“He wasbleeding,”the kid cried. “He wasdying!I-I had to get him to the hospital.”
“I understand the urgency,” the officer replied tonelessly. “But in the process of rushing your brother to the hospital, you ran down a teenage boy. The boy died on the way to the hospital.”
“What…” The kid shook his head, desperation seeping into his face. “No…no…I-I didn’t… Ididn’t.”He slid off the bed on shaky legs, and his mother clutched at his arm. “I didn’t hit akid,”he cried, stark fear in his voice. “I hit acar…aparked car…that’s all! I didn’t…” He moved away from the bed, as if trying to escape this swelling nightmare. “Ididn’t!”
“Fourteen-year-old Jamie Brown was struck by your car, Mr. Healy,” the officer said. “There are multiple witnesses to the incident.”
“No!”the boy cried, shoving himself into the corner by the window. “I didn’t hit anyone! I didn’t! It was a CAR!!”He slid down the wall, gripping his hair. “It was… it was a car…” He shook his head wildly as he sank to the floor. “It was a car… a car… I didn’t… it wasn’t… akid… it wasn’t… it wasn’t…”
His mother pressed a hand to her mouth, sobbing, as her eyes darted toward the curtain—and the crying mother on the other side of the corridor. “Oh, my God,” she broke, clamping both hands to her mouth as the reality of the situation struck with cruel clarity. “Oh, my God…oh, my God…no-no-no…”
The kid ripped at his hair, his cries rising in tempo and echoing into the corridor. “It was a car… I hit a car! I didn’t hit a KID!! I DIDN’T HIT A KID!!”
The curtain ripped open, the runners screeching as the rollers wrenched through the overhead grooves, startling Devlin and the officers. Before anyone could react, the father plowed through the three men like a battering ram, grabbed the sobbing kid by the front of his gown, wrenched him off the floor, and slammed him against the wall hard enough to empty the boy’s lungs.
The kid gasped and cried, terrified, with no idea what was happening. The mother grabbed the man, screaming at him to let go of her son. The officers moved in quickly, but not fast enough. The man’s massive fist struck the kid in the face, snapping his head to the side and nearly knocking him out. He barely clung to consciousness, going limp in the man’s grip.
“You killed my son!”the father bellowed in rage and anguish. “I’ll fucking KILL you!!”
“Get him off him!”Devlin cried to the officers, who grabbed the enraged man.
The father elbowed the younger cop in the face, smashing his nose and sending him sprawling to the floor. Then his huge hand was around Connor Healy’s throat, squeezing. The boy struggled weakly, only half aware of what was happening, as his face flushed red, then purple.
“STOP!!”his mother screamed.
Fuck!Devlin rushed in as the older cop struggled to restrain the man, when someone swept past in a blur. Devlin staggered back, blinking, as the cowboy grabbed the father in a rear chokehold, put his full weight into it, and squeezed until the man began to lose his grip on the kid. Clint held on as Devlin grabbed the boy before he fell to the floor, then hurriedly moved him out of the man’s reach. The kid sagged to the tiles, sobbing and coughing, his wide, horrified eyes fixed on the father.
Only after the officer had cuffed the father did Clint release him.
The father, rather than lunging at the kid again, crumbled. “You killed my boy… you killed my son…” He didn’t resist as the officers removed him from the room.
The kid stared after him, tears streaming down his flushed face, a depth of horror and despair in his bloodshot eyes that no human being should ever have to endure.
“Dr. Grant?”
Devlin looked up, his vision swimming. Nurse Gina stood at the curtain, her face anxious as she glanced at the young man on the floor, one side of his face already swelling and his throat bruising. “Nurse…?”
Gina swallowed, and the dim light caught a shimmer in her eyes. “Dr. Landers is waiting to speak with you.”
Devlin looked down at the mother, cradling her son and sobbing as she held his head to her chest. Something inside Devlin died as he mumbled hollowly, “I’ll be right there.”
CHAPTER 7
Devlin helped the young man back into bed, took a moment to examine his throat for damage, then excused himself and left through the curtain. Clint followed him.
“Thank you,” the woman’s weak, trembling voice stopped him at the curtain.
Clint looked at her.
“Thank you.” Her words quaked beneath her quiet sobs. “For saving my son.” The boy sat on the bed, legs drawn up, his face buried in his knees, crying as he gripped fistfuls of his hair.
Swallowing hard, Clint nodded and started to leave when she spoke again.
“You… You were the one at our apartment,” she whispered with a tremor. “Why…?”
A low breath escaped him. “Wrong address,” he mumbled. “I was looking for… someone else.” She didn‘t believe him; it was evident on her face. But she didn’t press him. Clint left and found Axel sitting in one of the plastic chairs in the corridor. He leaned forward, head down, his hands clamped behind his neck. Tremors ran through his body. Clint reached for him when, down the corridor, Detective Jordan entered the ER through the waiting room doors. He spotted Clint and headed his way.
“I’m sorry for the delay,” he apologized. “I had to wait for Frank’s sister, Vanessa, to come over so she could watch Tad.” He looked at Axel, still hunched in the chair. “Is he all right?”
