Doctor! Get her gun! Get her pistol. Now! Get it now!”
Nash was near-hysterical. Deb lay there panting, eyes shut tight with pain, arm pressed across her belly.
Jenner tried to keep Nash calm as he leaned over her body, moving and speaking slowly. “Okay…I’m going to take her pistol out now.”
“Don’t move!”
Jenner didn’t move. He squatted next to her, his reaching hand frozen in midair, the muzzle of Nash’s gun now floating in front of his face.
As Jenner stared at the pistol, the black hole of the muzzle wavered and bobbed; Nash was losing it.
“Okay, Nash. I need you to listen to me.”
“What?”
“I need to look at her…Just let me see if she’s badly hurt, okay?”
Nash squinted down at them, his eyes filling with tears.
“You have to move her gun first!” It came out as a squeak, a plea from a frightened boy. “I’m going to stand behind you—my weapon will be pointed right at your head, man.”
Jenner said, “I only want to help her. I don’t care about you, or the shooting—I know it was an accident, I know you didn’t mean to do it—I just want to look after her, make sure she’s okay.”
He looked up at Nash. The cop’s face was wet with tears, watery snot dribbling from his nose as he sobbed.
“Come on, Tom. Let me help her. I’m a doctor, just let me help her.”
Nash nodded. “I didn’t want it to be like this—you gotta understand.”
“I know. I saw it—it was an accident. You were looking at her and the gun just…went off.”
Jenner was surprised by the first drops of cool rain. He leaned over Deb to keep her dry, then wondered why; across her belly, her khaki shirt was already soaked with blood.
He did what Nash wanted.
“Okay, Tom, you see? I’ve snapped open her holster…I’m going to take the butt of the gun between just my thumb and finger, see?”
Nash nodded again. “Dr. Jenner, please, you gotta believe me. Mr. Craine just told me to get his money back. He told me there wouldn’t be a problem. Why did Deb have to come along?”
The gun was wobbling in Nash’s hand. Christ—Jenner didn’t even want to think about what would happen if a car passed them.
Jenner said, “Keep it together, Tom. I need you to keep breathing, just be steady now, okay? Pull it together. I think she’s going to be fine, okay? Just hang in there…”
He showed Nash her gun, dangling from his fingers.
“Okay, I have her weapon. Now what do I do?”
“Throw it over toward my car.”
Jenner tossed the pistol, but with the gun’s weight and the two-fingered throw from his weaker arm, the pistol landed less than six feet from him. Nash circled around to the weapon, kicked it farther away, and kept his Glock on Jenner as he squatted to pick it up. He jammed it into the back of his waistband.
“Now get me her cell phone. And I want yours too.”
Jenner unclipped her phone from her utility belt. He made a show of searching his pockets, then looked up at Nash. “I don’t have it. Must be in the car.”
“Find it.”
Jenner stood reluctantly. “I should look at her first.”
“No. Find your phone first, then you can look at her.”
Jenner walked to the car and leaned into the open trunk. He moved the money, glanced at his phone. The screen was dark now; either the cell had lost the connection or the battery had died. But at what point? Had Rad heard the shot? He made a show of looking around a little longer, then shut the phone and announced, “Found it.”
He handed it to Nash, who said, “Okay. You can go ahead.”
Deb looked up at Jenner. He nodded at her, then knelt to examine her. He tugged her shirt up, untucked the tank top underneath and yanked it up, too. His hands were quickly slick with blood.
He pulled the tank top down, and wiped her belly with it.
There was a dark hole the size of a penny below her rib cage on the left. Jenner pressed it gently; blood welled out freely.
Deb flinched, her eyes open.
“Jenner…”
“Deb, I need to turn you on your side, okay?”
“He shot me.”
“I’m sorry, this is going to hurt a bit…”
She grimaced as he moved her to the right, but she brought up her knee to brace herself and rolled silently into the turn.
“Why did he shoot me?”
“Shhh…Let me have a look at you, then we can talk.”
Deb’s back was smeared with blood, too, which was seeping from a ragged little slit in her left flank where the bullet had exited.
“Can you breathe okay?”
“Why is all that money in your car?”
Jenner rolled her back flat; again, she flinched, then lay still, breathing fast.
“We’ll talk in a second.”
He pulled her shirt higher, above her bra, then leaned over to press his ear against her chest.
“Take a deep breath.”
Deb put a hand on his head and tried feebly to push him away, then gave up and let her arm down. He pressed his head to her chest; close to her skin, he could smell the blood now, feel his ear sticking to her skin. She coughed, then inhaled sharply; he heard her breath sliding clearly in and out of her lungs. He listened on the other side of her chest, also okay. He lay his left hand flat on her chest, then tapped it firmly with his right hand; the sound was hollow. Her chest was not filled with blood; the bullet had passed lower.
“It hurts when I cough.”
Jenner smiled grimly. “So don’t cough.”
He sat up. The drizzle swelled to a roar, the rain pelting down on them. He blankly watched the blood on her belly turn pink and thin, and wash off into the grass.
The wound site below her rib cage meant possible injuries of internal organs, arteries, and veins. But the hole was far enough to the side that her liver and stomach were probably spared; Jenner was more worried about her kidney and spleen, because they could really bleed. And all the fucking arteries and veins.
Jenner leaned over Deb, staring at her injury, shielding her from the rain with his back. She was looking up at him. He took her wrist, felt her pulse. Fast but strong; a good baseline. Maybe it was just soft tissue and muscle…
“Jenner? Where did you get that money?” Deb pulled her wrist from his hand. “Did you kill Rudge?”
Her hand floated down to lie across her chest. Her eyelids blinked weakly; her voice was quiet. “Did you kill…Dr. Roburn?”