SEIZED, A Romantic Suspense Novella

by Suzanne Ferrell

  Dave shrugged. Call him a worrywart or overprotective, but despite the rough patch they seemed to be going through, Judy was still the center of his world. He wouldn’t rest until she was home tucked in bed beside him. Ignoring the looks of his brothers, he shrugged again. “Just in case.”

  “Sneaky,” Karen, the scrub nurse, said as Judy touched the off button on her earpiece.

  “I could’ve called him on my way in, but he needs a taste of the worry he puts me through.” Judy winked at her around the six-foot resident’s shoulder while she reached up to fasten the top of his paper surgical gown. “How was I to know it would be everything’s-STAT-Hodges covering for the hospital tonight?”

  “Better not let him hear you call him that or see you with that earpiece or he’ll have you written up,” Smith, the third-year resident on duty for the night, said as Karen snapped his gloves over his sterile hands.

  “Too late,” Karen whispered, the twinkle gone from her eyes. Judy imagined she could see her friend’s mouth twisted in a frown beneath her surgical mask.

  “You know staff isn’t allowed personal electronic devices in the OR, Judy,” a rather nasally voice said behind her.

  Judy rolled her eyes heavenward a moment then fixed a semi-contrite look on her face and turned to face the night’s on-call surgeon. “Good evening, Dr. Hodges. I’ll remove it as soon as the case is over. I’d truly forgotten I had it on. My husband insisted I wear it in tonight, given the roads.”

  She cringed inwardly. Nothing she hated more than pretending she wanted this man’s good opinion. From the day she started work at the hospital five months ago the pompous jerk had given her nothing but his opinion about everything—from the way she tied his gowns to how she would spend a few extra minutes reassuring patients before the nurse anesthetists put the patient to sleep. Nothing she did impressed him and lately she’d quit trying. As her mama would say, you can’t fix stupid, or in this case…arrogant.

  “It is bad out there. But don’t let it happen again.”

  Judy couldn’t help blinking in surprise as she fastened his gown. Karen had the same astonished look in her eyes for a minute then they narrowed. Yeah, her friend had the same thought. Hodges might say it was okay, but he’d still be writing her up just as soon as the case was over.

  Just what she needed, a disciplinary write-up from him. Luckily, her boss considered Hodges as big an arrogant ass as she did.

  That’s one thing about Dave, despite being a cop and on the SWAT team, his ego was secure enough that he didn’t have to bully or intimidate others to make himself feel important. She’d noticed that the first day she saw him in the Emergency Room when she was a senior nursing student.

  The sliding doors to the ambulance bay opened and two patrolmen escorted an injured prisoner in to be examined. The young man, with blood caked on the side of his face and soaked through his right arm, had been driving under the influence when he left the road, flipped his car and crashed into the guardrail on the opposite side of the highway.

  The older officer jerked the suspect into the room assigned by the charge nurse, making a point of shackling him to the bed. “Don’t even think about giving us any trouble, kid.”

  The teenager, barely more than a boy, looked red-rimmed eyes out the door as the paramedics rolled a stretcher toward another room in the ER, a blanket covering the body from head-to-toe. “Aaron? Is…that Aaron?”

  “Yeah, kid. That’s your friend. The one you killed,” the older officer said, getting right in the poor boy’s face.

  “Hey, lay off, Sean,” the younger, dark-haired officer said, maneuvering between his partner and the crying suspect.

  “What, Dave? You want me to coddle this kid? Tell him it wasn’t his fault he got drunk and stole a car? That he wasn’t the one who decided to drive like Mario Andretti on 71?”

  “No. But it was his friend who died.”

  “Yeah and he killed him. Some friend he turned out to be,” Sean spat out the words just as Judy approached to get admission information, part of her job as the ER secretary.

  “Look, he isn’t the boy that caused your son’s accident. Why don’t you go get some coffee while I wait for the doc to see the kid?” Dave gently pushed his partner away from the gurney where their prisoner now huddled on his side.

  “Yeah. Maybe I’ll call home, too.”

