Page 7 of Heartbeats Amidst Chaos: Part 1

“You really think we’ve got enough evidence stacked against him?” the woman asked quietly, and Rissa took a step closer to the corner and strained to hear the man’s equally quiet reply.

“If there’s one thing a jury’s going to believe, it’s a videotape,” the detective said, the sound of a sneer in his voice. “Cameras don’t lie.” His chuckle following the statement made Rissa’s skin crawl.

She backed up a few steps before turning and heading back down the hall to the break room vending machine. Something about the conversation she overheard did not sit right with her at all. It sounded almost like they were talking about some kind of setup.

I’m not delusional,Rissa told herself, her steps quickening as she caught another cold glance from one of her fellow residents.Maybe Elio was telling the truth when he said he didn’t do it.

Passing a supply closet, Rissa suddenly veered into it, pulling the door almost closed behind her. Surrounded by mops and gauze and bedpans, she dragged her phone from her pocket and dialed Reagan.

Her friend answered on the first ring.

“Girl, what is going on?!” Reagan cried without introduction.

“Hi, how was your date?” Rissa asked, allowing herself a crooked smile.

“A hot mess,” Reagan said. “Unfortunately. We weren’t anywhere near where the bomb went off—unlike you—but of course, I had to cut things short to find out what was going on. Turns out he was mostly swagger anyway. But never mind my stupid date!” She interrupted her monologue. “What’s with the cryptic texts? Who’s giving you trouble? And how are you holding up with the back-to-back shifts?”

Rissa waited somewhat less patiently than usual for Reagan to run through her litany of questions and finally pause to wait for an answer. Sometimes, Reagan’s investigative journalist tendencies hit a little too close to home. But other times, they were invaluable. Her shoulders relaxed slightly with her friend’s final question.

“I’m okay, Rea. And I’m sorry about your date and for being so cryptic, but—I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about this yet.”

“Wait, are you kidding me right now?” Reagan’s voice crackled with banked excitement. “There actually is a guy—and he’s shaking you up? Rissa, this is huge! The timing is maybe not the best, but—”

“Reagan, please,” Rissa interrupted, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “It’s not like that. I mean, I promise I’ll tell you all about it when I get a chance. For now, I have a name I’m wondering if you can chase down and find out what you can about it.”

“Oh, more and more mysterious,” Reagan exulted. “All right, I’ve got my investigative journalist hat on. Shoot.”

“I need you to find out what you can about someone named Elio Accardi,” Rissa said. She hesitated. “Any criminal records, in particular. Will you do that for me?”

“You got it, girl,” Reagan said. “Talk soon?”

“Cross my heart,” Rissa said and ended the call. She stood for a second longer, her hand over her heart as she waited for it to steady. Then, she slipped out of the closet and down the hall.

Chapter six

The next time Rissa burst into his room, it was with a flushed face and tight lips. Her eyes met Elio’s immediately, and he felt a surge of answering energy. It was as if he was suddenly getting a glimpse of the true Rissa—the woman beneath the doctor. She was upset about something and, for the first time since he had met her, decidedly unprofessional as she crossed the room and sat down on the stool beside his bed.

The morphine had taken the edge off his headache and dulled the searing pain of his various cuts and abrasions, but Elio’s back was beginning to ache from lying in the same position for so long. His wrists felt chafed from the handcuffs. Just before Rissa entered the room, he had been contemplating throwing himself over the side of the bed and taking it down with him just to escape the building pressure of confinement bubbling inside him like an erupting volcano.

The sight of Rissa somehow soothed and centered him as it had from the beginning. Distracted him.

She had another water bottle in her hands, along with a jumble of vending machine snacks.

“Hi,” Elio said.

Rissa responded without looking up. “Hi.” Her hands trembled slightly as she unwrapped an energy bar. The smell of her—deliciously warm, like a cinnamon roll—reached Elio’s nose, and he barely restrained himself from taking a deep, appreciative breath.

He was intrigued by her agitation, by this change from being strictly a doctor to—he wasn’t sure, but he intended to suss it out. It fanned the spark that she ignited in him from the moment he’d met her, turning it into a flame of restless energy that gravitated toward his groin. He shifted uncomfortably.

“Heard you going all Karen on my babysitter when I was kind of out of it,” he said softly, nodding toward the sullen cop by the door. “Thanks.”

Rissa’s hands stilled as she glanced up at him, her eyes like two perfect swimming pools that Elio would have gladly hurled himself into. Then she turned to the cop by the door, her cool professionalism sliding back into place just long enough to address him.

“The detectives are in the waiting room asking to speak to you,” she said. Her eyes dropped for just a second to the pocket from which he’d retrieved his cigarettes at her demand. “I just had a word with them myself.”

Elio watched with amusement as the flabby man blanched and stuttered. Rissa maintained her cold stare until he decided she was telling the truth and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Wow,” he said when Rissa turned back to him. “You’re good.”

---