at the hospital, insisting she was fine when any other woman would have broken down by then.
But no, not her.
The woman was amazing. Stupid, naïve, stubborn, reckless: she was all those things. But also simply amazing.

Pound! Pound! Pound!
The bastard could’ve killed her. That beautiful little fool. He should have ripped Ransom to pieces right away instead of escorting her to the Urgent Care. But she’d insisted on walking on her own and would have fallen without him. How slight she’d felt in his arms, like a small, injured angry bird. She’d been mostly bones and he’d been afraid he’d crush her with his massive arms but somehow she’d survived their encounter.
Too bad he hadn’t.

Maxim ripped off his gloves in disgust and yanked open the back door. He flung himself out into the cool morning air and raced along the familiar path that curved around his house. He jogged down the steep cliff where the path ended and soon found himself at his favorite location, running along the beach. Seagulls pierced the early morning stillness with their cries while the sun was trying to peep above the horizon.

He’d run like this every day for the past ten years, and the exercise usually relaxed him but not today. Today all he could see were Emma’s frantic emerald eyes, her swollen wrist, the white bandage on her arm at the hospital. All he could hear were her screams for help. His body broke into a cold sweat. Somehow he had to make sure she didn’t get hurt again.

Two hours later, Maxim arrived at the prison knowing what he needed to do. His body was sore but at least his mind was more at peace. She wouldn’t be here today, so he could rest easy on that account. She hadn’t looked so good when he’d left her last night. It was as if the strain of the day had finally caught up with her. Maybe he should ask Brown to check up on her.

The doctors were all waiting around the table in the conference room when he entered.
Damn.
He’d never been late before.
It was all that woman’s fault.
He shook his head in disgust and resolved to keep her out of his mind. As soon as he shared the news with the group.

“Good morning.” He sat in his usual place next to Kaye. “Some of you may have already heard. Dr. Edwards was assaulted yesterday afternoon in the Unit 3 office.” A rumble went up among the group. He waved down their questions. “She’s okay. Just a sprained wrist. She’s resting at home today and may need the next few days off. Brown, I want you to check up on her later.”

“He doesn’t need to. I’m right here.” Emma’s voice spoke up from the doorway.

Unbelievable.
Maxim braced his hands against the edge of the table.
What the hell was she doing here? Didn’t she ever listen to advice?

She came into the room dressed in her usual tasteless outfit of brown pants and a loose-fitting shirt. Her thick, long, black hair was clipped back again in its staid ponytail. At least her wrist still had on the ACE bandage.
Thank God for small favors.

“Why are you here?” Maxim asked, praying for patience. “Didn’t I tell you to take the day off?”

“I don’t need it,” the woman replied in her usual blunt manner. “I’m fine. There’s nothing to do at home anyway.”

“Do? You’re not supposed to do anything.” He gripped the table harder. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Brown asked.

“Yes. My wrist’s a little sore. But I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Kaye said, looking none too happy to see her either.

“An inmate got unhappy and grabbed my wrist.” She had a slight tremor in her voice. Maxim didn’t think anybody heard it except for him. “He pushed me against the wall. I pressed my alarm, and a group of officers saved me.”

“Group?” Dr. Parker spoke up. “I heard it was Mr. Chambers who did all the rescuing. Before the other officers could do anything, Ransom was already flat on the floor.”

“Oh.” She turned her eyes toward him and smiled. “Thank you again for your help.”

Maxim turned away and cleared his throat.
She was going to kill him with that smile.
“Don’t mention it. I would’ve done that for anyone.”

“He definitely would have.” Kaye rubbed her hand on his arm. “Maxim, you’re so brave. I love that about you.”

Dear God.
Could the woman be any less subtle? He yanked his arm out of the way. “Brown, help the doctor fill out a 115. Ransom isn’t going to get off easy. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Yes, sir.” Brown nodded. “All the doctors are here today. Dr. Edwards can take it easy. She’ll have a lot of time to fill out the paperwork.”

“But I want to get back to work,” the contrary woman said, kicking Maxim’s temperature up a notch. “Can I go back to the Urgent Care?”

“Sure, if you want,” Brown said. “But Dr. Ross is here today. His wife is no longer sick. Maybe you can help with the infirmary patients.”

