The Target

"Hey, Em, this is nothing. I'm mean and tough, just like Ramsey. I can take these little hits. I'm a macha. Don't you worry, kiddo, I'm just fine."

    He felt her shudder again and tightened his arm around her. She leaned back, letting him support her weight. Dr. Otterly had helped him off with his jacket, probed at his shirt a moment, then said he'd deal with Molly first. He was vastly relieved. He didn't want an injury that would shut him down for even a short time. Events had gotten out of control, and he couldn't afford to be out of control as well. But damn, his back hurt.

    He was aware that Mason Lord was standing back by the kitchen door, his arms folded across his chest. He hadn't said a word, just stood there. Miles was seated beside Emma, holding her other hand. He knew the police had arrived. He'd heard sirens and voices, running feet.

    "Ramsey, your back is all black. I mean your shirt is all black. I hope you're not black underneath."

    "Dr. Otterly just grunted when he saw it, told me not to whine, that he wanted to see to your mom first. He knows I'm okay, Emma." Ramsey was glad he couldn't see exactly what that crashing piece of upholstery had done to him.

    Dr. Otterly set the last stitch in Molly's arm. He wet a thick cotton ball with alcohol and dabbed it against the stitches, getting off the last of the blood. He straightened. "That's good, Mrs. Santera. All over now. Just a couple of shots. Let me get you bandaged up and then we'll see to Judge Hunt."

    Molly ended up with a sling. "To keep those stitches from pulling even a little bit," Dr. Otterly said.

    When it was Ramsey's turn, he felt Emma take his hand. "I'm here, Ramsey. It's okay."

    "Thanks, sweetheart. I need you to be here."

    The pain was bad, but he managed to keep himself still. It felt as if a year had passed, a very painful one, before Dr. Otterly got his shirt off and his back cleaned. He said, "It's not as bad as I thought it would be. Your jacket saved your bacon. You've got a small second-degree burn on your back which means it'll blister and take a little bit longer to heal. You've also got some bruising. I'm going to apply some antibiotic ointment and put a bandage over the area. Leave it be for a day or two. You'll be just fine, Judge Hunt.

    "If either of you has any problems, just give me a call. Oh yes, here are some more pain pills like the ones I've already given you. Mrs. Santera, you'll need them for the next three days or so."

    Dr. Otterly smiled down at Emma. "Now, young lady, I've got a treat for you."

    Emma didn't believe that for an instant. She took a step back. He laughed. "No, no, I promise nothing horrible. I just want you to drink some orange juice." He nodded to Miles. In a couple of minutes Miles handed her a half glass of orange juice. "Now, Emma, you need to drink it down."

    She clearly didn't want to.

    Ramsey said, "How can you make sure that your mama and I take care of ourselves if you're not in top-flight form?"

    He saw she wasn't sure what that meant, but it was enough. She drank down the juice. Dr. Otterly patted her head, nodding to Molly.

    "Em, will you see me upstairs? I'm a little bit shaky. No, I'm all right, but I've got to say that my arm isn't very happy with me. I'm also kind of worried about Ramsey. Yes, I need to lie down for a little while. Will you come with me?"

    After Molly and Emma left the kitchen, Mason Lord said, "Will my daughter be all right?"

    "I didn't lie to her, sir. The metal didn't slice that deeply, so I didn't have to repair the muscle. I gave her a tetanus shot and an antibiotic.

    "Don't get me wrong. Although Judge Hunt's back wound isn't as severe as I feared it would be, your daughter's wound is bad enough. I'd say they were both very lucky with all the burning car fragments hurtling around."

    "And Molly's daughter? What did you give her in that orange juice?"

    Dr. Otterly had to think a moment, then nodded. He said, "Oh, you mean your granddaughter. Emma's okay. I slipped a bit of a sedative in the orange juice. She'll start feeling sleepy in just a little while."

    He turned back to Ramsey. "Both you and Mrs. Santera need to rest. It's the best thing for both of you. No heroics. As I just said, take the pills. Rest." He eyed Ramsey's back, frowned, and pressed down another strip of tape over the bandage. "There, that should hold it. I hope you've got a good psychologist for the little girl?"

    "Yes, we do. We were on our way to see her when all this