by Judith Lucci
“Some problems with labored breathing, I think. And I believe that she is still unconscious,” Jane answered.
“I’ll meet the ambulance,” Robert responded. “Where will she go?”
Jane looked at the board and said, “Trauma 2. It’s cleaned and ready.”
Robert thanked her, and headed toward the back entrance again.
It was frigid cold standing outside, waiting for the ambulance, and the wind was whipping around the tall buildings. Robert pulled his jacket closer around him. He couldn’t wait to get back to the Big Easy where he hoped things would be easier than they were in Virginia.
He saw the blinking lights of the ambulance several blocks before it pulled in. An ED resident doctor, Dr. Ben, joined Robert on the tarmac, smiled at him, and said, “She’s finally here, Dr. Bonnet. We’ll take good care of her.”
Robert nodded and said, “Thank you. She means everything to me.”
The paramedics jumped out of the back, and in a minute the stretcher was being wheeled through the main ED to Trauma Room 2.
Robert listened intently as the paramedics gave reports to the nurse and the young resident. “She has dyspnea, is short of breath, has Lactated Ringers hanging, seems to be in pain, and moans when turned. BP is dropping and she is tachycardic.”
Robert watched as they transferred Alex to the ED table. She looked ghostly white and frail. His heart beat frantically with fear.
He stood by helplessly watching as the resident did a neuro exam and the nurse hooked Alex up to the cardiac monitor. Her heart rate was 136, BP was 92/50, and pulse oximetry was 92%. Potential problems flashed through Robert’s mind.
Robert felt another presence in the room and turned to see a team of surgeons filing quickly into the room. Dr. Ben greeted them, and introduced Robert to the attending physician, Dr. Eggleston, as a surgeon from New Orleans and close friend of the patient.
“Ms. Destephano’s abdomen is board-like and rigid, but we’ve got to get a CT and skull films before you take her up,” Dr. Ben informed the surgeons.
The attending physician nodded and then examined Alex. He turned to Robert and asked for a history. Robert reported that Alex had been injured in the explosion at Wyndley Farm and was lost in the snow for over five hours.
The attending shook his head and asked, “Was she airborne from the blast?”
“I’m not positive, but I suspect so,” Robert offered. “They found her down by the river near a large rock. They treated her hypothermia and sent her here.”
“My guess is that she hit her head on the rock, so we need to get a head CT and films. She has no breath sounds on the right side,” Dr. Eggleston reported. He then turned to the residents and asked, “What is your assessment of this patient?”
A young doctor spoke up. “It’s possible she could have a cracked or broken rib that has punctured her lung and that could account for her respiratory distress.” The attending nodded and pointed to another resident.
“She most likely has blood in her abdomen, either from internal injuries or massive trauma. We need a CT of her abdomen.”
Dr. Eggleston nodded and barked orders, “Get her to x-ray for a CT of her head and abdomen STAT, type and cross-match for 5 units of blood, get blood work, and get neurosurgery in here.”
Robert looked at Eggleston and said, “She’s pretty beat up. More so than I thought. What’s your guess?”
Dr. Eggleston shrugged his shoulders, his eyes uncertain. “Dr. Bonnet, you know how these things go. Un-witnessed trauma can offer unpleasant surprises. I suspect she has a ruptured spleen, possibly liver, and a punctured lung. I have no idea what else. What do you think?”
Robert nodded, “I suspect you’re right. A splenic rupture is certainly possible. It’s possible her abdomen suffered a severe direct blow or blunt trauma. Since the spleen is the most frequent organ to be damaged in blunt trauma it’s highly likely, and being found near a rock suggests that prognosis as well.”
Eggleston nodded and said, “Yes, her abdomen feels hard and is distended because it is filled with blood. She has low blood pressure and a rapid heart rate. The paramedics reported her blood pressure had been falling throughout the two plus hour trip here.”
Robert’s gray eyes were sober. “I’m more worried about her head injury. I just hope it’s a concussion.”
