“Well, Mr. Southerland?”
Southerland let go of the latch and backed away with his hands raised. “Help yourself.”
Chapter 46
Three hours had passed since Valerie left for the ER and Jim was about to go crazy. Bored, stiff, and antsy, and more than just a little perturbed that she’d ignored him for so long, he glanced around his tiny room. It seemed smaller than ever. The curtained walls were closing in on him. And he couldn’t see them but he knew they were there because he could still hear them breathing—the other patients, just beyond his curtains, a roomful of unconscious people, some on ventilators, and some—he could tell by the irregular beeping of the ECG monitors—on their last leg. He was about to suffocate. He felt like a trapped animal, deprived of freedom, deprived of life.
“Helga,” he shouted, pushing his call button. “Pick up. I want out of here. Pick up, pick up, pick up!”
The shrill tone of a flat-line ECG answered from somewhere across the unit. Jim stopped ranting. He heard harried discussions, people shouting, and then the all too familiar monotone voice of the public address operator announcing, “Code-Blue, Surgical Intensive Care Unit. Code-Blue.” Jim lay still and listened to the sounds of the code—third one of the day—trying to envision the scene in the other room. He found himself longing for the action, that amazing adrenaline rush that comes whenever one assumes the role of savior, that hands-on, well practiced, fast as possible, series of life-savings maneuvers they call “a code.” He missed it. And his controlling side couldn’t help but wonder—are they doing it right? He wanted to run in and see for himself, after all he was the one who was usually in charge. He lay there in silence running the code in his mind until, after a few moments, the Surgical Intensive Care Unit became dead quiet.
Jim heard the sound of padded feet coming in his direction. His curtains parted. Helga walked in. He noticed a warm glow about her face. Her forehead was rimmed with tiny beads of sweat. He could tell by her expression it hadn’t gone well.
“Who was he?”
“She,” Helga said with a sigh. “Just an old woman whose time finally came.”
“Helga, I’m sorry.”
“Well, it goes with the job, doesn’t it?”
“Helga,” Jim said, tilting his head slightly as she inserted a probe into his ear. “Have you seen Valerie?”
“Ninety-nine eight.” Helga dropped the used probe cover into the trash and recorded the temperature on Jim’s chart. “Not since she left, hon, why?”
“I’m just concerned. She’s been gone for over three hours.”
“I can try to page her, if you’d like.”
“No, she went to the ER, she’s probably just busy. What about Rico?”
“Your cop friend? I haven’t seen him either. I think he’s afraid of me.”
“Look, Helga,” Jim said, “no offense but I’m ready to get out of here. When am I leaving?”
“I just got off the phone with the folks on the seventh floor. They’re getting a room ready for you now. It should only be a few minutes before you’re rolling out of here to a sunnier room.”
“Sunnier?” Jim glanced at the yellowing walls. “Than this place?”
A timid grin crossed Helga’s face. Jim could tell she was holding something in. Even tough, grisly old nurses, he figured, had feelings. She leaned down and gave him a warm hug.
“I’m going to miss you, you know.”
“I know,” Jim said. “I feel like I’m losing an old friend.”
Helga chuckled. “Fooled you, didn’t I, sweetie?”
“Yes,” Jim said, with a nod. “I have to admit, you did. When I woke up and saw you for the first time I thought they’d sent me to prison. It just goes to show, looks can be deceiving.”
“So can feelings. All that bitterness and anger you woke up with may have seemed right at the time, but I hope you realize now that this was all part of God’s plan.”
“I do.”
“Always remember—”
“I know,” Jim said. “God’s not finished with me yet.”
“Duncan, what’d you say to make Frank Lacy so mad?”
“Frank?” Sharon felt her cheeks flush. “You mean, he told you what happened?”
“Told me? He’s asked not to ride with you anymore.”
