Shattered Glass(135)
“Just lie down, Glass. Doc has to reset your nose. We can talk about the case when we go in for a briefing.”
“Lezgo.” Lying here meant thinking. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t let myself think. There wasn’t anything else I cared enough about to stymie the thoughts of Peter. Still in surgery. “Timezit?” I shook my head, thought I could feel my brain rattling around. “Time’s it?”
Luis looked at his watch. “Quarter to four. I’ve been shot, Glass. This is as far as my statement goes tonight.”
I nodded and immediately wished I hadn’t. This time my brain did rattle in my skull. Nearly five hours since Dave’s first phone call. I tried to construct a timeline up until they took Peter to the hospital. According to that timeline, Peter had been in surgery approximately four hours. I patted my pockets. “Where’s my cell?”
“Evidence. You forget you recorded everything?”
Shit. “I need to get out of here.”
“Tinkerbelle is getting your car.”
“Don’t call him that.” And that defense of Darryl should have convinced anyone that I wasn’t in my right mind.
Luis shook his head at me and tossed me a cell. I caught it with one hand and frowned at it. “Strakosha’s phone. Haven’t had time to hand it in,” he explained.
“Come get me tomorrow.” I used Cai’s cell to text Darryl, ordering him to meet me out front with the car. I handed the phone back to my partner and then I hobbled off the gurney and toward an exit.
I couldn’t remember the nurse’s name from Wednesday, but I recognized the voice as it chased after me. “Officer Glass? Detective?” She caught me at the automatic doors. They slid open and then closed.
“Got a ride to catch.”
“You need your stitches replaced and your nose reset.”
“Lady, what I need is a bath, to sleep a year, and about a bottle of Vicodin. What I want, and what I’m going to get, is a ride to St. Mark’s hospital.”
She looked about to argue and then took a deep breath. “At least let me get you into some scrubs. Your wound is probably going to get infected.”
I looked down at my tux. My shirt was grey, the jacket was grey, and everything was damp with blood and ashwater. I laughed. Ow. No laughing. Laughing bad. “Gimme the scrubs.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thinking About Anything But Peter
“You look like shit,” Darryl greeted when I carefully folded into the passenger seat of my car. “We should get you to a hospital.”
I stared blankly at his grin. If the smile had actually reached his eyes, I might have been tempted to offer a sarcastic rejoinder. “Just drive.” I flipped the visor open and examined my face. I looked like a bruise with three lips. Closing the visor in disgust, I fingered the butterfly stitches holding my bottom lip together.
“Cai’s okay,” Darryl announced.
“Good.” Right then I cared about Peter, not Cai.
“Your cop partner is cool.”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t summon the strength to talk. I wanted to tell him that I needed silence, but I figured he needed to talk. Maybe talking would keep my mind off Peter.
Darryl opened his mouth, took a quick breath and then held it. His mouth closed again. He reopened it and blurted out a quick, “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t find him. And before you ask, I don’t know who did.”
“Just take the freakin’ gratitude, dickwad.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, fighting a smile.
“They tried to take my cell phone.”
“Evidence.”
“Fuck them and the evidence they rode in on. Rosa couldn’t call me.”
“Did she?”
He shook his head. “Zhavra did. Peter’s mom,” he elaborated at my confused look. “He’s out of surgery.”
“And?”
“She hung up. She doesn’t like me.”
“Do you get along with anyone?”
“Men.”
“And Peter thinks I’m the misogynist,” I muttered. “We’ll find out about Peter in a few minutes.” I turned off the air conditioning and rolled my window down.
The wind felt good on my face. I tipped my head back and closed my eyes. Images of Peter from this morning flickered against the screen of my lids. His subtle smile. The tease of his ass before he’d shut the bathroom door. A glimpse of the weird flat portion of his hair where he’d slept on it. I was grateful when Darryl turned on the radio and pulled me out of my mental slideshow. We rode the remaining ten minutes with The Who, The Clash and Lynyrd Skynyrd.