“Me too, but you know we’ve got the best neurosurgeons in the country, so she’ll get the best care. We should know something soon. I’ll keep you posted as tests come back. We should have her in the OR within the hour. There’s a private waiting area up there and ….”
Robert waved his hand and said, “I’ve been up there. My friend, Commander Jack Francoise, was up there earlier with shrapnel in his torso and leg.”
Eggleston nodded. “Ah, that’s the guy Hartley had in the OR earlier. I was watching. That was a wicked wound. If he keeps his leg, it’ll be a miracle.”
Robert was somber. “I thought I was going to lose him several times in the ambulance. Jack’s a strong guy. I hope to hell he keeps his leg.” Robert paused for a second and grinned, “Trust me, Jack Francoise isn’t good at a desk job and he refuses to go to meetings. He’s one of a kind.”
Dr. Eggleston observed Robert carefully and the replied, “I hope he does too. It looked touch and go to me. Hartley managed to piece his artery back together, so time will tell. Hartley’s a great vascular man. He’s pulled out plenty of metal from bodies.”
“Yeah, I heard. Good guy. We’re grateful.”
Dr. Eggleston shook his head. “That’s bull shit … what happened at the Congressman’s farm. We’re lucky it wasn’t worse. Weren’t there several hundred people there?”
Robert nodded affirmatively. “Yes, at least. We were hit because Alex, Jack, and I were headed toward the horse barn when the bomb went off. Jack caught the metal and Alex went airborne. I was knocked out for a while from the blast. Stoner, the Secret Service agent who was with us, wasn’t hurt at all. Amazing how different the injuries were.”
Eggleston listened closely. “Yeah, it is. Damn shame about the horses, and I think the farm manager is still missing.”
“What? What about the horses,” Robert asked, his voice sounding surprised.
“Oh, you don’t know,” Dr. Eggleston noted with a raised eyebrow. “They shot three of them. The horses were close to the blast site and took a lot of shrapnel. Apparently, they couldn’t get a vet out there, so they put them down. I think one died from smoke inhalation, at least that’s what the news reported,” he said as he scratched his head, trying to remember the precise details.
Robert was silent. He wondered how Kathryn was doing. She loved her horses almost as much as she loved Alex. After a few moments passed, Robert responded, “Thanks for letting me know. I haven’t seen the news and didn’t know about the horses. Kathryn Lee is bound to be upset. And you say Joe Parker is still missing?”
Dr. Eggleston nodded. “Yeah, if he’s the farm manager, he is. He’s not accounted for. They’re looking for a Secret Service agent as well. They think he’s most likely dead. They found one guy shot in the back. They haven’t said for sure that it’s him, but I’m sure it is. It’s all disastrous. No one’s safe anymore.” Eggleston shook his head in disgust and added, “Bastards.”
Robert pondered the information as a junior resident entered the room with a packet of radiology films and waved them at Dr. Eggleston. “Gotta go, Dr. Bonnet. I’ll let you know what we find.”
“Thanks, man,” Robert managed. “Take care of her for me.”
“Don’t worry.” Dr. Eggleston said and offered him a smile, “Don’t you know they call this place the Miracle College.”
Robert smiled back and waved. A good man. He’ll take good care of Alex.
Chapter 40
“Mr. Destephano, Mr. Destephano, can you hear me.” The young nurse shook Louis’s shoulder gently as she turned her head toward the police officers and said, ”He had a rough night and had quite a bit of m
edicine for pain because he’s had some arrhythmias. He’s really zonked.”
“We really need to talk to him. Can you shake him a bit harder?”
The nurse nodded, “Mr. Destephano, can you hear me?” Finally, in desperation, she spoke directly into his ear, “Louis, wake up. There are men here who need to talk with you. It’s important.”
Louis Destephano opened his eyes and looked around. After a few seconds he re-oriented himself. He was in the hospital, in intensive care. He’d had a heart attack. Wasn’t there something about being poisoned, or did I dream that?
“How do you feel, Mr. Destephano? Do you have pain,” the nurse asked.
