Page 22 of Finding Alfred
Reviewing today’s incident report was boring compared to the million other things I had to do. And yes, I had other people also monitoring, but ultimately, it was my responsibility, so I did my checks too. That didn’t mean I wasn’t happy about Eddy barging into my office and plopping down in the chair in front of my desk. Anything to interrupt the mind-numbing reports. “What’s going on, boss?”
“Uh…just wondering. Have you heard from Jackie today?”
I grabbed my phone. Had I missed a text? There was nothing today. “No. I haven’t and that’s kind of weird. He normally sends me a text every morning. Or nearly. Why?”
“He didn’t show up at the bookstore and for once, we were expecting him for coverage. I mean, not a big deal, but he’s not answering his phone either.”
“Oh.” My heart felt like it had stopped beating, but at the same time, my pulse ticked up. Was he okay? “What can I do?”
“Uh…hold on…” He looked down at his phone, then popped his head back up. “Brock got Paige to come in and now he’s on his way over to Jackie’s house. He’s worried. This isn’t like Jackie at all. I mean, he pops in and out all the time, but when he commits, he doesn’t flake. And now? I don’t know.” His rambling might not have meant anything. Or…He was super worried.
“Oh. Well, let me know if you need me to do anything.” Not sure what that could possibly be, but a part of me was ready to run straight to his place to see for myself that he was okay. Eddy waved me off and I stared at the computer screen.
Back to work, but none of this sat right. I might have been looking at the report, but I didn’t see any of it. I bit my bottom lip. Looked at my watch. I needed to do something.
Eddy popped his head back into my office a few minutes later, holding on to the trim work to keep from falling. He panted, out of breath. “I’m meeting them at the hospital.”
I jumped out of my seat. My first instinct was go-go-go. But what was even going on? He had to be hurt, but what happened?
Eddy beckoned to me. “Come on. Don’t just stand there, let’s go…”
I was relieved, worried, and nervous all in one big ball ofwhat the fuck. I tucked my phone into my back pocket and followed Eddy out to his truck.
Chapter seventeen
They wouldn’t let anyone visit me until the doctor checked me out. I should be grateful Brock showed up and got me out of the pool, but he took one look and tucked me into the backseat of my car, driving straight to Mercy Hospital, which was damn near thirty miles away in Hartsville. And I was grateful. But I also felt stupid, since it would actually have been possible to get out of the pool at the shallow end—if I didn’t have a fucking concussion. And I was bored and really only wanted to go home. Not to mention this fucking headache of the century pounding through my noggin.
Finally, the doctor knocked on the doorframe and entered. “Mr. Corbin. I’m Doctor Franklin. How’re you feeling?”
Wasn’t that the question. “Fine. I guess.”
He flashed his light in my eyes and went through his check. “Head hurt?”
“Yes.” Of course it did. I’d smacked it into a concrete wall or floor or something. I wasn’t entirely sure. The whole incident was a bit blurry.
“On a scale of 1 to 10? With 10 being you’re ready to pass out from the pain…”
“Probably around a four or five, but it fluctuates.”
“That’s normal. We’ll give you Tylenol. Don’t think you’ll need anything else. But you need to rest for the next few days. No sports. No swimming or jumping into empty pools.” He scowled at me.
“I didn’t jump.”
Doctor Franklin patted my leg. “I’m sort of kidding. But I’m also serious. Stay away from the pool. If you get dizzy and fall in again, I’d hate to be you when Brock has to fish you out. Again.” Yep, Doc Franklin knew us. Everyone in the four nearest towns knew us or knewofus.
“Promise.” I held up three fingers as if I’d ever been a scout.
Doc Franklin scowled again and pointed at me. “Behave. I’m sending someone in to cast your arm, then you can go home. I’m assuming Brock will drive you.”
“My arm?”
“You broke your arm.”
“Oh.” It hurt, and I vaguely recalled having it X-rayed, but I hadn’t known it was broken.
“Small fracture. Cast all the same. It’ll come off in about four weeks. Then maybe some PT. For now…” He pointed again as if I were a small child. “Rest. I know that’ll be hard for you, but you have to let the brain heal. Concussions are no joke.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
