In a Heartbeat Read Online Free PDF Page B

twenty-six years of being a cop. Should he ever have the misfortune to end up on a marble mortuary slab, when the M.E. cut open his stomach it would look like a rusty old iron tub, brown and pitted and scarred with acid. Jeez, he should give up the stuff right now. And he would have, if only he didn’t enjoy it so much.
    The uniform sitting outside the ICU was trying hard to stay awake. He was all of twenty, and right now his head kept dropping onto his chest. Camelia grinned. He didn’t blame him. Hospital duty was a boring detail.
    He took out an Interdent and probed his gums. Dammit, he would have to make time to get to the dentist soon. His gums were sore as hell. The door opened and the ICU nurse emerged. The uniform was on his feet, alert in an instant.
    Camelia had just found a sore spot with the Interdent. “How’s he doin’, Nurse?” he mumbled.
    She threw him a withering glance and he hastily removed the toothpick.
    “Mr. Vincent is still in a coma, Detective. There’s no communication with him. Right now, he’s being kept alive by machines. We can only hope for an improvement.”
    Camelia nodded. “Thanks, Nurse.” He might as well go home.
    “Hey, Brotski,” he said to the uniform, “take a break. Get a cup of coffee and a doughnut. Wake yourself up a bit. I’ll stay here till you get back.”
    The young officer’s face brightened. “Thanks, sir. I appreciate that. It’s kinda slow out here, puts a guy to sleep.”
    Camelia watched him striding away. His uniform seemed too big for his skinny frame, and his pale orange hair had an unruly cowlick. He looked very young. He sighed. They weren’t making cops the way they used to when he was a rookie. Then, everyone had been over six feet, big and burly. Except himself, of course.
    He took Brotski’s seat outside the ICU. Arms folded, head tilted back, he stared at the ceiling, thinking about Ed Vincent. He wondered why he was such a reclusive kind of guy in his personal life. And why he never talked about his past. Did he have something to hide?
    Down the hall, the elevator
ping
ed and the doors slid open. Camelia turned to look. A woman was hurrying down the long shiny corridor, half walking, half running. She was tall, slender, awkward as a teenager in her high heels. Short-cropped golden-blonde hair, huge anxious brown eyes, long, suntanned legs, and a very short skirt. Definitely not New York. He stood as she approached.
    “Is this the ICU? Where Ed Vincent is?” She hitched the strap of her bag onto her shoulder and tugged at her short skirt. She was breathing heavily and looked tired and disheveled.
    “Why do you want to know that, miss?”
    “Are you the doctor?” She clutched his arm, gazing beseechingly at him. “Oh, thank God, I need to talk to you. Just tell me Ed’s going to be all right. Tell me he’s going to live, Doctor.
Please.
”
    Camelia glanced at her left hand. He saw no wedding ring. In fact she wore no jewelry at all, and her clothing was simple and inexpensive. “I’m not the doctor.”
    Her knees buckled and she almost fell. He helped her onto the chair, where she slumped, head bowed.
    Thinking she was about to faint, he hurried to get her some water from the fountain. She must be a relative, he thought, offering her the paper cup. Or a devoted employee. She was certainly concerned. “And who exactly are you, Miss . . . ?”
    She lifted her long golden lashes and looked at him with those big soft amber-brown eyes.
    “I’m Zelda,” she said.

10
    Camelia hid his stunned smile with a little cough. He introduced himself. “Homicide Detective Marco Camelia.”
    She stared at him. “
Homicide?
Ed’s not
dead,
is he? Oh,
please
.” She jumped to her feet, ran past him, and pushed open the door to the ICU.
    The nurse’s head swiveled as she passed her, then she too was on her feet. “Hey, wait one minute . . . ,” she began angrily. But Zelda was already at the bedside.
    Ed’s face looked like a stranger’s,