The Mind’s Eye

by Perry Prete

  Paul looked up, his tone angry, "Well maybe you should be looking harder. Look at the faces, see if the guy had on gloves, a hat."

  Ken got defensive, "We looked. Not once, not twice but three times. If you're having problems, take it up with the person giving you shit. Don't take it out on us. We're doing our best, but we don't have much to go on." Ken stepped in closer and lowered his tone, "Maybe it's time we realized we don't have a handle on this and hand it over to the feds."

  Paul stood, prepared to defend his position, then slowly sat back down, "Maybe you're right. We've had this for half a year now and other than a far-out theory, we haven't got jack shit."

  Dan knew Paul wasn't upset at either one of them, his frustration had been building for weeks, his finger swirled in the air, "I'm, we, all of us, we're gonna go over every single statement, every piece of evidence, review each photo, talk to Maura, talk to anyone and everyone who may have seen something. If we don't find a new lead, something to go on, we call in the feds. Agreed?"

  Paul didn't have to think about the offer; it was the best he was going to get, he nodded in agreement. "How about we go for that coffee run, relax, not talk shop then come back and take a fresh look at everything. Nothing is too far-fetched, too wild to consider. Since I forgot to pick up the coffee, it's on me." Paul had calmed down, his voice back to his normal tone.

  *****

  Will sat in the emergency department, his left hand wrapped in a towel by the triage nurse. He waited his turn as those patients with more serious injuries or illness went before him.

  The lady got up from the chair, and the triage nurse waved Will over. He walked over and sat in the large, high-backed vinyl-covered chair. He cradled his arm while the triage nurse set up the new registration form on her computer system.

  "Well, let's see what happened to you today?" Her voice was musical and light, a tone that would make the more severe patient feel at ease. With a gloved hand, she slowly pulled back the white towel she had given him as he walked into the ER earlier. She peeled back a fold, then another, slowly exposing the injury to Will's left hand. When she finally revealed the injury, the experienced nurse didn't even seem surprised by his wounds. The skin between the thumb was torn and there were visible puncture marks across the back of his hand and inside the palm.

  "Hmmm. Dog bite you say?"

  Will was in extreme pain from the new injury, "Yeah."

  "OK then, let's get you registered and get this looked at. Do you have your health card and insurance?"

  Will kept his injured hand immobile, reached back to retrieve his wallet, "Shit. I forgot my wallet at home. I left in a hurry and didn't realize I forgot it. I've got cash. Do you know how much it will be?"

  The triage nurse thought for a moment, "That depends on the work being done. You might need x-rays, lab work and whatever else the doctor thinks might be necessary."

  "I can put down a deposit and either get a refund or pay the balance after."

  The nurse pulled up a chart on the computer, reviewed the charges on the hospital pricing policy and wrote down the amount she thought was appropriate.

  Will didn't hesitate, pulled out his wallet and paid the entire amount to the nurse.

  "In detail sir, can you tell me what happened?"

  Will had thought about how he could hide the bite he received from the girl in the parking lot, and after he woke when he got home, he covered his injured hand in a thin piece of raw meat and began to play and tease his German Shephards in the backyard. The dogs smelled the flesh, but Will kept his left hand behind his back. He got the two dogs jumping and excited then stuck his left hand in the one dog's mouth. The dog bit down on the meat, sinking his teeth through the raw meat deep into Will's hand. As the dog tried to pull the food off Will's hand, he forced his hand further into the dog's mouth. He could feel the dog's teeth dig deep into his hand. The pain was more than he imagined when he conceived this plan to cover the first injury with the dog bite.

  "I was out back with my two dogs when a stray dog showed up. It was a big dog, black, came running up the driveway and when he got close, he started to growl at my dogs. I have an electric fence that keeps my dogs from getting out but this stray was big and in a bad mood, something was pissing him off. He ran up, changed direction and came at me instead. When he jumped on me, I defended myself by sticking my hand in his mouth. Probably not the smartest thing to do. Anyway, I kicked him off, and he ran away."

