Silent Pledge. Hannah Alexander

shivered in the icy winter wind. “From me? Sure. What’s that?”

      “Would you ride shotgun? Dr. Mercy said she’ll let me take Kendra to Springfield without a police escort if you’ll go along. I don’t want to take any chances. Kendra’s fighting this, and there’s no telling what she’ll do. Sorry, pal. I know it’ll be a long night for you, but—”

      “When do we leave?”

      Buck stared at him in silence for a moment. “Thanks, Clarence. You don’t know how much you’ve…helped.” His voice caught, and he turned away. “You can’t know what this means to me.”

      “Wanna bet?” Clarence knew better than to get sentimental or sappy with Buck. “How about when you drove me to the E.R. when Darlene almost died? You visited me in the hospital when I wasn’t a very nice guy to be around.” Buck’s life had been the pits, too, back then. Kendra had kicked him out, and he’d been suspended from his job with the fire department pending an arson investigation.

      Buck turned back around and held out his hand. “Call it even after tonight?”

      Clarence took the hand and looked Buck in the eyes. “It’s never even, you know. That’s what friendship’s all about.”

      Lukas hovered closely over seventy-year-old Mrs. Flaherty so he could hear her above the noise of the continuing party in the waiting room and the snores emanating from the sleeping bikers in two of the other exam rooms.

      “Can’t figure out what happened,” Mrs. Flaherty said in a voice barely above a whisper. “One minute I was brushing my teeth at the sink, and the—”

      “Catch that before it falls, Boots!” came a shout from the other room.

      “—woke up no telling how long after that. I called my daughter, but before—”

      “Hey! Get away from that set! I wanna watch—”

      “—and you can imagine how she felt when she came in and found—”

      Tex walked into the room. “I called the police, Dr. Bower. They’re busy with a break-in down at a dock and can’t come right away.” She glared over her shoulder at the noise. “If I had a stun gun…”

      Mrs. Flaherty reached up and touched Lukas’s arm. “Dr. Bower, do you think I’m having a stroke or something?”

      Lukas glanced over at the lady’s middle-aged daughter, who sat in the far north corner of the exam room, hands clasped at her knees.

      “Mom was just lying there when I found her, Dr. Bower. I couldn’t wake her up for at least five minutes. When I did I just brought her in. I didn’t wait to call an ambulance or anything. Do you think it’s her heart?”

      Lukas studied his patient’s chart—or that part of it Tex had managed to fill out before leaving to call for backup. There were no security personnel at this hospital. Mrs. Flaherty had managed to walk in assisted by her daughter, and she showed no muscle weakness. A quick finger-stick glucose check had revealed normal blood sugar.

      Another shout of raucous laughter reached them, and Mrs. Flaherty flinched. She didn’t look bad now. Her color was pink and healthy, and perspiration no longer beaded her skin. Lukas would put her on a monitor.

      Another shout. And from the exam rooms where Catcher and his friend were sleeping came loud snoring.

      Lukas knew trying to listen to Mrs. Flaherty’s chest right now would do no good. He wouldn’t hear anything above the noise. This town needed military intervention. He took the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it on the tray table, then took a deep breath. He was stuck with Catcher and friend until they sobered up, but he would not allow their crowd of troublemakers to endanger the lives of other patients in this facility, not while he was in charge—or at least not as long as he was alive. How long that would be after he’d voluntarily thrown himself to the wolves…Oh, well, time to get tough.

      “Tex, keep an eye on Mrs. Flaherty. Get her on a monitor, do an EKG, check electrolytes, and if you can hear above the noise, get a history. If I’m not back in five minutes, call the county sheriff. Or maybe the ambulance…No, wait a minute, Quinn’s still on duty. Forget that.”

       Anger. Work with the anger now. He wrenched open the door that separated the waiting room from the E.R. proper and flung it back so hard it crashed against the wall. Then the door bounced back and slammed him in the shoulder and shoved him sideways. He felt the pain, which only served to make him angrier. As he stomped into the battered waiting room, he saw at least ten pairs of eyes directed toward him. Silence fell for just a moment, and he made his move.

      “Everybody! Out of here! Now!” he shouted in his deepest, most fury-filled voice, but just then a commercial blared on the TV, negating the effect. He continued anyway for a few seconds, taking advantage of the shock on their faces and the impetus his anger gave him to overwhelm the terror he knew was in his mind somewhere, seeking an outlet.

      “Look at this mess!” He gestured toward the chairs toppled onto their sides and the pages of newspapers scattered across the floor. The coffeepot was empty, and it looked as if half the coffee had spilled onto the carpet.

      He marched over to the TV and ripped the cord from the socket, plunging the room into complete, blessed silence this time. “I said out of here! This isn’t your own personal nightclub.” So much for patience and compassion.

      The partiers stared at him as if he were an alien being. Then three of the biggest, meanest-looking men exchanged nods and slowly moved toward him.

      Lukas swallowed and forced himself not to back up or turn and run. Lord? I could use some help here!

      “We’re not goin’ anywhere till Catcher and Moron can come with us!” a woman shouted back.

      What was her road name? Birdbrain? What a weird bunch. He glanced at the three men who continued to move toward him, one step at a time, from three different areas of the room, as though they were stalking a wild animal. He just hoped the end wasn’t too painful.

      He cleared his throat and tried not to flick a nervous glance at the stalkers. Don’t act afraid. “I’ll gladly release them if any one of you is sober enough to sign them out and take care of them until they can take care of themselves.” He looked from face to face—three women, seven men, with grubby, not-quite-in-focus faces—and didn’t get a volunteer. “Fine, then. I’ll keep them here.”

      “Fine, then. We’ll stay, too,” the woman shouted.

      “Then you’re a brave bunch,” Lukas said.

      “Why’s that?” she taunted.

      “When Catcher finds out you left his bike alone down by the lake for anybody to carry off, nobody will be able to save you.”

      “My bike!” The loud, gruff voice came from the E.R. entranceway, and at the sound all attention pivoted in that direction. Even Lukas’s stalkers halted their steps to turn and see Catcher, all six feet four inches, two hundred fifty pounds of him, glowering from the threshold, his clothes splattered with drying blood.

      He took a step forward, and Lukas wondered if the rest of them could see how unsteady the movement was.

      “You left my baby down there all alone!” he thundered, then groaned and hunched forward. Lukas rushed over to grab him before he fell. But Catcher straightened himself and sent Lukas a warning glance. He raised his good arm and pointed toward the door. “Get out of here! All of you, get out of here! Boots, you’re walking, and I’m taking your bike. If my baby has a scratch on her when I get there, I’ll take it out of all your hides!”

      Lukas’s stalkers were the first ones out the door, followed by Birdbrain and the other women. Catcher turned to bring up the rear of the procession. Lukas let him go.

       Chapter Four

       A t two