Clyde was heavy and limp, and David and Blake had to struggle to get him to his feet. He was taller and wider than either of them, and they staggered under his weight. The other officers watched closely.
David looked over Jenkins's shoulder at Pat. She held her head high on her slender neck, stately and pitiless. Disdain and hatred twisted her face into an ugly mask. "Get the hell out of my ER," David said. Her face crumpled, and he felt a flash of satisfaction move through the molten haze of his anger.
He and Blake pivoted and began to drag Clyde toward Exam Fourteen, Carson continuing to douse him with saline, Yale and Dalton walking on either side. Clyde was unsteady on his feet. Jenkins followed closely behind, palm resting on the butt of his pistol, and the other officers dissipated slowly, heading back out through the doors. By flanking David and Clyde, Yale, Dalton, and Jenkins created the illusion they were assisting.
"We're going to help you," David said. "Do you understand that I'm here to help you?"
Tear tracks streaked Clyde's cheeks like clown paint. He nodded, his chest heaving.
"What else can we get you, Doctor?" Jenkins asked quietly. "A plumber's snake to clear out his throat? A bag for his head, maybe?"
"Should we give him five, one, and one?" Carson asked.
Five milligrams of Haldol, one of Cogentin, and one of Ativan. He'd be out in ten minutes and stay that way for hours. "I don't want to go there yet," David said. "I'd like him lucid. He's been fine so far."
"That's because he's in handcuffs," Jenkins interjected.
David turned to Clyde. "You won't give us any trouble?"
Headshake.
"You promise?"
"Promise," Clyde cried. "I promise." He closed his eyes, muttering, "Three, two, one."
David felt a burning sensation along the tender skin inside his biceps. Alkali. He wiped it off hastily on his scrub top. "Watch your arms," he warned Blake.
Clyde finally found his feet and helped them the last few steps into the room, snuffling and yelping, and then they had him seated at the edge of the gurney. Carson continued spraying Clyde down, the saline pooling in his lap. His scrub bottoms turned dark with the liquid, clinging to his thighs and crotch.
David grabbed two saline bottles and stepped into the hall. Many of the staff members were standing around, rubberneckers milling in the wake of an accident. Don had just returned with the stretcher David had requested. He tossed it on the floor. David took in each face, the cold, peering eyes.
He and Carson would need help. Given the patient's history of violence against women, selecting male staff seemed clearly the right course. "You two." David snapped his fingers and pointed to a male nurse and a male lab tech, neither of whom he recognized. "In here and help Carson. Move it. Now!"
The nurse took a step forward, then the lab tech followed. David handed them each a saline bottle as they shuffled past.
David regarded the others for a moment. "In my seventeen years practicing medicine, this is the most horrifying thing I've seen." His voice sounded foreign to him. "On top of which you've allowed the floor to come to a standstill. Get back to work immediately."
He stepped back in the room and faced Yale. Jenkins's hand hovered over his Beretta, making David intensely nervous. Blake stood to the side, clearly uneasy. "Uncuff him," David said. "You've had your fun, now we need to get at him to treat him."
"No, sir," Jenkins said. "You're dealing with a dangerous man."
"We're dealing with a patient injured with alkali under suspicious circumstances who hasn't even been booked, let alone convicted of anything."
"The guy got caught stuffing alkali under his shirt. I think we both know-"
"Uncuff my patient!" David stepped forward, eye to eye with Jenkins.
Yale pressed a hand against David's chest, which David knocked aside. "The best we can do is put him in four-point restraints," Yale said. "Would that be better?"
"We handle a lot of potentially violent patients."
"Would it be better if we got the suspect in four-points?" Yale repeated calmly.
David took a deep breath. "Yes."
"Hard restraints."
"Fine. The security guard up front can get them for you. Please hurry."
Dalton strolled out to fetch the restraints, as David scribbled the order. The nurse and lab tech were standing a few feet back from Clyde as they sprayed him down.
"What do you mean, restraints?" Jenkins asked. "Throw some water on him and let's haul his ass to Harbor."
"Back off, let us do our job. You can do yours later." Seeing his words were having little impact, David tried a more pragmatic approach. "You want him to stand trial wrapped in bandages?" he asked. "What do you think that'll do for jury sympathy?"
