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Stacy stormed down the hallway outside of the interrogation room.
“Is the captain in her office?”
Austin trailed behind Stacy a few steps but managed to catch up. “I think so.”
“Good. Tell her we need to schedule a press conference and I want to see that arrest report.”
“I’ll have my contacts send it over,” Gavin noted.
“We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us. We need to learn more about what happened to Jesse Williams and we need warrants for the cell phone records and bank accounts for Colton DeVito and soon, Gavin. I think Monica DeVito is up to her neck in this mess, but we need to see definitively if she reached out to her son recently or if she’s giving him money. Austin, let Diana know what Gavin discovered. I want to make sure she’s in the loop on this.”
“On it,” Austin called out as Gavin moved alongside Stacy.
When they reached the lobby, Stacy stopped. She felt a twinge in her chest. Her chest felt heavy and the muscles tightened. A dull pain snaked up her sternum. Gavin looked at her, searching her face for an explanation.
“Is it...”
“Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”
Stacy didn’t make eye contact with Gavin anymore. Instead, she pushed open the door and kicked back the stalls. Luckily, Stacy was alone. She stalked back over to the bathroom door and clicked the lock.
Stacy went over to the sink and let the cold water run through her fingers. The pain in her lungs began to thrum with a pulsing beat that made her whole body tremble. She splashed some cold water on her face. When she looked up, her fair, high-colored complexion was drained of its color. Her hair resembled the burnt-orange sunsets that clipped below the Lake Erie horizon in spring and summer, and it normally tumbled over her shoulders, but she had it cut and thinned until it dangled just past her ears. Stacy took one of her curvy hips and leaned it against the wall, trying to remain her balance.
Her cell phone chimed again. Stacy ignored it. She could feel her breathing labored. She coughed once, and then twice. Her lungs felt like they were seizing up and they ached with a piercing pain that made Stacy nearly want to vomit. She turned off the water and managed to stumble to the door. She fidgeted with the lock until it clicked open and jerked open the door. The lobby seemed hazy and fragmented in her vision. Stacy coughed again: a wet, racking hack. She looked down at the floor and felt herself falling into it.
****
Stacy awoke in a reclined position. When she looked over, the lightweight tube that delivered supplemental oxygen to a person in need of respiratory help hissed in the dim light. The tube split into two prongs, and she traced the pattern of the closed end of the tube as it curved down the length of the bed, dropped to the floor, and curled over to a portable oxygen generator. The machine, with its technologically sophisticated console, heaved and groaned. The rush of cool, regulated air into Stacy’s nose was cool and oddly calming.
Stacy pushed herself up off the bed and leaned on her elbows. A narrow beam of sun sliced through an opening in the window blind, bathing the bamboo flooring of the bedroom with a small sliver of light. When she awoke this morning, the Cleveland skyline had been drowned by the clouds and the pale peeked out at the city from among the stars. Now, the sun was gone but the grey clouds remained.
“Relax, Stacy. Please.”
She recognized the calm, but halted tone. “How long have I been out, Gavin?”
He knelt on the floor beside her bed and grabbed her hand. “About three hours.”
Stacy flopped her head back and rested her palm against her forehead. “Shit. I need to get back to the station.”
Gavin pressed another hand on her stomach. Stacy looked down. Her clothes had been changed into a tee-shirt and what felt like nylon shorts scrunched against her legs under the covers.
“No. Rest.”
“How did I get here?”
“Someone coming out of the men’s restroom saw you collapse and ran to get Marty. He and I went back into the hallway and got you off the floor. There was a lot of wheezing and coughing. I told Marty everything was okay and that you weren’t feeling well. I drove you here and called Austin.”
Stacy made a face. “Austin.”
Gavin grinned. “Yes, Austin. I wanted to know if he knew how to operate this damn machine.”
“He doesn’t.”
“I know that now,” he said, somewhat aggravated. “I just pressed every button until something happened.”
At that, Stacy laughed, but she found herself again in the midst of a deep cough.
“Gavin,” she managed to say between coughs, “turn up the oxygen.” She gasped. “Please.”
He reached down and turned the output oxygen pressure to high. The machine responded by rumbling loudly and rocking back and forth, not used to being forced to produce air on such a high setting. The cool air rushed through the cannula harder and faster, and Stacy subsided her coughing by breathing more deeply using the device.
Gavin ran a hand through his hair, teeth tugging at his lower lip. Stacy looked over at him, eyes heavy.
“What, Gavin.”
“I didn’t know. I...I didn’t know it was this bad,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s getting worse.”
Gavin froze. “I went to the pulmonologist last month. He ran some tests.” Stacy tried swallowing, her mouth unusually dry. “I’ve lost another five percent of my lung function. More of the blood vessels near my lungs are gone.”
“I didn’t know,” he said pleadingly. “And nobody else does. It has to stay that way,” she said closing her eyes. “Diana wants me to take disability, but that means that those two thugs that dumped me in the Cuyahoga River and started this whole thing get the satisfaction of seeing me quit.”
Stacy found her thoughts thick and jumbled and she tried formulating words but couldn’t piece the syllables together. She laid back into the bed. She felt the warm, smooth touch of Gavin’s hand as he stroked her knuckles with his thumb.
Stacy pulled her hand away and stroked his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. In that moment, Gavin leaned up and gave Stacy a kiss. It was soft and warm, like his touch, he pulled away. Stacy smiled before falling back asleep.