37
Robert Bonnet was deeply troubled. As he stood in the shower in the O.R. suite, the warm water seemed to remind him only that he was still alive. He was numb all over. The rest of the world seemed cold to him, cold and unkind, and out of sync.
Monique’s surgery had progressed well, but Robert was depressed by the extent of her head injury. The neurosurgeon, Dr. Van Hansen, wasn't hopeful for much of a recovery. In fact, early in the surgery, after assessing the extent of her injury, the buildup of intracranial fluid, and its compression on the brain, he had recommended they close, take three EKG readings, and then make a decision. Robert had objected vehemently, even though the clinical picture looked grim.
At a later point, the neurosurgeon had pointedly questioned whether Monique should even have any plastic surgery, suggesting it was a waste of time and doubtful that Monique would ever even ask for a mirror if she ever regained consciousness.
Robert again objected angrily. A volley of harsh words had followed.
Robert really didn't like Van Hansen. He was lousy at the bedside and had the “Surgeon rude, superior personality”. But Robert knew he was also a great technical neurosurgeon. In the end, the plastic surgeon had come in and done a fairly good job of reconstructing Dr. Desmonde's face where Lester Whitset had tried to obliterate it. Of course, only time would really tell how good she would look, if she even lived.
Robert continued to chastise himself. Perhaps the neuro doc had been correct. Maybe he wasn't seeing Monique's injuries for what they were. Part of the time during the operation, he had found himself remembering their youth together. They had been great friends. They still were. Then, his thoughts returned to the "celebratory dinner" they had shared only two days before. Jack and Monique had been so happy that night. Oh, there had been a few tense moments, but Robert knew the two loved each other beyond belief. Now, he had to go tell Jack that things didn't look so good.
"Bonnet, wake up! Are you still in there? You're going to be a prune if you don't get out." Robert recognized the voice of one of the male O.R. techs. He opened the shower door and grabbed a towel.
"Yeah, I'm coming out. Give me a minute." Robert left the shower and was changing into clean scrubs when the tech approached him again.
"You okay, man? You look awful. You're all wrinkled." Tom Finney, the O.R. tech, looked him up and down. He smiled at Robert and gave him a look of encouragement. He studied the surgeon's face and said, "Listen, man, you know how those damned brain guys are. They thrive on pessimism. They always predict the worst … not sure of this, not sure of that, and all that horseshit. Then, they look like Santa Claus or the tooth fairy when the patient wakes up and starts bitching about the nursing care. Brain surgeons practice more savior behavior than the rest of you. Don't let him get you down!" Tom slapped Robert on the back.
Robert smiled at the aging tech. He had known Tom for years, even before he was operating at CCMC. Tom had been a nursing assistant first and then an O.R. tech. He knew patients and he knew doctors. "Thanks, Tom. You're right. I'm really down about Dr. Desmonde."
"Listen, Doc. If anyone can pull through a skull fracture, it's Monique Desmonde. She's a fighter, and a stubborn lady. Don't write her off. She'll come back, if only to prove her jackass surgeon wrong. Wait and see!" Tom gave Robert a big hug before rushing down the Hall. "Gotta go. See you, Doc. Get some rest. You look like hell."
Robert waved at the spry tech and smiled. "Thanks, Tom." He entered the physician's waiting room and called Alex's office. No answer. That concerned him. Then he called Jack's cell. Jack answered and agreed to meet him in the recovery waiting area.
Robert finished dressing and walked slowly into the recovery area. His injured arm was killing him. It was numb and felt like someone was sticking pins in it. He brushed the sensations off. It was just fatigue. It always got like that when he was tired. He checked on Monique in recovery, and learned from the nurses that she was stable and had been transferred straight up to the neuro ICU. The room was empty except for Jack and Nadine, who were seated together on a couch, talking quietly.
Robert stood in the doorway. The pair hadn't seen him. Robert felt his eyes fill with tears as he saw the goodhearted, hard-nosed policeman. If he looked bad, then Jack looked ten times worse. The commander was suffering. He looked old and tired. His body language spoke of complete misery and severe emotional pain. His face was, well, what was it? Robert had never seen the look that Jack had on his face. He continued staring at him from a distance, as his mind searched for a word that described how the commander looked. Finally, it dawned on him. It was fear and Robert had never seen Jack truly frightened.
