The officer stationed outside the room shook his head. "Lieutenant Harland said nothing from his property gets released."
Caldwell looked at him. "Lieutenant Harland is not treating this patient."
"It's an active police matter."
"So is keeping a patient stable enough to answer your questions."
Evelyn stepped closer to the doorway. "His inhaler is medication. If you want to hold his laptop, his backpack, or his shoes, talk to your supervisor. You do not get to turn medication into leverage."
The officer looked uncomfortable. "I'm just following instructions."
Evelyn's voice remained professional. "Then get better instructions."
Isaiah pulled the oxygen mask aside for a moment. "Can somebody tell me why I'm still cuffed?"
Caldwell immediately motioned for him to put the mask back. "Don't waste your breath."
Isaiah obeyed, waited several seconds, then tried again. "I haven't threatened anyone. I haven't tried to leave. Nobody will tell me if I'm under arrest."
Evelyn looked toward the officer; he avoided her eyes. Isaiah noticed.
"Then what am I being held for?"
Before anyone answered, Dana Mercer entered the treatment area. "Officer, step outside," Caldwell told her. "I need room."
Dana ignored the request. "Has he been given anything from his property?"
"No," the officer said.
Evelyn folded her arms. "Because apparently we need police permission to practice medicine now."
Dana looked at her. "Nurse Reed, I already explained this is a security situation."
"No, you called it a security situation. You still haven't explained it."
Dana's patience was thinning. "Hospital administration can discuss policy with my lieutenant. Right now, you need to follow the restriction."
Caldwell stepped between them before the exchange could grow louder. "My patient stays here until I'm satisfied his breathing is stable. Nobody moves him without my approval."
Dana stared at him. "That decision may not be yours."
"It absolutely is, while he's in my emergency department."
For several seconds, the only sound came from the respiratory equipment. Then Dana turned away.
She found Harland near the liaison workstation, where Officer Samuel Cole stood watching a younger officer search Isaiah's backpack for the third time. The contents were spread across the metal table in almost obsessive order: a university textbook, a calculator—even the lining had been pulled outward.
"There's nothing else in it," Cole said.
Harland did not look at him. "Then he moved it."
Dana lowered her voice. "Medical staff are refusing access to some of his property."
"Which property?"
"Medication packaging, personal medical items—whatever came through treatment instead of intake."