Izzie was having a hard time wrapping her head around it.
A prominent Finley Creek councilman was dead, the deputy mayor Carl Buchanan was in a coma, Wallace Henedy’s son was barely hanging on after being shot near his spine, and Annie was in room 403. Turner Barratt, the mayor and the man off his rocker in love with Annie, had been dead according to the news channels and brought back to life in time to lead the cavalry to save Annie. The cavalry consisting of Elliot Marshall and Izzie’s uncle Jake.
It was by sheer luck that Annie had survived.
Izzie finished with Carl and made notes in his chart and initialed them. She said a prayer that he would pull through. She’d met him before and found him very kind and likeable.
He hadn’t deserved this. His grandson was all alone now, two floors up in pediatrics, recovering from another surgery on the injuries he’d received in the tornado over two months ago.
Thirteen and basically all alone.
Izzie would check on him herself first chance she got.
Annie had been a wreck when she’d given Izzie a hurried run-down on what had happened tonight. When she’d made Izzie promise to keep her informed of what was going on with Carl—and his grandson. Annie had been full of instructions about the boys and where to find them and what she wanted to happen with them.
Izzie had reassured her; those boys would be fine. She and Nikkie Jean would make absolutely certain of it.
Annie and Turner had already spoken with the hospital social workers, who’d started the process for Carl’s grandson. Annie and Turner were going to take Jason home with them until Carl could care for him again. They were both adamant about seeing that he was taken care of, no matter what happened to his grandfather.
Izzie paused outside 403 and pulled in a deep breath.
Annie should still be sleeping. Izzie would check on her, then check on Jason. Then decide what to do tonight.
She’d always been the one at Annie’s side before, but Turner was there now. He probably would be forever.
Izzie slipped into the room quietly. She’d sit with Annie for a little while. Try to remind herself that Annie was alive and would be fine in the morning. Life was so fleeting. That was a lesson that had practically been pounded into her head lately.
She’d almost lost Annie, and she hadn’t even known something was happening. Other than that feeling in her gut that had told her something was wrong.
She had to learn to trust that gut. It was serving her better than any plan ever had.
Turner slept in the other bed in the room, dressed in jeans and an FCGH T-shirt. She suspected he’d borrowed that shirt from somewhere; his cousins had stopped by to check on him earlier.
He’d lost almost everything tonight, she’d heard.
It didn’t seem like the craziness was ever going to end.
“Izzie?” a male voice stopped her inside the door. She turned to stare at the physician a few paces behind her. “Everything ok in here?”
“I think so.” She stepped closer, not wanting to wake either of the two sleeping in the beds. “She’ll be ok. I’m just…hovering.”
“I stopped by after finishing with the deputy mayor.” Allen wrapped a hot hand around her elbow and guided her out of the room and into the hallway where she could see him better in the light. His touch felt…good. Like maybe she wasn’t so alone at the moment. “I was worried about her. Them. I brought him a bag of clothes I had in my trunk that should fit him. I figured he’d need them in the morning.”
It was genuine concern she saw in his light-gray eyes. Then again, Turner had said they’d been friends for years. “Me, too. This...”
“Shouldn’t have happened to them. Far too many things are happening to good people. People who don’t deserve to be hurt.”
“No. I’m not even certain what did happen. Have you heard anything else?” He always seemed to know what was going on around FCGH. Allen was a natural leader; she’d noticed that before, when he’d been the temporary chief of medicine. Calm and in control. Steady.
Maybe he didn’t irritate her as much as he once had.
Maybe she was starting to respect his quiet dependability—even if it was wrapped up in take-charge arrogance now and then.
He shook his head as he stepped closer, to put a black duffel bag in the chair next to where Turner was sprawled in the second bed. “I don’t think anyone is. Except the TSP and Turner and Annie.”
“They aren’t saying much.” Jake had grabbed her in the ER and sworn her to secrecy. He hadn’t wanted his presence noted at all. Said this was part of a bigger case he’d been working for months.
She was supposed to keep her mouth shut.
He’d been covered in blood and had needed her to get him something to wear, fast. She’d borrowed from the lost and found in the back breakroom.
She hoped he sanitized as soon as he got home. She made a note to bleach the shower before she used it again.
She wouldn’t forget the blood covering him anytime soon. One of her greatest fears was the blood being his someday. Jake always seemed to be in the thick of things going on lately.
“I don’t think they can, yet.”
When Izzie did make it to her bed, she’d probably have nightmares.
Before she could say anything, Cherise called her name. “I need help in room 407.”
Izzie nodded, then looked at Allen one more time. For some reason, Izzie wanted to just stay right where she was for a little while. Until all the crazy stopped. Crazy didn’t seem to spin so fast around Allen right now.
That, more than anything, had her hurrying to room 407.