COD Heated Exchange

The sun shines brightly through the kitchen window as Millie sits at the table, reflecting on the day ahead. It's Saturday, so Millie figures the hospital is going to be swamped. Overworked and understaffed is the story of my life, she thinks, taking a sip of coffee. She's wanted to be in the medical field since she was a child, although many times she wishes she'd listened to her mom and chosen a different, less stressful career.

"Morning, hon."

She looks up to find her handsome, shirtless husband stumbling into the kitchen. His short brown hair is tousled. The sleepy look on his face makes him seem like a young kid. "What are you doing up so early?"

Steven kisses the top of her head. "I wanted to see my beautiful wife before she left for work—and to give her this." He pulls out a small wooden box. "Happy fifth anniversary, hon."

She figures he's forgotten about their anniversary with his dad's funeral and all. "The design is beautiful," Millie says, running her finger across the etching.

"Open it," he urges, shifting anxiously.

She opens the box to find a sparkly gold ring. Her birthstone sits in the center, surrounded by small diamonds.

"It's beautiful, honey."

"Allow me." He takes the ring and places it on her finger.

Millie admires it, then says, "I love it." Sliding off the stool, she pulls her husband closer and kisses him.

"How much time do we have?"

She glances at the clock. "I've got to go." She kisses Steven again. "To be continued, I promise." Scooping up her things, she darts down the hall.

"I'll be looking forward to it!" he yells as the door closes.

Finding the ER is packed when she arrives, Mille tosses her purse into her locker and then hurries to the nurses' station.

"Sorry I'm late," she says breathlessly, plopping down in her chair.

"It's been a circus since midnight," the older nurse mutters, grabbing her notes.

Millie gets a patient update and decides to make her rounds. Her first stop is Marty Hull, a known drug seeker.

"So what seems to be bothering you today, Mr. Hull?"

"It's my back again. I think I threw it out when I was with my lady friend."

She checks his chart—waiting on an X-ray. "Can I get you something while we wait?"

"Another pain pill would be greatly appreciated."

"I'll see what I can do." Knowing his history, she remembers his doctor has a standing order for placebos—with the stipulation to call if something is wrong.

Wincing, he says, "I'd appreciate it."

What an actor, Millie thinks, rolling her eyes and shaking her head as she steps into the hall.

She heads to the next room and finds another frequent flyer—a term they lovingly use for patients who are at the hospital more than they are at home.

"Good morning, Ms. Rose. What brings you to the ER today?"

"Didn't that lazy-ass charge nurse tell you anything?" She snaps.

"I want to hear what happened from you."

"EMTs found me passed out at the park. I was told my blood sugar was dangerously high when I finally came to."

"Have you been following the diet we talked about?"

"I'll starve to death if I do."

"I'll have a nutritionist come in and talk to you, see what she can do."

"A lot of help they'll do."

Stepping back into the hallway, Millie spots two police officers talking to an EMT while others speak to her staff. She approaches one of the doctors.

"What's going on?"

"Sam Gallo was found shot in his home this morning."

"What?"

"Evidently it happened sometime late last night."

"That's awful." A tap on her shoulder draws her attention—an officer stands behind her.

"We need to ask you a few questions about Sam Gallo."

"Yes, of course."

"Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

"The break room should be free."

Once settled, Millie shifts nervously in her chair, glancing at the officer. "Can we make this quick? I've got many patients who need attention."

"You've heard about Sam Gallo, correct?"

"Yes, but I don't see how this has anything to do with me."

"We were told you and the deceased got into a heated debate. That a lot of harsh words were exchanged."

Millie recalls their argument the evening before. "We had a few words, but…"

"So what was the argument about?"

"He was stocking up the ambulance from our stockroom instead of the supply room, which leaves the ED short. I've asked him several times not to do that, but he never listens."

"Your coworkers said you threatened him."

"My only threat was going above his head."

Suddenly, a flashback slams into her—Millie sees the car, totally demolished at the roadside. Her mother lies dead on the pavement, surrounded by a pool of blood. Her sister Lilly sits nearby on a gurney, eyes wide, whispering something. It was the last thing Millie heard her say.

What did she say to me? Millie thinks, straining to recall.

"Mrs. Clark."

"Yes, I'm sorry. What was that?"

"That's the only threat you made?"

"Yes, of course."

"Where were you last night between 6 p.m. and midnight?"

"I was at home, waiting for my husband to get back. He's on active duty—he came back for his father's funeral."

"You were home alone until when?"

"Nearly eleven, when his flight came in. It was close to midnight when he pulled into the drive."

"We'll be in touch."