FIVE
Okay, so telling them about the bullet was a bad idea. She should have waited until she was in her hotel room and then called the concierge for help in finding a doctor.
Michael and the detectives didn’t exactly freak out, but they came close. Michael had her jacket off and was looking at her injury before she could tell him to leave her alone. Then the detectives had to look at it—she noticed Samuel winced at the sight—and of course the captain heard about it and he had to take a peek, too.
Isabel insisted she could take care of the problem without their help. But that wasn’t how it was done, according to Detective Samuel. He was determined to accompany her to the hospital. As soon as the bullet was removed, it would be placed in a plastic bag, sealed, and wouldn’t leave Samuel’s possession until it was in the lab. It all had something to do with procedure, but she honestly wasn’t paying much attention, so she really wasn’t sure what he meant.
She was distracted because Michael had taken hold of her hand and wasn’t letting go. Then he pulled her into his side, and she didn’t know what to think about that.
“I’m going to get dried blood all over your shirt,” she told him.
“Are you listening to me, Isabel?” Samuel asked.
“Not really,” she admitted.
Michael shook his head. “I know you’re tired and want to get out of here, but try to concentrate on the task at hand.”
“The task at hand?”
“Concentrate. Detective Samuel asked if you understood why you needed to go to the hospital.”
She wasn’t an idiot. Of course, she knew why she needed to go to the hospital. She had a bullet in her arm. “Yes, I understand. I need to get this bullet out and you need to take it to the lab.”
When all was said and done, the ordeal took a full two hours from the minute she walked into the emergency room and saw the giant digital clock flashing the time on the wall above her until she walked back out.
A plastic surgeon, who looked as though he hadn’t slept in a year, was on his way out the door when he was called back in by the emergency room physician who had spotted him trying to sneak by. The surgeon wasn’t happy until he saw Isabel. He perked up then and did a bit of harmless flirting, though, Michael noticed, Isabel didn’t do anything to encourage his behavior.
The surgery wasn’t a big deal. According to Dr. Alberts she was hit by a fragment when the bullet struck something nearby. The fragment was resting just under the skin, but it was entangled in muscle. She was x-rayed and brought back to one of the cubicles in the emergency room. After her T-shirt was removed, the nurse did a surgical drape, which would keep the area sterile. Dr. Alberts, gowned, masked, and wearing gloves, numbed the area and quickly removed the piece of bullet. Michael stood back, but as soon as the bandage was wrapped around her arm, he walked to her side and took hold of her hand again. She wasn’t sure if he was offering her comfort or making sure she wouldn’t bolt. It was an unnecessary gesture, though to be completely honest, she had been considering an escape.
She didn’t need all that many stitches, but she did need an antibiotic to protect her against infection. She was offered pain medication but declined, certain regular old Tylenol would take care of any discomfort. Nevertheless, the surgeon wrote a script just in case she changed her mind.
Samuel motioned to Michael to step outside the cubicle to have a word. Isabel could see them through the opening in the curtains. Both men looked somber. Samuel was doing most of the talking, and every now and then Michael would nod. From their expressions, she knew the topic was grim.
Isabel wasn’t about to wear the bloody T-shirt again and asked the nurse to throw it away. She put on her nylon jacket and zipped it closed. While Dr. Alberts wrote notes in her chart, she watched Samuel shake Michael’s hand and leave.
“All right, you’re as good as new,” the doctor said. “The stitches should be removed in eight days.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” she replied, sitting up and swinging her feet over the side of the examination table.
Speaking to Michael, the surgeon said, “Isabel will have a scar, but it will be so thin no one will notice it. We can’t let anything damage this lovely young lady. You know—with her golden blond hair and her brilliant blue eyes, she looks like a Greek goddess, doesn’t she?”
Dr. Alberts walked out of the cubicle after his comment, so he didn’t see Isabel roll her eyes.
Michael did and grinned. “Let’s go, goddess.”
“Not funny, Michael.”
He thought it was and had a good laugh. Ignoring him, she scooted off the table and headed for the doors, stopping to thank the nurse on her way out.
“What was that about with Detective Samuel?” she asked as Michael opened the car door for her.
“We’ll stop at a pharmacy to get the antibiotic filled and buy some Tylenol.”
“So you’re not going to tell me?”
He shook his head.
“You’re rude.”