Read Online Black River by G. M. Ford - Free Book Online

out the door.
    Corso walked to Dougherty’s side. Her eyes were still beneath the lids. The way the bandage clung to her head told him they’d shaved off her hair. Yellow fluid had leaked from her skull, staining the top of the bandage. He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers and then tried to settle the hospital gown around her body. Dissatisfied, he lifted a blue cotton blanket from the foot of the bed, shook it out full-sized, and covered her with it.
    As he stared down at her, the door burst open: big black security guard waving a can of pepper spray, followed by a nurse. She swam her way around the guard and stood with her hands on her hips. She wore a forest-green cardigan over her crisp white uniform. Her plastic name tag read RACHEL TAYLOR , DIRECTOR OF NURSING SERVICES .
    She was about forty. Trim, with a round face and a big pair of liquid brown eyes. Probably a runner, Corso thought. Her face was flushed, her anger a pair of red patches on her cheeks.
    “Leave this room immediately,” she said. “This woman is in critical condition. Your presence here is endangering her life.”
    “Not until I get some assurances.”
    “You assaulted one of my people,” she said. “The police are on the way.”
    “But it’s all right with you that your people debased and humiliated this woman. That works for you, does it, honey?”
    “Which of my people would that be?”
    “Those two morons and the candy striper.”
    “What are you talking about?” she demanded.
    Corso told her. It didn’t take long, but by the time he’d finished, Nurse Rachel Taylor’s face had lost the ruddy glow of anger and taken on an ashen cast.
    She opened her mouth and then closed it. Something in his manner told her it was true. She turned and spoke out into the hall. “Morgan, ask Dr. Hayes to fix Robert’s face, pronto. Then I want to see the three of you in my office. You wait until I get there. You hear me?”
    She turned back to the room and looked up at the security guard. “It’s okay, Quincy. You can go. See if you can’t call off the posse.”
    Quincy wasn’t happy. He fixed Corso with what he imagined to be his most baleful stare. Something in Corso’s eyes made him nervous. “You sure?” he asked, without moving his hooded eyes from Corso. She said she was sure, and, with a great show of reluctance, Quincy left the room, one halfhearted step at a time.
    “I’m afraid I owe you an apology,” she said. “That sort of unprofessional behavior has never been tolerated by this institution. I can assure you that those involved will no longer be affiliated with this hospital.”
    Corso nodded and walked over to Dougherty’s side. “She’d hate being dressed this way,” he said. He looked back over his shoulder at the nurse. “You have anything we could cover her up with?”
    “Like what?”
    “Like something with legs and sleeves.”
    She thought it over. “Scrubs,” she said, after a minute. “There’s long-sleeved scrubs.”
    “That’d be great.”
    “I’ll call down for some.”
    “She’d really appreciate it,” Corso said.
    “I’ll take care of it,” the woman said. Something in her tone told Corso she didn’t think modesty was going to make any difference.
    They stood in silence, the question floating in the air between them.
    “How bad is it?” Corso finally asked.
    “Hard to tell.”
    Again, silence settled over the room.
    “Prognosis?”
    She folded her hands. “The protocol for an injury such as this is to offer neither hope nor despair. There’s simply no way of telling.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Anything could happen. She could sit up tomorrow afternoon and ask for ice cream, or she could never sit up again. There’s just no way of telling.”
    “Anything I can do?”
    “You religious?” she asked.
    “No.”
    She shrugged. “Then I guess you’re doing everything you can.”
    She stood and watched as Corso stared out the window, out over Pioneer Square and the mouth