He shook his head and looked at the police officers expectantly, fearful of what they would ask or say. The big one with the dark hair spoke first. “We checked your loft, Mr. Destephano. There were signs of forced entry through the service entrance. Some of the paint looks as though it was scratched some time ago. Also, the deadbolt wasn’t on. Do you usually latch that at night?”
Louis scratched his head. “Yes, I do, before I go to bed. My housekeeper can’t latch it when she leaves. Did you find anything else,” he asked as he gave them an expectant look.
There was a pause and the other officer, a younger man with dirty blonde hair, spoke. “We removed all of the food from your refrigerator and had it tested for any type of poison.”
“And …?” Louis waited expectantly, afraid of what they might say.
The cop continued, “Nothing in your refrigerator tested positive, but your scotch bottle was lethal for Anthracycline or Adriamycin, the medicine you took for cancer. We think someone’s been entering your loft and poisoning your bottles of scotch. Any idea who would want to kill you?”
Louis turned his head toward the wall, away from the NYPD officers. He didn’t reply.
The younger officer walked around the bed so he could see Louis’s face. “Mr. Destephano, we’re here to help you, you’re a very important man, a VIP in the city, and a good man. I remember what you did for the police department after 911. You’re a hero as far as the NYPD is concerned.”
Louis gave the young officer a thin smile. “Thank you, gentlemen. I appreciate your words. But, to answer your question, I don’t know who is trying to kill me.” Of course, that’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out myself, Louis continued silently to himself.
“Did you check with Rudolph, the door man in my building, and ask him if he’d seen any strange people? There is also a closed camera security system that shows anyone entering or existing the building.”
The dark haired officer nodded. “We did, and he says he hasn’t noted anyone different. We’ve got the camera footage and are combing through it down at headquarters,” he added.
Louis nodded and smiled, “Thank you, gentlemen, Keep me in the loop.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Destephano, we’ll find him. You’re one of us,” the officer added with a confidant, reassuring smile. “In the meantime, we’ve stationed an officer outside your door 24/7 and the hospital and nursing staff are on alert.”
Louis smiled thinly and asked, “Will you have the nurse come in one your way out? My chest is hurting.”
“Sure thing, boss,” the older office agreed. “We’ll be in touch,”
Louis heaved a sigh of relief when the police officers left, and reached for his TV remote. He had to find out what was going on at Wyndley and whether they had found his beloved Alex. An orderly walked by his room and Louis hollered, “Yo, dude, can you find CNN on this thing?”
“Yeah, man. Just give me a sec and I’ll be right back,” the orderly hollered back.
There was nothing on CNN about the terror attack or Wyndley Farm. He checked his watch. It was a little after eight in the morning. He pressed his buzzer for the nurse and, much to his surprise, Brittany Major, his office intern, entered in her student nurse uniform with a stethoscope around her neck.
Louis smiled in delight. “Brittany, I am so glad to see a friend. You are like a breath of fresh air.”
Brittany had tears in her eyes as she took her boss’s hand. “Mr. Destephano, I am so sorry. You seemed fine yesterday at the office. How’re you feeling?”
“Better, much better now that I have seen you. I do need a couple of things.”
Brittany nodded. “Of course, what can I get you?”
Louis shook his head, “No, nothing from here. I need you to call the office and ask Ms. A to bring me my computer and my cell phone. Ask her to get me a copy of the New Orleans paper, The Times Picayune, she’ll know. Tell her I need my address book from my home safe. It’s critical.”
Brittany pulled a small notebook from her pocket and took notes. “Anything else?”
“Yes, tell her to find out if Alex is OK. She was in that terrorist attack in Virginia. I have to know if she is OK,” Louis said, completely unaware of the tears that were streaming down his face.
Brittany deftly grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and gently wiped his tears away. “Of course, Mr. D. I’ll get right on it. When I take my break in a little bit I will check the news and go online with my phone. I’ll find out everything I can.”
Louis nodded his thanks, too choked up to speak.
“Now,” Brittany said as she took a long list out of her uniform pocket. “I have to do a full assessment. Are you up for it?” She smiled at him with her sweetest student nurse smile.