“I have a better idea. We have a huge backlog of chronos that need to be filled out,” Kaye said. “She’d be perfect for the job.”

“Her hand’s still sore. She won’t be able to write,” Maxim said before the evil witch could think of more chores for Emma.
What was it with the CMO?
She seemed out to get the new doctor.
Must be a female thing.
She’d ruled the roost for so long it was probably hard to share the spotlight with anyone else.

Kaye pasted on her fake smile and agreed to have Emma be the extra doctor in the Outpatient Housing Unit.
Time to announce his executive decision.
He’d thought long and hard and it was the only solution that’d let him sleep at night.

Maxim cleared his throat. “From now on, whenever Dr. Edwards sees a patient, I want an officer in the room with her.”

“What?” Both Kaye and Emma spoke up at the same time.

“I don’t need an officer.”

He should’ve known the stubborn woman wouldn’t agree to anything he suggested.

“She’s right,” Kaye said. “You’re overreacting. It was a one-time thing, Maxim. We’ve never had any staff assaults until now.”

“That’s because we never had a female doctor before.”

Kaye spluttered and shot him an injured look. “I’ve been here for years.”

“You don’t count.” Kaye’s face reddened. “You don’t see patients, that’s what I mean.”
Him and his big mouth.
Maxim bit back a groan. That was a bit tactless, even for him.

“So she’ll have her own personal bodyguard? Is that what you want?” The CMO whined in that nasal tone he detested.

“I don’t need a bodyguard.” Emma was giving him her usual contemptuous look. “Patients need their privacy. They’re not going to open up to me if there’s an officer in the room.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Damn their privacy.” Maxim slammed his hand down. “You’re working with inmates, for God’s sake.”

“They’re still patients. They have rights, too.”

“Rights? Are you kidding me? They’re criminals. Stop being so foolish.”

“Stop being so biased.” She glared at him. “You know how I feel. Not all inmates are bad.”

“Excuse me,” Brown said to his right. “It’s eight thirty. The doctors have to go to their clinics.”

“Let them go. Not you, Dr. Edwards. You stay. Brown and Kaye, too.” Maxim waved Emma over to a seat. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to bolt and get away from him but by God, he wasn’t done yet.

“Sir,” Brown said. “I think your intention is good. But it’s not very practical. I don’t think there’s a spare officer available to protect Dr. Edwards.”

“Of course there isn’t.” Kaye’s red lips thinned. “We don’t have the money or the resources to hire a personal bodyguard for her. If she can’t handle working in the prison, she should quit.”

Maxim paused, his whole world stilling. Finally, a ray of light.
Why didn’t he think of that before?
The woman didn’t belong here and he was going to go mad worrying about her if she stayed. It was the perfect solution, but he had to be careful. The last thing he needed was a lawsuit accusing him of pressuring her to quit.

“Dr. Kaye is right. Your credentials are great, and you can probably find a job anywhere.” He took pains not to sound too hopeful. “I’ll even write you a great reference.”

“I don’t need a reference.” The doctor leaned over, two spots of color appearing on her pale cheeks, her freckles in stark relief. Maxim felt a queer tremor in his chest. “I’m not quitting.” Her emerald eyes flashed like fire. “And you can’t make me.”

“Fine.” He focused on the spot above her right shoulder. “But if you stay, you have to have a guard with you whenever you see patients. That’s not negotiable.”

“What officer? I thought you didn’t have one.”

“Officer Smith.”

“But Maxim. That’s your personal assistant.” Kaye put a hand on his arm.

“Now he’s Dr. Edwards’s.” Maxim pulled his arm away. “They give me too many damned assistants. I don’t need all of them.”

“So now I’m stuck with one of your minions?” Emma had the audacity to ask.

“Minions?” He had the strangest desire to throttle her. That or kiss her until that smart mouth stopped talking.
Now how the hell did kissing get in the picture?
Maxim shook his head. Emma was clearly driving him mad.

“Yes. Minion. Personal slave to a taskmaster.”

“Yes, you get my minion,” he said, his temperature rising faster than a speeding bullet.
How dare she call him a taskmaster?
“If you see a patient without Smith, you’re fired. Just so we’re clear,” he added.

