“I know it’s the pediatric floor,” Tag said, as he narrowed his eyes in mock seriousness. “But I think you can saycoke.”
“Well, you know what I mean,” Ned said impatiently. “It happens, but with Nate it wasn’t recreational. It turned into a habit, then a problem, and then a very large chunk of change that he owed to the Brothers.”
Tag thought of Shepherd’s shark-empty eyes in the dingy bar. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who’d forgive a debt.
“What happened?”
Ned scratched his ear. “I don’t know the full story,” he said. “I was new here then, just a resident down from LA, and the only reason I heard anything is that my roommate dated his sister-in-law for a while. So I just picked up the edges of the story as it happened. He apparently got in far too deep, made some really bad choices that ended his marriage, and the whole thing wrapped up with Nate being questioned over scrips he’d sold to the Brothers to try and stay on top of his debt.”
“He was charged?” Tag said in surprise. “And he still works here?”
Ned shrugged. “It was a while ago,” he said. “Now they’d have made an example of him, but back then, they just wanted it to go away. Since there was no concrete evidence that he’d done anything—although I will admit I don’t think they looked very hard—the administration cut a deal with him instead. He was suspended for a year, and he had to go to rehab, get himself clean, and pay the hospital back for what was ‘missing.’ In the end it all went away, but he was shit scared of those people, Tag. I heard that they took him out on a boat and tied weights to his legs like they were going to throw him over and let him drown. That’s what he told the review board, anyhow. After that he did whatever they wanted.”
“What about the debt?” Tag asked. Drug dealers weren’t like the utility company. They didn’t come up with a payment plan for you when you fell behind. He’d seen enough drug addicts and prostitutes sent to the ER because they owed a dealer a couple hundred dollars. A habit as substantial as the one Ned described would rack up a tab they wouldn’t just write off. “What happened to that?”
“Paid it off at the same time he paid off the hospital?” Ned speculated. “I know he sold everything he owned back then—the house, the boat, his car. I think his wife got a lump sum in the divorce too, instead of alimony. I guess it was enough, and he wasn’t much use to them while he was suspended. Even now he can’t write his own prescriptions.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Ned nodded. “Yeah. It wiped him out personally and professionally. And you know what? He still thinks he got off lucky. And so did you, Tag, if—”
His buzzer went off before he could get properly into his lecture. He pulled it off his belt to check it and cursed as he scrambled to his feet.
“One of my AML patients is going into liver failure.” He whipped his white jacket off the back of the chair and dragged it on as he ducked around the desk. “Get your neighbor to bring her baby in to be looked at. If she won’t, call CPS.”
“I don’t want to do that,” Tag protested as he got up. “She’s just scared—”
“If the baby is sick, so is he,” Ned said firmly on his way out the door. “And he can’t do anything about it. CPS won’t act without cause. Now get off my floor and go back to work, Dr. Hayes. See you later.”
Ned jogged away down the corridor.
The anxious mother was already out in the hallway as she looked for him, her hands twisted together and face gaunt with pre-prepared grief. Tag looked away. It was hard enough to lose a patient you’d known for all of twenty minutes, never mind one you’d known since they were three or four.
Ned was a terrible gossip, but a good doctor and not the worst friend in the world either, although Tag already knew he probably wouldn’t take his advice.
AS SHIFTSin the ER went, the day was uneventful. Tag even managed to leave the hospital within a reasonable time from the end of his shift and walk home in daylight once he got off the bus. The neighborhood wasn’t improved by being able to see it better, but a row of food trucks was set up in one of the abandoned lots. So he grabbed lunch on his way by.
He leaned against the kitchen counter in his apartment and ate hiscarne asadafries from Styrofoam—grease, melted cheese, and spicy, skinny fries. Hot food. Who’d have thought that made it taste better?
Tag glanced up at the ceiling as he chewed. He was halfway through the fries, and the shower was still running up there. It had been on when he came in.
Not that it was his business, he reminded himself. Maybe she liked good, long showers. Tag knew how hard it was to wash a bad day off your back, and he didn’t have to clean toilets.
He took a drink of soda and poked at the fries. The cheese had hardened into curd, but the fries were still good once he picked them out. Overhead the footsteps paced back and forth on the floor, and the drone of an exhausted lullaby caught at his ear.
The shower was still running, so either she just liked to waste water or she was trying to steam out her apartment.
Shit.Tag reached for his phone. Maybe Ned was right. And it wouldn’t be the first time he’d called CPS. Besides, if he was wrong, he wouldn’t be the one who paid for it. He had a dozen new places in his price range earmarked to view.
He pulled up the number and was about to hit the call button when he changed his mind. It had been days since he’d heard much from the baby, but someone had started to cry upstairs. Tag shoved his phone in his back pocket and left the fries to congeal on the counter while he raided the fridge.
Five minutes later he stood on the landing outside the upstairs apartment. There was a threadbare Welcome mat in front of the door, theWandMEworn down to the nub. It was more than Tag had done to make his place homey.
He rapped his knuckles against the wood and waited. And waited.
“If you don’t answer the door, I’m going to have to call CPS,” Tag said. He shifted the paper sack full of peace-offer leftovers onto his hip and hoped she understood him. “All I want is to put my mind at ease that the baby is okay. If he is, no need for CPS. Okay?”
There was no response. Tag hoped she didn’t call his bluff, because he might not call CPS tonight. But if the baby didn’t get better soon, he wouldn’t have a choice.
