A TWISTED MIND
by
John C. Dalglish
2021
Prologue
Doctor Dale Ellard guided his silver Mercedes E350 sedan down the Connally Loop exit from I-35, cruised along the south side of San Antonio International Airport, then turned onto Highway 281 towards home. The normal ninety minute trip back to his Alamo Heights neighborhood had taken nearly twice as long because of a pile up just outside of New Braunfels.
He looked forward to putting his feet up and relaxing after spending a large part of the day in Austin. A trusted psychiatrist from San Antonio, he had been asked to consult on a criminal case. It had been a grueling experience in court, as usual, and he was glad it was over.
As he got off 281, his cell phone rang. He pushed the button on his steering wheel to answer.
“Hello.”
“Doctor Ellard?”
“Yes.” He recognized the voice of his long-time receptionist. “What is it, Destiny?”
“Have you spoken with Mrs. Ellard?”
He checked the dash clock: 4:45. “Not this afternoon.” His wife Janet was also his partner at their practice. “Isn’t she still at the office?”
“No, sir. She went home a couple hours ago.”
“I thought she had appointments this afternoon.”
“She did. She said she didn’t feel well and asked me to reschedule them. I was to call her at home if there were any problems.”
“Okay. And?”
“It isn’t anything serious, but I haven’t been able to get hold of her all afternoon. I was hoping maybe you had talked to her.”
His house came into view as he turned down Edgewood Place. Janet’s black BMW sat in the driveway. “I’m home now, Destiny, and her car is here. Maybe she had her phone off. I’ll have her call you when I get inside.”
“Thank you.”
He pushed the disconnect button and turned into his driveway. Their single-story bungalow, with a manicured lawn and cobblestone pathways had been a labor of love. Originally built in 1934, the craftsman style home had been completely remodeled by he and Janet, and turned into their oasis.
He parked next to his wife’s car, grabbed his briefcase, and climbed out into the midsummer Texas heat. Even at five in the afternoon, it could be oppressive. The Chinquapin and Bur Oaks that towered over the house provided instant relief as he walked under them toward the front door.
Inside the foyer, he set his case down and stripped off his suit jacket. “Janet?”
Just the hum of the central air conditioning answered him. He removed his tie on the way down the short hallway into the kitchen, tossed it on the counter, then grabbed a Coke out of the fridge. Popping it open, he drank half the contents in one large gulp.
Holding his coke, he went into the dining room and walked around the table. Janet’s briefcase lay on the floor leaning against one of the table legs.
“Janet?”
Another hallway led back to three bedrooms, the master at the far end. As he approached their bedroom, a moan drifted toward him. His adrenaline surged.
“Janet!”
Bursting through the door, he found her face down, sprawled across the bed. Vomit ran down the side of the bed onto the floor and her back arched upward. Tiny gasps of air escaped her throat, and her eyes were crammed shut.
“Janet!”
He kneeled next to her on the bed, attempting to turn her over, but her body resisted, rigid as if she was having a convulsion. He grabbed her wrist and checked her pulse. Fast, too fast. Her skin was cool to the touch and purplish. She wasn’t getting enough oxygen. “Janet, what is it?”
Her eyes rolled half-open, but she appeared incapable of responding. Her phone lay on the side table and he snatched it up.
“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?”
“My wife. She’s having an attack.”
“What kind of attack, sir? Can you be more specific?”
“I don’t know! She’s never had anything like this before. I just found her on the bed semi-conscious.”
“Is she breathing?”
“No, at least not well. Her skin is turning blue.”
A steady tapping came across the phone as the operator entered his answers. “What is your address?”
“One-sixty-five Edgewood Place in Alamo Heights. You have to hurry!”
More tapping.
“I have an ambulance on the way. How is she lying?”
“I rolled her onto her back.”
“Okay, I need you to lay her on her side and clear her mouth. Make sure there are no obstructions.”
He set the phone down and did as instructed, scooping some vomit out of her mouth. He grabbed the phone. “There’s nothing but a little vomit.”
“Okay. Do you know what the Heimlich maneuver is?”
“Yes.”
“Do it now.”
He set the phone down again and slid onto the bed and in behind his wife, pulling her up in front of him. Reaching around her body, he made a ball with his left fist and grabbed it with his right hand. In quick succession, he pulled with three inward and upward thrusts. His wife rocked with the motion but nothing came out.
Panic enveloped him as he laid her back down. She no longer even gasped.
He grabbed the phone. “Nothing!”
“Roll her on her back and begin chest compressions.”
“But she can’t breathe!”
“I understand. We need to compress the lungs and heart.”
“Where’s the ambulance?”
“Almost there. Don’t wait on them. Start now!”
He placed his hands together on Janet’s chest and began. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.
“Paramedics!” A man’s voice called from somewhere near the front of the house.
Instant relief washed over Dale. “Back here!”
