She shut her eyes, clenched her hands into fists, and waited.
21
As Katy lay drifting into shock, attorneys Ellen Roddgers and Milbanks Wang were meeting with their clients, Uncle Roy Underwood, and Jack Millerton. They were sitting around the conference table in Wang’s office, a table that did double duty as a coffee table and conference table. It was bounded on two sides by two love seats and on the other two sides by wingback chairs. Attorney Roddgers had one of the wingbacks and had placed her file before her on the table. It was closed. Attorney Wang had the other wingback and he was sitting with an ankle over a knee, drumming his fingers anxiously on the file in his lap. Uncle Roy was sprawled on the white brocade love seat, dressed in slacks and a short sleeve white shirt with black clip-on necktie, while Jack Millerton was elaborately spread out in the black love seat, his CPA’s case lovingly beside him with its raft of papers, files, and books at the ready. He was poised to do some serious business this morning, just waiting for Wang to turn him loose on his new co-conservator, Uncle Roy.
More than anything, Jack wanted Roy to take a backseat to him. Roy, more than anything, wanted Attorney Roddgers to carry his water, to actually get down and fight for him, but he wasn’t convinced she had that talent. Wang just wanted to get the whole mess over with. But, he needed some quick money to fund his injury cases and it looked like he could grab some fees out of Nadia’s case without much trouble and quite soon. Still, he was beginning to regret he’d ever gotten mixed up with the squalling family and the exotic lawsuit against a doctor who had faced death and won. It wasn’t your typical medical malpractice case like the brain damaged babies he preferred to represent in their lawsuits.
Round two, Wang thought. Here we go.
“All right,” said Wang. “We have a petition for co-conservatorship and just this morning Judge Mendoza signed off on it. We need to decide which of you two gentlemen is going to walk on point for the conservator’s lawsuit against Dr. Sewell. Uncle Roy? I would suggest it be my client, Jack, because of Jack’s familiarity with the law. Would that be agreeable?”
“I think—” Uncle Roy began but Attorney Roddgers shushed him with a raised hand.
“We believe both men should walk the point, as you put it. Roy Underwood is a long-established businessman and knows his way around balance sheets and income statements as well as anyone.”
“I take exception to that,” said Jack Millerton, CPA. “Familiarity with one’s own records in one tiny facet of business does not a CPA make. In that regard, yours truly is the pro. It should definitely be me.”
“Wait a minute, I’m flashing on something here,” said Uncle Roy. “The one of us that does it, he gets paid extra, am I right?”
“His hourly would be paid and if he’s instrumental in prosecuting the civil action, why then, yes, he would be paid more.”
Roy kicked the table then leaned forward and apologized. “I get it! Then I definitely want to be the one to do the suing. It’s for damn sure I need the money. Besides, Nadia is my sister. Jack is just a son-in-law. No blood there.”
Wang raised both hands. “Why don’t we do this? Why don’t we have Jack actually sign stuff and sit with me in court at the trial, subject to Roy reviewing everything. That way Roy gets his hours and has his say-so, but we still keep it streamlined with one main conservator for the litigation. And as far as additional hours, Roy, I’m sure your attorney and I can find other duties that can be assigned to you that will keep your billables up with Jack’s. Fair enough, son?”
Roy’s head bobbed side to side. “I think so. I think that sounds pretty darn fair.”
“By the way, Roy, how is your sister?” said Wang as an afterthought.
“No change. Sleeping and drooling. Drooling and sleeping. She’s getting bedsores even though they move her every hour. Some of it’s pretty nasty looking stuff.”
“And what about your wife, Jack; how is Anastasia doing?”
Jack sniffed. “I’m really the one you should be asking about. I’ve had to personally set up the accounting system for the conservatorship and no one’s even told me thanks for that. Took all weekend, I might add. Twenty-some hours.”
“What about you, Ellen?” said Wang. “Any luck with the bar journal ads?”
Roddgers opened her file and peered down at the top paper. She nodded. “I’m running ads in forty bar journals. I’m asking all attorneys with clients who have been injured by Dr. Sewell’s book to please contact me.”
