Page 44 of Shelter for Martina

“No, I’m fine. I just need to—”

“No, detective. You’re going to the hospital. That’s an order.”

“But Martina will be getting off work and—”

“I’ll have one of the guys go pick her up and bring her to the hospital. We’ve got an old CrownVic sitting out back. You can have that for the time being. They can bring it to you and leave it for you.”

“Ohhhh…” Bud moaned, his head pounding.

“Most likely just a bump from the air bag, but we need to be sure. Hey, guys,” Len said, greeting the EMTs as they walked up.

The next thing Bud knew, he was in the ambulance and it was pulling away. He hoped that guy in the red tee was a reliable witness and could give Len some information that would help, but the biggest problem was the lack of a slug. If whoever it was shot just right, the projectile would’ve gone straight through the car, bursting both windows, but disappeared into the surroundings. There’d be nothing to recover, and no proof. But he was sure of one thing.

They hadn’t meant to kill him. They were trying to send him a message, and he was getting it loud and clear. They meant business. Well, so did he. It was going to take a lot more than shooting out his cruiser’s windows to make him go away. “Blood pressure’s a little elevated, probably from the stress. Trooper?” the EMT said.

“Detective.”

“Detective. How are you feeling?”

“A little shaky and my head hurts like a motherfucker.”

“Yeah. Probably the airbag. They’ll check you out at the hospital. We’re almost there. Just pulling in.” As much as he hated it, he let them roll him into the emergency room. In ten minutes, he was having an X-ray. After that, they did an MRI, even though he argued about it the whole way in and back out.

They’d just rolled him back into an ER cubicle when he heard a voice. “Where is he? Albert?”

“Martina, down here.” Footsteps rang out and the door of the little cubicle flew open.

“Oh, god! Albert! Are you okay, baby? What happened?”

“We’ll talk about it when we get home. I really don’t want to discuss it here.” His head hurt too badly, and he was afraid he’d forget where he was and say something he hadn’t meant to say out loud.

“Good news,” an emergency room physician said as he strolled into the room. “You’ve got a very, very mild concussion. Probably from—”

“The airbag. I know. Everybody keeps saying that. Can I just go? Please?” Bud asked, hoping he didn’t sound too whiney.

“Yep. Just take some over-the-counter pain relievers and take a day off. You should be fine by day after tomorrow. I’m signing your paperwork right now and you’ll be free to go.”

By the time they got to the ER entrance, Eldred was standing there. “I’ll take you guys home. Dennison’s there with the CrownVic and I’ll take him back to the post. You need to get some rest, Bud. You’re not looking too good,” the young trooper pointed out.

“Wow. Thanks for the support there, Eldred,” Bud snarled and listened to Martina and Eldred laugh.

“Sorry, sir. But I think you need a nap.”

Eldred got them settled in his car and Bud turned to look at Martina. “Hi.”

“Hey, babe.” She grinned and giggled. “You okay?”

“No.” He glanced around. “First time I’ve ever ridden in the back of one of these things before.”

She laughed aloud. “Well, that’s good to know!”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

He didn’t remember the rest of the trip. At some point, he fell asleep leaning against Martina’s shoulder. When they got to the house, Eldred helped him inside. “You’re going to hurt tomorrow, detective.”

“Yeah, I think about twenty people told me that,” Bud groused.

“Well, get some rest. See you guys later.” He listened as Martina showed Eldred out and thanked him for bringing them home.

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