A male and female team, both of which looked half his age, surged into the room. Leaving a gurney in the hallway, they carried their bags and equipment through the door, which seemed to dramatically shrink the large master bedroom.
The young woman came around to where he was. “You can step back now, sir.”
He pushed himself up and away, leaning against the wall as she set to work putting a cuff on Janet. Sweat already beading his bald scalp, the male tech lifted Janet’s eyelids, and flashed a small penlight across her pupils. “Fixed and dilated.”
His female partner pumped up, then deflated a blood pressure cuff. “Pressure is two-ten over one-forty. Pulse is one-sixteen. She’s tachycardic.”
Dale stared at his wife as her color changed from purplish to blue. Everything had gone into a soundless slow motion. She was dying right before his eyes.
The male medic put an oxygen mask on his wife with a bag attached to it and started rhythmically squeezing the bag. The young lady had pulled a yellow box from her bag and unpacked a large tube with an orange tip. She placed it against Janet’s thigh and injected the contents.
Grabbing her radio, she contacted the hospital and described the situation, including the use of the Epipen, all the while scanning the bedroom.
Dale frowned. What was she was looking for?
When she put the radio down, she rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a sealed plastic sack, which she tore open.
Working quickly, she wiped peroxide on Janet’s throat and spread a small blue sheet with a hole in it over the sterilized area. Dale watched in stunned amazement as she cut a small slice in his wife’s throat, inserted a plastic tube, and taped it in place. Her partner remove
d the ventilating bag from the mask and attached it to the plastic tube. When he squeezed, Janet’s chest rose.
Dale searched her face for a reaction. Nothing.
The female tech got up and wheeled the gurney through the door. Less than two minutes later, his wife was in the back of the ambulance.
The male medic prepared to shut the rear doors. “You want to ride with her?”
Dale did, but he also needed to call the family. He shook his head, lurching toward the tech. “Where?”
The medic slammed the door and moved around to the driver’s seat. “SAG.”
Then they were gone. The ambulance, the paramedics, and Janet.
Dale stood by the curb, the phone still in his hand, dazed.
“Sir?”
He looked around for the source of the voice. He was alone.
“Sir? Are you there?”
He stared dumbly at the phone— Janet’s phone.
“Sir?”
“Uh, yes.”
“The ambulance is gone now, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Are you still in the bedroom?”
“No…no, I’m on the driveway.”
“Your wife has symptoms of anaphylaxis. Does she have any allergies?”
He pushed himself to focus. “No…nothing.”
“I need you to return to the room where you found your wife.”
“Okay.” He turned and walked back toward the house. “Why?”
“Anaphylaxis like symptoms can be caused by an overdose. We need to make sure she hasn’t taken something.”
He stopped short. “Overdose? What?”
“It’s just a precaution. Her doctors will want to be sure.”
He returned to the bedroom, now littered with the remains of the emergency team’s work, and scanned the comforter, the floor, the side tables. “Nothing. Not even water.”
“Very good. I’m going to let you go now.”
“Okay.”
“Your wife’s in good hands.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Good luck.”
*******
SAG, as locals called it, referred to San Antonio General Hospital. Located on the west side of the city between SeaWorld and Lackland Air Base, the medical center had recently gone through a remodel. Once stereotypical of hospitals built nearly forty years before, with concrete walls, white halls, and black railings, it now featured pastel colors, modern finishes, and bright rooms.
The emergency department was located on the north side of the campus in the newest wing of the hospital. Dale arrived there thirty minutes after his wife. Along the way, he’d called their son, Colton, and daughter, Natasha. Both were as shocked as he was that their ultra-healthy mother was in the back of an ambulance.
He’d also placed a call to Destiny, who turned out to be the only one who beat him to the hospital. Destiny was like a member of the family, having been with the practice for nearly six years, and she’d even dated Colton for a while. Her blonde hair hung past her shoulders and her blue eyes searched a person’s face earnestly whenever they had her attention. Though just twenty-four, she was efficient and warm in her dealings with patients. She had an innate ability to put them immediately at ease when they checked in.
Still wearing the yellow scrubs from work, she stood and embraced Dale. “They won’t tell me anything. They said I’m not family.”
He looked past her toward the emergency desk. “I’ll see what I can learn.”
“Did you reach Colton?”
“Yes. Colton is on his way down.”
“And Tasha?”
“She’s driving in this evening.”
He moved past Destiny toward the desk and waited for one of the nurses to look up. Eventually, one of the staff hung up the phone and met his gaze. “Can I help you?”
“My wife was brought in here by ambulance. Janet Ellard.”
She glanced down at a ledger on the desk, then nodded, but this time avoided eye contact. “I’ll have the doctor come out and see you.”
A chill ran down his spine. “Can I go see my wife?”
“You should talk with the doctor first.”
Frustrated, but sensing there was no point in arguing, he returned to the waiting area where Destiny was now accompanied by Colton. His son jumped up and rushed toward him, his long, loping strides eating up the distance between them in a flash.