Jack's face was a mask of fear. The commander was desperately afraid of what Robert Bonnet, his friend the surgeon, would tell them about Monique.
Robert approached Jack, who looked deep in thought, and gently tapped his shoulder. The commander jumped at his touch. He looked at Robert anxiously. Robert sat on the coffee table opposite Jack and Nadine. Neither man spoke.
Nadine, fearing the worst, reached for Jack's hand.
If he was standing in front of a firing squad, Robert was sure Jack wouldn’t be as afraid as he was now.
"Hey, man. How are you?" Robert asked tentatively. The silence was endless. Françoise seemed afraid to ask, and Robert didn't want to talk. His mind was formulating the best way to tell Jack that all estimates to this point suggested that Monique would be a vegetable.
Jack's eyes implored Robert to tell him something good. Robert knew he couldn't ethically do that.
Finally, Robert said, "Jack, the surgery went well. Monique's in recovery." He paused for a moment, groping for the best words. "To be honest, Jack, the neurosurgeon isn't optimistic about her recovery. Her injury was extensive…"
"And…?” Jack asked in a small voice. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Robert would have laughed at Jack's voice.
"We don't know. The next twelve hours are critical. He put in a shunt to drain the fluid off of her brain." Robert watched as Jack’s shoulders sagged and then continued, "But, I'm hopeful that she'll regain consciousness—”
Jack interrupted and said hoarsely, "I don't care if she never practices medicine again. I just want her to be able to be with me, to love me, to stay with me. I love her, Robert. I loved her as she was, and I'll love her for what she'll be. I don't care what she's like after this. I'm going to marry her and take care of her. Do you understand?"
"Of course I do, Jack. And, I'm going to pray that you get your wish. We'll all pray for that, won't we, Nadine?"
Nadine nodded and continued to hold Jack's hand. She asked Robert, "Dr. Bonnet, have you experience with patients like Dr. Desmonde?"
"Yes, I do. I'm not offering any false hopes. I never do. I simply want to say that medicine has been proven wrong many, many times. Monique may come out of this and do fairly well, great even. But, Jack, she'll never be exactly what she was, if she's anything at all. You must understand that."
"I understand, Robert. And I love her. Just keep her alive for me so she has the chance to talk again. Will you do that for me, Robert?" The commander’s eyes were filled with tears.
"Of course I will." Robert touched his friend's shoulder. "I will do everything I possibly can. You know we all love her, too."
"Can I see her?"
"She's in the Neuro ICU, the neurological intensive care unit. There are a lot of machines. But I'll take you, Jack. Nadine, would you like to go?"
Nadine checked her watch and shook her head. "I'm going to Alex's office. We've got an appointment. Will you meet me there afterwards, Jack?"
"Yeah. I will," Jack said in a small voice.
"Is Alex okay?" Robert asked and looked directly at both police officers.
Nadine hesitated for a moment.
Robert immediately picked up on the hesitation and said, "Is Alex okay?" His voice was low, demanding.
"Yes, physically she's okay. Emotionally, she's drained. You can see for you
rself after you two visit Monique. I'll be in her office."
At that moment, the telepage operator stat paged Commander Jack Françoise to the Pavilion. Jack said in a sour tone, "Screw the Pavilion. I'm going with Robert!"
"Let me answer the page, Jack. Otherwise, they'll keep stat paging you over and over. We need a little time and a little silence." Robert reached for his cell, called telepage, and talked for a moment.
Nadine saw his face pale a little.
He smiled at them and said, "Another incident at the Pavilion. It'll wait, Jack. Trust me."
"I do. I don't give a damn about that place anyway. Now, let's go." Jack glanced at Nadine and said, "We’ll meet you and Alex in her office. Then, I'll check in the Pavilion." Jack gave Nadine a forced smile and left with Robert.
