"Excuse me, are you the lady who came in with the shooting victim from West Street?"
I didn't trust my voice, so I only nodded in response. He looked relieved, and perhaps he had approached a few people before he found us. He opened his mouth and as quickly closed it. Fuck, my heart rose from the pit of my stomach and started hammering in my chest.
"Is our friend all right?" Asher asked.
The young man turned to him and nodded quickly but then shook his head.
"I'm sorry, it's just," he broke off and shook his head fiercely and wrung his hands. He took a deep breath and let his arms fall to his sides.
"The Chief has asked me to fetch you. He said that you knew the patient and could help us understand some things."
It tumbled out of him so fast that I almost didn't catch it. I realised that it meant something more than a gunshot wound was at stake. Asher and I locked eyes and stood up at the same time.
"Take us to him," I said and moved to follow him.
Asher, at least, had the presence of mind to toss some bills on the table for our coffees. I'm sure it would be more than our bill came to, but the waitress would certainly remember him kindly.
We followed behind the young man I assumed to be an intern. I thought he appeared too young to be a fully-fledged doctor. But one never knew.
He took the shortest route to our destination, and there were so many twists and turns that I would have been hard-pressed to find my way back to the cafeteria.
We didn't go the emergency room as I had anticipated. Instead, we ended up in a quieter, older section of the hospital. He stopped at a locked ward door where he swiped a card through a slot on the wall. The doors swooshed open and any other day I would have enjoyed being part of the future.
But today, on the other end of those doors lay my adopted grandson, being treated for something worse than a gunshot wound. He didn't slow down, and we kept up with his brisk pace.
At the nurses station a couple of nurses were deep in conversation, but when they saw us, they moved apart quickly and shut up. I shared a frown with Asher, what could be so bad that it already made the gossip rounds?
I paid for my lack of attention and walked into the intern. He didn't fall but locked his legs and before I could bounce off indignantly Asher's hand applied steadying pressure on my lower back.
"I'm so sorry; I should have said something when we got close to the room."
His cheeks glowed. I grunted and followed him into the hospital room.
The scene inside belied his actions and the concern we got from him earlier. It appeared to be a regular hospital room. With a single bed in the center and the usual equipment arranged neatly around it like an artfully laid table and centerpiece.
Denny lay ensconced in the bed, tubes in his arm and an oxygen mask in place over his face. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm.
I glanced at the intern quizzically. Not what I had expected given his demeanour when he found us. He shook his head and pointed to the other side of the room.
Where an older gentleman in a white doctors' coat stood up from a visitor's chair. He was poring over a ream of paper and had a folder in one hand. He nodded at the young man, who beat a hasty exit. He sighed heavily and walked towards us.
"Good evening, I am Doctor Burger, Chief Physician."
I reflexively reached out and shook his outstretched hand. He, in turn, shook Asher's hand, and when he turned to me, I felt that he measured me. Probably trying to figure out how I knew Denny and if there was a possibility of blood relation.
"How is he?" I squeaked.
He nodded as if some question was satisfied now that I had spoken and had sounded like a dolt. We stood in a silence that grew in momentum and right about the time I would be the one to break it with my usual panache the doctor spoke.
"The emergency room doctors managed to stop the bleeding and remove the projectile. Your friend responded well to treatment, and they began suturing."
I nodded, it was a relief that he didn't have a bullet rattling around inside of him still. The doctor continued and my blood chilled.
"It wasn't a standard bullet, but as with all such incidences, they kept it aside in case of a police investigation."
My frown must have spoken volumes as he quickly retreated to the small space he had been occupying. The doctor retrieved a small plastic bottle and brought it over to show us. I nodded, I wanted a closer look at that.
"If the procedure went so well, why was our escort so worked up when he found us?" Asher asked.
"Unfortunately, matters took a turn for the peculiar," Burger said carefully.
"What do you mean, peculiar?" I demanded.
"Eliza, calm down," Asher told me gently as he turned to the Doctor.
"Please tell us what happened Doctor."
Doctor Burger retreated to the visitor section of the room but didn't sit down. Perhaps in an attempt to put some space between us. I might be tiny, but I could shake the truth out of him if he took too long to get to the point.
"I wasn't present, you understand. I only have the reports of the attendees to go on." He paused.
Asher nodded, and I waved a hand to indicate he should get on with it. He frowned at me and smiled at the doctor, attempting to use charm to replace my uncivil behaviour.
"What did they tell you?" I asked, "Please, tell us." I amended after a stern glance from Asher.
"They told me something impossible. That your friend's wound closed up by itself."
He looked at us defiantly, and I imagine for the average person that would seem impossible. It seemed strange to me. I wasn't aware of anything based in reality as I knew it that would do that. Asher shook his head, but he didn't appear nearly as dubious as I did.
"How did the wound close up Doctor?" Asher asked.
"The attending physician claimed that it happened when he finished suturing. As soon as he snipped the thread it popped out."
"What do you mean popped out?" I asked.
"The stitches came out without human intervention. He said that one moment he cut the thread and the next it lay undone on the patient's torso."
I shook my head; it didn't seem much clearer but Asher nodded as if he understood it all. Did he read the doctor's mind? He looked at me and shook his head. Apparently he chose to only read my mind.
"There isn't even a scar left, and it is as if his wound has healed completely."
He moved over to Denny and quickly pulled the covers back. Denny wore his boxer shorts and not the usual hospital garb. When I got close enough, I could see that he didn't look nearly as peaceful as I had initially thought.
His skin appeared to be clammy and a pallor clung to him that I had attributed to the gunshot wound. The doctor pointed at his torso. Where we couldn't see any evidence of an injury. His skin bore no scars of any kind.