“Forty,” Wang said and whistled. “How much is that costing us?”
“Nothing,” said Millerton. “I wrote her a check out of the conservatorship account.”
“Is that right?”
Roddgers nodded. “That’s right. Eighteen thousand dollars for a small ad in each journal. Forty of them.”
“Holy shit,” said Wang. “Excuse my French. How many responses do we have so far?”
Roddgers leaned back in her chair. It was taller than her and considerably wider. It reminded Uncle Roy of a skit from Saturday Night Live, the little girl in the grown-up chair. “So far we have zero responses. But I’m very hopeful,” Roddgers added.
“Yes, there have to be other people out there who have been injured,” said Wang, who immediately felt stupid for suggesting there were other nitwits out there who might purposely overdose so they could have a near death experience. The whole idea was absurd, but Ellen Roddgers had insisted that if they get more claimants involved against the doctor they could bring more pressure on his insurance company to settle. Wang looked at his watch. Nearly eleven. They had set aside a full hour for this tripe. Well, it was time to move in the direction he had in mind.
“Now here’s the next order of business,” Wang said. “I think it’s time we pay ourselves some temporary fees.” Translated: I need money to fund my injury cases right away.
“Out of Nadia’s account?” asked Jack Millerton. “Don’t we need a court order for that?”
Wang leaned in conspiratorially. “Ordinarily, I’d say yes. But where the key parties are sitting here together and everyone’s in agreement, I don’t see what harm there would be in doing it first and getting the court’s okay on down the road.”
“I could use some money,” said Roy, always on the lookout.
“Too risky,” said Roddgers. “We should ask Judge Mendoza to review a motion for fees.”
“Well, I’m lead counsel,” said Wang. “And I say we’re going to do it. Not much at first. Say, five thousand each. Five thousand for Ms. Roddgers, five thousand for Roy, five thousand for Jack—”
“Plus my time doing the accounting last weekend—”
“Plus your time from last weekend, and five thousand for me. That’s only twenty thousand altogether. We’ve been assigned the important task of taking care of one-point-two million bucks, so I think we need to keep ourselves paid up. It’s an awesome responsibility.”
“Well, show my continuing objection,” said Roddgers. “But I sure as hell won’t turn down Jack’s check. Jack?”
“I can have them by this afternoon. The checkbook’s right here.” He pounded the side of his CPA case.
“Then it’s done,” said Wang. “Come by at four o’clock. We’ll have the checks ready.”
“Sounds great,” said Uncle Roy. It was going to be a good weekend. There might be enough to pick up a used bass boat with a trolling motor and eighty horse Evinrude for out at the city lake.
“I’m sending out a letter that I disagree,” said Roddgers. “So don’t be surprised.”
“But you will swing by for your check?” Wang confirmed.
“Of course.”
Jack said, “I’ll write the checks then I’m headed down the hill for Phoenix. It’s about time to file quarterly returns for my clients and I’m up to here busy.” Still, the five thousand was going to take a lot of pressure off his CPA practice that was forever tardy with getting its own bills covered.
“Let’s wrap-up. I’ve got
an eleven o’clock,” said Wang. Anything to bring this to a halt. He stood without waiting for a response and strode back to his desk. Five thousand play dollars for doing jackshit, he thought. Screw the injury cases. He could pay those bills later. For now, he’d go to Amazon and buy something expensive and utterly worthless. It satisfied his inner child, a bellicose personality his analyst was always encouraging him to honor more. Maybe a short wave radio? His inner child had always wanted one of those.
He couldn’t wait for his office to clear so he could pick one out.
22
It had alarmed Thaddeus, the call from his ranch hand. Thaddeus listened, got the gist of what was transpiring, and he called Katy’s nurse. The nurse recounted how Katy had doubled down on her noon dose of pain meds. Then she had ridden into the mountains on Charley and was out there during the storm. She must be soaked. But even though she probably was wet, she still hadn’t shown back up at home. Thaddeus had just finished up with his client Emerick Sewell, who just happened to be a neurosurgeon. “Come with me!” Thaddeus shouted and dragged the man out of the office. Together they left the office on the run and headed downstairs to the parking garage.
