Indivisible Line (19 page)

“Oh my God!” His cries echoed in his ears while he took stock of the awkward position of her body and the pool of blood underneath her head. As much as he wanted to touch her, he drew back, knowing that accident victims should not be moved in case the neck or back had been injured. Greg stayed where he was, aching to do something for her, until the medics got to the scene and shouted for space.

His vision blurred while he watched them prod and probe her body. He crossed the line of insanity, and his sobs shook him. “Sarah!” He wailed against the noise of shouts and screams surrounding him.

Soon enough, Sarah’s body was hoisted onto a waiting gurney. Greg scrambled to his feet and raced to her side. “I’m a friend. Where are you taking her?”

One medic eyed him with sympathy. “Mt. Sinai ER,” the man barked before the sound of the siren could drown out his voice with its incessant cry.

The ambulance pulled away, and Greg took his phone from his pocket while he turned to head in the direction of the hospital. Ten freaking blocks. He’d run it. “Simon, meet me at—”

A hand clamped on his arm, and he looked up to find a uniformed police officer. “Not so fast. I need for you to come to the precinct with me for questioning. The man right there claims you assaulted him,” he said, pointing at the cab driver before lowering his hand back down to his gun holster.
 

It took a few seconds for the words to register. Another officer appeared, and Greg asked, “Where are you taking me?”

“Ninth Precinct.” The first officer didn’t let go of his arm.

“Simon, meet me at the Ninth Precinct.” He dropped the phone into his pants pocket and scrambled to get a handle on what was happening. Yes, he had assaulted a man. Would temporary insanity be an acceptable excuse?

More camera flashes went off all around him while the cops escorted him to a waiting police car. Greg’s life had gone from bad to terrible, and was now turning into a full-blown nightmare in a matter of minutes. All he wanted to do was flee the scene so he could see Sarah. God, if his damn legs had enough firepower in them to outrun everyone, he wouldn’t be sitting in a damn police car on his way to the station for questioning.

Simon soon joined him there. Thanks to his quick thinking, he’d also summoned Greg’s lawyer to meet them. Assault, Greg learned, had stiff penalties, and the police had a handful of witnesses pointing to him as the unprovoked aggressor. He was slapped with criminal intent to injure and had to put up bail, and the victim could file a lawsuit against him as well.

None of the things happening mattered. He listened to his attorney’s litany of possible defenses while his bail was being arranged. All he cared about was getting to Sarah. Greg had Simon place a call to one of his friends who worked at Mt. Sinai Trauma Department for a special favor, asking him to find Sarah and make sure she had everything she needed.

“How long does it take to get all this damn paperwork done?” He pounded his fist on the desk in the holding room.

Tony Anton, his poor lawyer stared at him, no doubt startled by his display of impatience. An elderly gentleman, he shifted in his seat before rising to his feet. “Give me ten more minutes.” He walked out of the room with brisk steps, leaving Greg to seethe in silence.

It took another hour before Greg was allowed to leave. He shot out of the chair and marched straight out of the place. He and Simon rushed to the waiting car, and Rudy whisked them to the door of the ER in a matter of minutes. Greg felt the burning pain in his legs, but he ignored the silent warning. While they ran through the double glass doors, he pulled out a bottle of muscle relaxants and popped two in his mouth.

The ER’s waiting room was filled to capacity. Greg shoved past the long line, cutting to the front. “Sarah Jones. She was taken here via ambulance about two hours ago.”

The triage nurse regarded him with an irritated scowl before checking the monitor. She tapped the keys, taking her time.

Greg felt his tension rise. “Can you hurry up, please?” he said between gritted teeth.

“Sir, you cut in line. I can send you back there if you don’t hold your temper.” The nurse continued tapping on the keyboard.

He bit his tongue before a nasty retort could pass his lips. Simon squeezed his shoulder in a silent plea for him to keep his cool.

“She’s in surgery right now. There’s a waiting area at the end of the hall. You can wait there.” The nurse pointed in the direction of another hallway filled with people and turned her attention to the next person in line.

Greg couldn’t prevent his hysteria from rising to the surface. He made a mad dash down the hallway, Simon rushing to keep up with him.
 

“Greg, I know how you feel, but it would help if could keep yourself calm. Nothing good will happen if you let that temper get the best of you again.”

“I’m trying,” he ground out.

The waiting area had a few vacant seats left. Greg took one, and Simon settled in next to him. There was nothing to do now except wait. God knew how long it would take.
 

Greg gave an absentminded glance at the muted television in an attempt to distract himself, but it didn’t help. “Damn it,” he muttered in frustration after just a few minutes.

“Is there anyone you should inform about Sarah’s condition?”
 

Simon’s tone was low, but Greg’s head shot up nonetheless.

“Her father, but I have serious doubt he’d care.”

Weren’t he and Sarah two peas in a deplorable pod? They were two people with families who either didn’t care for them or wanted nothing to do with them.

“That’s not for you to decide. You should call and let him know.”
 

Simon always acted like he had to be the voice of reason. Under normal circumstances, Greg would have teased his friend, but this time, he just glared at him.

Greg ran a hand through his hair, still trying to make sense of what had happened to Sarah. “I’ll call as soon as I know what condition she’s in.” The concession was difficult to make, knowing what her father’s cruel decision had done to her.

With nothing better to do, he focused on the television again. Repetitive new stories were being played until a breaking announcement flashed. He straightened on his seat when the first image flashed across the screen.

There he was, in the flesh, caught on camera striking the cab driver. Underneath his image was the caption: “Rich son of shipping magnate, Gregory Andrews III assaults cab driver.”

Greg slumped in his chair. He had thought that his life couldn’t get worse, but he’d been wrong.

