Chapter Twenty Four

Loud, distorted noises stabbed into his brain. He groaned, trying to make sense of the sounds. The closest resolved into the steady beat of a heart-rate monitor. A harsher, more distant sound turned into a man's voice as he gave orders Raylan didn't have the energy to figure out.

He sucked in a breath that tasted like disinfectant and forced his eyes open. Pale, dimly coloured light spilled across the room from the machines next to his bed. Rain ran snake like down the windows. He watched it, taking stock of his condition.

Every part of his body hurt. His shoulder and wrist were areas of muted agony. Fever-heat coursed through his veins, slicking his skin with perspiration. Exhaustion laid like a heavy weight on his chest. He fumbled for his call button, pressing it with a frightening lack of strength.

A nurse poked her head through the open door. "You're awake!" she exclaimed. "How do you feel?"

He swallowed a sarcastic response. "Like crap," he said and coughed. His voice sounded hoarse and rough. "How long was I out?"

She glanced at the clock. "A full day, close enough."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "And I still feel like crap."

"You look a lot better now than you did when your boss brought you in," she replied and picked up his chart from the end of the bed, flipping through it before making a note of something. She adjusted his IV and hung a new bag of saline. "How's your pain? Do you need some more drugs?"

"I'm okay," he rasped, swallowing back a groan. "When can I get out of here?"

She raised her eyebrows. "When that infection in your shoulder is gone."

He scraped his teeth over his lip. "There's something important I need to do."

"The only thing you need to do right now is lay there and heal." She dropped the chart back into its holder. "This is serious, Raylan. You almost died in the ER. Your temp was that high the Doc was worried you were going to start seizing."

The words hit him hard. He sucked in a breath that turned into a dry cough. It sent pain ripping through him, almost bringing tears to his eyes.

She took hold of his good arm, supporting him until the coughing fit passed.

"I'll get you some ice," she offered. "And some pain meds."

He didn't protest as she left the room, coming back a few moments later with a paper cup half filled with ice and a loaded syringe.

She injected the drugs into his IV, adjusting the saline so it ran a little faster. He took the cup she offered him, fishing a sliver of ice out with shaking fingers. The movement jarred his shoulder, making him suck in a pained breath.

"Thank you," he rasped.

She touched his good shoulder. "You should start feeling less pain in a few minutes."

The sheets rustled as he shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. His IV line caught, making him wince as it pulled painfully against his skin. Carefully, he untangled it, pushing it out of the way.

"Can I sit up a little more?" he asked.

She nodded, reaching for the controls for the bed and raising the head of it about half way. It helped. He leaned back, the angle taking some of the pressure off his shoulder.

"Thanks," he said, and gave her an exhausted smile.

She inclined her head, smiling back a little. The wind shifted, lashing the rain against the windows. She turned to look at it, shaking her head. "I'm glad I'm not out in that. Forecast is talking about this turning to snow by the weekend."

He shifted painfully on the bed, bunching the sheet in his fist as pain sang through his body. It passed after a moment, and he relaxed, slumping against the pillows.

"How long do you think you'd last out in it?"

The ice took away the dryness in his throat. He pulled out another sliver, sucking on it as it melted.

She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Not very long. Couple of hours... half a day at most."

Someone knocked on the door. They both looked over to see Art standing in the doorway. "Mind if I come in?"

The nurse shook her head. "Nope. I think some company would do him good."

Art stepped through the door, lowering himself into the visitor chair with a not-quite-hidden groan. "Been a long day, Raylan."

"Been a long week, Art." Raylan sighed.

The nurse paused at the doorway. "I'll leave you to talk. Use your call button if you need anything."

Both men nodded. She smiled, then stepped out, closing the door halfway to give them a little privercy.

"The Chief talking yet?" Raylan asked.

Art shook his head. "Nope. Tim and Rachel have been over at the prision all day. He's more scared of this mysterious boss than he is of what we can do to him." Art shrugged. "We have a warrant to search his house and office. Should be interesting to see what we find."

"What about the search teams?" Raylan asked. "Have they found anything?"

Art met Raylan's eyes. "I pulled them back in because of the weather conditions. No sense in them getting injured walking around in the rain." He held up a hand to forestall Raylan's comment. "Soon as this breaks, I'll send them back out."

Angrily, Raylan shook his head. "They don't stand a chance, do they? No doubt the bastards have moved them by now. They're probably already dead."

"Raylan!" Art said sharply.

The dark haired man looked over at him, eyes full of quiet, tired anger. "Yeah?"

"We're doing our best." Art stood. "You're exhausted and ill. You're not thinking straight. Get some rest. God knows, the problems will still be here in the morning."

Raylan sighed. "Is there anything I can do?" He waved a hand at the room. "I'm gonna go crazy just stuck here, wondering what's going on."

Art paused at the door. "Hope's family arrived yesterday. They want to see you. If you feel up to it, you can talk to them." He smiled. "She's selling you as quite the hero."

Raylan frowned. "Damnit, Art. I'm not a hero. I was just doing my job."

Art shrugged. "Well, her family think you are one."

He waved and stepped through the door.

Raylan stared at the hallway, the words swirling around in his mind. Don't think I deserve them, but damn, they feel good, he thought foggily just before sleep took him.