“But all I did was…oh, Bill, I didn’t mean to offend him.” Sharon hung her head, embarrassed to be in the position of having to explain herself again. “I asked him if he believed in God, that’s all. I was hoping he would pray with me.”
“Pray with you?” Bagwell took on an expression of utter confusion. “For what?”
“For Jim.”
“That’s what this is all about?”
“He ran like I had leprosy.”
“Oh, for crying out—” Bagwell sighed and shook his head. “All right look, you’ll be riding with Steele tonight.”
“Steele? Oh, no, no, no, not him.”
“It’s Steele or nobody.”
“But, Bill, you know Tom Steele and I don’t get along. We can’t stand each other.”
“Well get over it, Duncan. Grimes called out again and with your boy, Stockbridge, gone I just don’t have enough help.”
Sharon was just about to say something she knew she’d regret when Bagwell’s phone rang. He answered. She waited and watched his expression change from mild interest to disbelief. His jowls flushed. “Did I hear you right? Jim Stockbridge? Uh huh. Uh huh. So you’re serious then? He’s going to be okay?”
“What?”
Sharon stood up and leaned forward on Bagwell’s desk, rushing him through the call with her hand. “What’d they say? Is it Jim?” Bagwell scowled and motioned for her to sit back down. Sharon ignored him and stood over him until the phone call had ended. “Well,” she said, hardly able to contain herself, “what’d they say? What’d they say?”
“That was Andrew Young, at Regional.”
“And?”
Bagwell leaned back in his chair. “It seems your prayers have been answered, Duncan. Stockbridge is walking again.”
Chapter 47
Jim’s new room was brighter than the one he’d left in SICU, but that was about it. The sheets felt like cardboard, the room reeked of sanitized germs, and worst of all there was no Helga Baird, in fact, there weren’t many nurses at all. One had come in every two hours since he’d arrived at noon, but that was it. The 7th floor of East Beach Regional Hospital was far quieter than SICU and a whole lot lonelier. Jim noticed an orange glow capture the room. He put down the paperback he’d been trying to read all afternoon and forced himself to a standing position. His legs felt stiff. Tingly. Weak. What had seemed so easy a few hours earlier now felt nearly impossible. He steadied himself, grabbed his IV pole, and shuffled to the window.
From his vantage point on the 7th floor he could see just enough of the western sky to realize that he was missing a masterful sunset. To the south he could see a portion of the Bogue Sound and the first section of the high-rise bridge that connected Morehead City with Atlantic Beach. A long line of headlights arched over the bridge in his direction, a matching set of red taillights streaked the other way. Life was going on all around him. It made him uneasy. He slid back into bed and picked up his phone. He punched in the right numbers and waited, but as with every other attempt to call Valerie that afternoon he got no answer. She just wasn’t picking up. He hung up the phone and pushed his call button. An unemotional female voice came back.
“Can I help you?”
“I need my nurse,” Jim said.
“What is it, Mr. Stockbridge?”
Jim rolled himself onto his side trying to find a comfortable position.
“I need something for this pain. My back is killing me.”
“I’m sorry,” the nurse responded, “but your next dose of morphine isn’t due until eight o’clock. Would you like a heating pad?”
“Never mind.”
Jim rolled onto his other side. He lay there t
hinking, grateful to be feeling his feet but wondering if perhaps he’d pushed himself too hard. The return of full sensation to his legs and trunk had brought new kinds of pain and discomfort. His legs felt strangely unfamiliar. His insides felt like stirred jelly. “Oh, God,” he moaned. “How much more of this?”
“Hello.”
Jim looked up, startled, fully expecting to see his nurse standing there with a heating pad in her hands and an annoyed expression on her face. What he saw instead stunned him. A beautiful brunette stepped into the room. Long black silken hair flowed across her shoulders. Her eyes looked radiant, bright jewels emitting a deep cobalt blue.
“Linda?”
Linda Newton stepped up to the bed and placed her hand on his wrist. She ran her fingers up his arm. Jim sensed danger and pulled away.
