Star Witness - By Mallory Kane Page 0,64
figure out what direction the window faced. “What time is it?”
“Six-twenty.”
He stared at his brother, then blinked and gave his head a shake. “Six-twenty?”
Ethan’s mouth turned up. “Twenty minutes after six.”
“P.m.?” He reached up to rub his forehead, where the groggy haze seemed centered, and discovered that his hand had an IV hooked up to it. He growled.
“Here,” Ethan said, picking up the cup again. “Drink some more water before you fall asleep.”
This time, he reached for the cup, but the IV tubing that was inserted in his hand got caught in the bedclothes. Ethan untangled it and handed him the cup.
Harte sipped slowly. His stomach didn’t feel great, but the water—a little water—helped. “Thanks,” he said.
Ethan took the cup from his hand and set it down on the rolling table. “You’re going to fall asleep and spill that all over yourself.”
“Six-twenty,” Harte said thoughtfully. “I’ve been here all day? When can we leave?”
Ethan shook his head indulgently. “Not so fast, kid. You haven’t been here all day. You’ve been here since Saturday morning. Today’s Sunday.”
Harte stared at him in horror. “Sunday? What happened to Saturday?”
“You spent a lot of Saturday unconscious. They sedated you so they could give you blood. Then they took you into surgery. The doctor said you wouldn’t remember anything, and I guess he’s right.”
“What about—the—trial?” Harte was having a lot of trouble staying awake.
“The trial’s been set to start Thursday.”
“Okay. I can be—ready by Thursday.”
Ethan laughed. “Oh, trust me, kid. You will not be ready by Thursday. The D.A. has got another prosecutor working twenty-four-seven to get up to speed.”
“What?” Harte tried to sit up, but couldn’t. “My case!”
“Hey,” Ethan said, patting the sheet near Harte’s hand. “You don’t need to worry about the trial. You just need to rest and get better.” He stood. “I’m going to go tell the nurses that you’re awake, then I’ll head out. Mom will probably be over later to see you.”
“Wait,” Harte said. “Where’s Dani? She been here?”
“Nope. She’s in protective custody, remember? She’s not allowed to go anywhere.”
“I want to see her. Make sure she’s all right.” Harte tried to sit up. He put most of his weight on his right arm. With a lot of effort and a lot of pain, he managed to scoot a little more upright in the bed.
“Hang on,” Ethan said with an exaggerated sigh. “You’re going to rip out all of the doctor’s pretty stitching.” He leaned over and pressed a button on the console that hung from the bed rail. The head of the bed rose, pushing Harte into a more upright, seated position.
“Thanks,” he said. “I need to see Dani.”
“She’s just fine. If you’re going to be stubborn, I’ll call the head nurse. I think she was a drill sergeant.”
“Call her.”
“Harte, you haven’t seen this nurse—at least not that you remember.”
As if she were summoned by Ethan’s threat, the door to Harte’s room opened and a large, imposing woman in white slacks and an incongruous lavender scrub shirt with pink puppies and kittens on it entered. She had an IV bag in her sizeable hands.
“Mr. Delancey, you’re awake.” The nurse leveled a glare at Ethan, then the badge pinned to his jacket pocket. “And you are still here.” Stepping around the bed and past Ethan, she replaced the nearly empty IV bag with the new one and adjusted the flow.
Then she inspected the IV cannula in Harte’s hand, walked around to the other side of the bed and looked at the large bandage that covered from just beneath the collarbone to his upper abdomen. Then she lifted her head and peered through the lower half of her glasses at the LED screen of the heart monitor mounted above the bed.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, her voice gentler than her physical presence might suggest. “Having any pain?”
He gave a halfhearted right-shoulder shrug. “I’m okay,” he said.
She looked up at Ethan. “I’m going to give him a dose of morphine. I’d suggest you go interrogate somebody who’s up and around.” When she glanced back at Harte, he saw a fleeting glint of amusement in her eyes. “My patient here needs to rest.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan said, rolling his eyes in Harte’s direction. “I’ll be back later, kid.” He stood, leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of Harte’s head, sent a quelling look at the nurse when she grinned at his sentimental gesture and left.
“There you go,” the nurse said as she pressed a button on the IV flow