  "Have you seen this dog before?" Will shook his head.

  "Is your tetanus up to date?" she asked.

  "Yeah. I think so."

  "We may have to start rabies shots and see if you need a tetanus booster.

  The doc will make that decision after she examines you. You'll need some stitches. You've got a nasty bite there. Do you want anything for pain?"

  "Please." Will had taken several pain pills before he went out and forced his dog to take a chunk of his already injured hand.

  The nurse finished typing the incident history then took a set of vitals. She completed her assessment on Will, gave him two extra-strength Tylenol and a small glass of water, then asked him to take a seat and told him that due to the severity of the injury, he would be seen relatively quickly.

  Will waited only a few minutes before his name was called. He carefully cradled his injured hand as he stood, walking through the security doors. He was led to a small treatment room and sat on the edge of the bed. Again, he sat waiting for someone to come and treat his wounds.

  Upstairs in the same hospital, Kerry was resting comfortably with the help of heavy sedation. The cardiac monitor had been silenced but continued to record her vitals. Kerry rolled back and forth in bed in spite of the medication. She had been brought to the hospital by ambulance hours earlier after calling 911 following the attack. Her injuries had been treated, and she was now admitted in the security wing following her rape attempt. She had severe bruising around the neck where Will had taken hold of her.

  The door to Kerry's private room remained open in full view of the nurses' station. Several uniformed police officers continued to take notes while the detectives spoke with the physician in charge of Kerry's case. Detective Liz Cummings who initially talked to Kerry, was focused on note-taking as she spoke to the physician, "She told us there wasn't a sexual attack, she fought him off before he could do anything. Is that your opinion doc?"

  The doctor spoke in hushed tones attempting to get the detectives to follow her lead, "I agree. There was no sign of any injury to the victim other than the neck. Whoever did this is very strong. Her larynx is bruised, and I doubt she'll be able to eat solid food for a few days. She still has trouble speaking. Other than that, physically, she's fine. Emotionally, she's doing better than I would. That young girl is very strong. The counsellors will be speaking to her as soon as she wakes up. Right now, that girl needs to sleep. She's been through a terrible ordeal."

  "You're sure there were no other injuries than the neck?" Detective Cummings asked in a way that questioned the doctor's ability to perform a physical exam.

  The doctor stepped back and placed her hands on her hips, "You might want to adjust your tone detective or the next time something like this happens, I won't be so cooperative. I know my job. I suggest you curb your attitude. Your team took all the pictures. Perhaps you want to take a look at them and come back and apologize to me after you see there weren't any other injuries than those I've noted."

  The detective's eyes never left her notepad and were not at all apologetic for her tone, "It seems a little odd that a rape suspect would try to just choke the vic and not try something else."

  "Like?"

  "It's not common for a suspect to want to choke his vic to the point of

  being unconscious. One of the aspects of rape is fear. They want the girl awake and to be afraid. Usually, they try to force the legs open when they're on top."

  "Listen, I didn't say it was rape. Those guys over there," the doctor pointed to the t
wo uniformed officers who stood guard over Kerry's room, "are the ones who told me it was rape. Maybe they assumed it was rape, maybe my patient thought it was rape, I don't care whether it was rape or not. We treat the physical injuries the same and assign counsellors to deal with the emotional trauma. Why don't you do your job, instead of telling me how to do mine, and find out who it was that cried rape. Maybe it wasn't rape, and it was a purse snatching gone wrong or maybe an assault or worst. If it wasn't rape, the ordeal you put her through with the rape kit and exam was possibly as traumatic as the attack."

  For the first time, the Detective Cummings looked up from her notepad and stared at the doctor's back as she walked away. She turned to her partner, "Who the fuck said this was rape then?"

  Her partner shrugged his shoulders, "No fucking clue. I was with you when we got the call at the station that we had an attempted rape."

