Tommy brought the barrel of his gun up and tapped the side of his head. I almost wished it would go off, except I became a doctor to save lives so that kind of went against what I believed in.
"Maybe he was treated by a different doctor."
I shook my head. "I'm the only doctor on duty in the emergency room right now, and I'm telling you I didn't treat any gunshot wounds tonight."
"Now, see here. I asked the paramedic which hospital they were headed to and they said this one, so he has to be here somewhere."
"I'm telling you the truth." The fear slithering up my spine started to spread out to the rest of my body when Tommy pointed the gun at me again. "No, really. I'm telling you the truth. I can prove it."
"How?"
I gestured to the stack of charts sitting on the nursing station. "Those are all the patients we treated tonight. We stack them there and then Records comes and gets them at the end of each shift. They take them down to the records room. Everything is put into the computer from there."
Tommy waved his gun, gesturing for the other guy. "Tiny, come keep an eye on this guy."
Tiny? Really? Granted, he wasn't the oxymoron of that name. He didn't weigh three hundred pounds or anything. But Tiny?
Tommy started flipping charts open one by one, tossing them to the floor when he was done with them. When he tossed the last one to the floor, he roared. "Where the fuck is he?"
"Where was he shot?" I asked, hoping I wouldn't end up the same by asking.
"In the leg," Tommy replied. "Why?"
"No, I mean, what part of town was he shot in? Different hospitals service different areas. Depending on where your friend was shot will depend on what hospital he was sent to."
"Thirty-Fifth Street and Baseline Drive."
"You've got the wrong hospital. That area of town is serviced by Metro East. This is Metro West. We only service as far as the river."
I jerked back when Tommy swung around and punched the wall.
"Fuck!" the man shouted. Then his eyes narrowed as he turned to look at me. "You, call down to that hospital and find out if a Dwayne Travers has been admitted into the emergency room."
"I can do that." I slowly reached for the emergency room phone. My fear turned to outright terror when I couldn't get any of the outside lines to connect. I knew that probably meant SWAT was here, but they weren't in the room presently and I was.
I hung up and pulled out my cell phone, dialing a doctor I knew worked in the emergency room at Metro East. "Hey, Aaron, this is Skip. Can you check and see if you have a patient in the emergency room for me? Some relatives ended up here, and we can't find their...uh...brother. His name is Dwayne Travers."
"Yeah, sure," Dr. Aaron Butler replied. "Just give me a second."
I glanced at Tommy. "He's checking now."
I wished he'd hurry up.
"Hey, Skip, I'm sorry, man. He was here, but he didn't make it. The bullet hit an artery. He was dead on arrival."
Fuck.
I pushed a hand through my hair. "Okay, thanks." I glanced at Tommy again, or, more specifically, the gun in his hand. "Hey, can you tell me where he is now?"
"It was a GSW, Skip," Aaron replied. "We sent him down to the morgue for autopsy."
"Has he been processed yet?"
"How the hell would I know?"
"Yeah, right." I laughed nervously. "Just thought I'd ask. Gotta have something to tell the family."
"You don't have to inform them, Skip. Send them over here and we'll do it."