Chapter 13

When it rains, it pours.
Greg had remembered that quote many times during his life. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that someone had coined the phrase with him in mind.
 

Of all the things to happen to him and Sarah—and he included her because their fates had been intertwined when she saved his life—her accident was the hardest of all to accept. He would have done anything to prevent the accident from happening, but there was no predicting accidents—or avoiding them, for that matter. Still, this latest unfortunate event took the cake. Sarah, without a doubt, would suffer over the days to come while she recovered.

Simon stood and stretched. Just like Greg, he had been sitting there for the past four hours. He had given Greg his silent support each time the newsflash repeated, patted his back in encouragement when the doctor came out to give them a brief report on Sarah’s condition, and continued to give him space to think without interruption. “I’m grabbing some coffee. Would you like some?”

“Yes, black,” Greg replied in a clipped tone.

Even though the doctor had said Sarah was going to be all right, Greg couldn’t make himself believe it without seeing her with his own two eyes. The doctor was a friend of his, and he had rushed for the surgery upon Simon’s request to attend to Sarah’s injuries himself. Thank God Greg had met Barry on one of his past hunting expeditions. They’d hit it off and had gone hunting upstate together several times since.
 

According to Barry, Sarah’s injuries weren’t life threatening. The back of her skull had sustained a hairline fracture upon hitting the pavement, and there was also a laceration that had caused profuse bleeding. So far, X-rays showed no internal bleeding, and although slight swelling had been noted, neurosurgery was not an option at this point. Barry promised nonstop vigilance until he could pronounce her “out of the woods.”

After her head injury had been stabilized, Barry’s primary concern had been her spinal fracture. A CT scan had established an unstable fracture in the thoracolumbar region, and Barry and another surgeon performed an immediate operation to fuse Sarah’s affected vertebrae. According to Barry, the process of rehabilitation could take months, depending on her body’s ability to heal. It might take even longer to create a solid fusion. Nonetheless, she would be off her feet for an indefinite time, and would experience back pain and weakness until she had completely recovered.

The hardest part to swallow was the pain and suffering Sarah would face when she woke up. Greg felt his chest constrict many times while Barry recounted the procedure Sarah had gone through. He hoped she hadn’t felt a thing, and with any luck, the pain when she woke could be mitigated with painkillers.

Greg scrubbed his palms over his face, not knowing what else to do. They had told him to wait, and he’d been doing just that, even if it was killing him. Each second, each passing minute, felt like bricks, piling unbelievable weight onto his shoulders.

Simon came back with two foam cups filled with coffee. He handed one to Greg and sat down next to him.

“Thanks,” Greg grunted, took a quick sip from the cup, and leaned back. Just like him, Simon was showing signs of fatigue. They had been sitting on the stiff chairs long enough. Greg’s back began to ache and his legs were throbbing like hell, but walking outside to get some fresh air was not an option. He wouldn’t leave this hospital until they called for him, even though Simon had suggested that he take a break a couple of times.

“About that phone call,” Simon began. “I think it’s a good time to contact Sarah’s father now.”

Greg flicked a quick glance in Simon’s direction. He had been thinking of the same thing, but somehow, the prospect of talking to Sarah’s father held no appeal for him, even if he’d never met the man.

“I think you’re right. There’s no need to prolong the inevitable.” He checked the time before pulling his brand new phone from his pocket. Beaver would be four hours behind them, and there was a possibility he wouldn’t be able to reach anyone at this time. It was improbable that anyone would still be at work at the town hall at seven in the evening.

He dialed for an operator. “I need assistance locating a number in Alaska.”

It took the operator several minutes to locate the phone number for Beaver’s town hall, where the office of the tribe leader was located. Greg waited, and after about five rings, voice mail picked up. Having no other option, he left a message.

“Hi. My name’s Greg Andrews, and this message is for Mr. Jones. I’m calling on behalf of Sarah Jones. Sarah has been in an accident. She’s fine and resting in a hospital here in New York City. If you would like more information, please call me at this number.” After leaving his number, Greg hung up with a sigh.

What a way to break the news. He downed his remaining coffee and crushed the cup with his hand. It felt good to get a chance to release a little of his pent-up frustration.

“What now?” he muttered to no one in particular.

Simon shrugged his shoulders. “I guess we’ll keep waiting?”

Greg responded by leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his palms. “I know I will. Go home, Simon.”

“Nah . . . I’ll keep you company until they transfer her to a regular room.”

Gratitude welled within him, but he was too tired to verbalize it. The day had turned into something from a horror film—one of those movies where the hits kept coming. Just when you thought you were done, another blow blasted from out of nowhere.

Greg kept his eyes closed in an attempt to relax. With all the buzzing conversations around him, it was impossible to find any peace.

His phone rang. Checking the caller ID, he groaned, hesitating before picking up the call. “Trevor, what’s up?”

“I have an interesting turn of events to report.” The PI announced on the other end.

Interesting
is a good word to use right now. I could use something to distract me,
Greg thought to himself. “Go on.”

“When I called the other night, we’d seen your . . . um . . . Mrs. Andrews walk in the restaurant to meet Cade.” At the mention of those two names, Greg’s blood began to boil. “I could tell from their body language that they were arguing, so I went into the restaurant to get closer. I overheard Mrs. Andrews accusing Cade of shooting you.”

Greg shot to his feet. “What else did you hear?”
 

“Well, it seems Mrs. Andrews produced some pictures. Soon after, Cade ran out of the restaurant. I couldn’t follow right away, for fear of recognition. Your mother called 911, but when the cops came and searched Cade’s place, he’d had a window in which to get away. I don’t think their investigation led them anywhere. He’s still at large, and we’re still trying to track him down.”