38
Weston Whitset wasn't used to feeling fear. He didn't like it. What the hell was Anthony Gavette doing in the female seclusion room? Fleeting thoughts raced through his mind, as Anthony wrestled him to the floor and knocked him senseless in the face.
Weston knew he had the edge. Even though Anthony was powerfully built and was heavier than Weston by at least fifty pounds, Weston was smarter. He let Anthony knock him around a few times. Then, he stuck his fingers into Anthony's eyes and gave him a fierce kick to the groin. Anthony, momentarily blinded, screamed, and fell backwards. Weston sat on top of him and said, "Anthony, you're a dumb, crazy, worthless piece of shit. Let me tell you about me and Rose."
Anthony lay docile under Weston, mesmerized by his cold, black marbled eyes.
"Yeah, Anthony, let me tell you what it was like with your woman. She's like any other piece. If you're nice to her, she'll put out. No question about it. You see, me and Rose, we got this game. We talk baby talk to each other and I play with her."
Weston was enjoying himself so much that he ignored the hiss that came from Anthony's throat. He continued, "You see, Anthony, you may be a big man and all, but what I got is packaged just right for your poor little Rose. I sing her a few baby songs, sort of like nursery songs, and then we play married. She likes to play married. She pretends she's a little housewife, the little woman of the house, taking care of the plants and cooking me meatloaf. She loves the game. Then, we start to wrestle, you know. I usually sing to her while I wrestle, and then she starts to take her clothes off for me. Sometimes she knows I'm coming, so she doesn't put any on …" Weston caught Anthony's angry look and used it to his advantage.
"Yeah, sometimes all she has on is a little teeny nighty. Now, tonight she had on a new blouse. I made up a little song about her new blouse and it took her about two seconds to take it off, and then … well, you know, it was pretty good. Not too great, but not bad for a crazy woman. Basically, she is much too skinny for me. Just a bag of … no real tits, not like Angie."
Whitset felt Anthony stiffen under his body. He said in a placating, singsong voice, "Oh, did you want Angie, Anthony, the big tits nurse? Well, too bad, I got her. She was mine and she was good. Anyway, Rose ain't much, even at her best. She looks like a little beggar girl when she's naked, all bones. Of course, Anthony, that probably makes a big man like you feel better, feel good. And then when she puts her…"
Weston was enjoying himself. He loved to inflict pain on others. He was enjoying himself so much that he was unprepared for the primal scream and thrust from Anthony that sent his body flailing against the wall. Momentarily stunned, he was defenseless when Anthony grabbed him and started beating his head against the hard tile floor. Beating it over and over. Whitset's last thoughts were those of searing pain, as he remembered his classmates laughing and taunting him on the school bus.
Anthony couldn't stop beating Whitset's head against the floor. He was obsessed. He beat the administrator until blood ran from his ears and mouth. The back of his head was literally flattened from the beating. Satisfied that Whitset was dead, he threw his body into the closet, closed the metal door, and went to sleep in his bed in the seclusion room. He would tell them at group tomorrow that the administrator was dead in his closet. Anthony had sweet dreams about the congrats he would receive tomorrow from his fellow patients. He knew they hated Whitset. He had been one of them, but the balance of power had been unfair. Now the balance was fair. Whitset was dead and in Anthony Gavette's mind, that was really fair. He smiled in his sleep at the thought.
Bye, bye, Lester, you son of a bitch. Forever!
Anthony had great dreams all night.
39
The night had been endless. Alex had not slept at all. She had been plagued with nightmares and wished she had accepted Robert's offer to spend the night at her house. Consequently, she was exhausted, mentally and physically. She had sent the talkative Mona home for the day, unable to handle any extraneous noise or conversation. She had called the Neuro ICU and been advised that Monique's condition was unchanged. She was still in a deep coma.
Alex was deeply depressed. She considered calling her grandmother in Virginia, but knew Kathryn would pick up on the despondency in her voice. Her grandmother was just smart like that and she could read Alex like a book. She didn't want to upset her grandparents and have them chartering a jet to New Orleans anytime soon.
