Smolder (2 page)

That made him uncomfortable. “Here's your brother.”

My brother got on the line. "What did you say to him? He's laughing and bright red. ”

“I told him a sexy cop talked at orientation and took away my ability to think.”

“Oh geez, El. Glad you are safe. I'm taking Dad out to dinner now, just wanted to check in.”

“Thanks, Josh. ” My brother was my best friend.

I managed most of the boxes before exhaustion forced me to sleep. The next morning, I woke up with aches and pains in new places from the move. I watched nature while the coffee brewed. Twenty minutes later, I was in an old wooden deck chair in my backyard staring at the same view. It was only 8:00 a.m., but the air was already getting thick. Still, it was peaceful and calming.

It was nice to know I'd have a place to shed stress after long days at work. My place stood at the end of the street so the peace and quiet should last until afternoon when the boats started to go by. Very little moved on Sundays in the south until church and brunch had concluded.

I treasured the silence because I knew the next day it would end. Even at home this was a career that could follow you. Every moment stolen was appreciated. Hospital psychology was a challenging career. Every day is spent going from room to room to find out what happened. Asking questions like: why did you try to kill yourself? Do you remember the car wreck? Just how much alcohol did you drink last night? And my personal favorite: tell me again how that got in your ass? Those answers were always the most creative.

The lies, oh my, the lies people tell.

The minutes ticked by slowly as I sat there and watched. A couple of early boats floated by close enough for them to wave at me, but far enough to allow me privacy. The real estate agent didn't understand why I insisted on isolation. Some days after work, I didn't want to have another conversation. I listen and talk for a living, so silence was my best companion at home. My phone and television spent a lot of time on mute or silent.

The need for a refill drove me back inside and the piled-up boxes twinged the responsibility button in my head. So a quick shower and change into jeans and an old T-shirt led straight to unpacking my things. I hung the picture of my parents, the last one taken before Mom died, up in the spare bedroom.

A late afternoon lunch disappeared in a hurry as I moved through the kitchen. My bedroom and bathroom were last. I unpacked the rest of the boxes, hung the clothes, and arranged all of the knick-knacks.

Chapter Two

Monday morning came fast. The morning news tried to lift spirits with promises of cooler temperatures when September arrived in a week. I headed for my first full day of work hoping nothing went wrong. Chaos was the normal order of things in psychology, but there were ways for that to get even more out of control.

I also found my mind drifting to the sparkling blue eyes of a certain Russian surgeon. I wondered how often I would see him in the hallways. Given my body’s reaction to him on Friday, I might want to walk close to the walls in case I needed to lean against something. Swooning was not my normal reaction, but something about Dr. K had me wondering if my office had soundproofing.

My face flushed as I parked my car. He wasn’t there. I attempted to look casual as I checked out the parking deck, failing miserably. The office door stood open, and Lee sat at her desk. She even had a coffee from the cafeteria on my desk waiting for me.

She is going to spoil me.

I sat down as she came in with a printed list of patients, sorted by urgency and then room number.

“Thank you.”

She casually waved off my gratitude. “Not a problem, the top three you will want to see this morning. They aren't more urgent than the rest, but the requesting doctor will call all afternoon if he doesn't see your note in the chart by lunch.”

“Okay, I'll start there.”

A new lab coat hung on the back of the door. Lee pulled it down handing it to me.

“This arrived earlier today. It was embroidered locally so if anything is wrong, let me know, and I'll get it changed.”

Dr. Ellie Quinn was engraved on the first line, with Psychology on the second line. “Nope, it's fine.”

“Off you go.” She pushed me toward the door.

I reached back to get my coffee cup, and Dr. K walked in.

“Good morning, Dr. Quinn.” His voice flowed with flattery.

It made me shiver. “Good morning, Dr. K.”

“I'll escort you to your first patients.”

“Looks like I start on the sixth floor today,” I said.

I tried to keep up with his long strides as we made our way to the elevator down the hall. I wasn’t entirely sure my shortened breaths were due to the increased speed.

I think I heard Lee laugh as we left the office. I'll have to ask her about Dr. K at lunch, and about Chief Mata, a sexy surgeon on one hand and the obvious bad-boy former detective on the other. This job looked very good from here, very good indeed.

The elevator opened, and that unmistakable hospital smell hit me in the face. It was a cross between body odor, disinfectant, and over-processed air. We rode in silence. He kept smiling at me. I kept silent sure I would babble since my knees were knocking.

