by C L Hart
“Officers,” the doctor said in a disapproving tone, “there seems to be some confusion here.” He looked from Webber to Ames. “I think you’ve forgotten you’re in a hospital, not a police station. A hospital is for sick people, and when they are sick, they are my responsibility. My understanding is you’ve already been informed Miss McMurphy is not up to visitors yet, and that,” he pointed his finger at Detective Webber, “includes you!”
“Actually, Doctor, I believe the confusion is on your part, because the lady in there isn’t Sarah McMurphy, but rather Sarah Murphy, and she is a very important witness in our—”
“Detective, I don’t care if that is Sarah the Duchess of York in there. Her name isn’t my problem, her health is! When she’s ready for visitors, I’ll have someone contact your boss. Until then, get out.” Dr. Marcot pointed to the elevators.
Webber said nothing, but there was a long pause before he turned and left with Detective Ames.
Dr. Marcot offered his hand to Lincoln. “I’m sorry to rush off, but I’m needed downstairs. If you’ll excuse me, Robin is with Sarah and she will fill you in.”
Confused by the doctor’s comment, Lincoln pushed open the hospital room door to see Robin sitting quietly in a chair next to Sarah's bed.
Robin rose to meet him at the door. “Lincoln,” she said in relief.
Looking over the nurse’s shoulder, Lincoln glanced at Sarah. “Is she all right?”
“She’s under heavy sedation again,” Robin said.
“Why, what happened?”
“She got out of bed this afternoon.”
“What’s wrong with that? I’d think that’d be a good thing.”
“She got out of bed by herself and found her way to the bathroom... and to a mirror. She wasn’t ready for that, at least not by herself. We had no choice but to sedate her.”
First Abby, now Sarah. Lincoln sighed. “So now what?”
“She had taken three steps forward, but now unfortunately, she’s taken four steps back,” Robin said with regret. “The psychological effect could be devastating, especially on one so young and so pretty.”
Lincoln was moving closer to Sarah when a large flower arrangement caught his attention.
“They’re from your boss,” said Robin.
“Nathan?”
“No.” Robin shook her head. “Lieutenant Banks. She was here to see Sarah.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Lincoln suddenly felt small about some of the comments he had made to his lieutenant, as well as some of the thoughts he had kept to himself. “How is Sarah now?”
“Out like a light. She should sleep ’til morning. Medically, she is healing quite well, all things considered.”
Lincoln looked down at Sarah and he had to agree. The swelling was starting to subside, and the colors around her eyes weren’t as vivid. The thick bandage that had been around her neck since he had met her had been replaced by a large dressing on just one side of her neck. Unfortunately, her head now tilted slightly to the side and the corner of her mouth had a sad droop to it, but he could still see the beauty beyond the wounds. “She does look better,” he said in a hushed tone.
“That’s because we’ve seen her only at her worst. Sarah, on the other hand, knows what she looked like before the attack.”
“Now what?”
“Abby’s paying for the best, but it’s in Sarah’s hands now. We’ll know more when she wakes up.”
Lincoln sighed deeply as he thought about the day that both Sarah and Abby had been through.
“You okay?” Robin asked him when she saw his features twist and change.
“It seems so simple, but there’s nothing I can do. I run back and forth between them, knowing that what they both really need is each other.” Lincoln followed Robin out of the room. He looked down at his watch. It was getting late. “Robin, how do I help her?”
“I can’t answer that, Lincoln. I’m not a doctor.”
“I know that, but sometimes the soldiers know things the generals don’t.”
She thought for a moment, then responded. “She’s alone right now, Lincoln, and she needs someone to tell her it’s going to be okay.”
Chapter 24
On shaking weak legs, she made her way across the fluffy clouds of gray and white. Each step was a struggle, a challenge to make it to her final destination, an oasis in the distance: a palm tree leaning over a small, still pond, framed by white billowy clouds and vivid green grass. The shimmering haze of her sedative made her surroundings so soft and blurry, she could barely make out the light in the distance. A light that would shine on the shadowy secrets they had kept from her.
The fluffy clouds became painted white walls as her hand reached out for support against the bathroom door. The metal handle felt cold as she pushed it down and opened the door. There it was — the oasis she had been seeking. She shuffled into the bathroom and placed her hands on the counter.
