The Departed

first thing he saw as he turned was the brilliant, dark wash of red staining the side of Dez’s neck.
    * * *
     
    THE night passed in a haze of bloody memories, the wail of sirens and the bright, blinding lights of the emergency room.
    They tried to keep him out in the waiting room.
    But either the blood they saw in his eyes, the badge, or the gun he didn’t bother to keep concealed convinced the medical staff that trying to keep him out was going to waste precious time.
    Judging by the amount of blood Dez had lost, he didn’t know how much time she had.
    The child was already at the local children’s hospital, alive…and that was all he knew. For the first time, he’d turned over the reins to another, allowing Crawford to take command while he stayed with Dez. God—Dez.
    She couldn’t die.
    Not like this. Fuck, she couldn’t die. Not Dez.
    Although he knew her, too well.
    She’d be okay with going down knowing she’d helped save a child, and that was what she’d done. The girl was alive…because Dez had shown up when she had. Alive because of Dez and the ghost of another victim.
    Another victim…somebody else Taylor hadn’t been able to save. Another scar on his soul. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t known. It never mattered. All that mattered was that he hadn’t gotten there in time, hadn’t pieced it together in time…and another child, another little girl had been lost.
    Dez…would she become another scar on his soul?
    Her face flashed in front of him, her warm brown skin a sickly, ashen gray, her eyes wide with shock. The blood had soaked her clothing. Mitchell, damn the bastard. Either he was a damn good shot or Dez just had lousy luck. Her vest would have protected her torso, but the bastard’s bullet had hit her neck.
    Stop it— he had to hold it together for now. At least long enough to make sure they took care of her. She was still alive. That meant she had a chance. But if he hadn’t been right there…
    “Don’t think about that,” he muttered, reaching up and pressing his fingers to his eyes. “Don’t.”
    And he found he actually could push the image out of his mind, but only because it just wasn’t acceptable. The thought of Desiree Lincoln’s lifeless body was just more than he could handle. A hell of a lot more.
    “Mr. Lincoln?”
    Tired, so tired it never occurred to Taylor the nursing staff might be looking for him. It wasn’t until the voice came again, and from a lot closer, that he opened his eyes and met the tired gaze of a man dressed in pale green scrubs. “Mr. Lincoln?”
    “No. Special Agent Jones. But if you’re here about Desiree Lincoln, then yes, I’m here with her.”
    “Ahhh…I see. My apologies.” The nurse smiled. “It’s been one of those nights. There’s a small lounge just down the hall. I’m going to take you there, if that’s okay. Dr. Frantz will be in to speak with you shortly.” He paused and then asked, “Does Ms. Lincoln have any family we should notify? There wasn’t much information in her personal effects.”
    Taylor shook his head. Dez’s mother was still alive, living in the lap of luxury in West Palm Beach. He knew that because he’d researched everything about Dez when he’d discovered her. He knew all about how the girl had been abandoned—her mother had taken her to school one day and just never came back for her. Dez knew about her. But the woman was a stranger to her and it was in her file who to contact in the event of an emergency…or worse. Her mother wasn’t on the list.
    Taylor couldn’t blame her. Why should she want to talk to the woman who’d walked out on her? Dez had gone through a series of foster homes after her mother disappeared. Nobody wanted the strange, pretty child who had talked to thin air.
    Almost afraid to ask, he said, “She has some very close personal friends. Should…” He realized there was something hot and bright burning his eyes: tears. It was tears. Blinking them away, he cleared his throat and asked quietly, “Should I call them? One lives in Alabama. It would take her a while to get here…should she come?”
    The nurse gave him one of those strained smiles. “You really should speak to the doctor.”
    “Just tell me if her friends should be here,” Taylor said, putting a hard edge into his voice. “She risked her life to save a child tonight and if she’s not going to make it, she’s got a right to have friends at her side. Don’t give me that official