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"Just a Scared Nurse," the Armed Robber Sneered— Never Knowing She'd Survived the Deadliest Valle... — Transcript

by Kind Tales · 4,260 words · 716 segments · language en · Watch on YouTube

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0:00The gun pressed against her temple so
0:01hard the barrel left a ring in her skin,
0:04and Delia Morse,
0:06sorry, the man holding it was about to
0:07learn, didn't even blink.
0:10It was 1:47 in the morning on a
0:12Wednesday in late November.
0:14And the trauma bay at Covenant Regional
0:16Medical Center in Boise, Idaho, was
0:19caught in that strange dead hour when
0:21the building holds its breath. The
0:23overnight shift had the specific smell
0:26every graveyard nurse knew by heart.
0:29Cold antiseptic, reheated coffee from
0:31the break room down the hall, and the
0:33faint ghost of something metallic that
0:35never fully washed out of the air, no
0:38matter how many times the floors got
0:40mopped. Outside the temperature had
0:42dropped below 22°.
0:45The parking lot was a sheet of black
0:47ice. It was the kind of night that kept
0:49most sensible people indoors, which was
0:52precisely why the waiting room was
0:54nearly empty.
0:5531-year-old Wren Falconer had been on
0:58shift since 7:00 the previous this
1:00evening. She was working her fourth
1:02overnight in a row,
1:03a scheduling gap
1:05nobody wanted to fill, so she had
1:08quietly filled it herself. That was the
1:10thing about Wren that her colleagues
1:12never quite figured out. She didn't
1:14complain. She didn't explain. She just
1:17showed up, did her work, and went home
1:19to the small apartment near the airport
1:21where she lived alone with a rescue dog
1:23named Cinder and a bookshelf full of
1:26tactical field manuals she kept tucked
1:29behind a row of paperback novels so
1:32nobody had to ask about them.
1:34To look at her, you saw exactly what
1:36most people see when they look at a
1:38young woman in slate blue scrubs with
1:40her hair pulled into a low knot and a
1:42stethoscope looped around her neck. She
1:45was quiet,
1:46a little reserved, the kind of nurse who
1:49remembered every patient's name and
1:51never raised her voice at a doctor, even
1:54when the doctor was wrong, which at
1:56Covenant Regional happened more often
1:59than anyone on the administrative side
2:02would have liked to admit.
2:04What her colleagues didn't know, what
2:06almost nobody in Boise knew, was that
2:08nobody in Boise knew was that Wren
2:11Falconer had spent four years with the
2:1375th Ranger Regiment's attached combat
2:15casualty response team. Two of them
2:18rotating through the Korengal Valley in
2:20Eastern Afghanistan during the bloodiest
2:22period of the entire campaign. She had
2:25performed emergency surgical
2:27interventions in the dark, in the mud,
2:30in the back of vehicles that were still
2:32drawing fire. She had repaired femoral
2:35arteries with her bare hands in
2:37conditions that would have broken most
2:39trained surgeons. She had been in the
2:42valley the night her entire forward
2:44element got hit simultaneously by
2:47coordinated ambush and she had kept
2:49three Rangers alive until the medevac
2:52reached them by doing things that had no
2:54medical textbook entry and no clinical
2:57name.
2:58She came home with a commendation she
3:00never framed and a prescription she
3:02mostly didn't fill.
3:04She enrolled in nursing school because
3:07she already knew how to do the work and
3:09because civilian medicine isn't was
3:11close enough to what she knew to feel
3:13like solid ground.
3:15She moved to Boise because she didn't
3:17know anyone there. That was the whole
3:19reason. She just wanted a place where no
3:22one would look at her and remember.
3:25So yes, she was just a nurse.
3:27Except for everything she used to be.
3:30The emergency lights were not announced
3:32with a scream. The first signal was the
3:34headlights. Two blinding white beams
3:37sweeping hard across triage windows at
3:40an angle that made no sense for a
3:42vehicle in the drop-off lane. Wren
3:45registered it from across the room,
3:47looked up from the chart she was
3:48updating
3:49and had already taken two steps toward
3:51the desk when the pickup truck came
3:53through.
3:54It didn't ram the doors with cinematic
3:56violence. It nudged them at about 20
3:58mph, which was just enough.
4:01The automatic sliding doors buckled
4:03inward, one panel shearing clean off its
4:06track and spinning across the admissions
4:08floor.
