‘Seriously?’ Rennie pulled a face. ‘But he’sunconscious, Guv, it’s—’
‘Then you can stay here, or walk back to the station if you like?’
The idiot scrambled into the back.
‘Thought so.’
The Critical Care Unit smelled of disinfectant, drain cleaner, and despair. Having all the blinds drawn didn’t help – shutting out the sinking sun, and replacing every bit of natural light with dimmed LED bulbs.
The muffled sound of trainers on the terrazzo floor squeaked out under the part-glazed door to Ward 201, bringing with them thewhirrandbleepandhisssssof machinery designed to keep the hospital’s most vulnerable patients alive.
Rennie drooped against the corridor wall, fiddling on his phone, while Logan waited by the locked door for the doctor to slouch over here and let them in.
Inside, a small cluster of beds sat in the middle of the room, fanning out in a circle. Each one had about three times the amount of space you’d get anywhere else in the hospital – presumably to make it easier for a crash team to surround the patient – with banks of equipment and high-tech screens and computers on arms and all that whizzy life-saving stuff. A handful of private booths ran around the outside, not quite as Robocop, but still advanced compared to the normal wards.
There were a lot more nurses in attendance too, bustling about between the beds, while their charges lay flat on their backs, zonked on sedatives, and wired up to all that whirring, bleeping, hissing kit.
The doctor paused to check some poor sod’s notes, then dragged her pink Crocs over to the door. With the facemask and surgical cap on, there wasn’t much of her on show, just a pair of eyes with dark bags underneath, and a few wisps ofbrown curly hair that had escaped from its prison. Blue scrubs and rumpled PPE.
Logan waved through the glazed partition, but she just glowered back, pointed at her own mask, then jabbed a finger towards the door.
Following the pointing digit led to a wall-mounted dispenser full of individually wrapped N95 masks.
He plucked two from the stack and handed one to Rennie.
The doctor waited till they were both masked-up before opening the door and slipping out into the corridor. Her voice sounded as if it had just run a marathon, with a fridge-freezer strapped to its back. ‘This better be important.’
‘Dr Emslie?’ Logan flashed his warrant card. ‘Detective Chief Inspector McRae: we’re here about Spencer Findlater.’
She glanced back at the ward. ‘He’s only just out of surgery, and to be honest, it’s eighty-twenty he doesn’t make it.’
Rennie snorted. ‘You’re kidding.’
Dr Emslie squared her shoulders. ‘You want a list of what’sbroken, Sergeant? Cos we’ll be here for a while. Then there’s the list of what’s ruptured, torn, detached, perforated, andleaking.’ Giving him a scowl. ‘You smash two tons of metal into someone, hurl them through the air like a rag doll, and whack them against tarmacat speed, and see how optimistic you feel.’
Pink flushed across Rennie’s ears, making them glow. ‘Was only thirty miles an hour.’
‘Want to try it? We can go out to the car park, right now, and flag down the nearest flatbed truck!’
Logan raised his hands. ‘OK, OK, let’s just turn the heat down a bit.’ Poking Rennie. ‘You: go wait outside.’
A wee grumbling mumble sounded behind Rennie’s mask, then off he flounced. With all the grace of a sulky teenager.
Dr Emslie glared at his departing back.
‘Sorry about that.’ Logan forced a smile. ‘Been a long week.’
‘Oh, please:dotell me about it.’ She gave herself a wee shake. ‘Spencer Findlater’s been placed in a medically induced coma. So if you’re planning on interviewing, or arresting him anytime soon – you’re shit out of luck.’
Bit harsh.
‘Can I see him?’
‘No youcan’tbloody see him! What do you think this is: a petting zoo? They’re not exhibits, they’re human beings.’
‘But—’
‘He’s – just – out – of –surgery!’ The glare returned. ‘And how do I know you’re not asymptomatic? How do I know you’re not going to spread Covid all over my ward, wiping out half the unfortunate bastards in there?’