“As I said,” the doctor went on, “he has a lump, but no concussion. He should be back on his feet by now.”
“Well . . .” Sangster said. “. . . he is an older man.”
“Even taking that into account,” the doctor said, “he should be up.”
“Have you tried to get him on his feet?”
“He can’t stand,” the man said. “He seems to be suffering from extreme vertigo.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“We were waiting for you to arrive,” the doctor said. “You’re his emergency contact. Are you family?”
“Mr. Stark is Sheriff Burke’s neighbor,” Telemaco said, “and good friend.”
“Then you’ll have to make the decision as to how we proceed from here.”
“What would you like to do?” Sangster asked.
“Well. . . I’d admit him so we can run some more tests,” Doctor Judd said, “see if we can’t track down just what the problem is.”
“Then do that.”
“Um,” Dr. Judd said, “I assume Mr. Burke has Medicare? Or some kind of insurance?”
“I’ll take care of that,” Sangster said. “You just find what’s wrong with him.”
“Okay, then.”
“Can I see him?”
“It’ll be a while before we can move him into a room,” Judd said. “The nurse will show you where he is.”
That was the first time Sangster noticed that the nurse was still there.
“Hold on, Stark,” Williams said, “we wanna talk—”
“Let Mr. Stark see the Sheriff, Ben,” Telemaco said. “We can talk later.”
Williams gave his partner a sour look and said, “Yeah, okay.”
“This way, Mr. Stark,” Nurse O’Malley said.
“Thanks,” Sangster said to Telemaco, then said, “Thank you,” to the doctor.
The detective nodded, and the doctor said, “Yes, of course.”
Sangster turned and followed the nurse.
TWO
The nurse swept back a curtain to reveal Ken Burke lying on a gurney, a sheet pulled up to his neck. It was the first time Sangster could remember seeing Burke look his age. He was pale and drawn, the wrinkles were more deeply etched into his face than normal. They added age now, rather than character.
His breathing seemed normal to Sangster, nothing labored about it.
“Just a few minutes, please,” Nurse O’Malley said.
“Sure.”