“Fine.” Emma flashed those amazing eyes at him again before stomping out of the room.

Maxim brushed a hand through his hair and tugged at his tie. Brown threw him a strange look and Kaye pouted her too-red lips at him. He walked out and slammed the door, clenching and unclenching his fist.
Why the hell did that woman always rub him the wrong way?
And why did she have to have those freckles?
Tomorrow he was going to have to add another hour to his morning jog.

Chapter 11

“I can’t believe he forced Smith on me.”

Emma fumed silently as she watched Sam mop the floor at the Urgent Care. Her two nurses were on lunch break and Dr. Ross was down at the OHU admitting a new patient, a man with possible flu. Dr. Ross was older and distinguished-looking with a kind face and bushy eyebrows. He had insisted on Emma not seeing patients so that she could recover from yesterday’s ordeal.

“I think it’s a great idea.” Sam wrung the mop with his hands. “But better if you’d taken his other offer and quit. Jesus, you could’ve died, Em. It’s dangerous in here.”

Sure, working at Albatross was a bit risky, but what place was truly safe these days? Wasn’t it the other day some crazy guy had killed a urologist in Newport Beach right in his clinic? And what about that angry family member shooting the doctor at Johns Hopkins Hospital a few years ago?

“There’s violence everywhere,” Emma said. “Don’t worry. I’ll press my alarm more quickly next time. I’m sure it was a one-time thing. Chambers is going overboard with this. I’ll never be able to see you in private.”

“We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

“That’s not enough.” She fiddled with her pendant and checked the doorway. Lucky for them, no one had come back yet. “Sam, I want us to catch up. Can we meet somewhere?”

Her brother glared at her and kept on mopping, his long arms rhythmically moving up and down. “Don’t be stupid, Em. Do you want to get fired or something? We can’t meet.”

“We could if you were my patient. But now that stubborn, arrogant man ruined all my plans.” She couldn’t believe she’d thought Maxim considerate last night. The morphine must have totally gone to her head. “Why doesn’t he mind his own business?”

“He’s trying to keep you safe. That’s why there’s a lockdown today.”

“Lockdown? What’s that?”

“It’s when Custody restricts us to our dorms. No one can go anywhere except to chow hall and medical appointments.” Sam dumped the dirty water and filled the bucket with fresh water from the sink. “Didn’t you notice the yards were empty? Everyone is locked down today.”

“Because of what happened to me?”

“Yes. They always do that after a fight or an assault.” Sam scanned the entranceway and resumed mopping. He was on the last row of tiles now. “I’m only here ’cause I’m the porter. They let some of us out.”

“Hey, you’re doing a great job.” She grinned. “Much better than when you were living with us. Wanna clean up my place when you get out?”

“You wish.” He wiggled the mop at her and she laughed. Thank goodness there was still a trace of that mischievous boy left in him.

“Dr. Edwards.” Officer Smith suddenly appeared in the doorway. “You shouldn’t be alone with an inmate. Warden’s orders.”

“He’s the porter.” Emma jumped down from her seat on the gurney.
How much had Smith heard?
Hopefully he hadn’t been there long.

“Doesn’t matter, Doc.” Smith gave Sam a frosty stare. “Are you done yet? No loitering if you’re finished.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam pushed the bucket and mop to the hallway.

“So you’re going to be my shadow?” she asked the guard when they were alone.

“I know you don’t want me around but Mr. Chambers insisted.” Smith gave a self-conscious smile but straightened his shoulders.

“I know, but I only need you when I’m seeing patients,” she said. “And since I’m not seeing any patients today, you have the day off. Go do whatever you want.”

“Sorry. He said to always be around. In case you need me.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I don’t need you with me all the time. It’s overkill.”

Smith shuffled his feet and adjusted the badge on his shirt. “Like I said, sorry. Mr. Chambers’s orders.”

Emma bit back a groan. But it wasn’t Smith’s fault. He was only doing his assigned task and the man probably did a ton of errands for the warden in the past, no matter how unpleasant some of them must have been. Take driving her car from the prison back to her studio last night. She was sure he had better things to do with his time than be at the beck and call of his boss.

