lights seemed too bright, and the bustle of the ER waiting room was disorienting. Everyone looked up when they came in, a cop and a girl in a blanket with blood smudged on her face and hands.
They went to the information desk, and Officer Norton spoke to the woman there, asking after Theodore Anderson. Riel’s stomach cramped up with dread as the woman looked him up on her computer, and Riel watched her face closely, terrified that she was going to wince or frown or give her a look, the look that said, I don’t want to have to be the one to tell her this, but he’s dead.
The woman’s eyes skimmed the screen, the glow reflected in her eyes. She blinked. “Checked in an hour and a half ago. Gunshot wound to the neck and shoulder. He’s still in the trauma unit.”
Riel hugged herself. “What does that mean? Is he okay?”
The receptionist looked at her, and Riel saw very little pity in her face. “He’s still being worked on. It will be a while before you can see him.”
Riel nodded numbly, clutching her arms around her middle. The blanked slipped around her shoulders.
“What about Hilario Valencia?” Officer Norton said.
It took Riel a couple moments to realize that he must be talking about Mishmash. The receptionist started typing again, then cocked a penciled eyebrow. “Another gunshot wound.” Her eyes darted to the cop’s. “Been a rough night.”
“Sure has, ma’am.”
The woman’s gaze skimmed the screen, and Riel’s guts twisted. If he was dead, what would happen to her?
“He’s out of critical care,” the woman finally said. “Stable condition in the recovery ward.”
“Can we visit him?” Norton asked.
“He may be asleep, but I don’t see why not.”
She gave them the room number, and Officer Norton and Riel headed for the elevators. On the way up, he adjusted the blanket around her shoulders. “It’s going to be all right,” he said.
She glanced up at him, tears leaking from her eyes.
“Listen, I…I’m no doctor, but I saw your boyfriend before they took him away. He had a hole in him, no joke, and he’d lost a lot of blood, but the EMTs got to him right away, and it didn’t look like he was really hit bad. I mean, it didn’t look like they got him where it counts.”
Riel gazed at him hopefully, wanting to believe, but she thought she saw uncertainty in his eyes. Was this just part of his game, to get her guard down?
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded faintly. “Like I said, I’m not a medic, but I’ve been to enough of these scenes to know when it’s a lost cause, and your boyfriend definitely wasn’t.” The doors opened. “Come on, let’s see Mishmash.”
They headed out into the hallways, where nurses wheeled carts and bustled around with clipboards. Their uniforms looked like prison clothes, and Riel had a dizzy moment of disorientation.
Mishmash was sleeping, being attended by a woman in a red frock. He looked strange and shrunken, his face grey. What Riel could see of his torso was covered in bandages and a hospital gown, which looked wrong on him. It made him look weak, and silly.
The nurse looked up as they walked in, her eyes going wide, then hooded when she saw Officer Norton’s uniform.
“How is he doing?” Norton asked.
“You here to question him?” the nurse said.
“No, actually. Here on more of a personal call, for his friend Miss Mejia here.” He patted Riel’s shoulder.
The nurse’s shoulders relaxed somewhat, her gaze seeking out Riel’s. “He was apparently shot twice at close range. He may have some muscle damage, but otherwise he’s fine. He’s just sleeping. I’ll have the doctor come in and give you a full report as soon as she can.”
Riel nodded. The nurse left, and Riel and Norton sat down in the bedside chairs. As soon as the nurse left, Mishmash stirred, cracking an eye open. “She gone?”
Officer Norton chuckled. “You big faker.”
“You can’t knock out a man from Michoacán, even with two bullets and a liter of fentanyl.” Mishmash tried to sit up, then winced, his face going even paler.
“Lay down, dude,” Norton said. “You’ve just been cracked hard.”
“Little pussy guns,” Mishmash murmured. “Those boys can’t afford good ones in my town.” He settled against the pillows, his eyes finding Riel’s. “You okay?”
Riel nodded. “But Theodore…”
Mishmash’s expression darkened, his gaze flicking to Norton’s.
“He’s still in surgery,” the cop said.
Mishmash relaxed a little, but his face was still clouded with anger. “Those fucking jotos. I’d like to