Wayward Son

Chapter 6

The receptionist at the ER hadn't taken kindly to an FBI agent asking for permission to wander around, interviewing the doctors and nurses on duty. She'd asked to see a warrant, and Dean couldn't convince her that asking questions did not require a warrant. He'd thrown everything at her: the bashful grin, a compliment about her eyes; he'd even said "please" when he got desperate. She was a brick wall. He finally told her he'd come back later with a warrant—meaning he'd come back later when she wasn't there.

He found a hospital directory in the main lobby and headed to the elevators. Pediatrics was on the third floor. Ruthie had said Brandon's wife worked in that department. Seemed like the next best place to go. He flashed his badge at a pretty black woman in Minnie Mouse scrubs at the front nurses' station. Her eyes widened. "Can I help you?"

"I'm investigating Brandon Reeves' death. I need to talk to anyone here who knew him or his wife."

"Um, sure. Most of us knew Brandon at least a little. And we all know Amy."

Dean pulled out a little notepad and pen. "Did you see Brandon at all in the weeks before his death?"

She nodded. "He worked a few shifts in Pedes this month."

"Did you notice anything strange or different about him? How he looked or acted, anything like that?"

"Not really. Um, he started carrying a water bottle with him the last few weeks I guess; that was new. And I heard him say he was tired. He did look pretty tired, now that I think about it. I figured he'd been having too many late nights. They were newlyweds, you know."

Dean jotted a note. "What about his behavior? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"I don't think so. He was always bringing Amy flowers and leaving notes, just like before the wedding. Actually, more than before the wedding. They were that couple, you know? Like every day was Valentine's. He seemed normal. Just tired."

"How can I get in touch with Amy?"

She glanced at a passing nurse. "Well, she's on bereavement leave right now. I don't know when she'll be back at work. She's been planning the funeral, but she doesn't know when they'll release the body." Her voice dropped at the end. She cleared her throat and blinked several times.

"I understand. Do you have a number where I can reach her? We're doing everything we can to find out what happened to her husband."

She watched him for another few seconds. "Sure. I can give you her number."

Dean walked the halls of the pediatric department for a while, showing his badge and questioning passing nurses and orderlies. He figured out pretty fast that the doctors didn't know anything about a lowly CNA. He heard the same things from the rest of them: Brandon was a nice guy, nobody would want to hurt him, he and Amy were the perfect couple, he had seemed a little tired the past few weeks. A few mentioned the water bottle, and some others said he'd complained of having headaches.

Dean pocketed his pen and notepad, and made his way back out of the pediatric unit, eager to get out of there. He couldn't get used to room after room of little kids in hospital beds, some of them bald, some skinny, some with sunken eyes. How could people keep coming to work here, week after week? He'd take demons and monsters over this any day.

He reached the double exit doors just ahead of a blonde nurse in light blue scrubs he hadn't interviewed yet. He held the door open for her with one hand, and raised his badge with the other. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Her eyes went wide. "FBI? Oh my God. Is this about Brandon Reeves?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She made a face and smacked a fist into her chest. "Ow! You just 'ma'amed' me. Do I look that old?"