bristled at the way the detective referred to her patient as “this guy.”
“What’s that?”
Jones nodded at the man lying on the hospital bed. “The paramedics found a gun in a holster, strapped to his back.”
Tina felt her stomach swoop away from her. “What does that mean?”
“I’ve got no idea. But since David and Lisa Steele were shot and killed tonight and he ran out of the ball, it makes me very interested in talking to Mr. Flynt.” He paused, and his shrewd gaze raked over her again, pausing at her name tag. “Keep that in mind, Ms. White. And let me know when he wakes up.”
He turned and walked out the door without looking back.
Tina listened to his footsteps fade away, then sank back down in the chair next to the bed. “Who are you?” she whispered, watching his face.
But he didn’t move, didn’t respond. She would have to wait until he woke up for answers, just like everyone else. “At least we know your name now,” she said. “Your name is Tom. Tom Flynt.”
She watched for some sign that he had heard her, some glimmer of recognition, but there was nothing. Sighing, she leaned forward and rested her arms on the bed rail. “You can wake up anytime now,” she said. “Everyone wants to know what you were doing at the ball, and why you ran out of the hotel. Why were you there, Tom Flynt? Were you chasing a killer?”
Her voice was low in the darkened room, but her attention was focused completely on her patient. “I don’t think you shot the Steeles,” she murmured. “You don’t look like a criminal.”
She blushed when she heard her words, wondering where they had come from. It was too late and she was too tired, she told herself. It made her speak before she thought. But it didn’t matter. No one else could hear her, least of all the unconscious Tom Flynt.
Better, though, to concentrate on her job. His right hand was curled slightly, and she took his fingers gently in hers. “You don’t want to crimp your IV line,” she said softly. Even though he couldn’t hear her, it felt right to talk to him, to let him know he wasn’t alone. “The night nurse wouldn’t like it if she had to get someone up here to start another IV.”
She tried to straighten his fingers, but his hand curled around hers and held her lightly. His large hand engulfed her much smaller one, cradling it gently. Warmth stole up her arm. Absurdly, she felt like he was reassuring her. And protecting her. Heat flared in her face as she stared at the unknown man.
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” she murmured, leaning forward and looking into his face. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to take care of me?” She wondered if it had anything to do with the murders at the masquerade ball. “Everyone is safe now, including you. You’re going to be fine.”
He didn’t answer, of course. He lay motionless and silent, but he didn’t let go of her hand.
It was the darkest part of the night and he was alone, so instead of pulling away, Tina curled her fingers around his hand and squeezed gently. No one would ever know, she told herself, including her mystery patient. There was no need to hurry back to the emergency room. Most of the patients were already taken care of, and she was supposed to be off duty, anyway.
“Let me tell you what we did for you tonight, Mr. Flynt,” she said, her low voice surrounding them in the semidarkness of the hospital room. “You had a car accident,” she began. She spoke slowly and calmly, knowing he couldn’t hear her words, but hoping that the sound of her voice would somehow comfort him. He didn’t let go of her hand, and Tina felt an invisible connection growing between them in the quiet of the impersonal hospital room.
That was absurd, of course. He was simply a patient, and she was only his nurse.
But she continued to talk to him, pausing frequently to look over the machines and make sure his pulse and heartbeat and respiration were normal. The floor nurse looked into the room a few times, but Tina waved her away.
Finally, as the first few streaks of dawn were appearing on the horizon outside the window, the floor nurse came into the room one last time.
“What are you still doing here, Tina?” she asked.
Tina eased her hand away from her patient’s and turned around to face the other nurse. “Keeping him company. It always bothers me when we have patients who don’t have any family.”
The other nurse’s face softened. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But didn’t your shift end at eleven last night?”
“I went down to the emergency room to help out. They were really swamped with patients who had been at the Steele masquerade ball.”
“I heard about that.” The other nurse frowned. “Is it true that David and Lisa Steele were killed?”
“It’s true. And apparently the killer got away.”
“Was this guy hurt at the ball?” The nurse gestured at the patient in the bed.”
“No, he was in a car accident. He might have been chasing the man who shot the Steeles.”
The other nurse’s eyes opened wide. “Was he with the killer?”
“Why would you think that?” Fatigue sharpened Tina’s voice, and she struggled to steady it. “I have no idea. I’m sure he’ll be able to tell us when he wakes up.”
The other nurse gave the man an assessing look. “He looks pretty stable right now. You’d better go home and get some sleep, Tina. With all these patients, we’re going to need you back at work later today.”
“You’re right.” Tina glanced at Tom Flynt one more time, then turned away. “I’ll be back for my shift this afternoon.” She hesitated, then asked, “Is Detective Jones still out there?”
“He sure is. He strikes me as the kind who doesn’t give up easily.”
“Don’t let him bully you.”
The other nurse grinned at her. “I’d like to see him try.”
Tina smiled back. “That’s what I figured you would say, Jenny.” And that’s why she’d mentioned it. Now it would be a point of honor for Jenny to protect Tom Flynt.
She wanted to ask Jenny to have someone call her if the man’s condition changed, but she stopped herself just in time. She must really be tired, she thought as she stood up, to think about lowering her guard too far and showing her feelings. It was a good thing she was going home. Maybe by the time she returned in the afternoon, she would have reassembled the careful barrier she kept around her emotions.
She allowed herself one last look at Tom Flynt’s still form lying on the bed before she turned and left the room.
Tina slept lightly, waking up more than once from a disturbing dream. She told herself that it was merely because of the many injured people she had helped treat the night before, but too many of the dreams featured the still, unconscious face of Tom Flynt, their mystery patient. Finally, at mid-morning, she flung the blankets off the bed and gave up trying to sleep.
She
