TPG Read Free

after leaving a bar at one in the morning.”
    EDP—emotionally
disturbed person. Kyle remembered the term from his externship days during
graduate school. He also remembered how reluctant the police were to even
respond to those calls. So the woman was probably right, it was unlikely the
police were going to show up for a girl who passed out after leaving a bar. Why
would they?
    “Which hospital are
you taking her to?” he asked.
    “NYU.”
    The doors shut and
the ambulance sped off, its rotating lights ricocheting off the buildings
lining the street.
    And that was it.
    No one asked for
his name, or a statement, or anything of the kind. But the acid churning in the
pit of his stomach told him he wasn’t getting off that easy. There’d be more.
He was sure of it.

 
 
    As the ambulance disappeared from
view and the gawkers left, Kyle made his way to the nearest avenue to grab a
taxi. He raised his hand as soon as he spotted one.
    The EMTs said they
were taking Allie to NYU, a hospital he was intimately familiar with having
worked there some fifteen years ago. He didn’t keep in touch with many from his
time there, but was still kind of close with one, Tom Jenkins. They didn’t
speak much anymore, an email here or there, random run-ins with brief cordial
chats. Nothing substantive, but enough that Kyle should be able to count on him
to discreetly find out about Allie’s condition.
    After telling the
cab driver where to take him, he scrolled through the address book on his
BlackBerry and found Tom’s cell number, then wondered if he should wait for a
more decent hour to call. After all, Tom was a bit on the surly side. But he
was also a decent guy. And if the roles had been reversed, Kyle would’ve gladly
helped the man out, regardless of the time. And Kyle needed help. He needed to
know what happened and didn’t want to wait until the morning to find out.
    So he pressed the
number.
    Tom picked up on
the third ring. “Kyle?” His voice was groggy and confused, the call clearly
having pulled him from a deep sleep. “What’s wrong? You okay?”
    “Yes,” Kyle
answered. “I’m fine. And I’m real sorry to call at this hour, but … I just
received a call from a good friend. She said her daughter collapsed outside a
bar on the Lower East Side. She’s being rushed to NYU right now. I thought
maybe you could put in a call or two and find out what happened.”
    There was a pause.
Kyle wondered if he’d been wrong to call, if he’d pushed their collegial
relationship too far. Or maybe Tom was simply going to ask why Kyle didn’t just
head down to the hospital himself.
    But he apparently
wasn’t giving the man enough credit. “She’s there now?”
    “She’s on her way,”
Kyle said. “Her name’s Allison Shelton. She’s twenty years old.”
    “Sheldon?”
    “Shel ton . With a ‘T’”
    Kyle heard a yawn.
“Okay,” Tom said. “I’ll make a few calls. Let you know what I find out.”
    “Thanks, Tom. I
appreciate it.”
    “Sure. Let’s just
hope she’s okay.”
    Yes, Kyle thought, let’s hope.

 
 
 
    CHAPTER FOUR

 
 
    The cab ride from the Lower East
Side back to his apartment at West 116 th Street took forever and
cost a small fortune, the distance feeling like the equivalent of a
cross-country trip.
    After putting a
decent-size dent in the cash he was carrying, Kyle stepped out of the taxi and
unlocked the lobby door of his walk-up. He still missed the doorman and
elevator he’d taken for granted for so many years. When he’d been married to
Sheila, her Wall Street salary had afforded them the comfort of living in a
high-rise luxury building at the heart of the Upper West Side. But he wasn’t
married to a Wall Street executive anymore. And although he could’ve gotten so
much more in the divorce and afforded a much nicer place of his own, the
emasculation of her cheating on him had been bad enough; he didn’t need the
pile on of having to take her money, too. So he rented