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Joe pushed the gurney out of the back of the ambulance, and Rick, one of the evening nurses, pulled from the other end.
James studied Jane Doe as she rolled by. “She didn’t get that shiner tonight.”
“Nope,” Joe said. “There’s a whole other story that went down before she got mugged.”
James nodded agreement. “That reminds me, I got a call from the police department. They’ll be here shortly to take your statement.” He tugged Joe by the arm. “Let’s take a look at your injury before they get here, okay?”
Joe was torn between looking after Sleeping Beauty or himself, but knew the clinic staff would give her the utmost medical attention. Besides, it wasn’t every day the head of the clinic offered to give one-to-one patient care to an employee.
“Thanks, Doc. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s totally selfish. I’ve got to look out for my lead paramedic, right?” James said in a typically self-deprecating manner. That was another thing he liked so much about the guy. He never flaunted his wealth or his status.
Joe glanced across the room at the star patient of the night, Ms. Jane Doe, still unconscious but breathing steadily, and felt a little tug in his chest, then followed James into an examination room.
After the nursing assistant removed Joe’s dressing, James studied it. “So what happened here?”
Joe explained what had transpired in the alley as the doctor applied pressure to one area that continued to bleed.
“Oh, you’re definitely getting a tetanus shot. Who knows what was on that guy’s blade.”
“Well, he was a scumbag.”
“Good thing you’ve got a trained plastic surgeon to stitch you up. I’d hate to ruin those perfect washboard abs.”
Joe laughed, knowing his rigorous workout sessions plus boxing kept him fit. Boxing had been the one thing he could do to keep sane and not beat the hell out of his best friend during his divorce. “Ouch,” he said, surprised by how sensitive his wound was as the nursing assistant cleaned the skin.
“Ouch!” he repeated, when the first topical anesthetic was injected by James.
The doctor chuckled. “Man up, dude. I’m just getting started.”
That got an ironic laugh out of Joe. Yeah, sterile dude, man up!
“You won’t be feeling much in a couple of minutes.”
Joe knew the drill, he’d sutured his share of patients in his field training days, but this was the first time in his entire life he’d been the patient in need of stitches. Hell, he’d never even needed a butterfly bandage before.
“So, about the girl with the black eye,” James said, donning sterile gloves while preparing the small sterile minor operations tray. “I wonder if she may have had any prior intracranial injuries that might have contributed to her immediately falling unconscious.”
“I was wondering the same thing, but she hit that pavement really hard. I hope she doesn’t have a subdural hematoma.”
“We’re doing a complete head trauma workup on her.”
“Thanks. I know this probably sounds weird, but I feel personally responsible for her, having seen the whole thing go down, not getting there fast enough, and being the first to treat her and all. Especially since she doesn’t have any ID.”
“You broke a rule, right? Got involved with your patient?”
“Didn’t mean to, but I guess you could say that. I know it’s foolish—”
James turned back toward him. “And this might be foolish too, but when the police come we’ll tell them we’ll be treating and letting our Jane Doe recover right here.”
Touched beyond words, as the cost for staying at this exclusive clinic would be astronomical, Joe wanted to shake the good doctor’s hand but he wore sterile gloves. “Thank you. I really—” He was about to say “appreciate that” but quickly went quiet, not used to being the patient as the first stitch was placed, using a nasty-looking hooked needle, and though he didn’t feel anything, he still didn’t want to move.
“If I stitch this up just so, there’ll hardly be a scar. On the other hand, I could make you look like you’ve got a seven pack.”
As the saying went, it only hurt when he laughed.
* * *
A couple of hours later, the police had taken a thorough report, and also told Joe they hadn’t found anyone matching the description a couple of witnesses had given for the suspect, they also said they hadn’t recovered Jane Doe’s purse.
Joe sighed and shook his head. She’d continue to be Madam X until she came to. Which hopefully would be soon.
“We do have one lead, though.”
