Her smile wavered. “Pediatric ward. Room 4-235. The elevators are down the hall and to your left.”
As Cal shuffled in the direction the blonde had indicated, he felt discomfort in his chest and, with every step, a sharp pain in his shoulder.
He realized he must have sustained injuries beyond the obvious. Soft-tissue damage to his shoulder, probably when he’d hit the parapet wall on the rooftop, and maybe a cracked rib or two. Not much could be done about either, he mused as he adjusted his crutch to ease the pain.
He took the elevator to the fourth floor and found room 235. It contained four beds; three were occupied. The one closest to the door had a curtain drawn around it and Cal heard the murmur of voices. A girl, with her head, face and left arm bandaged, lay in the bed adjacent to it, her eyes closed. A man and woman clustered in chairs close to the bed, the woman holding the child’s hand. The man looked up at Cal, his face ravaged and grief-stricken, before turning to his daughter again.
On the farthest bed, next to the window, was Kayla. She had tubes and monitors attached to her. Other than that, she looked healthy and uninjured. Someone must have brushed the dust out of her hair, which was spread out, glistening, across her pillow. She wore a pink hospital gown with a teddy-bear print. Her head was turned away from him, toward the window. He could see her small chest rise rhythmically with her breathing.
Although they were complete opposites in appearance, watching Kayla brought back painful memories of his own sweet Haley. He took a step into the room, then hesitated. If Kayla was asleep, he didn’t want to wake her. As he debated what to do, she turned her head. Quiet dark eyes met his.
“Cal,” she said softly. “You hurt your leg. Are you okay?”
He limped to her bedside. “Yeah. I’ll be fine. More importantly, how are you?”
She gave a shrug. Examined the hand with the IV tube inserted. “Okay, I guess.” She shifted her gaze to meet his. “Did you find Mommy, like you said?”
Cal didn’t know what to say. His instinct was to see if there were nurses or doctors around, but he knew they couldn’t help.
Kayla spoke again before he had a chance to answer. “Mommy’s gone, isn’t she?”
There was something achingly wise in her deep brown eyes, and she sounded much older than her years. Cal rested one crutch against the footboard and took Kayla’s hand in his. “Yes, she is. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t have a daddy,” Kayla said matter-of-factly. A quiver in her lower lip was her only show of emotion. “Can I live with you, Cal?”
“Ah... I don’t think that would work.”
“Then who will I live with now?”
* * *
CAL SAT IN the back of the taxi on his way home. He stared out the window, but all he could think of was Kayla’s small serious face, and the plaintive question she’d voiced. She hadn’t cried; she hadn’t broken down. She’d simply stared at him, waiting for an answer he couldn’t provide.
She said she didn’t have a father, and he wondered if that was true, or if he was absent from her life the way Cal was from Haley’s. If it was the former, where would she live? he wondered. She must have other family.
Since he wasn’t related to her, the nurse wouldn’t tell him what Kayla’s condition was, but he knew they’d admitted her for observation.
He tried to convince himself that it wasn’t his concern, and yet he couldn’t get her out of his mind the entire way home.
Damn, he hadn’t realized how many steps there were up to his front porch. He didn’t want to even think about trying to navigate the longer set of back steps down to the beach. Not that he’d be doing a lot of walking on the beach for a while...
He let himself inside, grateful to be home, and almost tripped over a rubber bone Scout had left lying on the hallway floor. One crutch clattered to the ground as he braced himself against the wall. Now he had to figure out how to pick up his crutch, balancing on his left leg, while trying not to bend his right. He gritted his teeth as he retrieved the crutch. He hated the feeling of uselessness.
Then the image of Kayla, lying in the hospital bed so pale and serious, crowded out his self-pity. The child would never see her mother again.
He hoped the doc knew what she was doing and that she was right about Kayla being okay.
As he lay down on his bed for a moment to catch his breath, not bothering to take the scrubs off, it was Jessica he thought of as he drifted into sleep.
* * *
JESSICA CHECKED HER WATCH. Over twenty hours had passed since she’d started her shift at Ocean Crest. There was nothing more for her to do at the site. It was time to go home. She’d clean up and get a few hours’ sleep, then head back to the hospital. She knew it would be crazy busy there, and not only with the patients they’d sent from the triage site. There were bound to be many more people injured by the earthquake and its aftermath who would’ve gotten to the hospital by other means.
She glanced at the dog, Scout. Even dirty, he was a very handsome animal. He looked much like a North American German shepherd, but there were slight differences. He was a little larger, his coat darker. His markings were similar to a shepherd’s, although there was more black than brown in him. His paws were huge.
He gazed back at her, an assessing look in his chocolate-brown eyes. She imagined that with his darker-than-normal coloring, his nearly black face and his intense eyes, many people would’ve been intimidated by him. To her, he seemed smart and lovable.
She sensed that Scout was not only highly intelligent but had a great temperament. Although his leash was tied around a post, he’d sat quietly from the time the cop had said goodbye to him, while she checked on the other doctors and gave instructions.