“Hey,” she said, knowing she should have said it earlier. “Thanks for driving my car back for me last night. I really appreciate it.”

“What? What car?” Smith gave her a blank look.

“You know. Mr. Chambers said he’d have you drive the car back for me.”

“He asked me to move his car, but he didn’t say anything about yours.” The officer slapped a palm to his forehead. “Oh my God, did he tell me and I forgot?”

“No,” she hastened to reassure him. “I don’t think he actually said your name, now that I think about it. No worries.”

Maxim must have driven her car back himself.
How strange he didn’t have one of his minions do it for him. Before she could think more about it, Julien came down to help her fill out the 115 form, a report of the assault. The chief assured her that with the 115, Ransom would definitely get his sentence prolonged. After that, it was time to check on Mr. Nash. Today the old man looked stronger and was sitting, watching TV with a thin blanket wrapped around his spindly legs.

“How are you doing today, sir?” The room was a lot warmer than before. “Looks like your heater is working again.”

“Sure is, Doc.” He tapped her hand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She squeezed his hand and smiled. “Anything else I can do for you while I’m here?”

“Not really.” He stiffened when he saw the officer by the door. “Am I in trouble?”

“Of course not.” She signaled with her head for Smith to move out of the room but the man didn’t budge. “He’s here to watch over me. Don’t worry. He’s not going to hurt you.”

“Okay, that’s good.” Mr. Nash swallowed a couple of times before bursting into a prolonged coughing spell.

Emma held his hand through the attack and after it was done, she poured him a cup of water from the pink plastic container on his nightstand. Next to the container was a small Bible with a picture of a little girl taped in the front.

“Is that your granddaughter?” She pointed to the picture. The girl was beautiful, with curly blonde hair and clear blue eyes.

“Yes. That’s Sarah.” Mr. Nash showed her the picture. “She’ll be eight next month. She lives with my daughter Amy in Visalia. You know where that is?”

“Central California, right?”

“Close, near Sequoia National Park.” The frail man brushed his index finger over the picture. “Last time I held her, she was only three years old. She’s grown up so much since then.” He swallowed and clasped the book between his hands. “She’s healthy and growing up safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I don’t regret it one bit.”

“Regret what?”

“My son-in-law was an alcoholic. He beat up my daughter so many times I stopped counting. She wouldn’t press any charges.” He coughed again and took another sip of water. “There was only so much I could take. Then he started hitting Sarah, and I had to do what I had to do. I don’t regret it one bit, even if it landed me here.”

“Maybe you’ll get the compassionate release.” How odd that his story was similar to Sam’s. But Sam was young. He was going to parole in a couple of years. He wasn’t going to die in prison all alone like Mr. Nash. She had to help this old man get his freedom somehow. How could the justice system not release him early to spend time with that beautiful granddaughter? He’d shot to save another life.

“Doctor!” Smith suddenly yelled from the doorway. “They need you stat in room five. Patient’s coding!”

“What?” Emma rushed out. Room five was Mr. Jones’s room. The man who’d had the hernia repair.

She raced in and found Dr. Ross doing CPR on Mr. Jones, who was lying still in his bed, his face deathly pale. Sam stood by their side, holding the AED machine. Ms. Bryant and Ms. Carter arrived at the same time as Emma.

“What happened?” Emma sprang forward to check the man’s carotid pulse.

“Don’t know. Porter found him unresponsive a few minutes ago,” Dr. Ross huffed out.

“Morris? Hold CPR for a second.” Ms. Bryant ripped up the AED pads and slapped them on Jones’s chest.

“Lift him to the ground.”
Damn. No pulse.
“The bed’s too soft. Morris, lift him with Smith. Now, please.” Sam’s face was filmy with sweat but she couldn’t stop to reassure him in any way.

The two men grunted and lifted Jones’s sizable form off the bed to the floor. “Anyone call 911?” Emma asked. “Smith, you do it. Ms. Carter, bag the patient. Ms. Bryant, I need an IV. Check a sugar, too. Yes, Dr. Ross, keep doing CPR. What’s on the monitor?”

