“I do,” he said. “I’m Dr. Harrison Wallen. Would you mind if we spoke in private.”
“Anything you have to say you can say it in front of my friends,” Harley said afraid to receive the news alone. “Reilly is important to them as well as me.”
Dr. Wallen nodded. “Very well. I’ll try to explain the situation as best as I can.”
Don Juan jumped up from his chair and motioned for the doctor to take it.
“Thank you,” Dr. Wallen said. “Please, Miss Flynn, sit down.”
Mouth dry, Harley sank to the edge of her seat and tried to ignore the roaring in her ears as she waited.
“I’m afraid your brother sustained a fatal cut to his neck, possibly from a skate blade. We did everything we could to stop the bleeding, but it was impossible.”
Harley blinked several times, her heart racing. Her voice came out barely above a whisper. “Fatal? Are you telling me my brother is dead?”
Jules covered her hand with her own and gave a squeeze.
“Yes, Miss Flynn. I’m terribly sorry,” Dr. Wallen said.
“How?” her voice squeaked. “He wore protective gear.”
“When he arrived, his neck guard was sliced by the skate’s blade, nicking an artery in his neck,” Dr. Wallen said. “He was bleeding profusely. The paramedics were unable to stop the bleeding, the truth is, he was gone by the time they arrived with him.”
Her mind raced with questions trying to understand what she was hearing. Her brother was dead. Had been killed by her boyfriend’s skate. How could any of this be possible?
Her breathing became labored, and she felt as if she were not even in the room, yet she heard herself asking, “Can I see him?”
“His body has already been taken for autopsy,” Dr. Wallen said.
His words snapped Harley out of her fog. “Autopsy? I didn’t request one. As his only family shouldn’t I have been the one to do that?”
“He’s a police officer. His death was under suspicious circumstances.” Dr. Wallen’s patient expression turned grim. “It’s standard procedure.”
“You should want them to do one,” Jules whispered.
“I’m not objecting, I just find it odd that I wasn’t consulted,” Harley said. “What do I do now?”
“There’s nothing for you to do immediately,” Dr. Wallen said. “Perhaps, go home and get some rest for the days ahead.”
“Do I need to sign anything?” she asked.
“No,” he said and stood and reached for her hand. “Again, I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Flynn.”
“Thank you,” she said before he turned and left their circle. She looked at the expectant faces of the men and women she’d gotten to know since July when the team began practicing.
Within a few moments, the sliding doors to the ER department opened and closed repeatedly as men in blue uniforms began arriving. Word must have finally reached thedepartment that Reilly had been injured and had been taken to the hospital.
Brand, Will, and Commander Samuel Burns came in and joined their circle. The tears Harley had been holding back finally came and she wept in Don Juan’s arms when she saw them. Scottie wasn’t with them, and she knew he had probably been instructed to stay away by his union rep. She wondered if there would be an internal affairs investigation. If so, their relationship would be public knowledge. She just hoped their secrecy would not be seen as a motive.
Scottie Dugan satin the interrogation room at the police station and listened to his union representative, Mitchell Simpson.
“I don’t understand why I can’t go to the hospital like everyone else,” Scottie told Simpson.
“It isn’t advised,” Mitchell said. “You were in a fight with Flynn when your skate cut through his neck guard, cutting his neck. We still don’t have word on his condition. The last thing you want is to be at the hospital if …”
Recalling the blood smearing the ice and Reilly’s uniform, Scottie shivered and had to pause before saying the unthinkable, “He dies.”
Mitchell nodded.
