City of Ghosts: Death Hunter Series Book 1

Chapter 20: Arguments

“I want all my stuff back.” Shane stood at the desk, fully aware that both members of the hospital’s security and Detective Denise Sandoval were flanking him. The nurse on the other side of the counter watched him with an impassive expression.

“I think, Mr. Ryan,” the woman responded, “that it would be best for you to return to your room and wait for our doctor to give you clearance to go home.”

Shane eyed the woman for a moment, trying to get the measure of her.

She was short, stout, and her gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun. Her glasses balanced on the end of her nose, and she looked over the tops of them at him. The woman’s eyes were a clear blue, and she reminded him of more than a few senior NCOs he had dealt with while in the Marines.

Shane smiled at her, an action that caused her to blink in confusion.

“I know,” he told her, choosing each word carefully, “going back into the room would be the best step. It would be, without a doubt, the most logical step. However, it isn’t what I want to do. I know the hospital has already x-rayed me. I know you would like to get a look in my head to see how scrambled my brains are at this moment. The thing is, I don’t want to be here.”

“Mr. Ryan,” she interrupted, “if you know this is for the best, why are you fighting it?”

He grinned. “Do you see me?”

She nodded.

“My ear?”

“Yes.”

He smiled as broadly as he could, revealing his missing teeth. “My teeth and my scars?”

“Mr. Ryan,” she began, but he held up a hand, forestalling her.

Shane showed her his left hand and wiggled what fingers remained there. He glanced at her name tag. “Nurse Crowley, I know you want what’s best for me. Unfortunately, I happen to know what’s best for me, and that is not being in this hospital any longer. Nothing needs to be cut off, stitched up, or put into a splint. Sure, I’m going to have a headache for about two or three days, but I’m okay with that right now. What I am not okay with is being in the hospital. I am not okay with a member of Detroit’s finest staring at me.”

He turned, winked at Detective Sandoval, and waved, then faced Nurse Crowley again.

“So, I am going to ask you again, as politely as I can, please, return my belongings to me so I can go. And because I’m sure no one wants to see me standing here naked anymore.”

Someone snickered behind him, and a smile darted across Nurse Crowley’s face.

“Fine,” she said. She nodded to a younger nurse who hurried off to a room and brought out a box containing his belongings. When he accepted it from the young woman, she blushed and stepped away.

“Thank you.” He carried the box back to his room, fully aware that both security and Detective Sandoval were following. Stopping in the doorway, he glanced at them. “I need a little privacy while I get dressed if you don’t mind.”

One of the security guards chuckled and shook his head as he stepped away.

The detective’s expression was firm, without any humor. “I’d like to talk some more with you, Mr. Ryan.”

“No, thanks.” He closed the curtains behind him and set the box on the bed. Shane dressed quickly, sighing with relief at the sight of his .44 and its holster. He removed the weapon, inspected the cylinder, and was pleased to see it was still loaded. In his wallet, he found the false license to carry concealed and hoped the detective wouldn’t try to search him.

That would be an absolute nightmare, he thought. There’s still way too much to be done here for an interruption like that.

When he finished dressing, he slipped the weapon back into its holster and tucked it into the back of his jeans. He tugged his sweatshirt down over it, took his pack of Lucky Strikes out, and removed a cigarette. Shane put it between his lips, kept the Zippo free, and pulled open the curtains, carrying the box out of the room. Nurse Crowley raised an eyebrow at the sight of the cigarette, but then she shrugged when she saw it wasn’t lit.

“Thanks again,” Shane said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

“You made it an interesting morning, Mr. Ryan. Take care of yourself. I don’t know how much more your body can handle,” she told him.

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

The detective followed him outside after he had finished his paperwork, and he tensed inwardly, waiting for her to ask to see his license for his concealed firearm.

When she didn’t say anything, he lit his cigarette and relaxed. He glanced at her. “What’s up?”

“Why won’t you answer my questions?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Were you this stubborn in the Marines?” she asked him.

Shane chuckled and exhaled the cigarette smoke. “Worse. Listen, I have stuff to do. Speaking with you, well, that’s going to interrupt the whole damned process.”

“What sort of stuff?”

“Talking to dead people.”