Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

B y the time the EMTs had gotten the woman into the ambulance and the responding police officers had taken Kyle's report and called for a tow truck, it was no longer dark outside. The sun peeked over the horizon, a red haze dimly illuminating the wakening harbor in the distance. There were small pieces of metal strewn in a scattered pattern on the pavement and distinct tire marks led to the tree that would need to be cut down to prevent it from falling on an unsuspecting citizen.

Kyle sat down on the curb. He felt spent. He knew he couldn't run all the way back to his condo; he was exhausted from the events of the morning. Luckily, he had his wallet and a Charlie card for the T tucked inside. He'd take the train home. He had grabbed the base of the car seat out of the crushed vehicle before it was towed away and knew that the ambulance had taken the victim to Brigham and Women's hospital. It was the closest level one trauma center, and while he didn't think her life was in danger, she had what looked to him like a nasty cut on her head. He wasn't sure if she'd need stitches or not.

He decided that he would get a coffee, take a shower, start his laundry, and pay this woman a visit. Even if she decided to replace the car seat because of the accident and no longer needed this base, he'd go just to be sure that she was okay. It would give him something to do that didn't involve laying around his condo feeling sorry for himself. It was the first solid plan he'd come up with in days.

He stopped in at a Dunkin before getting on the train at the Lansdowne Street station. The brightly colored orange donuts on display reminded him that Halloween was around the corner.

He ordered a black coffee and paid for it before stepping back outside to walk toward his train. Once onboard, he sipped slowly at his hot drink as the T headed downtown, people watching as the car bumped over the tracks. Kyle couldn't help but wonder about the other riders. It was an occupational hazard of sorts, always keeping an eye out for someone about to do something dangerous, or illegal, or just plain stupid. Generally, large groups of teenage boys were his target, but for today, it was just businesspeople headed to offices that joined him on the train.

Nothing to see here, he thought as he allowed his mind to drift to the woman he'd helped just hours ago. She had hit her head hard against the steering wheel, probably right before the airbag deployed. She was lucky if she didn't have some skin burns as well as that large cut on her forehead; he'd seen the aftereffects of those car safety devices, and while they did work, it was not without some minor injuries, often to the face and hands.

There was something about her that intrigued him. Had she fallen asleep at the wheel? It didn't seem likely, knowing that she'd just come off the highway. Was she under the influence of alcohol or drugs? Also, unlikely. He didn't smell any booze on her, and she had a baby in the car, so drugs didn't seem feasible, although he knew that he couldn't rule it out. Did something jump out at her, causing her to swerve? It was possible, he could imagine a raccoon or a small fox on the loose, but again, unlikely in the city. What could have happened? He shrugged his shoulders and figured that he'd just ask her when he saw her later. For some strange reason, he felt compelled to find out more about her. Snapshot visions of the accident scene remained in his head, and something just didn't add up. There was something behind those deep blue eyes of hers. He didn't just want to check in on her. He wanted to know her story…

Two loads of laundry and a long hot shower later, Kyle felt somewhat human again. His house was still a mess, but he would take care of that later. For now, he got into his car and drove over to the hospital, parking in the visitors' lot. He had no reason to leave his Mustang in the emergency bay area; those spaces were meant for detectives working a case. You shouldn't be here. You're not on the job right now, remember? He shook his head against the thoughts that threatened to strangle him. Taking a deep breath, he told himself that he'd be returning to work soon. The investigation would be over, and he'd get his badge back.

He pulled his long legs out of his car and onto the pavement. There were so many times where he'd come here on a case; he knew all the security guards and most of the nursing staff. He squared his shoulders and walked through the automatic glass doors to the admitting desk. The pretty blonde nurse working there sat up taller when she saw him standing in front of her.

"Kyle! Long time, no see!! You still owe me a beer, you know."

He couldn't help but notice how her big brown eyes narrowed with that all too familiar predatory gleam, but he forced a smile. "You're right, Gretchen, I do. We'll have to make good on that real soon."

