Page 107 of The Fallen Man
“Jamal, what the happened? Which cousin? What the fuck is going on?”
“I’ll explain when you get here. Go to the emergency room.”
The emergency room was a hive of activity, and Jackson felt his temper rising as he sorted his way through the levels of people who didn’t give a shit until he was finally directed to the correct desk.
“Oh, Caitlin St. Cloud,” said the nurse frowning as she typed. “Right. The sex worker and herfriend.”
“Excuse me? Did you just call her a sex worker?”
“She was brought in in her underwear and a coat,” said the nurse without looking up. “Do you happen to have her insurance information? The blonde woman didn’t. She gave up after Iexplained things to her.” The nurse looked up with a smug smile.
Jackson pulled out a business card. “Send all of her billing to this address,” he said.
“Jackson!”
Jackson turned to see Dominique and Jamal heading toward him trailed by someone who he assumed was a hospital administrator from his panicked expression and swinging name badge.
“Sir, it’s going to be very expensive,” said the nurse without taking the card in Jackson’s outstretched hand. “If she doesn’t have insurance, you’d be better to let social services and the police—”
“I don’t believe I asked for your advice,” said Jackson. “Send the billing to that address and take me to my fucking girlfriend.”
“I can’t take non-relatives back to patients.”
“Jackson!” Dominique rushed forward and hugged him. “Oh, thank goodness, you’re here. This Nurse Rachtett wannabe—”
“Excuse me?” snapped the nurse.
“Won’t let me through to see Caitlin. My friend was the victim of a vicious assault and I swear to God if you imply that she was a hooker one more time I will personally see to it that you get fired.”
Dominique seldom made that kind of threat and Jackson was shocked. The hospital administrator gave a high-pitched nervous laugh.
“No, no, no, no, she did not say that. She is showing you and your brother through to your friend.”
“I can’t take non-relatives through,” said the nurse. The administrator snatched the business card out of Jackson’s hand and shoved it into the nurse’s face.
“Do you see the name on that card?” he hissed.
She looked at the card. “Jackson Deveraux,” she read out loud, sounding unimpressed.
“And the name on that donor plaque on the wall, what does that say?” the man demanded, pointing. She turned slowly and read the name on the sign behind her.
“Deveraux Foundation,” said the nurse, suddenly looking nervous.
“So we are taking our multi-million dollar donors through to their friend, aren’t we?”
The nurse nodded mutely.
They were ushered down bustling hallways and Jackson felt like his heart was going to jack-hammer out of his chest. He needed to talk to Dominique, but he wanted privacy.
“Thank you,” said Dominique firmly, turning to the administrator when they were finally escorted to someplace. Jackson couldn’t tell where they were. He was having a hard time focusing on the things people were saying. The noise washed out of their mouths and through his ears. The only one he could really seem to absorb was Dominique. “You can go. Just send us Caitlin’s doctor.”
The man nodded and left them. Dominique promptly yanked open the door they were standing in front of and hurried in.
“Dominique, wait. What—”
Katie was unconscious in the bed. She looked dirty, and Jackson would swear that her right hand had blood caked under her nails.
“What the fuck happened?” demanded Jackson looking between Dominique and Jamal.
