Peaches.

Who the hell used peach-scented shampoo?

Chapter 39

Who the hell did he think he was showing up at her front door, acting all concerned and conflicted? He almost kissed her before pulling back. Then he called her stupid. He was the stupid one with the stupid handsome face.

“We have a CTAS-1 coming in, an unresponsive female.” Debbie, the ward clerk, clutched the red dispatch phone in her right hand.

Jayna pushed back her chair and stood. “Debbie, can you call RT and alert X-ray to be on standby.”

There had been two CTAS-1s so far. Trouble always came in threes—or traumas in the case of the ER. It never failed. The emergency department buzzed with activity as staff hurriedly prepared the trauma room. The harsh light cast eerie shadows, and a shiver raced up Jayna’s spine. She glanced at the double doors as Lance and Sonny pushed the gurney through, her heart sinking at the sight of Talia.

“What happened?” Jayna blinked back threatening tears and yanked open the trauma room curtain. She helped lift Talia onto the exam bed.

“The patient was found unresponsive in the coffee shop parking lot by a co-worker. Suspected fentanyl overdose,” Sonny explained. “We injected Naloxone—no effect. On the way here, I gave a second dose.”

Jayna’s hands shook as she cut away Talia’s shirt. “Oh, Talia. Why?”

“Her boss said Talia got a text yesterday. Talia’s mother changed her mind about letting her see her son. Apparently, Talia took the news badly,” Lance offered.

Jayna’s stomach churned. She should have checked in with Talia. Why hadn’t she? Talia’s entire focus had been on regaining access to her son. Her mother rescinding that agreement would have devastated her.

A wave of anxiety threatened to crash over her, but Jayna pushed it aside. Years of training kicked in, and she worked on autopilot. She swiftly attached electrodes to Talia’s chest, glancing at the monitor. There was heart activity, albeit low and irregular. Grabbing the oxygen mask, she placed it over Talia’s face.

“Get the crash cart, now!” Jayna yelled as the heart monitor began to beep. Talia had stopped breathing.

Dr. Malik rushed in with two nurses. His grim face said it all. “Start compressions.”

No. No. Not Talia. Jayna’s face remained impassive while inside she fell apart.

She jumped on Talia’s chest, positioning her hands correctly and counting each compression aloud. Her arms burned, sweat pouring off her forehead. Lance took over, his hands steady over hers.

No, no, no. Talia had worked so hard to get clean. Jayna had worked so hard to help her stay clean. Everything was going so well. Talia had so many reasons to live, to stay clean. Jayna could have hired a lawyer to help navigate the custody rights with Talia’s mother.

Dr. Malik’s expression was somber as he stopped Lance. Jayna’s heart sank. The odds of surviving CPR were 17 percent. Those odds sucked. Those odds caused her to hate her job.

“Time of death, 7:15 p.m.” Dr. Malik glanced at his watch. “Debbie, call the coroner and get me a death certificate.”

Jayna’s shift ended in less than 15 minutes. If Talia had been found a half-hour later, Jayna would have already been on her way home. Tears blurred her vision as she stared down at Talia’s still form. Bowing her head, she whispered a silent prayer for the woman who had given up too soon.

“That’s one less addict to worry about,” Lance murmured to Sonny. Jayna stared at him, her eyes widening. Unbelievable! She brushed past him and stepped into the serenity garden that bordered the ER.

The garden was beautiful, offering a peaceful escape from a place that was anything but. Jayna sank onto a wooden bench, letting the tears flow freely. Why had Talia relapsed? Why had she bought fentanyl? Why had she used again after staying clean for so long?

But Jayna knew the answers to all her questions. Talia’s sole focus had been on getting her son back. Her mother’s refusal had been too much. Why hadn’t she checked up on Talia yesterday? That was the true question.

A brown rabbit hopped out from under a shrub, staring up at her. For the past few months, she’d been bringing it carrots, but had forgotten all about the poor defenseless creature. The rabbit sat very still, looking directly at her with accusatory eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jayna choked out. “I’m sorry that I forgot to check on you.” She wasn’t capable of caring for another life.

“Jayna.”

She jumped and looked over her shoulder. “What, Lance?”

“That’s one less drug addict to deal with.” His voice had been so cold and dismissive.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said about her. It’s just my way of distancing myself. Keeps me sane.”