  Judy, clutching her clipboard to her chest, stepped back, barely getting out of the angry officer’s path as he stalked out. She stepped into the cubicle to see the younger man pulling a blanket around the shivering, crying teen’s shoulders.

  “Once we get the docs to look at your head and arm, you can call your folks, okay?” He said, squeezing the suspect’s uninjured shoulder.

  “Excuse me?” she said then froze on the spot when Officer Dave looked at her with eyes the color of warm honey and a question on his face. Wow. Dark hair, dark eyebrows and a slight shadow along his jawline had her heart throwing off an extra beat or two.

  “Yes?” he asked, the curve of his lips turning up in the start of a smile. The kind of smile that made her get all tingly inside and want to see if the rest of him was as sexy as his lips.

  “Um,” she blinked to clear the carnal thoughts running through her mind. “I…uh…I need to get information from…” she glanced at the boy huddled under the blanket.

  “Jason Watts,” Dave said, the smile deepening.

  “I need Jason’s information to get him admitted.”

  Dave stepped back, giving her just enough room to pass by, but not so much that she couldn’t feel his body heat and smell the sandalwood soap lingering around him.

  For the rest of the evening, until Dave and his partner took Jason to jail, she’d surreptitiously watched how Dave stood guard over his prisoner. He’d gotten him a soda once the docs said he could have one then sat close by, but never getting aggressive towards the boy.

  He’d returned at the end of his shift to see if she’d like to go out for a late night meal. Since she had clinical early that morning she’d had to turn him down, but agreed to go out with him that weekend. It was while they shared a pizza and beer that she learned he’d not only been kind to Jason, but given his parents the name of a good defense lawyer they could afford.

  When she asked him why, he said, “The kid reminded me of my youngest brother, Luke. He’s taking a long time to grow up. I could see him doing something stupid like this and knew he’d beat himself up with guilt. Just thought I could help.”

  And that’s when she fell in love.

  “You ready to count?” Karen asked, pulling Judy out of her momentary reverie.

  “Sure.” She pulled out her pen and the count sheet to do the preoperative surgical count of instruments, suture needles and cloth sponges known as laps, while the surgeons draped the patient and adjusted the surgical lights with the sterile light handles.

  “Let’s move it, people. This man’s lost enough blood. Let’s not let him lose his leg, too,” Dr. Hodges said, holding out his hand for the scalpel from Karen and staring pointedly at Judy as if she were the cause of the man’s injury by following protocol.

  Well, he could just get his tighty-whities in a knot all he wanted, she had one more thing to do before Karen would hand him the knife. Judy grabbed the chart and flipped to the surgical consent and looked at the patient’s name band to confirm. “This is Gregory J. Klein—”

  “We all know who this is, Nurse Edgars,” Hodges rudely interrupted. “Everyone in the state of Ohio knows Senator Klein’s son. We need to start the case. Knife. Now.”

  He held out his hand expectantly, but Karen ignored him.

  Judy narrowed her eyes at the surgeon. “Karen will give you the knife after we complete the timeout, Dr. Hodges, per hospital policy. If you didn’t interrupt, she’d have handed it to you already.” She took a deep breath and started again. “Gregory J. Klein, no known allergies, for repair of gunshot wound to right upper thigh, site confirmed and marked. Patient received
antibiotics just now and no other medical complications noted. Is this agreed by everyone?”

  Dr. Smith, Karen and Bill, the nurse anesthetist, all agreed. Finally, Hodges held out his hand once more and said, “Yes, now may I have the knife before the patient dies on the table?”

  Karen slipped the knife into his hand.

  “That policy is so needless when we can see the injury,” Hodges complained as he made the incision near the bullet wound on the patient’s thigh.

  Judy called out the surgery start time and met Karen’s gaze across the OR table. They were thinking the same thing. Arrogant surgeons ignoring policy was how patients ended up with the wrong leg amputated.

  “I need saline, when you have a chance,” Karen said, giving Judy something to focus her aggravation on other than Hodges’ back.

