*reads her reviews and melts into a big puddle of mush* Thank you! You are
all the sweetest people on Earth! *is blushing bright red* Here's the
second part:
"Detective Goren?"
"Yeah, that's me." I'm out of that chair faster than the doctor can blink in bafflement at me. "How is she?"
"How's who?" The doctor tilts his head, his glasses askew. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's a telephone call for you at the front desk."
I stare past him at her hospital room. Doctors are still chasing each other in and out of there, somebody's bringing in a tray of needles, and my heart jolts and shudders at each frantic sound floating out. But if it's the front desk, it could be important.
"Sir?" The doctor is blinking at me again. "Are you waiting for somebody?"
"Yes," I mutter. Aloud, "No, I'm coming."
My head swims as I follow the guy down the corridor and into an elevator. I nearly tumble over his feet as he squeezes into the small elevator car and adjusts his glasses. He gives me a mildly offended look and straightens his scrubs; dizzy and sick as I feel, I have to resist the urge to maul him.
The elevator whooshes and bleeps down a couple of floors before opening onto a scene of chaos. Nurses and technicians are yelling at each other and jamming the glass doors open as the siren of an ambulance whines outside. Over the din, I can barely hear the sound of ringing phones and jangling keys. The doctor grabs my arm and hauls me towards a desk where a woman is stuffed into a chair, clicking away at a keyboard.
"Andrea?" The woman leans her head towards him, her bleary eyes still focused blankly on the screen. "The phone call, for Detective Goren."
"Oh, yeah." Her voice is completely flat. "Over there." She points to the phone.
I clutch the receiver and press the 'line' button. "Hello?"
"Bobby! Long time, no see. Last time I saw you, you were working in Vice, right? Heard about Detective Eames-I'm really sorry about that. Is it serious?"
I nearly drop the phone. In fact, the receiver slips and I have to snatch and grab in mid-air. When I can talk again, my voice is rough and shaking. "What the hell are you doing phoning me, you bastard?"
"Yeah, I guess it is." A long, low laugh. "Well, I would say that I hope she gets better, but you see, I shot her, so that would be a lie-and it's wrong to tell lies, isn't it? See you around, Bobby."
And he hangs up.
I want to scream. I think I have. I know I'm swearing, cursing, nearly sobbing, because the doctor's got his hand on my shoulder and Andrea with her slack jaw and dull eyes is staring blankly at me. I wrench myself loose and run down the hallway, back to the elevator, which is empty.
The doors close smoothly on me with a small beep, and, thank God, I can finally cry.
"Detective Goren?"
"Yeah, that's me." I'm out of that chair faster than the doctor can blink in bafflement at me. "How is she?"
"How's who?" The doctor tilts his head, his glasses askew. "I'm sorry, sir, but there's a telephone call for you at the front desk."
I stare past him at her hospital room. Doctors are still chasing each other in and out of there, somebody's bringing in a tray of needles, and my heart jolts and shudders at each frantic sound floating out. But if it's the front desk, it could be important.
"Sir?" The doctor is blinking at me again. "Are you waiting for somebody?"
"Yes," I mutter. Aloud, "No, I'm coming."
My head swims as I follow the guy down the corridor and into an elevator. I nearly tumble over his feet as he squeezes into the small elevator car and adjusts his glasses. He gives me a mildly offended look and straightens his scrubs; dizzy and sick as I feel, I have to resist the urge to maul him.
The elevator whooshes and bleeps down a couple of floors before opening onto a scene of chaos. Nurses and technicians are yelling at each other and jamming the glass doors open as the siren of an ambulance whines outside. Over the din, I can barely hear the sound of ringing phones and jangling keys. The doctor grabs my arm and hauls me towards a desk where a woman is stuffed into a chair, clicking away at a keyboard.
"Andrea?" The woman leans her head towards him, her bleary eyes still focused blankly on the screen. "The phone call, for Detective Goren."
"Oh, yeah." Her voice is completely flat. "Over there." She points to the phone.
I clutch the receiver and press the 'line' button. "Hello?"
"Bobby! Long time, no see. Last time I saw you, you were working in Vice, right? Heard about Detective Eames-I'm really sorry about that. Is it serious?"
I nearly drop the phone. In fact, the receiver slips and I have to snatch and grab in mid-air. When I can talk again, my voice is rough and shaking. "What the hell are you doing phoning me, you bastard?"
"Yeah, I guess it is." A long, low laugh. "Well, I would say that I hope she gets better, but you see, I shot her, so that would be a lie-and it's wrong to tell lies, isn't it? See you around, Bobby."
And he hangs up.
I want to scream. I think I have. I know I'm swearing, cursing, nearly sobbing, because the doctor's got his hand on my shoulder and Andrea with her slack jaw and dull eyes is staring blankly at me. I wrench myself loose and run down the hallway, back to the elevator, which is empty.
The doors close smoothly on me with a small beep, and, thank God, I can finally cry.