4:10The second panel caved but held at an
4:12angle. The truck lurched to a stop
4:14halfway inside the entrance, its front
4:17end embedded in the wreckage of the
4:19reception counter's outer wing. The left
4:22headlight still on, throwing a strange
4:24diagonal beam across the ceiling.
4:27Three men came out of it fast.
4:29The one in front was named Dylan Graft,
4:32though Wren didn't know that yet. He was
4:34rangy and wild-eyed, wearing a dark
4:37jacket two sizes too big and holding a
4:39Beretta M9 with the grip tape starting
4:42to peel. He had the look of a man who
4:44had rehearsed this in his head a hundred
4:47times and was now discovering that the
4:49rehearsal had left out most of the
4:51relevant variables.
4:53His voice came out higher than he
4:55intended.
4:56Nobody moves. Everybody down. Right now,
4:59on the ground.
5:00Behind him came a second man, big,
5:03thick-necked, carrying a pistol-gripped
5:06shotgun that he held the way people hold
5:08shotguns in movies rather than the way
5:10anyone trained to use one actually holds
5:13them.
5:14His name was Vic Loman and he was
5:16already sweating despite the cold air
5:18pouring through the destroyed entrance.
5:20He planted himself in the center of the
5:22room and screamed something about
5:24cameras and phones and what would happen
5:27to anyone who had one visible.
5:30The third man, smaller and twitchy,
5:33stayed near the wrecked truck. He had a
5:35long-handled flashlight in one hand and
5:37no visible weapon, which Wren noted
5:40immediately because the absence of a
5:42weapon in that context was not
5:43reassurance.
5:45It was data.
5:46The three patients in the waiting area,
5:49an older man with a wrapped hand, a
5:51teenager with her mother, dropped to the
5:53floor instantly. Doctor Felix Wren, no
5:57relation, which Wren Falconer had always
5:59found mildly amusing,
6:02froze at the entrance to the hallway
6:03with his tablet clutched to his chest,
6:06doing an impression of a man who had
6:07forgotten how his legs worked. The two
6:09night techs behind the station got down.
6:12A traveling nurse named Marcus, who was
6:14there on a four-week contract and had
6:17been complaining all shift about the
6:19temperature or temperature in the supply
6:20room, pressed himself against the base
6:23of the desk and went very still.
6:26Wren Falconer did not drop to the floor.
6:29She was behind the medication cart in
6:31the alcove between the triage station
6:33and the east corridor.
6:35And she used that partial cover to do
6:37something that looked, from any angle
6:39visible to the three men,
6:41exactly like crouching in fear.
6:43Her knees bent, her shoulders curved
6:46forward, her chin dropped. The
6:49performance required almost no conscious
6:51effort.
6:53It was the same instinct that had once
6:55let her move through a contested alley
6:57without looking like she was doing
6:59anything at all.
7:01What was happening inside was the
7:03opposite of fear.
7:05Her pulse fell. It always did.
7:07She had never understood why until an
7:09army psychologist had explained it to
7:11her in clinical terms she immediately
7:13forgot, but the mechanism itself was
7:15familiar and reliable.
7:18Under genuine threat, Wren Falconer got
7:20very, very quiet.
7:22She assessed.
7:24Graft, dominant threat, Beretta M9,
7:27two-handed hold, but elbows too high.
7:30Tendency to let the muzzle track
7:32wherever his eyes tracked. Nervous,
7:34reactive, the kind of man who fires at
7:37sudden movements before thinking. Keep
7:39his attention managed, don't startle
7:41him.
7:42Loman, secondary threat, pump-action
7:4412-gauge, standing with his weight on
7:47his heels, barrel pointed at the floor.
7:49Two full seconds minimum to acquire and
7:51fire. Weak grip. Won't cycle the action
7:55cleanly under stress.
7:57Third man, unknown, unquantified,
7:59positioned by the exit, possibly a
8:01lookout. The flashlight was either a
8:03weapon or a tool. Given the context, a
8:06hospital at night, three men, a truck,
8:09it was almost certainly a tool. They
8:11were here for something specific.
8:14"Keys," Graft was saying now, moving
8:16through the room with the gun tracking
8:18toward the nursing station. "The
8:19pharmacy, the narcotics cabinet, all of
8:22it. You."
8:24He pointed the Beretta at Dr. Felix
8:26Wren. "You're a doctor. You know where
8:28everything is. Get up. Take me there."
8:31Dr. Wren, who was in his second year out
8:34of residency, and whose most dangerous
8:37patient interaction to date had been a
8:39man who threatened to leave a negative
8:41review, made a sound that was not quite
8:43a word.