She unwound the leash and gave Scout a heel command, which worked really well. She thought about his handler as she walked to her car. The cop was tall and striking. She couldn’t deny that she’d been attracted to him. That had surprised her, since looks weren’t the only or even the most essential aspect for her in terms of appeal. He was a perfect example of the old adage that looks were skin-deep. He’d immediately put her off with his bad-tempered attitude, even before she realized he’d be off-limits because he was a patient.
She and Scout reached her car, and she rolled her eyes. She must have been overtired, because she hadn’t considered how she’d get Scout in her yellow Miata convertible. A gorgeous but dirty dog, a cranky cop and a little car she loved and kept in pristine condition. Not the best combination.
What had she gotten herself into?
CHAPTER SIX
JESSICA LET SCOUT explore her fenced backyard after she’d brushed most of the dirt off him and cleaned his paws. Taking him inside, she placed the bag of dog food and toys she’d bought on the counter, and instructed Scout to sit-stay until she unhooked his leash, then released him. Scout made a beeline for her living room. She laughed as she watched the dog, with his nose in the air and then to the ground by turns, doing what she assumed was a search of her premises. He moved fast and didn’t seem to miss an inch. “No!” she yelled and rushed over when he effortlessly leaped up on her cream-colored sofa. “Off,” she commanded, but it had no effect, since Scout was intent on digging between the seat cushions.
“Off,” she repeated more emphatically, and grabbed his collar to guide him to the floor. He resisted briefly, his head buried between two cushions. When he hopped back down and sat, he had a small article of clothing in his mouth. Jessica was organized and efficient at work, but had never been particularly neat at home. With her hectic work schedule, she didn’t always have time to put things away—and Scout seemed to have found evidence of that.
On closer examination, what he had in his mouth proved to be a sweatband she’d used for playing tennis; she hadn’t seen it for quite a while. “I wondered what had happened to that.”
She knew
enough not to start a potential tug-of-war with a dog, especially a strong-willed one. Instead, she held out her hand and went through a series of commands she thought might get him to drop the sweatband. None of them worked.
“What would the command be to get that out of...” Jessica mused, but she didn’t have to speculate for long. Scout dropped the sweatband into her palm. Jessica laughed. “I guess the command is ‘Out.’”
She glanced at her formerly spotless sofa, now covered with brown and black fur. “At least your paws were clean,” she said with a sigh.
A little more cautiously, she let him familiarize himself with the rest of her house. She’d managed to keep him off the furniture until he tore into the bedroom ahead of her and vaulted up onto her bed. By the time she got to him, he was standing on the middle of her mattress, legs comically spread for balance, her duvet bunched around him, and the sleep shirt she kept under her pillow grasped in his mouth.
He looked so darn adorable she couldn’t be mad at him. Besides, her shirt was a practical cotton, wash and wear, so there was no harm done. At least now she knew the commands. A firm “Off” followed by “Out” had the desired effect of getting him to hop down and release her shirt into her hand.
She chuckled at herself for praising him, but she knew he was only doing what he’d been trained to do. She also knew how important positive reinforcement was for animals. She expected that, as a police dog, he was constantly training and retraining with his handler. Which brought to mind a new question. What was she supposed to do with him while she was at work, if the cop hadn’t reclaimed him by then?
And that got her thinking about the cop again... She couldn’t fault his looks or his height. At her five feet ten inches, few men towered over her, even when she wasn’t wearing heels. The cop had. She was sure she’d blushed when he’d first walked up to the triage area without a shirt. Judging by the heat on her cheeks right now, she’d bet she was blushing again.
She was a doctor, for heaven’s sake, and accustomed to seeing men without their clothes. She’d always maintained a very professional air—a strong code of ethics—and she’d never found herself dwelling on whether a male patient was attractive or not. They were patients. But she’d noticed Calen Palmer as a man first, before her professional assessment had overridden that reaction. And what she’d noticed was a very fit, very attractive man. When their eyes met, his had been intense, assessing. Uncomfortably so.
She hadn’t even had a chance to examine his injury before the surly attitude came out.
He’d been irritable, bordering on rude. It was off-putting, to say the least.
But he’d gone back into a building to save his canine partner. That said a lot about his loyalty...and compassion. And he seemed to care about the little girl, Kayla, too. Those two aspects of the man appealed to her and were at odds with the manner in which he’d treated her. An enigma, she thought again. And that intrigued her. She didn’t have to wonder if she’d see him again, since she had his dog. That made her smile.
The exhaustion finally caught up with her. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed for a few hours and bury her head under her pillow. Her practical side told her to take a shower to wash off all the grime first, have a bite to eat and then get the sleep she craved.
She started with the shower. When she was back downstairs in her kitchen and making a sandwich, her cell phone rang.
“This is Calen Palmer,” a deep voice announced when she answered.
The cop. Good thing she’d remembered to write down her cell number before he left in the ambulance.
“I’ve been released from the hospital,” he continued.
“How did things go?”
“As well as could be expected, I suppose.” His tone wasn’t as antagonistic as it had been earlier. There was more frustration than anger in it. “I’ll need to be off work for a couple of weeks.”
