She said something polite. Then, “Is Noah here? Is he all right?”
“He’s fine,” Brooks said, walking ahead of her down a hallway. “They’ve taken him to the Butler County jail.”
He led her into a room with a table and modern wheeled office chairs, upholstered in black. Bulletin boards and white boards lined the walls. She didn’t take the time to study their contents. He invited her to sit and left the door open.
“Did you know Noah Smith well?” Brooks asked. “How long did you know him?”
She told him all she knew. Noah was a third-year student, in her NSG 362 class, Nursing Care for Adults with Health Alterations. She typically team-taught with a woman with more academic experience. They made a good pair, Cheryl Beth bringing the real-world experience, leading the clinical part of the course that took place in the hospital. Noah was in his second semester with her.
“Was he moody? Did he have a temper?”
“Never that I saw.”
“Ever seem to be on drugs?”
Cheryl Beth shook her head. As a pain-management nurse, she was very good at spotting that kind of behavior, and Noah had never displayed it.
“What about with women? Was he hostile?”
“Not at all,” she said. “He got along well with the women students.”
“I guess that’s one reason to become a male nurse.” Brooks leaned back, stretched, and cradled the back of his head into his outstretched hands.
“We call them all nurses,” Cheryl Beth said. “It’s like not calling out gender differences between police officers.” That was the stress in her stomach talking. She tamped it down and smiled. “But, sure, men are still outnumbered by women in the program, and Noah is a good-looking guy.”
“Think that’s why he did it? To meet women?”
She couldn’t stop herself from making a face. “How about a personals ad in CityBeat? These students who have reached this level have worked very hard and they want to make nursing their career.”
He nodded, leaned forward, and opened a beaten-up brown portfolio. A yellow legal pad was filled with handwriting in blue ink. He flipped the page and began making new notes. Outside the door, she saw police officers walk past but the station seemed oddly quiet.
“What about you?”
She felt the sudden defensiveness of a driver going the speed limit who sees a patrol car behind her. “What about me?”
“You’re new to Miami.”
So he had checked on her. She wondered why.
“I was at Cincinnati Memorial Hospital. When it closed, I decided to try something new.”
“You’re not from Ohio, not with that accent.”
“Where I come from, it’s not considered an accent.” All those years in Cincinnati and she couldn’t get Kentucky out of her voice.
“So you’re what, an adjunct?”
She nodded. The money wasn’t great, but she had some saved and had welcomed the change of teaching. She could get a new nursing position again any time.
“No tenure,” he sighed. “That’s why they call those jobs, ad-junk.” He didn’t smile. “That was where they had those murders. Cincinnati Memorial, right?”
“That’s right.”
He made more notes.
“Why did Noah Smith call out to you, Ms. Wilson? Do you prefer Ms., Mrs., Miss?”
She was fine with “Cheryl Beth,” but something about Detective Hank Brooks didn’t sit right with her.