8:45"He doesn't have access," Wren Falconer
8:47said from behind the cart.
8:49Graft turned toward her voice. He found
8:52her standing now. She had risen slowly,
8:55hands visible, shoulders still slightly
8:57curved, projecting the careful body
8:59language of someone who was cooperative
9:01and frightened and not going to do
9:03anything surprising.
9:05Her eyes were wide. Her chin was
9:07trembling.
9:09None of it was real.
9:11"I'm the charge nurse," she said,
9:13keeping her voice soft, a little
9:14unsteady. "I have the pharmacy access
9:17card
9:18and the override code for the controlled
9:20substance cabinet. I can take you."
9:23A pause, carefully timed. "Please don't
9:25hurt anyone."
9:26Graft looked at her for a long moment.
9:29He looked at her scrubs, her
9:30stethoscope, her carefully arranged
9:33expression of exhausted terror. He made
9:36the calculation that men who
9:37underestimate quiet women always make.
9:41"You try anything," he said walking
9:43toward her, "and I shoot the doctor."
9:46"I understand," Ren said, "I won't. I
9:48promise."
9:49Graft grabbed her by the upper arm and
9:51pressed the Beretta against the side of
9:53her head.
9:54The barrel was warm. She could feel the
9:56specific weight of it, the angle.
9:59He was right-handed, elbow too close to
10:02his body, which meant his grip torque
10:04was wrong, and the weapon could be
10:06stripped laterally. She cataloged it and
10:08let the information sit.
10:11"Loman," Graft called, "come with me.
10:13Wick, watch them."
10:15He pushed Ren toward the east corridor,
10:17and she went, stumbling slightly,
10:20letting him feel the momentum of her
10:22compliance.
10:23Loman fell in behind them, the shotgun
10:26hanging loose at his side.
10:28The east corridor at Covenant Regional
10:30was a long, straight run of pale yellow
10:33walls
10:34and scuffed linoleum that connected the
10:36main ER to the older wing of the
10:38building, a section that had been built
10:40in 1981 and had not been substantially
10:43renovated since. The overhead lights in
10:46this section ran on a separate circuit
10:49from the main building.
10:51And two of the four fixtures in the far
10:53stretch had been out for 3 weeks,
10:56waiting on a maintenance request that
10:58hadn't been prioritized. At the far end
11:01was the pharmacy annex, a heavy door,
11:03reinforced electronic lock, controlled
11:06substance vault inside.
11:08Between here and there was roughly 60 ft
11:11of corridor.
11:12Ren knew every inch of it.
11:15She knew that at the 20-ft mark there
11:17was a stainless steel supply cart parked
11:20against the left wall. She knew that at
11:23the 35-ft mark there was a fire door on
11:26a magnetic release, hinged to slam shut
11:29if the corridor alarm triggered. She
11:31knew that at the 40-ft mark, the
11:33overhead lights went dead
11:36and the only illumination came from the
11:38red emergency exit sign mounted near the
11:40ceiling.
11:42More importantly, she knew that a
11:44pump-action shotgun in a narrow corridor
11:47with low ceilings and tight angles was
11:49about as useful as a canoe paddle in a
11:51phone booth.
11:52Provided you got inside its reach before
11:55it could cycle.
11:56"Faster." Graft said, shoving her
11:59between the shoulder blades.
12:01"I'm going." Wren said in the voice of a
12:03woman who was not going to cause any
12:05trouble whatsoever.
12:07They passed the supply cart. They passed
12:09the fire door. They entered the dark
12:11stretch.
12:13"Why are the lights off?" Lohman said
12:15behind her, sudden suspicion in his
12:17voice.
12:18"Maintenance issue." Wren said. "It's
12:21been like this for weeks. I can barely
12:23see either."
12:24She was lying.
12:26Her eyes had adjusted perfectly. She
12:28could see everything she needed to see.
12:31The pharmacy annex door was 10 ft ahead.
12:34Graft loosened his grip on her arm
12:36slightly as they approached it. He
12:38needed both hands to manage the
12:40situation while she worked the lock.
12:43It was a small thing.
12:44A half second of redistributed
12:46attention, but in the world Wren had
12:48trained in, half a second was the length
12:51of an entire decision tree.
12:54She reached for the access card on her
12:56lanyard, fumbled with it deliberately.
12:59"Come on." Graft said, impatient.
13:02"I'm sorry." She let her voice waver.
13:04"My hands are shaking."
13:06She dropped the card. It hit the floor
13:08with a clean plastic click and skidded
13:11slightly left toward Graft's feet.
