He’d been in the middle of his interview with Wendy when he’d gotten Kenzie’s text message. As independent as she was, she wouldn’t ask for help unless she truly needed it. He’d called Hawke and rushed Wendy out of his house, where a few stubborn journalists were still camped out, with a promise to call her later to set up a new time.
He glanced up at the clock, got to his feet, walked over to the window to look out at the darkness. Behind him, a door opened. He turned to see a man in blue scrubs.
“I’m Dr. Warren. You’re Harrison Conrad, right?” He held out his hand, a smile on his face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m a bit of a fan.”
“Thanks—and thanks for helping Kenzie.”
“My pleasure. I like working on wrists.”
Okay,thatwas a little weird. “How is she?”
“She’s fine. The surgery went well. She’ll need to elevate and ice her wrist to prevent swelling. We’ve splinted it for now. We’ve given her antibiotics and pain meds, as well as a prescription to take home that she can fill at our pharmacy. She should be ready to leave in about an hour. You’re welcome to go back to our day-surgery area if you’d like. She’s been asking for you.”
“Thanks.”
Conrad found Kenzie sitting up in a hospital gown, her wrist splinted and resting on a couple of ice bags on a pillow. She looked worried. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He kissed her cheek, sat in the chair beside her. “How are you feeling?”
“Better. Thanks. They gave me some pain pills, so I’m kind of loopy.” Her eyes went wide. “Have you checked on the dogs?”
“Relax.” He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Sasha has them. Megs and the Team cleaned up your classroom, and Sasha took both dogs to her place. She’ll drop them by when we get home.”
Kenzie seemed surprised by this. “Oh. Wow. That’s kind of them. Thanks for being there. I probably ought to have called 911, but…”
“Hey, I’m better than 911.” He took her uninjured hand in his.
“You got there fast.”
He’d raced the few blocks to the kennel. “I was at my place doing an interview with Wendy.”
“You called her?”
“I stopped by the newspaper this afternoon on my way home from Ski Scarlet to set it up. I thought it might get the media off my back.”
“How did it go?”
“We hadn’t gotten very far into it before I got your text. I’m supposed to call her to set up another time.” He had to ask. “What happened?”
“Tom, a four-month-old basset hound, went after a young miniature pinscher, Dixie, and managed to get his teeth on her collar. When I tried to release the collar, Tom bit me. I had a hard time prying his jaws open to free my wrist.”
“Did no one help you?”
She shook her head. “I’m the expert. I’m sure they thought I’d handle it.”
“But what about after you’d been bitten? Did anyone help?”
She shook her head. “I sent everyone home. I don’t think I realized right away how bad the bite was.”
“What about the basset hound’s owner? Why didn’t he do something?”
“He stood there watching me bleed and asking me whether I was going to sue. I just wanted him and his dog out of my space.”
Conrad wanted to punch the guy in the face. “Some people are useless.”
She leaned her head back on her pillow, and Conrad could see the fatigue and strain on her face. She seemed pale to him—but maybe he was imagining things. “I want to go home.”
It seemed to take forever for the nurse to bring her discharge instructions and remove her IV. Conrad helped her to dress, then walked with her down to the pharmacy to fill her prescription. It was almost midnight when they got to her house. He helped her out of the vehicle and took her indoors. Then he texted Sasha to tell her they were home.