Twenty minutes later they were headed into the forest on Thaddeus’ green ATV. They were still dressed in suit pants. Thaddeus had brought along his sat-phone. He dialed 911 on the way out. He figured the sheriff’s rescue chopper would probably spot her from the air before he got to her on the ATV.
It was going on five o’clock and shadows were lengthening as Thaddeus veered crazily through the woods. Knowing Katy, she had ridden up to her meadow, which was exactly where they were headed. The steering on the ATV was very tight and sensitive and enabled Thaddeus to keep the throttle full on while dodging bushes and tree trunks. He glanced at Dr. Sewell, who had grabbed a helmet and was holding onto the panic bars for dear life. There were no seat belts, which terrified the doctor even more. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this, Doc,” Thaddeus reassured him, yelling over the rushing wind and whine of the engine.
“I’m not worried about you! I’m worried about these low-hanging branches. They could pop your head right off your shoulders!”
“Keep ducking! You’re doing great!”
On and on they roared, both of them keeping lateral lookouts for any shape resembling a horse or a human. So far, though, there had been nothing, just an endless green pastiche of pine boughs and black trunks and swatches of blue sky overhead. Then they drove to the edge of the rain storm. There was nothing to do but keep going. The water was stinging their faces and slapping them around, but still Thaddeus kept the throttle open. “I’ve got clothes your size back at the ranch!” Thaddeus yelled. The doctor only nodded, hanging on, white-faced and praying out loud.
Thaddeus considered this with a jolt, the praying. He’d never had another man around him praying who wasn’t a priest or a politician running for office. But what the hell, he thought. It sure can’t make it any worse than it already is.
Then up ahead they could see through the clearing to the other side of the final hundred yards of forest. But no Katy, no horse, not at first.
Thaddeus raced the ATV to the edge of the clearing then backed off the throttle. Now they were crawling.
“Stand up, Doc. Time to take a look around!”
Dr. Sewell, still clutching the panic bar, stood and surveyed the vista before him. He was first struck by the beauty of the place, the serenity, the pulse of the wild place. His sharp eyes continued their sweep across the meadow. Then he saw it. A horse, standing at the far right edge of the field. Dr. Sewell poked Thaddeus’ shoulder and motioned with his head. Thaddeus swerved and off they bolted toward the horse.
“I know that guy,” said Thaddeus. “That’s Charley, Katy’s horse.”
Charley looked up to watch the approaching ATV, a machine he’d seen hundreds of times and which was neutral in his mind. There was no fear.
Thaddeus jumped from the throttled-down ATV and ran up to Charley. He pulled Katy’s shell from the saddle horn. He riffled the saddlebags and found her hat. Wet. She would be nearby.
His heart ached as he turned and looked back across the meadow. She was out there somewhere, down, probably injured and in tremendous pain. He shook his head, for he expected the worst, taking into account the degeneration of her spine and hip as the cancer devoured her. “Oh, my God,” he said. “Oh, my God!”
The two men hopped back on the ATV and began working the meadow back and forth like a lawnmower. Dr. Sewell stood to watch and Thaddeus drove, his heart aching, afraid that the next part in the meadow grass would reveal her limp body.
“Hold it!” cried the doctor. “I think I heard something!”
Thaddeus immediately throttled back and they jolted to a stop as if hitting an invisible wall.
“There!”
“I hear it too,” cried Thaddeus. “She’s yelling my name!”
Dr. Sewell jumped from the machine and broke into a sprint. “Bring the ATV, Thad. We’re going to need it.”
Thaddeus followed hard on the heels of the running doctor. Thirty yards out, the man’s hand shot up and he made the universal cut-throat sign. Thaddeus shut down the ATV and jumped off running.
She was spread-eagled on the ground. And she was a mess. Her short hair was matted with mud, her face stained and streaked where the flowing water and mud had changed her skin color to a tannish tint. Her lower half was twisted at a desperate angle from her upper half and Dr. Sewell again held up his hand.