That didn’t surprise her, based on the nature of his injury and the demands of his job. In fact, two weeks was optimistic. She was tempted to ask diagnostic questions. Did they do an X-ray? Was he given a tetanus booster? Did they prescribe the appropriate antibiotics and painkiller? But she stopped herself. She might have triaged him; however, he wasn’t her patient anymore. Her responsibility for his care had ended when she’d handed him off to the paramedic. That was the beauty of being a trauma doctor. No long-term attachments to patients. Rapid assessment and immediate treatment. Discharge or transfer to another area, and she was done. Her interest in his well-being was nonclinical. She just wanted to know when she could return Scout to him. “I’m sorry you’ll have to be off work,” she finally said.
She watched Scout sniff under a wall unit, crouch down and dig under it with his front paws, until he tugged out a sneaker. He sniffed at it for a moment, then picked it up, turned in a tight circle and lay down, one paw draped protectively over his prize. Jessica stifled a laugh.
“I saw the little girl, Kayla, while I was in the hospital,” Cal said, interrupting her thoughts. “She seems to be okay.”
“Ah...” That threw her off balance. She’d been trying to put Kayla out of her own mind. She’d assumed he’d ask about his dog, not the child. “There are still some tests that need to be done but they’re precautionary. If all goes well, there’s no real medical reason to keep her...”
“You can’t just release her. Where’s she going to go?” The belligerence was back and it annoyed her. Who was he to tell her what to do with a patient? Even if his sentiment was perfectly in tune with hers. Technically, Kayla was no longer under her care, but she’d called Allison Hartford, head of pediatrics, and discussed Kayla’s case with her; she’d been clear about her recommendations concerning the child’s care. Knowing Jessica’s history, Allison hadn’t sounded pleased about her involvement. Jessica had to acknowledge that it wasn’t wise, but it was done.
“If you’d let me finish,” she said in an emphatic, professional, no-nonsense tone. “There might be no clear medical reason. However, my recommendation was to keep her for observation for a few days regardless. As I said, she should have some tests run. Just to be certain...and because Social Services hasn’t been able to locate Kayla’s father or any other family so far. Is that acceptable to you?” she added sarcastically.
There was a moment’s pause. “I deserved that. Sorry.” His voice didn’t sound apologetic, but she’d take the words at face value.
“And Scout? Has he given you any trouble?”
Now she did laugh as she watched the dog, his snout stuck in her shoe, one paw still over it. “I wouldn’t say trouble. He found a sweatband I’d misplaced months ago. It was lodged between the cushions of my sofa. And now he’s found a tennis shoe. I have no idea how it ended up where it was.” She thought of her light-colored sofa covered in coarse dark hair. “He did remind me, though, that dark-furred dogs and light-colored furniture aren’t an ideal combination.”
She heard him chuckle. Unexpected, perhaps, but she liked the sound.
“I’m grateful to you for taking him. Now that I’m done at the hospital, I can pick him up anytime that’s convenient for you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Pardon me?”
“How are you going to get here?”
“I... Good point. I keep forgetting I can’t drive. I should’ve thought of that.”
The frustration was back in his voice. “I’ll call my brother and ask him to drive me, if you’ll give me your address.”
Not sure why, she suddenly felt sorry for the tough cop. She doubted he was the type to rely on others very often, but he’d have to get used to it, at least for the next couple of weeks. “No need to bother him. If you’re okay waiting a few hours while I get some sleep, I’ll drop Scout off. I can do it before I go to work this afternoon.”
“Are you sure it’s not a problem?”
She sensed she’d been right about his reluctance to accept help, despite having badgered her into looking after Scout for a while. Those had been extraordinary circumstances, though. “Not any more than having him here.” She couldn’t resist the jab. “Just kidding. No problem at all.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.” He gave her his address. “Sorry to impose on you,” he repeated awkwardly, before he ended the call.
Jessica leaned against her kitchen counter, crossed her arms and watched Scout for a few minutes, then kneeled down in front of him. “Well, pal, it looks like we have a few more hours together.” She pulled the sneaker out from beneath his paw, and grinned. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the other one is, would you?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
CAL WASN’T HAPPY about the prospect of taking a medical leave of absence from the police department. He’d kept mostly to himself since he’d moved to San Diego, so without work and without his dog, he was bored. According to Jessica, he had four or five hours to kill before she came by.
With nothing else to do, he decided to go in to the police division. Yeah, he’d be starting a medical leave of absence, but he had some paperwork to complete and he wanted to check in with his captain. The problem was—as the doc had aptly reminded him—he couldn’t drive. He called a taxi, and figured he’d get one of the other cops to drop him off at home when he was done.
He spent an hour or so in the squad room and took some good-natured ribbing from his colleagues. Just being there made him feel better. He loved what he did, and for the most part got along well with his colleagues.
He kept an eye on the glass-walled office of the K-9 Unit captain, Logan O’Connor. Reflective of Logan’s Irish heritage, his short-cropped hair was ink black and he had piercing blue eyes. Even from a distance, Cal saw that those eyes were shooting sparks as Logan spoke to someone on the phone. Cal didn’t relish meeting with Logan if the call was putting him in a foul mood. Logan was an exceptional cop, a good friend, but he was known for his temper. It was slow to simmer—and explosive when ignited.