Page 47 of Shield
“Yep,” Scarlett said, her smile widening.
“Maths, with an s, is short for mathematics, heathen,” Jamie began with exaggerated patience and sipped his tea, his eyes bright with the familiar teasing. I needed this right now.
* * *
The video room was dim,the glow from the screen casting us all in a bluish light. Clips from the New York versus Carolina game flickered across it, showing New York’s aggressive play and the decisive saves of their goalie. The guys were focused, analyzing the play-by-play, while Coach pointed out the strengths and how New York had exploited Carolina’s weaknesses.
“They won this one because their goalie’s on a hot streak right now, but watch his left hand, there’s a delay,” one of the assistant coaches said, rewinding the footage to highlight the point.
I nodded along, but my mind was elsewhere, replaying the previous night’s events. Lazlo’s face, so full of life every time I saw him at the clinic, was now overshadowed by the news of the shooting. The reality of violence had shaken me more than I wanted to admit.
“Cowen!” Coach’s voice cut through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present. “Mind joining us here?”
I straightened up, realizing I’d been called out. The room turned to me, waiting.
“Anything you want to add about their goalie?” Coach asked, his eyes sharp.
I quickly gathered myself, needing to lighten the mood and steer away from my distracted silence. “What, you mean, apart from his insane love of Milk Duds and a need to swim naked?” I quipped.
Laughter broke out, rippling through the room, a welcome release from the tension.
Coach shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips despite the attempt to stay serious. “All right, focus up. Let’s use what we know; do you have anything useful?”
“Yeah, he gets cocky in the third period if NY is up by two,” I added, and Coach nodded at me for that valuable insight.
As the session continued, I forced myself to concentrate, absorbing every play, every move. This was my team now, and if we were going to win against my former teammates, I needed to be fully present, to bring everything I had to the ice.
And not to think about falling in love, or Lazlo getting shot, or worrying about grief, or thinking the worst in every freaking scenario.
I had to stay in the present, and right now, that was hockey.
Still, that didn’t stop me from staring at my phone when I got the chance.
Because I was falling hard, and it felt a lot like love.
ChapterEighteen
Jackson
I swearmy ass would soon be the exact shape of a hospital waiting room chair. Mack and I spent endless hours waiting for victims to be allowed to speak to us. Thankfully, we were plainclothes, so we blended in better than our brothers and sisters in uniform while plunked down in a busy emergency room waiting area. If we kept our jackets on, no one could see our weapons and badges, and the tension that uniformed cops seated among the poorer and most vulnerable in our society sometimes drew was lessened.
No one told me I couldn’t sit here and wait even though I was off the case, but one call to reorganize the rest of my day, and I wasn’t moving an inch.
Mack had already spoken to Ian Brown, the security guard, who’d come out with a concussion and two stitches for a head wound, but given I wasn’t officially on this case, I had to stand back. Ian didn’t remember who’d hit him, or much at all, until he’d been found and brought into the hospital. I made a note to mention to Oliver that the clinic needed to check out the guys they hired to see if they were actually any good. Maybe I’d do it for him.
Mack was snoozing beside me as I people-watched, arms resting on my chest, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. We’d give Lazlo another hour to come out from under, then see if we could talk to him. Sometimes, that was dicey. The doctors weren’t always keen on law enforcement showing up to question a victim. And I got it. But the sooner we could get the facts, the sooner we could move on things. The forensic investigators had been at the scene when Mack and I had arrived two hours ago, the clinic once again taped off with crime tape. I’d smiled sheepishly at Timothy. The man was pissed at me for blowing him off time after time. I was going to have to just stop playing him. I was with Oliver now. We’d not said a thing about exclusivity, but I didn’t want anyone else. I’d never wanted to be with Timothy, but his flirtations had made me feel good, you know, attractive when I was not feeling at all that way.
Oliver filled that empty void in my chest now.
Oliver and the clinic. Man, what a clusterfuck things had become.
I wasn’t sure if the place would survive another violent crime. If I had kids, I’d be damned if I’d take them to a facility where two people had been attacked within a month. Then again, many of the patients at the clinic had no other options. Joe and his staff treated everyone of every age, whether or not they had the means to pay. And while Joe was a good guy with a heart of gold, his bookkeeper, Heloise, had not been above milking the system.
“You want some coffee?” I asked Mack. He snored in reply. I tapped his forehead with the tip of my finger. He snorted awake, wiping awkwardly at the drool on his chin. “I said, you want some coffee?”
He blinked, then frowned. “No. Maybe. Okay.” I gathered up the four empty cups on the end table beside me, got to my feet, and was glancing around for a trash can when a young doctor hustled out to us. He looked as tired as I felt. Guess cops and docs didn’t get much sleep in this town.
“Mr. Richter is resting comfortably.” I sighed in relief. The doc went on to tell us the basics before he grew a bit truculent. “He’s willing to speak to you both, but I am restricting your time with him to five minutes. No more. And do not upset him.”