13:14He looked down.
13:15In the 0.4 seconds his eyes left her,
13:18Wren moved.
13:19She didn't wind up. There was no warning
13:21movement, no tensing of visible muscle,
13:24no shift of weight that could telegraph
13:26intent.
13:28One moment she was a frightened nurse
13:30reaching for a fallen key card.
13:32The next, her right elbow came up in a
13:34tight arc and drove backward with her
13:36full body rotation into Graft's nose.
13:40The sound was significant. The wet crack
13:42of cartilage giving way at speed echoed
13:45in the narrow corridor.
13:47Graft's head snapped back, his grip on
13:49the Beretta going completely slack as
13:52his hands flew instinctively to his
13:54face. Wren's left hand was already
13:56moving, clamping over the pistol's slide
13:58before it could travel.
14:00Her fingers sealing the ejection port.
14:02Her right hand caught his wrist, twisted
14:05it outward in a pronation lock that gave
14:07him a very simple mechanical choice.
14:10Release the weapon or suffer the
14:12specific kind of pain that comes from a
14:14wrist joint traveling in a direction
14:17wrists do not go.
14:19He released the weapon.
14:21Graft hit the wall and slid down it,
14:23both hands covering his ruined nose,
14:26making a sound that was not quite
14:28language.
14:29Loman was still processing this when
14:31Wren turned.
14:33He had the shotgun coming up.
14:35The barrel was swinging toward her. The
14:37barrel was swinging toward her. She was
14:39already moving toward him rather than
14:41away, which was the only move that made
14:43physical sense in a space this narrow
14:45because the one thing a long gun cannot
14:48do is cover the distance directly in
14:50front of its muzzle. She stepped inside
14:52the arc, left hand deflect the barrel
14:55upward and to the right as the weapon
14:58discharged.
14:59The blast hit the ceiling at an angle,
15:01taking out a section of acoustic tile
15:04and showering them both with dust and
15:06debris. In the ringing aftermath, Loman
15:09tried to pump the action. Wren didn't
15:11let him. She drove the heel of her right
15:14hand into the nerve cluster at the side
15:16of his neck, the brachial plexus.
15:19Strike that combat instructors spent
15:21hours teaching because it looked
15:23unremarkable right up until the moment
15:26it didn't and watched Loman's eyes lose
15:28focus all at once.
15:31He went down in a single uniform
15:32collapse, 260 pounds of him landing
15:36face-first on the linoleum.
15:39She stepped over him.
15:41Graft was still conscious, sitting
15:43against the wall with both hands pressed
15:45to his face, blood coming between his
15:48fingers in a thin steady sheet.
15:50She took the Beretta, press-checked the
15:52chamber, confirmed the round, and then
15:55crouched beside him.
15:57"Give me your belt," she said.
15:59"My what?"
16:01"Your belt. Take it off."
16:03He fumbled with it, too days to resist.
16:06She used it to bind his wrists behind
16:08the pipe running along the wall's lower
16:10edge.
16:11A steam pipe, part of the old vac
16:13infrastructure, solidly anchored. She
16:16checked the circulation in his fingers,
16:18tightened the loop to the point of
16:20effective restraint, line off blood
16:23without cutting off blood flow, and did
16:25the same for Loman using the strap from
16:27his own shotgun.
16:29"Your nose is broken," she told Graft.
16:32"Keep your head forward, not back. You
16:34won't choke."
16:35"You're insane," he said in the foggy
16:38voice of a man reassessing everything.
16:41"I'm a nurse," Ren said. "There's a
16:43difference."
16:44She left them there and moved back
16:46toward the main ER.
16:48Wick had heard the shotgun blast.
16:51She knew he had because she could hear
16:53him now, his voice cracking with panic,
16:56screaming for Graft and Loman to answer
16:59him.
17:00When she reached the mouth of the
17:01corridor and edged her head around the
17:03doorframe to read the room, she saw him
17:05clearly. He had moved from his position
17:08by the truck.
17:09He was standing in the center of the
17:11waiting room with the flashlight in one
17:13hand and the other arm locked around the
17:15teenager's shoulders, holding the girl
17:17against him as a human buffer.
17:20The girl's mother was on the floor 8 ft
17:22away, reaching toward her daughter with
17:24both hands, tears coming down her face
17:27in silence.
17:28The old man with the wrapped hand was
17:30flat on the floor, not moving.