“I’ve been worried about you,” she said. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Linda—”
“Hey,” she said grabbing the paperback and walking around the bed to the other side. “I’ve read this novel. It’s good. The main character is strong. Like you.”
Jim didn’t give a hoot about main characters at the moment. Linda Newton was close, too close, and it made him uncomfortable. She was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her touch was electric. Her perfume went straight to his head like a warm aphrodisiac. He tried his best to pull away from her, but she wouldn’t allow it. She grabbed his arm in one hand, leaned down with a pink felt tip pen in the other, and began to scribble on his cast.
“What are you doing?”
“Be still,” she said. “I want to be the first to sign it.” Linda underlined her name, drew a small heart beneath it, and then backed away and gazed at her artwork. “There, now everyone will know you belong to me.”
“You do realize I’ll have to erase that?”
“No you don’t, Jim. I like you and I don’t care who knows it, and I know you like me too. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“Linda, it’s not like that, it’s—”
“And that night we danced together? We were made for each other, Jim. We fit like—”
“Okay, okay, okay, I like you. I like you. Who wouldn’t? You’re beautiful. God, you’re gorgeous. But can’t you get it through your head that I’m seeing Valerie?”
“She’s not right for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s…” Linda’s face soured. “Too intellectual. Too smart. People like her don’t know how to just have fun, they have to analyze everything. But you? You’re the exciting type. You love life. You attack it. Like me! Jim, we could have great times together.”
“I can’t get involved with you.”
“You already are involved with me, Jim.”
Linda took his hand, caressed his fingers and palm, and gazed into his eyes until he felt his shoulders slump. He couldn’t muster any more willpower. Her attention was pure ecstasy. She bent over, gave him a long wet kiss on the lips and then stood back as if watching for a reaction. Jim gave it. Total shock. He didn’t know what to do. He was totally out of his league with this girl. He felt the familiar need to run. Suddenly his cell phone rang. He fumbled for it, dropped it, then picked it up and answered it, all the time eyeing her, staring wide-eyed at her until…suddenly he made a connection with the voice on the other end. Linda leaned over him and tried to kiss him again. Jim held up his cast and stopped her.
“Who is this?”
“Oh, I think you know,” the voice responded.
Jim did know. A sadistic face with cold black eyes materialized in his mind. He felt the hair rise on his back. His heart raced.
“What do you want?”
“I want you. Whatchu say, bro? You ready to face the fire?”
Jim held the phone away and stared at it for a moment before slowly pulling it back to his ear. “I’m in the hospital, J-Rock. You should know that. You put me here.”
“I know. Almost hurt my feelings to see you peeing through that tube. Then I found out you was walkin’ again.”
Jim felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He stood up.
“You’d be ‘mazed, bro. Sneakin’ into that hospital was easy. Coulda slit your throat.”
Jim glanced at Linda. She looked the way he felt—confused. He looked away and gathered his thoughts. There had to be a reason for the call, more than just simple taunting.
“Why’d you call here?”
J-Rock chuckled. “I told you already. Want you, bro. You and me, we gonna settle this once and for all. Meet me at the old boatyard behind the Terrace. One hour.”
“The boatyard? I’ve still got an IV in my arm, and—”
“And come alone. I see any cops, spesh’ly that animal Rivetti, I be puttin’ a bullet in her spine this time. I swear it.”
“Her spine? J-Rock, what are you talking about? Who?”
Jim heard muffled voices on the other end of the phone. He heard a squeal, a slap. A female voice cried out. The phone rustled. Shallow breathing.
“Jim! Jim!”
“Valerie!”
Another slap.
“Valerie!”
More rustling. A frantic scream. J-Rock came back on the line. “You do have fine taste in women, Stockbridge. This one will be a pleasure to—”
Dial tone.
Jim stared at the phone a few uncertain seconds and then hung up and stared at Linda in disbelief.
“My God, Linda. He’s got Valerie.”
