Dexter by Design (Dexter 4)

Once again I was very pleased to be abnormal, because a normal human being would certainly have flung his chair at the doctor and run screaming from the room. Instead, I waved at Chutsky, turned away from the doctors, and concentrated on the phone.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” I said. “Can you say it again?”

“I said, it would be a big help if you could come home,” Rita said. “If you’re not too busy? Because Cody has his first Cub Scout meeting tonight, and Astor’s friend Lucy has the mumps? Which means she can’t go over there, so one of us should stay with her at home? And I thought, you know. Unless you’re stuck at work again?”

“I’m at the hospital,” I said.

“Oh,” Rita said. “Well then, that’s—Is she any better?”

I looked over at the small clot of doctors. They were examining a small heap of documents apparently relating to Deborah. “I think we’re about to find out,” I said. “The doctors are here now.”

“Well, if it’s—I guess I could just—I mean, Astor could go along to Cub Scouts if—”

“I’ll take Cody to Scouts,” I said. “Let me just talk to the doctor first.”

“If you’re sure,” she said. “Because if it’s, you know …”

“I know,” I said, although I actually didn’t. “I’ll be right home.”

“All right,” she said. “Love you.”

I hung up and turned back to the doctors. One of the interns had peeled back one of Deborah’s eyelids and was glaring at her eyeball with the aid of a small flashlight. The real doctor was watching him, holding the clipboard.

“Excuse me,” I said, and he glanced up at me.

“Yes,” he said, with what I recognized as a fake smile. It was not nearly as good as mine.

“She’s my sister,” I said.

The doctor nodded. “Next of kin, all right,” he said.

“Is there any sign of improvement?”

“Well,” he said. “The higher nerve functions seem to be coming back online, and the autonomic responses are good. And there’s no fever or infection, so the prognosis seems favorable for a slight upgrade in condition within the next twenty-four hours.”

“That’s good,” I said hopefully.

“However, I do have to warn you,” he said, with an equally phony frown of importance and seriousness. “She lost an awful lot of blood, which can sometimes lead to permanent impairment of brain functions.”

“But it’s too soon to tell?” I said.

“Yes,” he said, nodding vigorously. “Exactly.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” I said, and I stepped around him, to where Chutsky was now standing, wedged into a corner, so the doctors could have full access to Debs.

“She’ll be fine,” he told me. “Don’t let these guys scare you, she’s gonna be absolutely fine. Remember, I had Doc Teidel here.” He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “No offense to these guys, but Teidel’s a hell of a lot better. He put me back together, and I was a whole lot worse than this,” he said, nodding at Deborah. “And I didn’t have any brain damage, either.”

Considering the Pollyanna optimism he was showing, I wasn’t sure about that, but it didn’t seem worth arguing about. “All right,” I said. “Then I’ll check back with you later. I have a crisis at home.”

“Oh,” he said, with a frown. “Everybody okay?”

“All fine,” I said. “It’s the Cub Scouts I’m worried about.”

And although I meant that as a lighthearted exit line, isn’t it funny how often these little jokes come true?

EIGHTEEN

THE CUB SCOUT DEN THAT RITA HAD FOUND FOR CODY met at Golden Lakes Elementary School, a few miles from our house. We got there a little early and sat in the car for a minute, and Cody watched without expression as a handful of boys his approximate age ran into the school wearing their blue uniforms. I let him sit and watch, thinking that a little preparation time might do us both some good.