He glanced up, hopeful whatever that lead was it might point to Jane’s identity.
“The clinic staff found a bus-ticket stub in her sweater pocket. If she used a credit card to purchase the ticket, we might be able to trace it back and identify her.”
“That’s great. But what if she paid cash?”
“That might imply she didn’t want to be traced.”
“Probably explain those bruises, too.”
The cop nodded. “The most we could possibly find out is the origin of the ticket. Which city she boarded in, but she’s bound to wake up soon, right?”
Joe glanced across the room. Jane was now in one of the clinic’s fancy hospital gowns and hooked up to an IV, still looking as peaceful as a sleeping child. “It’s hard to say with concussion and potential brain swelling. The doctors may determine she needs surgery for a subdural hematoma or something, for all I know.”
The young cop looked grim as he considered that possibility, and Joe was grateful for his concern. “Well, we’ll be in touch.” He gave Joe his card. “If she wakes up, or if there’s anything you remember or want to talk about, give me a call. Likewise, I’ll let you know if we find anything out.”
“Thanks.”
An orderly and RN rolled Jane by Joe. “Where’s she going?”
“To her room in the DOU. She’s in Seventeen A.”
The definitive observation unit was for the patients who needed extra care. Dr. Di Williams ran the unit like a well-oiled machine. Jane would be well looked after, but... He made a snap decision—he wasn’t going home tonight. If James and Di would let him, he’d wait things out right here.
Fifteen minutes later, Sleeping Beauty was tucked into a high-end single bed in a room that looked more like one in a luxury spa hotel than a hospital. The only thing giving it away were the bedside handrails and the stack of monitors camouflaged in the corner with huge vases and flower arrangements. The tasteful beige, white and cream decor was relaxing, but Joe couldn’t sleep. Instead, he sat in the super-comfy bedside chair resting his head in the palm of his right hand, watching her sleep. Wondering what her story was, and pondering why he felt so responsible for her. He decided it was because she was completely vulnerable. He knew the feeling. Someone besides a staff nurse had to look out for her until they found out who she was and could locate her family.
Sporting that black eye and those healing bruises on her arms, it was likely she had been in an abusive relationship. Most likely she’d been beaten up by the man she’d thought she loved.
His left thumb flicked the inside of his vacant ring finger, reminding him, on a much more personal level, how deeply love could hurt.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_7f9c9cc1-fcab-57fa-846a-79379364afe1)
A FIRM HAND sent Joe out of a half dreaming, half awake state. He’d been smiling, floating around somewhere, smiling. The grip on his shoulder made a burst of adrenaline mainline straight to his heart, making his pulse ragged and shaky. He sat bolt upright, his eyes popping open. In less than a second he remembered where he was, turned his head toward the claw still grabbing him, and stared up at the elderly night nurse.
Cecelia, was it?
“What’s up?” he said, trying to sound awake, then glancing toward the hospital bed and the patient he’d let down by falling asleep. Some guardian he’d turned out to be. She’d been placed on her side, either sound asleep or still unconscious, with pillows behind her back and between her knees, and he hadn’t even woken up.
“Your services are needed,” Cecelia said with a grainy voice. “We have a helicopter transfer to Santa Barbara.”
“Got it. Take care of her.”
“What I’m paid for,” Cecelia mumbled, fiddling with the blanket covering her patient.
Joe stood, took one last look at Jane, who still looked peaceful, and walked to the nearest men’s room to freshen up, then reported for duty in the patient transitioning room.
Rick, the RN from last night, was at the end of his shift and gave Joe his report. “The fifty-four-year-old patient is status post breast reduction, liposuction and lower face lift. Surgery and overnight recovery were uneventful. She’s being transferred to Santa Barbara Cottage Hotel for the remainder of her recovery. IV in right forearm. Last medicated for pain an hour ago with seventy-five milligrams of Demerol. Dressings and drainage tubes in place, no excess bleeding noted. She’s been released by Dr. R. for transfer.” The male RN, fit and overly tanned, making his blue eyes blaze, gave Joe a deadpan stare. “All systems go. She’s all yours.” Then, when out of earshot of the patient, Rick whispered, “I didn’t vote for her husband.”