“Um, well, I guess so,” Louis said in an uncertain voice.
“Don’t worry, Mr. D. Just a bunch of questions,” she promised, as she gave him a gentle smile and brushed back her dark hair.
He nodded, “OK, then. Have at it, but first of all, when can I go home?”
She shook her head and signed. “I don’t think it will be anytime soon. A few days, perhaps. They have you booked for a bunch of tests.”
Chapter 41
Daylight dawned at Wyndley Farm. The snow had stopped and a thick coat of ice covered the fallen snow. The wind had calmed some, but the snow was deep with drifts as high as five feet. True to their promise, at least fifty friends and neighbors combed the blast area, picking up debris -- large pieces of metal, shrapnel, and virtually anything on the ground that wasn’t organic. Digger had started the tractor at dawn and pushed snow to create a walkway from the house so volunteers wouldn’t slip and fall. He’d also removed the bodies of Kathryn’s beloved horses. Mary followed him in her snowmobile and handed out coffee to all the volunteers. Digger caught up with her and grabbed a cup.
“Mary, have you heard about Alex,” Digger asked.
Shaking her head, Mary replied, “No, nothing, but Dr. Bonnet said Commander Francoise was out of surgery and in the intensive care unit, so that’s good.”
Digger nodded, “I’m gonna get the sled and take one more look around for Joe.”
Mary’s eyes locked his. “Why are you doing this to yourself? You know he couldn’t possibly be alive.”
Digger fiddled with his coffee cup and stared down at the snow. “I haven’t seen his body so in my mind I think he could be alive. I can always wish for a miracle.”
Mary said nothing, but moved closer and tilted his chin upward with her finger. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up and be disappointed. I don’t think it’s possible.”
Digger gave her a curious look. “Why are you so sure? Did you have a vision?”
“No, I haven’t, or at least I don’t think so. I did have a dark vision several weeks ago, but I don’t think it was about this.”
Digger and Mary both had ‘The Vision’, a gift often present in Native Americans, which often times offered them a glimpse into the future. Generally, they left the area or went on retreat for these Visions, which lasted several days. However, this one had occurred to Mary during the night and had been nonspecific and short lived.
Digger’s voice was stubborn. “Regardless, Joe is my brother in my heart and he would never leave me if he thought there was any hope. I have done all I can do here and o
ur friends are doing a fine job of cleaning up after the blast.” Digger then added with lament, “I have to do this, Mary. Surely, you understand.”
Mary hugged him. “Of course, take my snowmobile. It is already packed with blankets and my medicine kit. It also has the stretcher so you can put him in the back.”
Digger hugged her back and said, “Please keep your eye on Adam. He’s having a hard time with this.”
“I will, I am watching both of them, they’re both exhausted,” she admitted as Digger got on her snowmobile. “I’ll see you later,”
Digger waved and sped up, headed to the northern end of the estate in search of Joe Parker, his heart full of fear at the though of what he might find.
Chapter 42
Jacob Stark peered through the dirty Venetian blind and gazed at the parking lot of his shabby hotel just outside of Chapel Hill, North Carolina. The paved sheet of ice glistened and there were only a few cars. The purity of the snow made his accommodations feel even dirtier than they really were. Sleet was still falling. Feeling pretty safe for the evening, he pulled out his burner cell and dialed a number.
“Yeah, who’s ‘dis,” a harsh voice answered.
“Stark. Is Johnnie there?”
“Who?”
“Jake Stark, his friend from the war.”
“How yo spell it?”
“S-T-A-R-K.” Jake was getting pissed.
“Hold on and lemme see,” the voice grunted.
Stark heard a door slam, several men talking, and Blues music playing in the background. He closed his eyes, enjoying the cadence of the music for a couple of moments.
Finally, “Jake Stark, how the hell are you,” the deep, rich voice questioned. “Son of a dog, I never expected to hear from you anytime soon.” The pleasure in his friend’s voice comforted him and Jake felt a small sense of relief.
“Shooter, man, it’s good to hear your voice,” Jake said, choked up and unable to continue.
