Page 46 of Tasting Fire
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David Hernandez.
It wasn’t something she wanted to think about, much less talk about. But it did trigger a realization. A worrisome one.
“Give me just a second,” she told Cash as she unhooked her bag from the back of her chair and fished through it for her phone. She pulled up her recent calls and there were two new voice mails from a BaltGen number. Since Oliver left Steele Ridge, she had ignored a handful of calls and had deleted messages she’d assumed were from him.
She hadn’t wanted to spend energy deflecting his attempts to strong-arm her back to the hospital. Back to him.
That thought was so disgusting that it actually made her mouth taste as if she’d eaten slugs.
“I need to return a call.” She hit dial, and the phone rang two times before someone answered. “Baltimore General Hospital, office of General Counsel.”
The grain of hope inside Emmy shriveled up and blew away like a brittle leaf. “This is Dr. Emerson McKay. I received a call from this number.”
“Oh, yes. Mr. Sandberg has been beside himself trying to get in touch with you. I’ll connect you to his office.”
While the call clicked over, Emmy’s stomach swooped down like it was on a cheap roller coaster.
“Dr. McKay.” George Sandberg’s voice was big and booming, befitting a barrel-chested attorney. “You are a hard woman to reach.”
“I thought the calls were…” No point in finishing that sentence. “I apologize for not returning them.”
“I hate to tell you this, but it looks like some ambulance chaser got his hands on David Hernandez’s family and encouraged them to sue the pants off of anyone involved with their son’s death. Because theCorazón Negrogang is pretty damn hard to take legal action against, they decided you and Baltimore General and our management company were better bets. And since…”
And since she was no longer associated with BaltGen, she’d be expected to provide her own counsel. On her dime. There went the down payment on a house. “Can you e-mail me the documents?”
“Will do. After looking over the charts,” he said. “I’m not sure they have much of a case, but personal injury and wrongful death suits can be tricky.”
“Thank you for the information,” she told him and ended the call. She stared down at the conference table for several minutes while Cash sat there, concern building.
Finally, he couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Emmy? What’s going on?”
“Well, the good news about rumors erupting here in Steele Ridge is that they prompted me to call the hospital. The shitty news is that I’m being sued.” And how that might impact both of her positions here in North Carolina, she didn’t know. But she’d have to give a heads-up to the SWAT captain and the ER director immediately.
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t save a six-year-old who was shot byCorazón Negroas revenge against his uncle, who’s in a rival gang.”
“Jesus, Em.”
“I tried.”
“Of course you did.”
“He’d lost too much blood. I knew it, but I didn’t want to accept it. Because what kind of world do we live in that children die because of decisions—stupid, stupid decisions—that adults make?”
“But not because of the stupid decisionsyoumade.”
“Afterward, I told the family I was sorry. Apparently, they took that as some kind of admission of medical malpractice.” Making a horrific situation all the more untenable.
“Why don’t you let me take you home? Make you something to eat? Food has a way of making things a little better and helping us see solutions.”
“I wish we could.” She realized she really meant it. There was nothing she’d like more than to have a normal, simple meal with a man she cared for. “But I’m now officially five hours late for my shift in the ER.”
“Then consider yourself the recipient of a rain check.”
Because he was so kind, so good, so understanding, Emmy brushed her hand over his, trying to convey her appreciation with the simple touch. “One I’ll be sure to cash.”