Joe accompanied the patient and gurney to the waiting helicopter on the roof and loaded the sleeping patient onto the air ambulance. He did a quick head-to-toe assessment before strapping her down and locking the special hydraulic gurney into place. He then made sure any and all emergency equipment was stocked and ready for use. After he hooked up the patient to the heart and BP monitor, he put headphones on his patient first and then himself and took his seat, buckling in, preparing for the noisy helicopter blades to whir to life then takeoff.
After delivering the patient to the Santa Barbara airport and transferring the politician’s wife, who would not be named, to the awaiting recovery hotel team, he hoped to grab some coffee and maybe a quick breakfast while they waited for the okay to take off for the return trip.
Two hours later, back at the clinic, Joe’s only goal was to check in on Jane Doe. He hoped she’d come to and by now maybe everyone knew her name, and he wondered what it might be. Alexis? Belle? Collette? Excitedly he dashed into her room and found her as he’d left her...unconscious. Disappointment buttoned around him like a too-tight jacket.
The day shift nurse was at her side, preparing to give her a bed bath. A basin of water sat on the bedside table with steam rising from the surface. Several towels and cloths and a new patient gown were neatly stacked beside it. A thick, luxurious patient bath blanket was draped across her chest, Sleeping Beauty obviously naked underneath it. He felt the need to look away until the nurse pulled the privacy curtain around the bed.
“No change?” he asked, already knowing and hating the answer.
“No. But her lab results were a bit of a surprise.”
“Everything okay with her skull?”
“Oh, yeah, the CT cranial scan and MRI were both normal except for the fact she’s got one hell of a concussion with brain swelling. Well, along with still being unconscious and a slow-wave EEG to prove it.”
Joe knew the hospital privacy policy, and this nurse wasn’t about to tell him Jane Doe’s lab results. Theoretically it wasn’t any of his business. Except he’d made a vow last night, and had made it his business to look after her. As he hadn’t signed off on his paramedic admission notes for Jane last night, he suddenly needed to access her computer chart to do so.
He headed to the intake department to find a vacant computer, but not before running into James, who looked rested and ready to take on the day. Joe, on the other hand, had gotten a glimpse of himself in the mirror when he’d made a quick pit stop on arriving back at the clinic a few minutes earlier. Dark circles beneath his eyes, a day’s growth of beard... Yeah, he was a mess.
“What are you still doing here?” James asked.
“Just got back from a helicopter run to Santa Barbara for one of your patients.”
“Cecelia told me you stayed here last night.”
Damn that night nurse. “Yeah, well, I wanted to be around if Jane Doe woke up.”
He didn’t look amused. “This is an order, Joe. Go home and get some sleep. Don’t come back until your usual evening shift. Got it?”
“Got it. Just have to sign off my charting first.”
Several staff members approached James with questions, giving Joe the chance to sneak off to the computer. He logged on and quickly accessed Jane Doe’s folder. First he read her CT scan results and the MRI, which were positive for concussion and brain swelling, but without fractures or bleeding, then he took a look at her labs. So far so good. Her drug panel was negative. Good. Her electrolytes, blood glucose, liver and kidney function tests were all within normal limits. Good. Then his gaze settled on a crazy little test result that nearly knocked him out of the chair.
A positive pregnancy test.
His suddenly dry-as-paper tongue made it difficult to swallow. His pulse thumped harder and his mind took a quick spin, gathering questions as it did. Did the mystery lady know she was pregnant? He wondered if the father had been worried out of his mind about her since she’d gone missing. Or was the guy who beat her up the father...because she was pregnant?
Had she been running away? Most likely.
