Layla
I’d barely stepped back inside the front doors of the hospital before I was returned to the demanding pace of medical life—hadn’t even made it back to my office.
“Incoming! Stab victim, male, mid-thirties!” a nurse called, her voice sharp with urgency.
In no time at all, I was gloved and masked, in the heat of the trauma bay. As the stretcher was wheeled in, and I caught sight of the unconscious patient stretched out atop it, my heart fell.
I knew the man beneath the oxygen mask.
It was the police officer from the alley. The one who looked like Aldo.
But how …
“Vitals are dropping!” one of the nurses yelled, and that thrust everything else into the background. A man was injured, and I could save him.
“I need suction and more gauze!” I ordered as I stepped up to the table. Fi