“Dr. Vick? Who’s got her?”
Jim yanked the IV line from his arm.
“Hand me my clothes.”
“Jim, you’re bleeding!”
“Linda, this is an emergency. I have to go!”
“Go? Jim, you’re in no condition to go anywhere.”
Jim ignored her and pulled on his pants. He ripped off his gown. “Here,” he said grabbing his shirt. “Help me.”
“No, Jim, you—”
“Linda!”
Linda helped him button his shirt then grabbed his arm and reached for a roll of tape. Jim tried to pull away but Linda stopped him.
“Jim, you’re bleeding! Wait!”
Jim’s mind raced. How he was ever going to make it out of the hospital and to the boatyard in time was beyond him. But he knew he had to try.
“My God,” he muttered. “He’s actually got her.”
“Please tell me what’s happening,” Linda said, slapping a piece of white tape over the dripping IV site. “Something about a boatyard?”
“Linda, no! Look. Don’t say a word to anyone. You have no idea…” Jim tried to devise some kind of a believable lie but nothing came to him. He looked around desperately then grabbed her arm and squeezed. “Look, you’ve got to promise me you won’t say a word about this. Not to anybody.”
“But, Jim—”
“Promise me, Linda. Not to anyone. Not a soul!”
Chapter 48
Jim left his room on the 7th floor of East Beach Regional Hospital and limped down the hall toward the elevators trying to devise some sort of plan and praying he wouldn’t run into one of his nurses. With one arm in a cast, blood all over the other, and his face as pale as a whitewashed fence, he knew they would never allow him to leave the hospital, security would be all over him. He paused and leaned against the wall to steady himself, to catch his breath, and to think. “Even if I do get out of here, how am I going to get to the boatyard?”
He knew he could never make it in time, not in his condition, not without a ride.
“But what ride?” he murmured. “I haven’t got a car. I can’t call Rico. God, what?”
Then suddenly he got an idea. He took a deep breath and hurried down the hall to the elevators planning his escape as he limped along. Of course he knew he would get into trouble for stealing an ambulance, but they would soon forgive, after all he worked for East Beach EMS and Valerie’s life was at stake. He pushed the DOWN button and waited. The motors whirred. After what seemed an e
ternity the elevator dinged and the doors opened. To his relief it was empty. He stepped in and pushed the first floor button. The doors closed. He felt cold sweat dripping from his forehead, hard knots forming in his belly.
The elevator dropped six floors and stopped. The doors opened and Jim peeked out. He was amazed to find the hallway clear. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm and hurried through the ER, grateful not to hear his name called as he trotted past the nurses’ station. He didn’t slow down until he had passed through the entrance doors to the ambulance bay, but there he froze. There wasn’t an ambulance in sight.
“Think,” he ordered himself. “Think!”
He trotted out of the building and looked around for another form of transportation—an unlocked car, a truck, anything. He would steal if necessary—but two security officers were standing nearby. It would never work. He was out of luck. And time. “Think!” Jim realized he had run out of options. He took a deep breath, swallowed the intense burning pain in his abdomen and took off up the sidewalk in the direction of the Terrace.
Nausea and dizziness soon overwhelmed him. He wasn’t going to make it in time. His body wasn’t ready. Panic set in. Mad with determination, he pressed his hand against his belly and slowed his pace to a lopsided trot. Each step became more painful than the last, each breath shorter. He murmured as he ran, willing himself forward, praying for Valerie’s safety. Praying for time.
“Hey, sarge, come ‘ere a minute.”
Rico dropped his keys onto his desk and walked over to join his team member. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know if this is real or not,” Jimmy Little said, “but some chick named Linda Newton called here asking for you.”
“Linda Newton?”
“She said you’d know her.”
“Yeah, I know her. Hot little number. Got a thing for Jim.”
“Well she seems to think he’s in some kinda trouble.”
“He’s in the hospital, how could he be in trouble?”
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