“How is she?”
Dale shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“They’re sending the doctor out to talk to us.”
“Well, what happened to her?”
“I found her on the bed, not breathing. That’s all I know.”
Colton’s brown eyes were wide with fear, and his sandy-brown hair stuck out at all angles, giving him a slightly wild, almost crazed appearance. “But she’s the healthiest person I know. How could this happen?”
Dale’s thoughts were identical. His wife liked running half-marathons and her diet was mostly vegetarian. He’d always teased her that she’d be lonely when she outlived him. Now, he could only hope he’d been right.
“Mr. Ellard?”
Dale turned to find a doctor in surgical scrubs coming toward them. “I’m Dale Ellard.”
“I’m Doctor Henderson.” The doctor extended his hand. Dale shook it robotically. “I have an update on your wife…Are you all family?”
Dale looked behind him. Destiny had joined Colton, and was holding his hand as they listened.
Dale nodded. “Yes.”
Henderson gestured at a row of empty seats by the window. “Let’s go over there.” He led the way without waiting for anyone to agree. “Please, all of you, take a seat.”
Colton and Destiny did so, but Dale hesitated. Henderson insisted. “Please, Mr. Ellard. I think it’s best you sit down.”
Dale did, but never lost eye contact with the doctor, who folded his hands in front of him. “Mrs. Ellard is still alive, but the prognosis is not good. Without oxygen for an extended time I’m afraid her brain has suffered extensive damage, which is unfortunately permanent.”
Dale scanned the doctor’s face for a sign of hope. “Will she be able to function at all?”
Henderson shook his head. “I’m sorry—no. Machines are keeping her alive right now.”
Destiny let out a little whimper. “Oh, no.”
Dale looked back at his son. Colton’s eyes had gone blank, as if their light had been snuffed out.
Henderson touched Dale’s shoulder. “You can see her, spend some time with her, but I’m afraid she will never wake up.”
Dale had known back at the house that Janet wouldn’t make it. Still, inside him, the words reverberated like a cannon shot. “I want to wait until my daughter can get here before making any decisions.”
Henderson nodded. “Of course. In a little while, Mrs. Ellard will be taken to intensive care, and you can visit her there.”
“Thank you.”
As the doctor walked away, Colton and Destiny leaned in and wrapped themselves around Dale. Their combined grief was crippling, paralyzing. He crumbled under the weight, falling apart both inside and out.
*******
Mike Henderson returned to the bedside of Janet Ellard. He lifted the metal chart holder from the end of the bed and made some notes. Though medically, it was clear from a clinical standpoint what had happened to her, the why was still a mystery, and it bothered him.
Janet Ellard was not overweight, didn’t have any known allergies, had been to her doctor for a physical just four months ago, and even had an up-to-date mammogram. She was a woman who took care of herself. While it was possible she had a reaction to something she was unaware she was allergic to, at the age of fifty-two, it seemed extremely unlikely.
Her blood had been drawn, and the full panel had come back normal, with the exception of her oxygen levels. She had vomited, but none of it had been found in her throat, ruling out choking. The most
troubling thing was that it might not be an allergic attack at all, but an overdose or ingestion of a toxic substance. However, the panel didn’t show signs of any drugs, either.
So what then? What caused this healthy woman to suddenly collapse in anaphylactic shock?
The situation just felt wrong, off.
He placed the chart back in the holder, went out to the hallway, and removed his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He didn’t have the authority to begin an official investigation on his own, but he was good friends with someone who did.
Chapter 1
Jason rode the elevator up to the third floor of the precinct, home to the San Antonio Police Department Homicide Division. When the doors slid open, he was both surprised and delighted to see his partner sitting at her desk.
“Hey, you!”
She looked up from her chair and smiled. “Hey, yourself.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I work here.”
He grinned. “Not lately, you don’t.”
She grimaced. “Don’t remind me.” Vanessa had been on leave for the last four weeks, recuperating from a gunshot wound. “You know how I get when I’m stuck in the house.”
He did, and it wasn’t pleasant. She became a restless tiger looking for a fight. “I thought you had wedding planning to keep you busy.”
“I can only look at flower arrangements and menu suggestions for so long.”
Their desks were pushed together facing each other, so he sat down across from her. “I hadn’t heard you were coming back.”
“Just got clearance this afternoon.”
“Light duty?”
“Yeah. Savage said no chasing perps and no gunfights.”
He laughed. “That’ll certainly cramp your style.”
“True, but anything’s better than being stuck at home.”
“Jason!”
He looked toward Lieutenant Savage’s office. “Sir?”
Savage was standing at his open door. “I need you in my office.” The lieutenant’s lip curled mischievously. “And bring the new girl with you.”
It seemed that Savage, normally all business, had also been cheered by Vanessa’s return.
A TWISTED MIND (Clean Suspense) (Detective Jason Strong Book 21) Page 1
