“I’m Sergeant Dowling. John Dowling,” he said, his gaze roaming over all of us, like I would normally assess an opponent before a match. I watched him look at each of us in turn, until he got to Mason. Then his gaze turned positively predatory.
“I’m investigating thehit and runthat involved your sons last night,” he said.
“Have you found anything yet?” I demanded.
“Nothing yet, and probably won’t, to be honest. No security systems, nothing documenting the attack,” he responded, scanning a notebook he’d pulled from his pocket. “Fucking idiots if you ask me. That area of town and no security? They were practically begging for something to happen.”
Lee and I were both on our feet and headed toward the officer before he’d finished his sentence, but Mama K beat us to him.
“You watch your tongue, young man!” She said, her eyes narrowed, her voice low and deadly. “My sons are not idiots, and you will treat them, and us, with respect, or I will be having a conversation with your Lieutenant.”
The officer looked like he’d been punched, and he backpedaled away from the tiny woman. People always underestimated my moms, especially in a fight.
Anger suffused his face as he realized he had just backed down from a woman literally half his size. He looked back at Mason again, and that predatory look was back.
“Are you Cameron?” the officer asked.
A short, jerky nod was all the response Mason made.
“May I have a word with you, privately?”
Mason and Lee followed the officer to a group of chairs by the door. Dowling glared at Lee me as he began to speak. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Mason had gone pale as a ghost. I saw confusion register on Lee’s face and an animated discussion started.
My eyes landed on Mason’s face. The kid looked terrified. When the hell had I started thinking of Mason as a kid? He was older than I was! Still, there was something… vulnerable… about the man. I could see where it would trigger every single one of my older brother’s protective instincts.
Then I heard raised voices, Lee’s rising above the others.
“My parents’ hearts are breaking, and you’re going to fucking lie to me?” he demanded.
The drama was interrupted just then by a young man in a white lab coat over scrubs.
“The Mrs. Devereauxs?” He asked.
It drew all of our attention back to my parents.
“Kyra and Diana is fine,” Mama K said, her hand reaching out and grabbing Mama D’s.
“I’m Dr. Watley, the orthopedic surgeon who operated on Hudson,” he said. The surgeon’s short hair was plastered back against his face, bits of it dry but looking like hay. Or like hair that had been stuck under a surgeon’s cap for hours.
“How is he?” Mama D asked, fear and hope warring on her face.
“We were able to save his leg,” Dr. Watley began. There was a collective sigh of relief as he answered. “…but you need to be aware, the chance of infection is high.”
He looked around the little circle.
“Sonny has what we call an open comminuted fracture of his right femur. That means the bone broke into multiple pieces and there were a lot of bone fragments, including the one that nicked his femoral artery. We were able to repair the damage to the artery quickly and put pins in place to secure the bone together.”
“So what’s the bad news?” Bishop demanded. “Because the look on your face tells me there’s more to it.”
Mama D sent a quelling look toward Bishop, but the surgeon nodded.
“Any time you have an open fracture, you have the risk of infection. EMS told us Sonny was found lying in some mulch along the side of the building. There is a very high probability that he’s going to get an infection from the bacteria introduced into his system from his wound. Once we repaired the damage to his blood supply and determined he had adequate perfusion to his lower extremities, we spent most of the time in surgery just cleaning out his wound and trying to remove all the bone fragments we could find.”
My parents’ faces were pale, their eyes fixed on Dr. Watley’s face.
“We’ve already started him on antibiotics, but we will need to keep a close eye on him. He is going to require rehab to regain the use of his leg,” he told my parents, his hand covering their clasped fingers.
“…Is he going to be able to walk again?” Mama K asked.
