Every Last Breath || Jay Halstead

THREE

"Detective Halstead," Willa greeted and handed the chart of the patient she had just discharged to Maggie. "Your stitches aren't ready to come out yet."

He held up the file in his hand. "Here on official business," he explained. "Our stabbing victim wants to press charges."

She nodded, remembering the patient that came in with an ambulance a few hours earlier. "He's in surgery right now, but you're welcome to wait though I'm sure things are busy at the District."

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Dr. Atticus?"

Willa tried and failed to keep her face neutral. "No," she said. The silence that followed was interrupted by the loud blaring of Willa's phone making her jump a little. She fished it out of her pocket, and the number on the screen made her stomach drop. "Excuse me. I have to take this." She turned around, walking to the doctor's lounge in long strides to get some privacy.

"Mark, what's going on?"

"Willa, hi, we have a situation." She listened to the administrator explain the situation - what her father had done, that they'd been forced to sedate him, and that Nurse Brenda was shaken by the incident but not seriously injured. She had only been scraped by the makeshift blade, and one of the other nurses had cleaned the wound and put a bandage on it.

"Okay," she sighed. "I'll let you know if and when I can come out. Thanks for calling me."

"No worries, Dr. Atticus. Speak soon." Once they'd hung up, Willa threw her phone on the table with more force than intended just as Jay walked in. She didn't acknowledge his presence, just ran her hands over her face and tried to keep the tears from falling. She was unsuccessful.

She knew he saw them. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she lied, drawing in a deep breath. "You'll have to excuse me; I have to talk to Goodwin. Good luck with your case." She brushed past him and left the lounge without looking back. The part of her that had been happy to see Jay had evaporated; it was overshadowed by that phone call from Mark Collins. She tried to compose herself in the elevator on her way up to Goodwin's office but doubted she looked any better than when she stepped onto it. Once at Goodwin's door, she knocked and waited for the go-ahead.

Goodwin stood when Willa came in. "Dr. Atticus, are you alright?"

Willa shook her head. "My father attacked a nurse at his care facility," she explained, feeling the tears welling back up. "I'd like the weekend off if possible so I can go see him."

Sharon nodded. "Of course," she agreed without a moment's hesitation. "I'll move some things around and make it work."

"Thank you." She knew Sharon heard the strain in her voice, and at this very moment, she didn't have it in her to try and pretend it wasn't there.

Sharon gestured to one of the sofas in her office, and Willa had half a mind to sit down. Violence wasn't generally a part of her father's illness, and though she knew it was a possibility, she'd hoped it would never actually happen.

Sharon sat next to her. "Is the nurse okay?"

"Yes," Willa assured her. "It's only a shallow flesh wound, thankfully."

There was a knock on the door, and Dr. Charles entered. "Dr. Atticus." Her eyes jerked to him, and she knew from the look on his face that Sharon had paged him while she wasn't paying attention. Part of her was happy he was there, someone who had been a calming and compassionate presence in the month since she moved here. He understood her situation and had helped her find a therapist after the move. At the same time, she was not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed right now.