“If you give it to him now, he won’t even understand what’s going on. The interpreter called and canceled on us.”
Bill sighed, tugging at the too-tight collar of his uniform. “I know enough Spanish to explain it to him.”
Mercy felt the tingle of anger work its way up her spine. “You know Spanish, and you didn’t volunteer to interpret when we needed help with him?”
Bill shifted uncomfortably. “Come on, Dr. Mercy. I don’t know that much. Look, I’m not the bad guy here. I’m just trying to do my job. I’m not gonna beat him up or anything. I’ll just give him the ticket and leave you alone.”
Mercy wanted to argue further, but she knew it wouldn’t do any good. It would probably make things worse for Ramón. If Bill didn’t give the ticket now, someone else might do it later, and there were a couple of people on the Knolls police force that Mercy wouldn’t trust to haul a dead dog to the pound. Bill was a good guy, just a little too legalistic.
Mercy nodded her consent, gestured for Claudia to stay in the room and stepped down the hallway to Arthur’s room, where she found Lukas and Lauren assisting Arthur into a wheelchair.
“Going somewhere?” she asked, ignoring the sight of Lukas and Lauren with their heads so close together.
“Your walls aren’t soundproof,” Arthur said. “I heard you need an interpreter.”
“But your friends are getting ready to take you to Springfield,” Mercy protested. “I know how badly you want to be with Alma.”
“I’m going soon. Alma would want me to help Mr. Martínez.” He settled back into the chair with a groan. His head was cleanly bandaged, and his arm was in a sling. His voice was still just a little slurred from the effects of the Demerol as he asked Lukas questions about Mr. Martínez.
“I admire your ability to forgive, Arthur,” Mercy said softly.
He looked up at her in surprise. “Forgiveness has nothing to do with it, Dr. Mercy. What happened to us was an accident. There’s no one to blame.”
Mercy shook her head and stood back to let Lukas wheel Arthur out of the room. Was this guy for real? As if unable to help herself, she followed the entourage from the exam room into the hallway.
“I know a man near here who speaks Spanish,” Arthur was telling Lauren. “If you’ll ask my friends to call him, he can come in and interpret when I leave.” When he entered Ramón’s room, he spoke without hesitation, interpreting for the policeman giving the ticket, then more softly, with words of comfort, when Ramón buried his face in his hands.
Mercy stood beside Lukas at the doorway watching the scene. Even high on drugs and obviously still in some pain when he moved too fast, Arthur seemed to have an aura of compassion that surrounded him. She only knew one other person with that kind of presence. She looked at Lukas and found him watching her.
She did not want to look away. What she saw in his gaze as he looked at her was a combination of concern and admiration and something warmer, deeper, an emotion she didn’t dare try to identify.
He touched her shoulder. “Thanks for coming over, Mercy,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I know other docs who wouldn’t have come.”
“You’re welcome. Now, why don’t you let me finish taking care of this one? You’re still swamped.”
He smiled and nodded. “I do have a date with a broken arm.”
Mercy watched Lukas and Lauren leave, along with the policeman, then she pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and listened to Ramón’s labored breathing. Through Arthur, she explained to Ramón that he had overdosed on the pain medication for his tooth, and that kept the oxygen from carrying well through his body.
“Tell him this is serious, Arthur, and the drug they are giving him will take care of that, but I need to keep him overnight in the hospital on the telemetry unit.”
She checked the monitor, and it looked good. Ramón still had some shortness of breath, but no chest pain. She checked his painful tooth and had Claudia begin the dosage of methylene blue through an IV to counteract the effects of the drug overdose.
While Arthur translated, Mercy checked Ramón’s neck, belly, squeezed his hips and legs, listened again to his breathing. It could have been a lot worse, but he had a strong constitution. He also seemed to have a strong sense of guilt, and Mercy was glad for Arthur’s attitude of compassion.
She looked at Arthur once more, who continued to talk in soothing tones while she worked. Alma Collins was a lucky woman.
Chapter Four
L ukas studied the small image of shrapnel that showed clearly on Buck’s chest X-ray, then looked back at Buck. “Sorry, pal, it’s surgeon’s territory.”
Buck groaned and laid his head back. “Surgery? I have a shift tomorrow.”
“Get a replacement.”
“I can’t. We’ve got the competition for the Explorers. I have to be there. Can’t you just fish in there and pull it out?”
Lukas held the X-ray out and showed him, pointing to the image of metal. “It’s deep in the muscle, Buck. I don’t have any concerns about it being in the heart or lung, but I’m not going to go slicing through all that thick bodybuilder’s muscle and tissue of yours to find something that’s going to play hide-and-seek with a scalpel. Don’t worry. You won’t even have to leave Knolls. In fact, Dr. Wong is in the E.R. right now treating another patient, and I can have him give you a look while he’s here.”
“Will he do it here in the E.R.?”
“Probably.”
“Then I’ll get out today?”
“Barring complications.”
Buck motioned for Lukas to lean closer. “Will you tell Kyle and Alex to go on back to the station? I’m not on duty today, and they’re not my responsibility. And don’t tell Lauren I said that, or she’ll give me another lecture.”
Lukas grinned. “I’ll head everybody off except your wife. She should be here any time.”
Buck’s expression relaxed into a smile at last. “Kendra’s the only one I want to see.”
Mercy had been gone from her office for over two hours, and it was time to get back, if she had anybody left to treat. She felt bad for leaving them for so long. They depended on her. She knew they were loyal, but that wasn’t what concerned her about this.
A little over five years ago she’d lost custody of her daughter, and she’d lost the majority of her practice, all because of rumors and public opinion—and the fact that she’d been forcibly committed to a psych ward for a ninety-six-hour stay. Her ex-husband, Theodore Zimmerman, had coerced a physician buddy of his to pull the double cross on her during a very high-profile custody case for their daughter, Tedi.
Those patients who came to her now most likely knew about her past, about the rumors,
