Healed by the Single Dad Doc

‘Yes. I wondered if you’d like a coffee. From somewhere other than the police canteen.’

Kate shrugged. ‘Don’t you have something to do?’

Mags’s thoughtful gaze was fixed on Kate. ‘I’m afraid maybe he does. I won’t keep him too long.’

Ethan swallowed down the impulse to tell Mags that he could think of nothing more important right now than taking Kate by the arm and marching her outside into the fresh air.

‘What, Mags?’

‘I’m sorry about this, but the duty doctor hasn’t come yet, and I have a man in the cells who was looking a little under the weather when he came in and is getting worse by the minute. He’s just shown the custody sergeant a bite on his leg.’

‘Bite?’ Kate turned to her suddenly.

‘Yes. It’s not a human bite. We don’t know what it is; it looks a few days old. Ethan, I wouldn’t ask, but...’

He didn’t have any choice. Ethan opened his mouth to ask whether Kate might wait somewhere for him but she spoke first.

‘I’m a vet. I’ve seen practically every kind of bite there is. Had quite a few of them.’

‘I’m sure that Ethan can deal with it.’ Mags hadn’t seemed to notice that some of the colour had suddenly returned to Kate’s cheeks and she stood a little straighter.

‘I’d appreciate Kate’s opinion.’ He was rewarded by a smile that didn’t seem quite as strained as the last one.

‘Fair enough.’ Mags shot Ethan a questioning look but didn’t argue. ‘I’ll get the medical kit brought down.’

* * *

This morning had been horrible. Before the taxi had arrived to take her to the police station, Kate had walked around her cottage checking everything. Locks. Dripping taps. She’d pulled all the plugs out of their sockets and then walked around the cottage a second time. She hated herself for doing it, but she couldn’t help it.

The identification hadn’t been much better. All she’d really wanted to do was to put this behind her, but the gentle voice of the woman police officer who’d showed her a set of short videos on a computer screen had screamed victim. She’d assured Kate that she wouldn’t come face to face with her assailant, and Kate had wanted to scream back that she wasn’t afraid.

She wasn’t afraid, at least not of the man last night. She was afraid of herself. That she’d allow the bad dreams, the routines repeated over and over again, to take over her life the way they had last time. She’d been able to hide that from everyone but herself, but being unable to step out of her own flat had almost ruined her career and shown her that Mark’s promises about sticking with her had been just empty words.

But, somehow, seeing Ethan had calmed her. Maybe because his final words to her last night were that he had to go in order to see his son before he went to sleep. A son meant a partner. And a partner meant that Ethan was unavailable. She could count him as a friend without any fear that she’d be tempted to step over the line.

‘You’ve done this before?’ Ethan seemed to know his way around the police station, walking ahead of the two police officers who were accompanying them.

‘Yes, I used to be on the police surgeon’s call roster. I gave it up a couple of years ago, to spend more time with my son.’

‘And you worked here?’

‘Mostly.’ He looked behind him, smiling at the woman police officer who’d popped her head around the door after Kate had finished her identification. ‘Inspector Graham was so impressed by my abilities that she had me assigned here most of the time.’

‘In your dreams. As a police officer, I have a duty to protect the public, and keeping you from bothering anyone else seemed like the way to go.’

Ethan chuckled. The easy respect between the two was clear. He must be good at his job, and perhaps Kate would get the opportunity to watch and learn a little.

* * *

The man was lying on the platform bed in his cell, a couple of blankets covering him, the custody sergeant standing at his side. Ethan glanced at the name on the custody record and leaned over him.

‘Gary, I’m Dr Conway. I hear you’re not feeling well.’

Gary opened his eyes, shading them from the light with his hand. ‘My head’s splitting.’

Probably a hangover—he stank of alcohol—but it was as well to make sure.

‘You were drinking last night?’