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And that’s good because the girls living there need quiet. Peace.
There’s nothing peaceful about the Strip.
Before long, Ricky pulls into the driveway, next to what I now know is Dr. Asgood’s vehicle, and I climb out, loop my stethoscope around my neck, and stride up to the door. Before I can even knock, the door swings open, and a girl I haven’t seen before ushers me in.
“Are you Rina?” she asks. Her big brown eyes are round, and her hands shake as she pushes one through her hair.
“Yes, where’s the doctor?”
“Upstairs with Stacy.” She swallows hard. “Um, it’s real bad.”
I frown, blinking fast. I met Stacy the last time I was here. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She—she got hurt.” She nibbles on her cuticle nervously, her eyes darting behind me.
“I better go up.” I try to smile reassuringly, but I’m not sure how good I do because this poor girl looks like she’s seen the result of war. “Do you know which room?”
“Farthest down the hall, but you can’t miss it. You’ll smell it.”
I frown—smell it?—but start up the stairs, and that’s when I can hear the moaning, and Dr. Asgood’s voice trying to soothe.
And she was right. I can smell the blood from here.
When I reach the end of the hallway, I stop in my tracks and feel my stomach clench. I have to take a breath and push away all emotion, build up my nurse walls so I can do my job without losing my fucking mind.
Because there’s no way this girl should be alive.
Her face is beat beyond recognition. Her eyes are swollen shut, her lips are puffed up to look like plums, and her cheek has a huge gash in it. I suspect her jaw is broken.
And that’s the least of her worries.
Because I can see that the doctor is setting a broken arm, and Jesus, it looks like her opposite shoulder is out of joint.
“Rina,” Asgood says calmly. “I need you to get a fresh set of vitals for me.”
She lifts her gaze to mine, and her eyes say Hold it together.
“Of course.” I step into work mode, slipping my stethoscope in my ears and touching Stacy’s thigh, which might be the only part of her that doesn’t look injured. “Stacy, this is Rina. You met me a couple of weeks ago. I’m here to help.”
She moans, but I can’t make out what she’s trying to say as I listen to her heart and lungs.
“Heart rate’s one twenty,” I tell the doctor briskly. That’s too high. “Breathing is fast. Blood oxygen is at eighty-seven.” My eyes lift to Asgood, whose brows pinch together. “We need an ambulance.”
“Already called,” she says. “I arrived just moments before you. I don’t know why she came here instead of going to a hospital.”
Stacy moans again, and I know in my gut that she’s trying to tell us something, but with her mouth so violently injured, there’s no way she can articulate what she’s fighting to say.
“We’re right here,” I try to assure her. “Stacy, can you take a slow breath with me? I need you to slow your breathing and bring your heart rate down, sweetie.”
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Asgood murmurs. “That’s why the heart rate is out of control. Jesus, someone tried to kill her.”
“Yeah, and I’m here to finish the motherfucking job!”
Thirty-Five
CARSON
“He’s not in there,” I say to Julian as we stare at the modest, middle-class beach house. I shake my head and drag my hand down my face. “There’s no fucking way.”