As Alex sat at her desk, she remembered the day in February, just after Mardi Gras, when she had received Mitch's last letter. In essence, it was his declaration of love. For some reason, Alex pulled out her copy of the letter from her desk and reread it. It only made more hot tears come into her eyes and she began to cry harder and wish things were different. Alex knew her life would never be the same. She knew she had to leave New Orleans and start over. Things here were just too impossible. There had been too much heartbreak in such a short period of time. First, February, and now all of this.
She continued with her morbid thoughts. She could easily identify her losses – Jack, Monique, Mitch, and possibly Robert. And for what? New Orleans had brought her nothing but heartache and grief for the last six months. The first year and a half had been okay, but lately…
As she continued to think, her eyes strayed to a letter she had received from her colleague in San Francisco. A large managed care organization was seeking a hospital attorney to set up an in house legal counsel office. The position was only for a year. Her friend was urging her to come for an interview, assuring her the organization would meet any stipulations she required. Alex began to consider it.
San Francisco sounded like a long way to go alone and start over. Virginia, Texas, New Orleans, San Francisco…. Was this a logical progression for her career? But, was that what she wanted, a career? Or did she want something else? Hadn’t she said only a short time ago that she wanted a husband and a family?
Alex laughed out loud and began to consider how screwed up she was. Her grandparents would die if she moved to California. The congressman was convinced the place was doomed and had been waiting for it to fall off the face of the earth forever.
At this point, though the opportunity was sounding more promising. Perhaps she should find a position in Virginia after New Orleans. Now, that was a thought. Her grandparents were growing older and she wanted to be closer to them. She missed them dreadfully. And, she missed Virginia, the horse farm and her horse. Still, Alex continued to think as her office door opened. Good, she thought, a distraction. Anything was better than thinking about the last forty-eight hours. Standing in front of her was Nadine.
"For heaven's sake, Nadine. Sit down. You're looking at me like I might suddenly go into orbit. I'm better. I think. No, I promise." Alex gave the forensic nurse a brave smile.
Nadine sat down across from her and said, "Robert just spoke with Jack. The picture is not good for Dr. Desmonde. If I read between the lines, Robert is trying to offer Jack some hope. But, I really don't think there is much, at least based on what Robert is saying at this point." Nadine looked sad and she barely knew Monique Desmonde.
The sharp intake of air seemed to crush her chest. Alex knew her voice was breathless when she responded. "How did
Jack take it?"
"Okay, I guess. He only wants her to talk to him. Says he's planning on marrying her, no matter what."
"I guess you know they have a secret relationship. But of course, you do, I told you in the car coming back from Mississippi. I only learned several days ago. They were so happy. Robert and I had dinner with them two nights ago – to celebrate. I think they had planned to marry. They were so happy." Her voice trailed off, unable to believe that so much could happen so quickly and be so devastating.
"Yeah, I know. You told me. I hope she comes out of it. They'll be down here shortly. Robert was taking Jack to see Monique in the ICU again." Nadine's voice sounded glum.
Alex shuddered. "Oh my, I hope Jack's able to keep it together. I wish I were with him. If you know anything about hospitals, a PACU or ICU can be scary and intimidating, to say the least. "
Nadine nodded. "Dr. Bonnet will do a good job. He's a kind, sensitive man." Nadine paused for a moment and looked at Alex directly. "You know, Alex, Dr. Bonnet loves you as well. Did you know that?"
Alex looked uncertain. "I don't know, Nadine. We have a lot of issues to work on. We were married once and Robert's been troubled with his arm. I can't say for sure things will ever work for us. He's prone to sadness and depression and I don't want to live with that."
Nadine nodded and looked at her quietly, "That's part of his Creole blood. Do you want things to work out, Alex?"
Alex said in a tired voice, "I don't know, Nadine. There is too much happening now. Too many other things to work on. We'll see."
"Will you promise to allow Robert to help you work through this thing with Whitset? Your recovery from the rape will be the same no matter what the lab test determines. Do you understand that?" Nadine looked at her, her dark eyes locked with Alex's blue ones.
Dead and Gone Page 30