17:33Dr. Felix Wren was still pressed to the
17:35wall. Marcus, the traveling nurse, was
17:37behind the desk,
17:39visible only as a pair of hands gripping
17:41the edge of the counter.
17:43Wick was not professionally dangerous.
17:45That was clear from how he was holding
17:48the flashlight.
17:49Two-handed, up near his chest, the way
17:52civilians hold objects when they want
17:54them to be weapons, but don't know what
17:56a weapon actually requires. He was
17:59scared, which made him more dangerous in
18:01some ways and less dangerous in others.
18:04Wren studied the geometry.
18:07The teenager was on Wick's left. His
18:09right arm was the one doing the holding,
18:11which meant his dominant hand, the
18:13flashlight hand, was actually the free
18:16one.
18:17He wasn't thinking about that, but she
18:19was. His feet were close together,
18:21weight forward, the classic stance of
18:24someone who is trying to look more
18:25threatening than they feel.
18:27No real base.
18:29A hard push at the right angle and he'd
18:31go over.
18:33The problem was the girl. Getting her
18:35clear before Wren closed the distance
18:37was not a certainty.
18:39She needed a diversion first.
18:42She looked at the room. She saw the
18:44heavy wheeled oxygen cart
18:46parked against the near wall, just
18:49inside the corridor entrance, saw the
18:51emergency PA panel mounted 6 ft to her
18:53left. A simple wall-mounted intercom
18:56system that covered all main areas of
18:58the building.
19:00She keyed the intercom.
19:02Wick. Her voice came through the ceiling
19:04speakers flat and calm and immediate.
19:07Your team is down, both of them. They're
19:10zip tied in the east corridor.
19:12Wick's head snapped upward toward the
19:14speakers. His arm loosened fractionally
19:17around the girl's shoulders as he looked
19:19for the source of the voice.
19:21"Who is that?" he said. "Where are you?
19:23Graft! Graft, answer me!"
19:25"They can't answer you," Ren said
19:27through the intercom. "You're alone.
19:30In 60 seconds, the police are going to
19:33come through those doors. You can be
19:34holding a hostage when they do, or you
19:36can walk out right now.
19:38Your choice. You have about 45 seconds
19:41left.
19:42Show yourself." Wick said. His voice was
19:45close to breaking. "Show yourself, or I
19:47swear to God."
19:49Ren had already left the intercom. She
19:52was moving toward the oxygen cart, low
19:54and silent along the wall.
19:5630 ft from Wick, she put her shoulder
19:58into the cart and shoved it hard across
20:01the polished floor.
20:03The cart was heavy and wheeled badly to
20:05the left, which sent it into the
20:07admissions desk with a crash that was
20:09dramatically larger than its actual
20:11danger. Metal rang against metal. The
20:14stack of clipboards on the desk cascaded
20:17to the floor. Wick spun toward the
20:19sound, and the arm around the teenager
20:21loosened completely as his whole body
20:24pivoted to face the new threat.
20:26The girl broke free.
20:28She stumbled toward her mother without
20:30being asked, which meant she understood
20:33at some level that this was the window.
20:36Ren came through the door at a
20:37controlled sprint, crossing the distance
20:39before Wick finished turning back
20:41around.
20:42She took him to the floor with a
20:43takedown that used his own momentum,
20:46armbar, wrapping up the flashlight hand
20:49as they went down so he couldn't swing
20:51it at her skull.
20:53They hit the linoleum together. She
20:55pinned his wrist, drove her knee into
20:57his lower back, and had his hands behind
21:00him in 6 seconds.
21:02She used medical tape from her scrub
21:04pocket. She always carried it.
21:06Wick lay face down on the floor of the
21:08waiting room, wrists secured, still
21:11asking who she was.
21:13Ren sat back on her heels and caught her
21:15breath. One breath. She looked at her
21:18watch. It had been 4 minutes and 50
21:21seconds since the truck came through the
21:23doors. She did a quick scan of the room.
21:26Mother and daughter together against the
21:27far wall, the teenager shaking but
21:30uninjured. The mother pressing her face
21:32into her daughter's hair. The older man
21:35was sitting up now. Doctor Felix Ren had
21:38slid down the wall until he was sitting
21:40on the floor with his tablet, still
21:42clutched to his chest. Marcus, from
21:45behind the desk, was staring at her over
21:47the counter with the specific expression
21:49of someone who had witnessed an event
21:51their brain had not yet found a category
21:54for.
21:55She walked to the Beretta on her
21:57waistband, cleared it, set it on the
22:00counter with the slide locked back. She
22:03went to the medication cart she'd been
22:04standing near when this all started,
22:07pulled out a pair of trauma shears, and
22:09went to check on the patients.
