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Of course, they had known each other before. Since she started working with Tattle Crime, she had met with him a couple of times at the hospital to ask for interviews with certain inmates. Hell, she even interviewed him once when she covered Abel Gideon’s family murder case because he was the psychiatrist assigned to it.
She found Dr. Chilton pathetic and a little creepy, that he looked like a sleazebag in those suits and that beard. He always tried to flirt when they met and she dragged it out until he allowed the interviews, then she shot him down. It was sad how quickly he responded to the feign interest before thinking of asking for something in return. He tried to be so smooth. Not that she cared, it gave her time to get what she wanted and cut off the dinner invitation or drinks at his place right after. Freddie didn’t care for him, he was out of his mind the moment she exited the hospital.
One thing was that, another thing was watching Gideon drag his unconscious body into the observatory. He had her help set Frederick unto the table; she at least made sure his head didn’t smack against the metal surface. Her blood chilled when she saw he instruments Gideon had acquired, for a moment she feared for herself but he quickly explained for who they were for. He gave her an oxygen pump to hold. At that moment Frederick shifted and turned his head toward her, he struggled to open his eyes. Even in the drugged state he was she registered his disbelief when he slurred something resembling ‘Miss Lounds.’
She felt faint when Gideon cut into his belly, but she breathed slowly and willed her nerves to calm. She had always pride herself in her ability to remain collected under pressure. She needed more at that moment than ever, for the story, for her life and for that of a near stranger.
When Gideon left them, she found her voice to whisper words of comfort to Frederick and herself. She hoped he could hear them. Her eyes focused in the movement of his chest and the fogging on the air mask to make sure he was breathing. Whatever her line of work, she had no desire to watch another man die. But this is what you get for leaving Minnesota, Fredericka Marie.
The FBI finally arrived, she was put under a shock blanket and Dr. Chilton was taken away, barely alive. She almost went with him to the hospital, tugged by odd feelings of responsibility, but she stepped on the urge. She had become involved enough. She just wanted to see Wendy and collapse into her.
Freddie visited Frederick twice at the hospital. She went the day after he was moved out of intensive care. Wendy had been calling the hospital for her to know when he could receive visits. She also reminded her to buy a gift. Freddie settled on a bottle of scotch, she noticed he kept some in his office.
A part of her hoped he would be asleep and she won’t have to deal with…whatever was happening there. She found him awake. He was pensive, face turned toward the window but his eyes were unfocused and lost. He turned to look as he heard her heels clicking toward his bed.
“Ah, Miss Lounds. I did not expect you.” He looked surprised, but quickly recovered. “I do hope you’re not here on business.”
“Give me a little credit, Dr. Chilton. I wanted to see how you were doing.” She eyed him, feeling genuine concern. She often investigated ghastly murders and attacks, but never had she witness someone suffering so.
A week in intensive care had allowed his beard to grow a little disheveled and he looked pale and exhausted, it deepened the lines on his face making him look older. His middle was still visibly swollen under the hospital sheets.
“And to bring you a motivational gift.” She took out the liqueur from her purse and handed it to him. As he inspected the bottle she took the opportunity to observed what was on his night table, a lone flower arrangement with a card that read ‘From Evan and Diane Chilton’, a big tacky Get Well card probably from his own staff, a book, and a kid’s homemade card littered with drawings of hearts with ‘Uncle Fred’ messily written on the cover. Maybe she should have brought him flowers. She added quickly, “I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s something to look forward to while recovering.”
He chuckled, “Thanks. I actually prefer the cheap stuff, anyways.”
Freddie raised her eyebrows at that. Soon he started to fidget with the bottle and he averted his eyes. Oh, no, she thought.
“I actually wanted to thank you for keeping me alive. You didn’t have to after Gideon left, but I knew you were there…and I’m sorry you had to see that….” He looked at her again and she was surprised at his sincerity. “Thank you.”
She regarded him, he was trying to remain dignified in his apology but there was a flicker of vulnerability and sadness in those big eyes. It made her uncomfortable. She had to stifle the urge to pet his head like one would to comfort a sad pup. “You’re welcome.”
“Also, I know it’s not nearly enough but,” He continued, lifting his chin, “I would be delighted to take you out dinner, at least show my appreciation. “
Freddie could not hold in the laughter. It was almost admirable, he just didn’t give up. What a tough bastard.
Frederick actually laughed back, thought it was cut short as he grimaced in pain. He lifted a hand in a dismissive gesture and placed it protectively over his stomach.
“I always figured you already had someone.” He said.
She figured she could spare him future attempts with a little honesty. “Yes. Wendy and I have been together for a couple of years.”
“Oh. Is she a journalist like you?” Frederick waved toward the chair next to his bed, an invitation to talk. She hadn’t expected him be interested, but indulging him in amicable, personal conversation could work in her favor later on. Would definitely make future assignments easier if she was friendly with the chief of staff at the BSHCI. She dragged the chair closer and sat down. He looked like he could use the company and the distraction anyways.
She confirmed a few theories during that visit. He was lonely and vain. But he was also funny and smart, not as pathetic as she originally thought. She figured he wasn’t too bad. Frederick Chilton needed to get laid or beat down.
She hoped it would be the former instead of the latter next time.
Freddie left him when he started to get tired, but he stopped her. “Where any pictures taken?” He asked simply and she understood.
“Probably, but none have been published.”
“Good.” He was quiet for a moment. “If any come your way, I trust you will not publish them.”
The one tone was between a statement and a question, like he wasn’t sure if he could belief her completely.
Pictures like that would bring in the viewers and possibly another lawsuit. She would consider it if they came her ways, but perhaps it would be best to let this matter go. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”
She promised to bring him a crossword puzzle next time and left him to rest.