His cologne had a warm smell to it. A little musk with amber scent made me think of the woods right after a rain. I wanted to lean into his neck and breathe deep. He smelled so good. Dr. K nodded at me as I exited the elevator. The doors closed without him getting off. His scent hung in the air for a moment after he was gone.

I walked over to the nurses' station and gathered the charts for my first patients. Reading doctors’ handwriting is impossible, but the nurses' notes and case managers' information was legible. I'd look up their full data on the computer later when I dictated my notes, but for now, I wanted to walk in with some knowledge of why they were admitted.

Cautiously avoiding the personal observations in the charts, I wanted to get a clear objective opinion and that was hard to do if the rest of the medical team’s opinions were foremost in my mind when I met them.

The first three were typical cases. The patient was either anxious or depressed because of their health and/or a long stay in the hospital. The doctors wanted to make sure the mental health issues would resolve after discharge so they could send them home today.

I checked the charts to make sure I had read all of their information. It angered patients when anyone on staff entered their room, and they had to repeat their stories over again. Then I headed to find the nurse assigned to the room. The nurses on any floor are my best resource. No one knows exactly which family member shows up, who is helpful, and all the little details like the nursing staff. And they loved to talk to doctors. Appreciation for their paying attention is always well rewarded.

I sat at the doctor's station writing my notes when I heard someone stop behind me. I turned around to find the nurse manager for the floor. She looked a little concerned, but wasn’t willing to interrupt me. “Yes?”

“Dr. Quinn?” Her southern accent sounded like liquid molasses.

“Yes, that's me.”

“We have a situation down the hall. A patient's husband came by earlier and threatened her. When the nurse told him to leave, he punched her, and I had to call security.” Her eyes kept darting down the hall behind her.

“They escorted him out of the building?”

Please say yes. I'm not ready for that on Day One.

“Yes, Doctor. But he keeps calling her, and now she is refusing treatment and demanding to be released.”

“Okay, Nurse. I'll go talk to her.” I stood up, and she pointed me to the room at the end of the hall.

Do you ever get the feeling you are walking into a situation that belongs in a horror movie? I had a sense of foreboding as I walked down the hall to this woman's room. A part of me wanted to run the other way, the one I usually ignored when I was headed into a situation I later regretted. Then I would look back and remember this feeling and remind myself to pay attention to my gut the next time. I never did.

One of the hardest things for me to see was a woman who had been raped or abused and the douche was still a part of her life. It wasn't legal to bar the door and ban everyone from her room. But I wanted to. I really wanted to.

She lay in her bed curled up on her side, face to the window as she watched a morning storm blow past outside. She was fragile emotionally, but physically intimidating at six foot tall with short brown hair. The hospital gown opened at her back exposing new and old bruises, welts, and burns. She looked large enough to take care of herself in any situation. That didn't matter in domestic abuse cases where emotional fear eroded self-esteem. Even though, in most cases, it took one call to 911 or one honest statement to a doctor in an emergency room to bring the abuse to a halt.

I never stopped being amazed by patients, seated or lying in hospital beds, knowing only that their doctors asked me to see them, then opened up their most fragile moments to me.

“Vivian,” I said quietly. “I'm Dr. Quinn. The nurses asked me to come see how you are doing.”

“Go away,” she said. “I'm fine.”

“Vivian, Mrs. Reamer, I can see your back through the gown. You are not fine. You have been beaten.” Objectivity in these situations was hard, but absolutely necessary.

“I deserved it.” Her voice cracked with emotion, and she buried her face in the pillow and began to cry. Hard, wracking sobs shook her body and the hospital bed. “Travis,” she said between sobs. “Travis said I deserve it. I didn't clean the house while he was out with his friends. The kids spilled cereal on the floor, and he made me lick it up.”

Tears welled up inside me, and I wanted to reach out and hold her. My mothering instincts kicked in. I wanted to pull her away from danger and make sure no one ever did that to her again. “There has never been a reason for anyone to treat you like that, Vivian. He's a dangerous man, and I'm not comfortable saying you would be safe if released to your husband's care.”

That got her attention. She sat up quick and stared at me, angry and stumbling for words.

“You can’t stop me. I can leave when I want. Travis said I need to just get up and walk out now.” Her defiance cracked just a little. “He is waiting,” she whispered to the floor.