“Wide complex tach, Doc.” Ms. Bryant poked Jones’s finger with a lancet. “ACCU-CHEK one hundred.”

“Hold CPR. Is there a pulse?”

Ms. Carter shook her head. “So it’s PEA?”

“Yes.”

“What’s that?” Sam asked.

“Pulseless electrical activity. Push epi one milligram. No IV yet? No veins? Where’s the IO kit? You don’t have one?” Emma felt frantically for a femoral pulse. “Get me the central line kit!”

“I need help here,” Dr. Ross said as his arms slowed.

“Morris, switch with Dr. Ross. You know CPR, right?” Emma dimly recalled showing him how to do it on one of her breaks from medical school.

“Thanks,” Dr. Ross said as Sam kneeled on the floor and took over the CPR. Someone shoved a central line kit at Emma and she ripped it open. She doused the bottle of Betadine on Jones’s right groin and blindly inserted the needle, guessing where the vein might be. No rush of blood back. She shook her head and angled it more medial. A twinge of pain shot up her wrist but she held the position until blood flashed in the bevel of the needle.
Thank God something was going right.
Emma threaded in the catheter and secured it with a couple of stitches.

“Any pulse?” Emma asked.

“Still in PEA,” Dr. Ross said.

“Give him one milligram of epi.”

The femoral line flushed beautifully but after several rounds of epi and CPR, there was still no pulse.

“Hang me a bag of fluids,” Emma said. “Any ideas of what else we can do, anyone?”

“Ambulance is on its way,” Smith said as he ran back into the room.

“Excuse me, Doc.” Sam’s eyes met hers over Jones’s chest. “I think he OD’d on something.”

“What, porter?” Dr. Ross demanded. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Sam kept silent and continued pushing up and down on Jones’s chest.

“It’s okay, Morris. Tell me,” Emma urged.

Sam swallowed. “I saw him holding a syringe this morning.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ms. Bryant’s beady eyes narrowed at Sam. “Or did you give it to him? Been dealing drugs, porter?”

“No, ma’am,” he said softly, looking down again.

“That was uncalled for, Ms. Bryant. Thanks, Morris.” Emma tried to smile at Sam, but his eyes were glued to Jones’s chest.

“Get the Narcan,” Dr. Ross said as he took over bagging the patient.

“Fresh track marks.” Smith lifted Jones’s left arm and showed them the pinprick holes in the antecubital fossa.

“Give him two milligram of IV Narcan,” Emma ordered.

All eyes turned to the patient as Ms. Bryant pushed the medicine. Jones remained unresponsive.

“Check another pulse. None? Resume CPR.” Emma flipped open Jones’s lids and shined a flashlight into his left eye. She swung the light over to the right eye. Pinpoint, both of them.
Damn.
Another OD. Sam was right. It was probably heroin.

“Asystole,” Dr. Ross said, his eyes on the monitor.

That was never a good sign.
“Give me another one milligram of epi.”

The paramedics arrived at that moment and intubated the patient. They continued the code for another ten minutes but Mr. Jones never recovered.

“Time of death, 12:05 p.m.” Emma ripped off her gloves and wiped a hand over her forehead. Except for some post-op pain, the man was as healthy as a horse yesterday. How could he be lying as stiff as a board today? A horrible sinking feeling gnawed at her guts.
She’d denied him the T3
. Was that why he’d used the heroin? To treat his pain? The logical part of her knew she wasn’t to blame for his death—that he pushed the drug on his own. He was an addict, an
N
number. But did she contribute to it somehow by refusing him the narcotic?

“I have to notify the warden.” Smith covered Jones with a white sheet. “There’ll be an investigation.”

Sam gasped and turned deathly pale underneath his dark skin. He stumbled out of the room. Emma rushed after him.

“Morris. You did really well. Thanks for telling us about the syringe.” Too much staff was nearby for her to reassure him more.

“It didn’t help.” Sam lifted a trembling hand to his forehead. “You don’t think I’m in trouble, do you?”

“No. Of course not. The warden told me another inmate died of a heroin overdose last year in SNY.”

“The nurse—”

“Forget about Bryant.” Emma placed a hand on his arm. “I can’t believe she said that to you. Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble. You tried to save him. Your CPR was great.”