  “Got it,” she said and stepped out the OR door into the hallway. Snagging a bottle of saline from the blanket and fluid warmer, she hurried back to the OR, nearly stumbling over the mop and bucket of the housekeeping orderly.

  He caught her by the elbows. “Careful, Ms. Judy.”

  “Didn’t see you there, Paul.” She smiled as he released her. “Busy night tonight. Did they call you in, too?”

  “Sort of was on my way in, anyway.”

  Judy paused for a moment, watching him saunter slowly down the hall. Something wasn’t quite right with him. Then she noticed his attire. “Paul, you forgot your OR hat and boot covers.”

  “I’ll get right on that,” he said, turning toward the exit doors where they were stored.

  She shook off the odd feeling that he wasn’t his usual self today. Normally, Paul was quiet and courteous, almost to the point of being part of the scenery. Later, she’d have a talk and see if there was something wrong at home, but right now, she needed to get back in her case before Hodges blew his last fuse.

  ***

  “Hemostat,” Hodges said, holding out his hand expectantly.

  Karen slapped an instrument into his hand, her gaze meeting Judy’s over the table then she looked at the clock. Judy knew what she meant.

  Twenty minutes to midnight. They’d been at this for nearly two hours and the surgeon still wasn’t near closing.

  Hodges loved to teach the residents as he worked. Problem was the man couldn’t talk and stitch at the same time. He also loved the sound of his own voice. Apparently the bullet had torn through the Sartorius and Rectus Femoris muscles, narrowly missing the femoral artery, before lodging near the Femur. Compounding this was all the scar tissue from a previous car accident and it was a slow process to remove the bullet. Hodges usually allowed the resident to do the sewing, but since this was the son of a state senator, he was insisting on doing the entire repair himself.

  At this speed it would be another hour before the case was finished, then she and Karen had to tear down the room so Paul could get inside and clean it. Judy knew she’d be lucky to get home before 2 a.m.

  The OR door opened and everyone looked to see the charge nurse Lydia peeking in from the other side. She motioned for Judy to join her and the team returned to their task.

  “What’s up?”

  Lydia nodded at the OR table. “How close are you to being done?”

  Judy rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “He isn’t even at the fascia yet. Probably another hour.”

  “Geez.” Lydia shook her head, the unspoken what’s taking so long? passing between them.

  Judy shrugged. She was already in trouble for talking about Hodges, she didn’t need him more pissed off and accusing her of gossiping with the charge nurse during a case.

  “I’d hoped to get you out of here as soon as we were done with the other cases, but I had to send Rita to the ER. She started puking up her guts before the end of their case.”

  “So much for flu shots.”

  “Tell me about it. Staff have been dropping like flies around here all week.” Lydia glanced at the clock. “Any chance you can stay to finish this case? The scheduled crew is just now getting their dinner break.”

  “Sure. Might as well finish this case. No use in punishing anyone else.”

  Lydia laughed. “Thanks. I’ll have someone help you transport him to recovery once you’re done. Just call me, ok?”

  Judy agreed, closing the door and going back to her charting. At the rate Hodges was going she’d have all her paperwork finished and still have time to spare. As she charted the times for the surgery, she listened to Hodges drone on about how important it was to get the knots perfect so none would slip lose or bleeding could reoccur, thereby necessitating further surgery. Next he’d be giving poor Dr. Smith a complete history of modern surgery and they’d never get out of the man’s thigh, let alone the OR.”

  Stitch,” he called out again, holding his hand for Karen to slap the needle driver into his palm.

  Karen winked at her and she tried to stop from giggling. Karen was adding a little extra force to those hand slaps.

  A moment later, the OR doors opened again.

  Judy looked over to see the orderly standing inside the room.

  “We’re not ready for the room to be cleaned, Paul.” She said, hurrying over before Hodges realized the man still wasn’t wearing a hat or shoe covers, or a mask—a breach of protocol while the patient’s wound was still open.

  “Get that man the hell out of here! He’s contaminating my OR,” Hodges bellowed, holding the suture straight up and staring at Judy over his mask and bifocals.