“He's in the parking lot right now?” I asked.

“Yes, right below my window. I have to wave to him when the doctor says I can go.”

“Why haven't you just gotten up and walked out?” I thought I knew the answer.

Her shoulders slumped, and she curled her legs up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them. “I'm scared. The longer I'm here, the worse he will beat me, but I know if I go home he'll kill me.”

“Are the kids safe with him?”

She shook her head. “I left them with my sister. She called a little while ago to tell me they’re out of town. She told me if I don't leave him, I can't have my kids back.” Her sobs began again.

“Vivian. Your kids are already safe. Why not stay here and talk to some police officers? If you file a report and restraining order, he can be taken to jail tonight. You'll be safe, too.” I reached one hand out to her, but she just stared at it.

I walked over to the window and saw a man standing in the parking lot. He had to be six and a half feet tall with a shaved head, in a wife beater, cleaning out his fingernails with a knife.

Oh good. Evil stereotype line one.

He looked up and caught my eye. I stopped breathing for a moment. His eyes burned with hatred and anger. It was like seeing raw fury take human form. He nodded at me, pointed with his knife, and then ran the blade across his throat. That message was clear enough.

My first day at work, and already I had received a death threat. That bath with a toy idea from yesterday sounded better and better. I backed away from the window, careful to keep my expression neutral.

“Vivian, I'm going to recommend we bring in the social worker to find you a shelter and notify the police.”

She looked at me and defeat was written on her face. I had now become the one giving orders, and she was accustomed to taking them. This meant I’d get the blame for the disruption in their relationship if she ran from the shelter to go back to him. It was a scary thought and a very good possibility. She was in deep.

She winced as she stood up, and I noticed the healed burns on her feet and binding scars on her ankles. Stumbling to the window, she stared down flipping him the bird.
Oh boy.
She stood there proud with a smile on her face and two middle fingers in the air and didn't flinch when a rock hit the window in front of her face.

I hadn't noticed the nurse come to the door. “I'll call security,” she said.

“Thank you, and please have them to call the police for a formal report, change her name on her files to hide her identity, and notify social work that she needs a shelter with very good security.”

It was the normal protocol for anyone under threat. I had invoked it for children who were abused and other women who had been stabbed and beaten by the men in their lives.

“Yes, Doctor.”

The nurse spoke matter-of-factly, but she looked scared herself when another rock hit the window.

Vivian turned to me as sirens blared in the background a few moments later. I shivered and felt fear for my safety only for the second time in my career. The last time couldn't hold a candle to this. This was real, serious, psychopathic danger, and I'd need to be on guard.

Just as I realized I needed some help learning to defend myself, Chief Mata walked into the room and ordered Vivian away from the window.

He then turned to me. “Why did you let her do that? She is taunting a man who is suspected in a number of murders.”

“I didn't know his past criminal history, Chief Mata. But that, I'm willing to bet my license, is the first time she's told him just what she thinks. She needed that. Are you saying you can't protect her in here, long enough to book him and get her to a shelter?”

That got his attention.

“No! Of course I can protect her.” His face was red as he shuffled me out into the hallway. “He will come after you if he knows you are the one ordering her to safety.”

“I'm aware of that, Chief Mata. Her life is worth it. He drew his knife across his neck when I was at the window before he knew what’s happened. I didn’t have to suggest anything to her. I was already marked.”

“Well, now I have to protect you as well.”

This news should have bothered me. I was an independent woman. However, he was smoking hot. His tight ass as he stormed off to yell orders at security made me forget myself for a moment. Bad boys always look very good walking away from you.

I felt someone standing beside me and looked up to see Dr. K. “Yes?” I asked.

“I heard they called you in on this case. This couple has been in here a lot over the past year. She has refused to press charges before now. What makes you think this time is different?”

“Her sister has the kids.” That made all the difference in abuse cases. If you removed the kids from danger, the women were much more likely to leave.

“You need to watch your back now,” he said and smiled at me as he left down the hallway.

“Great, my first day and I get a death threat and ominous warnings,” I said to myself.

I walked back to the nurses' station as I saw the social worker and Chief Mata go back into Vivian's room. I wrote my notes, careful to point out that she agreed to leave him and walked to the window under her own power, when Chief Mata sat next to me. He didn't say anything until I'd finished.