22:12The older man had a small laceration on
22:14his forearm from flying glass. She
22:16looked at it, told him to hold pressure,
22:19and went to find a suture kit.
22:21The sirens arrived 4 minutes after that,
22:24working their way through the icy
22:26streets. Boise PD came through what
22:29remained of the front entrance in a
22:30standard dynamic entry formation.
22:33Weapons up, voices loud, flashlight
22:36beams cutting through the cold air that
22:38had been pouring into the building since
22:40the truck came through.
22:42They found three secured suspects, two
22:45in the corridor, one in the waiting
22:47room, and no casualties. They found the
22:49Beretta on the counter, cleared and
22:51locked open. They found a young woman in
22:54slate blue scrubs kneeling beside an
22:57elderly man, pressing a sterile pad to
22:59his arm, telling him in a quiet voice
23:02that it was a shallow cut and that it
23:04would need two stitches, maybe three.
23:07Officer Dana Gress, 12 years on the job,
23:10and not easily surprised, lowered her
23:12weapon and looked at the woman with the
23:14stethoscope.
23:16"You did this?" she asked.
23:18Ren looked up. She had the same mild
23:20contained expression she always had at
23:22work. "The controlled substance vault is
23:24still locked," she said. "Nothing was
23:27taken.
23:29The injured suspect in the east corridor
23:31has a possible broken nose. He'll need
23:33imaging before transport." She paused.
23:36"And I have a laceration here that needs
23:38attention before you take a full
23:40statement."
23:42Officer Gress looked around the room.
23:45Again.
23:46Slowly. The way you look at something
23:48when you are trying to verify that what
23:50you are seeing is actually what you are
23:52seeing.
23:53"What's your name?" she said.
23:56"Ren Falconer. I'm the charge nurse."
23:59"Were you Are you military?"
24:01Ren tied off the gauze pad, pressed the
24:04man's own hand over it to hold it in
24:06place, and stood up.
24:08"I was," she said.
24:10"What? Branch?"
24:13"Army." She picked up her stethoscope
24:15from where it had fallen during the
24:16takedown and looped it back around her
24:19neck.
24:20"If you need the detailed version, I'll
24:22give it to you in a statement. But right
24:25now, I need to check on the rest of my
24:26patients."
24:28She glanced at the teenager, still
24:30pressed against her mother in the
24:31corner.
24:32"Especially her.
24:34Adrenaline drop is going to hit in about
24:3690 seconds."
24:38Officer Gress watched her go. Then she
24:40looked at her partner, Officer Tom Reed,
24:43who had been standing three steps behind
24:45her this whole time, and had the blank
24:47expression of a man who had chosen the
24:50wrong night to come back from vacation.
24:53"Write it all down," Gress told him.
24:55"Exactly what you see. Every detail.
24:58In the east corridor, Dylan Graft was
25:00sitting against a steam pipe with his
25:02hands behind him trying to understand
25:04what had happened.
25:06He had been so certain of the situation,
25:08a hospital at night, a skeleton crew, a
25:11nurse with a stethoscope and cartoon
25:14scrubs. He had looked at her and seen
25:16exactly what he expected to see.
25:19He had not seen the girl who had packed
25:21wounds in the Korengal Valley.
25:26He had not seen the medic who had been
25:28called a ghost by people who did not use
25:31the word lightly.
25:33He had not seen any of it because she
25:35had not let him.
25:37In the waiting room, Wren Falconer knelt
25:39beside the teenager and took her pulse
25:42with two fingers watching the clock on
25:44the wall.
25:45The girl's mother was hovering close,
25:48one hand on her daughter's shoulder.
25:50"She's okay." Wren said quietly. "Just
25:52breathe with me for a second. In slow
25:55and out slow."
25:56The girl nodded. She breathed. Her hands
25:59were still shaking slightly
26:01which was normal and correct, which Wren
26:04told her gently and specifically
26:06because knowing that fear has a
26:08physiology.
26:10That shaking is not weakness but
26:11chemistry had always helped Wren more
26:14than any other piece of information
26:16anyone had ever given her.
26:18"Is it always like this?" the girl
26:20asked.
26:21Wren thought about the question.
26:24She thought about what to leave in and
26:26what to leave out.
26:27"No." she said. "Most nights it's pretty
26:29quiet."
26:30She stayed there until the girl's hands
26:33stopped shaking and then she went back
26:35to work.

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