  “I am.” She turned her back on him and tried to usher Paul back through the doors of the surgical suite, but for some reason he wouldn’t budge. “Seriously, Paul, you’ve got to get out of here until we’re finished.”

  “He’s finished now,” Paul said softly, but something in his eyes, the way he stared past her at the surgical team sent shivers over her.

  She grabbed him by the arm, but he shook her off and raised his other arm, pointing a gun at Hodges.

  “I said you were done, Doctor.”

  Chapter Two

  Judy froze, trying to think what to do. Panic is never your best first option, she remembered her favorite nursing school instructor telling her, followed quickly by Dave’s, Never argue with a man pointing a gun at you.

  “What the hell?” Hodges sputtered, holding the needle in the air, mid-stitch.

  “Shut up, Doc, and get away from the table.” Paul moved farther into the room, his gun still aimed at the surgeon. “Everyone get against the wall.”

  “You’re crazy if you think I can move now. I’m right in the middle of surgery.”

  “You’ll move or I’ll put a bullet through your brain,” Paul said in a steady, controlled voice, the kind Judy had heard from her husband when a topic wasn’t open for discussion. “Now move.”

  This time, Hodges, Karen and Smith obeyed, moving away from the sterile field.

  “You too, Ms. Judy.”

  With a quick glance at the anesthetist, Judy inched her way backward and sideways to block the orderly’s view of Bill turning off the highly explosive anesthesia source, Desflurane, and lowering the oxygen-to-room-air mixture. The anesthesia machine would keep breathing for the patient and keep him sedated, at least for a while. Holding up her hands, palms outward, in a sign of submission and drawing the gunman’s attention to her, Judy tried to reason with him. “Paul, you really don’t want to hurt anyone, do you?”

  “You too, Bill, get away from the table and leave the son-of-a-bitch to bleed out,” Paul said, answering Judy’s question. He intended for the patient to die.

  As she backed farther away, she looked for Paul’s name badge, but didn’t see it on him. Great. He’d pocketed it after getting into the department. What was his last name? She started thinking of last names starting with A, quickly going through the alphabet. Nothing. Then she hit M. Milk. No, it rhymed with Milk. Bilkes? No. Wilkes, like John Wilkes Booth, the guy who shot Lincoln.

  “Ms. Judy, I want you to take that pink sticky tape you nurses call medical
duct tape, and bind each of their hands behind their backs.” He motioned to the anesthesia cart near the head of the table.

  “Please don’t do this, Paul,” Judy begged as she grabbed the pink roll and headed around the table, accidentally catching the medication door with her elbow. “If the patient dies, you’ll be guilty of murder.”

  “I’d call it justice. Hurry, we don’t have much time. Start with Hodges. And bind him below the gloves.”

  “What do you mean? Are we on a timeline?” she asked as she pulled the gloves down on the surgeon’s hands and loosely wrapped the tape around his wrists. Remembering what Dave said about his hostage negotiation training, Keep the terrorist talking, try to keep them calm and get as much information as you can. “Are you expecting something else to happen?”

  “Stop stalling and get on with binding them.”

  After she had the surgical team all bound with their hands behind them she moved over to Bill.

  “Hey, man, let her do mine in front, just so I can keep the patient stable. It’s my job to keep him breathing.”

  “I think not. Not that it’s going to matter much.”

  Judy exchanged looks with Bill, who glanced down at the drawer of meds she’d opened earlier. The vial of Succinylcholine was in plain sight. He nodded slightly as she bound his hands loosely, understanding using it to knock out the gunman might be their only hope.

  “Let me warn you,” Paul said from right behind Judy, startling her. “Do not get any ideas about hitting that Code Blue button,” he said, nodding beyond Paul to the blue button on the wall. “The last thing any of you wants is someone rushing through the OR doors.”

  Something in his warning lay over Judy like a cold shroud. “Why? What have you done?”

  “Simply wired all three doors to blow if anyone attempts to enter.”

  “What? You’ll kill us all!” bellowed Hodges from the far side of the room.

  “Where you’re concerned, Doc, you pompous ass, that’s always been the plan.” He raised his arm and shot the surgeon right between the eyes.