“You’re hurting, Katy, I know,” said the doctor. “Please do not move.”
Thaddeus dropped to his knees and put his face against Katy’s. He remained there while the doctor began feeling her from the bottoms of her feet north. Then he pulled up the cuff of her jeans, revealing her ankle and shin. Withdrawing a ballpoint from his shirt pocket, he projected its tip and jabbed it into her shin—not hard, but hard enough to elicit a response. But there was none. He jabbed again. “All right,” he said, “tell me when you feel this.” He jabbed a third time. A fourth. Switching legs, he repeated the test. Nothing on either leg. Thaddeus watched all this, his heart in free fall. He was beside himself with grief and panic.
“I’m so cold,” she moaned, fighting hard to stay awake. “Please get me up off this mud!”
Thaddeus looked down at the doctor, who shook his head.
“We need to leave her right here until that chopper arrives with a back board. She can’t be moved without it.”
“Thaddeus, I’m so cold.”
Thaddeus was wearing his barn jacket, which he slipped off. Then he lay down beside her, stretching out fully along the side of her body, following her contours, and placed his warmth against her chill. The doctor covered them with the barn jacket, and he took the opposite side of Katy and did the same thing.
“Do you have any meds along?” asked Thaddeus.
“In my jacket. On the horse, if you can catch him.”
“The jacket’s on the ATV,” said the doctor. “Be right back.”
He returned seconds later, holding out the dose pack for her to see. “Can you swallow without water?”
“Yes. Gimme.”
Dr. Sewell tore opened the dose pack and placed the pills in her mouth. She swallowed hard, choked, coughed, and swallowed hard again.
“Okay. I got ‘em down.”
Both men resumed pressing their bodies against her.
Ten minutes passed while Katy was nodding off with the new load of Demerol in her bloodstream.
Thank you God, Thaddeus said.
Then the beating blades of the chopper could be heard. Dr. Sewell jumped to his feet and wildly waved his arms at the bird. But there was no need: the chopper had them spotted and swiftly set down a safe distance away. Two burly EMTs ran toward them with a back board.
“I’m a neurosurgeon,” said Dr. Sewell to the two men. “Her back is broken. She’s paralyzed.”
They nodded and began the touch-and-go of moving her onto the b
ackboard. All four men were needed to bear as much of the weight without distance between hands as possible. Katy was unconscious the whole time. Thaddeus panicked. Was she even alive?
The EMTs hurried her to the helicopter.
“You coming?” said the husky Hispanic man. “Vamanos!”
“We’re both coming. We’ll leave the ATV, Doc.”
“Sure.”
The husband and the doctor clambered aboard and the chopper rotated off the ground. Immediately its skids were at treetop and the pilot brought its nose around for the Medical Center’s helipad.
23
She tried opening her eyes, but they didn’t work. Faint glimmers of distant light filtered through her eyelids, but a scene wouldn’t reveal itself. A faint electrical hum of a pump and monitors came from somewhere above her head. She twisted her head from side to side and tried to speak. “Unh,” she managed. “Unh.”
She tried her eyes again and they finally opened. It was dark in the room. She twisted again and saw poles and hanging plastic bags and tubes inserted at different points on her body. At just that moment she realized there was a tube in her throat and that the heaving, whooshing sound was a ventilator breathing for her. As a doctor, Katy had heard the sound many times before and it became clear to her: a hospital room, probably ICU.
Her lower back cramped, but there was little pain. She tried wiggling her toes and had no sensation of movement. Then she tried her legs; again, no sensation. A word came into her mind, but she knew it was worthless trying to speak. The breathing tube allowed no words from her.
She heard the drip of the IV in her left arm. It was inordinately loud, like a bass drum pounding. She knew she was hyper-sensitive and that was probably brought on by the meds. Pain med, she thought. And who knew what else?
Then she remembered. Charley, the paint horse. The Meadow. The rain.
The Near Death Experience (Thaddeus Murfee Legal Thriller Series Book 10) Page 11