  The first detective walked over the two uniformed officers standing guard at Kerry's door. She separated them and asked the younger looking officer, "Who said this was an attempted rape?"

  "We were pulled from patrol. Dispatch told us to come here and secure the room as per protocol for a suspected rape. That's all I know. We," he pointed to his partner then back at himself, "just got here after the ambulance dropped her off. We stayed outside the ER room, followed her up here. We didn't even get a chance to talk to the Paramedics. Maybe they thought it was rape."

  "So, who the fuck said this was rape?" The female detective's voice was showing signs of stress and frustration, and her voice was getting louder.

  "Ask the guys on the scene. Don't start getting in our face because you can't figure who did what." the officer turned his back to her and walked down the hall, opened the door to the guest bathroom and went inside to avoid further questions by the female detective.

  Her partner understood what he had to do and went to the far end of the hall, pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called dispatch. He asked for the names of the responding officers and if they could call him. He left his cell number with the dispatcher and waited patiently for a return call. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his partner's attitude and thought it best to put some distance between her while he waited.

  It wasn't long before his cell phone vibrated. He turned away from his partner, swiped the screen icon to answer the phone and spoke quietly. After a short conversation, he hung up, pocketed his phone and re-joined his partner.

  "It was a bystander who told the responding officers it was rape. The victim was hysterical at the scene, they tried to keep her calm, she had problems talking because of her throat injury and they went with the rape call. On their report, they said they indicated rape, assault and possible abduction to cover all the bases."

  "Fuck." Detective Cummings was annoyed. "Call what's his face and get his fat ass down here."

  "Could you be a little more specific?" he chuckled.

  "Hammond," she barked as she walked away. "His team covers assaults and shit."

  *****

  Will watched, fixated, on how Dr. Hernandez was suturing his hand wound. He was hoping to pick up some technique on how to suture. He watched as she carefully found the perfect spot to anchor the curved needle into the skin, pull it with the needle drivers as the thread followed through the skin. She then found the opposite side of the wound, tapped the area of the skin with the end of the needle until she was satisfied she had found the best match.

  She had injected the wound with an anesthetic to numb the area, prepped the suture tray and tested the area to make sure her patient couldn't feel anything. She used a forcep to bring the skin edges together to see how the edges would meet before she began to close the large open bite wound. She pulled one side of the skin edges tight, inserted the curved needle with the suture attached then adding stitches along the laceration until one section of the wound was closed.

  "We really should have plastics doing this. You have a nasty wound there. There's also a small piece missing, and I'm not sure I can close this wound and make it look right." Dr. Hernandez never took her focus off the wound.

  "I'm not too concerned about how it looks." Will chuckled. "I don't have any scars. This is my first battle wound."

  "You already signed the paperwork saying you understood the procedure and gave me permission to do this. As long as you know that it won't look pretty."

  Will laughed, "I know."

  Dr. Hernandez was leaning in close to the wound, her head directly under Will's face. He stared at her long, dark hair, inhaling deeply. He admired her slight frame and tried to imagine what she looked like without the oversized lab coat she wore.

  She pulled on a section of skin that hadn't been numbed by the anesthetic. Will let out a soft yelp like a puppy would do if you yanked on its tail. Dr. Hernandez chuckled, "Cute laugh," never looking up from her task. "Do you want a little more freezing? This is going to take a little longer than I thought. The piece of flesh that's missing is little larger than I thought. You may have some difficulty opening your hand completely while this heals until the skin begins to stretch out again."

  "I'm fine."

  "You don't have to impress me. If it hurts, I've got lots of drugs here to freeze the area." Dr. Hernandez never lost her focus from the task. She attempted to piece together the sections of skin that were now missing. The wound was more than half sutured when she realized that it would be too difficult to hold the skin and attempt to repair the area by herself. Dr. Hernandez removed her gloves, pushed the tray to the far side of the room and excused herself. She pulled back the curtain and left the treatment area.