"Are you working today?" she asked.

Was she really that clueless? His case had been all over the news when it happened. Or was it more about getting that drink and seeing where it might lead them? He shook his head.

"Actually, I'm looking for someone. A patient was brought in earlier. Car crash victim with a baby. She had a head lac, the baby seemed fine. Any idea where they might be? I want to make sure she has this…" He held up the car seat base.

She gave him a wry smile. "I'm sure you know that once a safety seat has been in a crash, it can no longer be used, right?" She began to type something into her computer, scanning the screen in front of her.

"Is that true? Thanks, Gretchen, for letting me know. I'll dispose of this, then."

"You're right. If you want to go question her, she's in treatment room seventeen. You're right. A Jane Doe with a head lac and a concussion."

"Thanks again. I'll go check. And don't forget about that beer. I owe you!" Kyle was sure that Gretchen wouldn't let him forget. She flirted with him whenever he came into the ER during her shift. He quickly dumped the base of the car seat into the large trash bin in the waiting room and made his way through the double doors that led from the public area to where patients were cared for; this space was brightly lit and chaotic. The medical staff here always seemed to move at a more intense pace, rushing between treatment cubicles, the sound of monitor alarms and raised voices all around him now. The bays were marked with numbers at the top of each area. He found number seventeen; the curtain was closed. For a minute, he wasn't sure of what to do. He didn't want to disturb her, but he most definitely wanted to see her again. Drawing in a deep breath, he pushed aside the stiff blue cover that protected her privacy and stepped into the small cube.

It was dark. He could see the woman asleep in the bed, a puffy bandage covering her forehead. There was a small crib crowded in next to her, a baby resting within. He had to admit to himself that he was disappointed; for as much as he wanted to talk to her, he also knew that he shouldn't wake her. He turned to leave when a soft voice asked, "Are you my doctor?"

It took a moment for Kyle to register the fact that she no longer had a British accent. In fact, she sounded vaguely unidentifiable, most certainly not from Boston, New York, or anywhere else he could quickly place. For a minute, he thought he was with a different patient, but there was a number seventeen over her bed and an infant in her room. She had a forehead injury and the same auburn hair as the victim he'd pulled from the car that morning.

"No. No, I'm not a doctor. I'm a detective with the Boston PD. I helped you out of your vehicle this morning."

"I'm sorry. I don't remember much about the accident," she replied in a voice not louder than a whisper. She looked pale and small against the hospital sheets.

"Do you mind if I turn on the light?" he asked, curious to be sure that this was the same woman.

"Actually, I do. I have a monster headache, and the baby is sleeping," she said, motioning to the crib.

He nodded. "I just wanted to be sure that you were okay. You hit your head very hard. There was a lot of blood."

"That's what they told me. I just don't recall…"

"Are you from around here?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so. I don't remember much. The nurse told me to give it time and my memory will come back."

"Well, I don't think you'll be going anywhere for a while. Your car was totaled."

"Great. That's going to be messy I suppose," she said gently reaching up to feel the bandage on her head, and grimacing.

"That's what insurance is for," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "You might need to stay in Boston for a few days. I don't think the doctors will let you drive right away. There are strict guidelines for concussion patients."

She turned her head toward her pillow, but that didn't stop him from seeing tears form in her eyes. He felt an overwhelming need to look after her. Maybe I should let her stay with me for a bit, he thought, and then wondered if she'd find that offer too forward. He didn't want to scare her. He asked, "Do you have someone you can stay with? You might need help with the baby in the next few days."

She didn't answer.

"You really can't be alone with a head injury. I should know. I used to play ice hockey. Got knocked around all the time. The headaches can be intense." He paused and feeling more confident than he had in days then said, "I have an idea. Give me a minute."

He ducked back outside to look for the detectives he knew were still there to get a gut check from them. He may have just come up with a solution for them both.