Page 87 of The Night Shift
He's lying. I can practically smell it. But why lie about a lost key card?
“Maybe you should call someone who can help you with that.” I mean the building manager. If he really stays here, he should have the number.
The man opens his mouth to reply, then closes it again. The glint in his eyes flickers, replaced by a fleeting look of…fear? It's confusing, unsettling, like watching a chameleon change colors in fast-forward. “Right,” he mutters, shaking his head, his gaze skittering away. “Guess I'll figure it out.”
He turns and walks away, his steps quickening with each stride. There’s a red snake on the back of his hoodie.
I watch him go, a knot of suspicion twisting in my gut. As soon as he’s out of sight, I shrug and resume walking towards the subway platform, wincing as the early morning sun beats down on my pounding head, all the while wondering where I’ve seen that hoodie before.
* * * *
“It means paralysis from the waist down.” The thirteen-year-old patient answers on my intern’s behalf for the umpteenth time.
“The question wasn’t for you,” I tell her for another umpteenth time and refer the next question to the four, cowering, twenty-somethings huddled in front of me. “Paraplegia. Possible treatment options. Go.” When I don’t get an answer, my gaze zeroes in on the shy brunette standing at the very back. “Jennie?”
“Oh…um, physical therapy, positioning devices —”
“Actually, there’s no treatment.” The moronic child butts in again. “But studies have shown that a pint of strawberry ice cream helps with the pain.”
“Can you stop doing that?”
“Doing what?” She clutches the hospital blanket to her chest and leans back against the bed, a deep “innocent” frown seated between her furry brows. She has red hair and green eyes that remind me of April. Her blatant disregard for everything I say, however, reminds me of Theo.
“Interrupt my teaching,” I say.
The child — or Kennedy, according to the name on her patient chart — snorts and it does nothing but spike my irritation. “You call this teaching? No wonder there’s no cure for my paralysis.”
“Maybe if you stop interrupting me, we’ll find one today.”
“Nah, pissing you off is more fun.” A few of my interns snicker and I silence them with a heated glare.
My disdain for children has been an inherent part of me for as long as I can remember. They’re irritating, useless, fickle-minded animals who don’t know when to shut up, and the very act of interacting with this one in particular is making me want to throw myself off the top of a twenty-story building.
I don’t even belong in this ward. This is Theo’s job. He’s the pediatric surgeon. I belong in the trauma ward. If I had known that he’d go AWOL after spending one night in my apartment, maybe I would have hit him with the shovel after all. Where the fuck even is he? It’s almost the end of my shift and he is still nowhere to be found. Did he leave early so that he could go get dressed for work or go tell someone about what happened last night?Didhe go to the cops? I know, I said it won’t make any sense, but what if he found a loophole? I wouldn’t put it past him. Cunning little fucker. Was that his plan all along? Togain my trust and then go tattling to the police? The paranoia I thought I’d buried resurfaces, sharp and acidic. My grip tightens around Kennedy’s patient chart, knuckles white against the plastic.Trust. I let myselftrusthim. Stupid Holly. So incredibly stupid.
The rational part of me argues back, reminding my brain of the way his gaze softened when I told him about not wanting to sleep with him in my apartment. The unexpected sincerity in his voice when he assured me I’d be safe with him. But the doubt still lingers, a bitter aftertaste in my mouth.
“Wanna hear a joke?”
I look at Kennedy. “What?”
“A joke,” she goes on. “It’s what people tell other people to make them laugh.”
“I know what a joke is.”
“Okay, so do you wanna hear one? You look like you could use a laugh.”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“My mom says laughing helps women age slower.”
“And where is your mom right now?”
Kennedy narrows her eyes. “Where isyourmom?”
Jesus fucking Christ. “Fine. Let’s hear this joke.”
“Yes!” She clasps her hands and sits up straight, pausing to think for a second. “Ooh got it! This is a good one.”