  *****

  Carl slammed on the brakes causing the car to lurch forward as he came to a stop on an angle, taking up a spot and a half close to the main entrance of the hospital. He ran from the car, forgetting to lock his vehicle and kept his pace until he arrived at the ER. He slowed to a frenzied walk, went through the Ambulance entrance and not the general entrance for walk-in patients, passed the security desk that was left unattended and made his way to the main patient care section of the ER. Grabbing a patient chart from the corner of a stainless-steel stand, he carried it like he was reviewing the patient's medical history or treatment.

  His pace and demeanor were that of someone who belonged in the ER. The department was chaotic; the PA voice above belted out requests every few seconds, few people cared or seemed to notice. There were patients in every bed, staff mauled about, walking passed without question. Carl's mission was to find the girl who had been attacked earlier that morning. When he woke that morning, his scanner was still full of chatter from the on-scene officers and crime scene technicians who were still scouring the scenes for any clue of the incident.

  Carl had heard it was an attempted rape, but he knew, everyone in town knew that there hadn't been a sexual assault in years. Instinctively, he felt there was a connection between the murders and this event. He wanted to see if he could speak with the assault victim before any other reporter or the police told her to keep silent.

  He walked through the halls, peering into rooms and around curtains. Staff went about their work with little regard to someone who looked like they worked in the hospital. None of the patients matched the description of a young girl who had been attacked. Frustrated, at the end of the hall, he stopped short, causing the person behind to bump into him.

  He turned quickly, "I'm so sorry, I'm lost."

  "Obviously. Otherwise, you wouldn't have stopped in the middle of the hall," Dr. Hernandez looked frustrated. "Are you just going to stand there or get out of my way?"

  Carl stepped aside, "Sorry."

  "What are you doing anyway?" She now stood in front of Carl, despite being quite small, there wasn't that much difference in size between her and the man standing before her.

  "I work upstairs. I was looking for a friend I heard was here."

  "You work here. Where?" she asked suspiciously.

  "In the lab." It was the only part of the hospital he could
come up with quickly.

  "Good. You're with me." Dr. Hernandez took hold of Carl's jacket sleeve and pulled him into the room behind the curtain. "We are so swamped, and I need help with a patient. You can handle a little blood, right?"

  Stunned, Carl shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah, 'course."

  As Dr. Hernandez pulled the curtain back, she told Carl he was about to assist suturing a hand injury.

  Carl walked to the side, placed the metal clipboard on the counter and stood behind the patient as Dr. Hernandez donned a fresh pair of gloves.

  "You can't help me from over there. Come 'er," she pointed to the exact spot on the floor she wanted Carl to stand. He walked over and planted his feet exactly where the doctor had told him to.

  "Well?" she looked at him. "Put on a pair of gloves."

  Carl looked around the room, saw the glove dispenser mounted on the wall, walked over and pulled from the box marked small. As he did, a bundle of gloves fell from the table to the floor. Embarrassed, he kicked the fallen gloves to the corner. He held the gloves before him, then attempted to put on nitrile gloves for the first time. Carl struggled to fit his hand in the glove, his fingers found a corresponding part of the glove, but the thumb section of the glove was on the wrong side of his hand. "I must be putting a left glove on my right hand." He looked apologetic.

  "They're ambidextrous." Dr. Hernandez pulled the suture tray close and pulled back the sterile towel from the equipment. "Grab another pair of gloves. Oh, there's no way you're a small. Try a medium."

  Carl did as instructed, and finally had a pair of white gloves on that fit and all five fingers had found a hole. He walked around and stood where he had been told to stand.

  "I thought you said you worked in the lab?" she asked.

  Carl again made up a quick lie, "I do. Purchasing."

  "Well, you're too late to back out now. You're getting a crash course in suturing."

  Carl looked up at Will with raised eyebrows, gave his best "I'm sorry" look without saying a word and stood beside Dr. Hernandez waiting for further direction.