Shifting thoughts made bittersweet memories roll through his mind over another most important pregnancy test. One that had changed his life. He wanted more than anything to make those thoughts stop, knowing they never led to a good place, but right now he was too tired to fight them off.
He’d once been on that pregnancy roller-coaster ride, one day ecstatic about the prospect of becoming a father. Another day further down the line getting a different lab test irrefutably stating there was no way in hell he could have gotten his wife pregnant. Any hope of becoming a father had been ripped away. The questions. The confrontations. The ugly answers that had finally torn his marriage apart.
Hell.
He needed to leave the clinic. James had been right. He should go home and get some sleep because if he didn’t he might do something he still wanted to do desperately. Give his best—strike that—ex-best friend the beating he deserved.
* * *
On the third day Joe sat in his now favorite chair at the mystery lady’s bedside, thumbing through a fitness magazine. Di Williams, the middle-aged, hard-working head of DOU, had shaken him up earlier when she’d explained Sleeping Beauty’s condition as brain trauma—or, in her case, swelling of the brain—that had disconnected the cerebral cortex circuits, kind of like a car idling but not firing up the engine. She’d also said that if she didn’t come around soon, they’d have to consider her in a coma and would need to move her to a hospital that could best meet her longer-term needs.
The thought of losing track of the woman he’d vowed to look after made his stomach knot. The doctor had also said she’d be getting transferred to a specialist coma unit later that afternoon for an enhanced CT scan that would test for blood flow and metabolic activity and they’d have to go from there, which kept Joe’s stomach feeling tangled and queasy.
Time was running out, and it seemed so unfair for the girl from the bus. What about her baby?
Jane moved and Joe went on alert. It was the first time he’d witnessed what the nurses had said she often did. He’d admitted, when no one had been around, to flicking her cheek with his finger from time to time to get some kind of reaction out of her, but nothing had ever happened. The lady definitely wasn’t faking it. She moved again, this time quicker, as though restless. A dry sound emitted from her throat. He held his breath and felt his heart pump faster as he pushed the call light for the attending nurse.
Jane Doe was waking up.
Tiny sputtering electrical fuses seemed to turn on and off inside him as his anticipation grew. He stood, leaned over the hospital bed and watched the sleeping beauty’s lids flutter. Instinctively, he turned off the overhead lamp to help decrease the shock of harsh light to her vision as her eyes slowly opened.
They were dark green. And beautiful, like her.
But they’d barely opened before they snapped shut again as her features contorted with fear.
* * *
Carey fought for her life, flailing her arms, kicking her feet. Someone wanted to hurt her. It wasn’t Ross. Not this time. She ran, but her feet wouldn’t move. She tried to scream, but the sound didn’t leave her throat. Fear like she’d never felt before consumed her, but she couldn’t give up, she had to protect herself in order to protect her baby.
Someone shouted and ran toward her. She knew he wanted to help. Broad shoulders, and legs moving in a powerful sprint. “Hey!” His voice cut through the night. That face. Strong. Determined. Filled with anger over the man trying to take her purse. She fought more. She had to break away from the smelly man’s grip.
“Hey!”
Fight. Fight. Get away.
“Hold on, everything’s okay. You’re safe.” Did she recognize the man’s voice? “I’ve got you.” Hands gripped her shoulders, kept her still. She held her breath.
More hands smoothed back her hair. “It’s okay, hon.” A woman’s voice. “Calm down. You’re in the hospital.”
Hospital? Had she heard right?
Carey shook her head. It hurt. She was hit by a wave of vertigo that made her quit squirming. She lay still, waiting for the hands to release her. It felt like she was in an extremely comfortable bed. She relaxed her tight, squinting eyes and slowly opened first one then the other. She turned her head to a shadow looming above her. It had features. The face she remembered from her dreams. Strong. Brave. Was this still a dream?
She stared at him, her breathing rapid, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. He was the man who’d taken on her attacker. She scanned his face. Kind brown eyes. Short dark hair. A square jaw. Good looking.