One deep breath to clear her mind, two deep breaths to gather her courage, and on the third breath, she closed her eyes and turned on the bathroom light.
An image from the shadows appeared in the mirror in front of her, a broken mirror, she thought. She gazed into familiar green eyes, but they were all she recognized. The green was so vivid next to the bright red blood inside her eyes. The cracks in the mirror distorted the face she had known all her life.
Not my face. My face doesn’t have cracks in it.
But it was her face, with purple and brown bruises that looked like depressed shadows. Her left cheekbone was now sunken, and muscle and nerve damage pulled down on the corner of her mouth. One crack in the mirror fell across the bridge of her nose and then appeared to grow wider and deeper as it meandered down her cheek to the edge of her jaw.
My jaw... not my jaw.
She tried to open her mouth, but was unable to do so. Her mouth was sealed shut.
Who is this person? This isn’t me!
With an unsteady hand, she reached out to the broken image in the mirror. She moved her hand as far as she could, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch the distorted likeness. She looked down at her fingers, then forced them up to touch her face.
These are my hands, my fingers, but this isn’t my face. This is someone else, not me...not my face.
Then she felt the thick scabs surrounding the glue and stitches that crisscrossed over her skin. With an unsure touch, she fingered her lips and pushed on the droopy corner of her mouth. When she focused on the bright white bandage across her throat ... ...and it all came back.
Oh, my God, it is me. The realization tore at her mind. That is my face. That is me. It was him!
He wasn’t an editor, he was a killer. And he drove his fist into her face, over and over again. He was Billy — Billy Ward, and he brought his hand back once more, but this time it held a knife. Billy smiled at her as he slashed down at her throat.
♥
“No!”
It wasn’t a scream, it was more a stifled shriek, but it woke Lincoln with such a start he forgot for a moment where he was. “Shit!” He clambered out of his chair to Sarah’s side. She was sitting up in bed, her eyes wide with fear as she tried to scream away her demons. Her voice was raw and hoarse, and her small body shook with tremors of hysteria.
“Sarah,” he said soothingly as he reached out for her, but she quickly turned away. Ignoring her protests, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. Her barely audible cries of fear ceased as she gasped for breath. “Shhh, you’re okay, Sarah, it’s all over,” he repeated. He thought he heard her cry out denial. “I’m not going to let you go,” he said, and he didn’t. After a long silence, Lincoln reached for the light over the bed, thinking Sarah was asleep.
The moment the florescent light started to hum, her haggard voice pleaded through her wired jaw, “No, please, off.” She buried her head against Lincoln’s chest even after the light was extinguished.
In the dim gray of the room, he held her, saying nothing while he r
ocked back and forth. He had no idea of the time, or of how long they stayed like that, but it didn’t matter. She eventually stopped crying, and as his own eyes began to droop, Lincoln realized she had finally stopped shaking.
Sometime in the early morning hours, the shadows in the room faded as the sun rose outside. Lincoln knew he had dozed off, but he still held Sarah in his arms and was afraid to move and disturb her. He did his best to stretch out the stiffness in his body and when he turned, he saw her eyes were open.
“Good morning.” He was met with silence. “How about some water? It’ll feel good on your throat.” He reached for her cup of ice chips, but when he offered it to her, she pulled her face away. “Come on, take one.” But there was no surrender on her part, so he returned the cup to the nightstand.
The few words she had spoken had hurt her more than physically. It was painful to speak, but even more painful to listen. She could hear the difference in her voice and she didn’t like what she could hear. If she never spoke again, if she never looked into another mirror, then she could pretend it had never happened.
It never happened; it was only a nightmare. She lay with her back to Lincoln.
“Sarah.” So many things came to mind, encouraging words, but they all sounded hollow. He reached out and gently started to rub her back. “Sarah, don’t do this. Don’t pull away. You’re a fighter, a survivor.” There was no response and he felt helplessly frustrated as he tried to reach her. “When you were brought in here, you were so weak and had lost so much blood. Abby held you ’til they took you for surgery. She was here by your side every moment, until they forced her to go home.” Lincoln stopped when he thought about that night — the night Ward was murdered. How different our lives would be if Abby had stayed here.
“Sarah, she’d be here now if she could, but she can’t. Come on, Sarah, look at me, talk to me,” he pleaded.
Without a word, she reached down on the bed and struggled to pick up the notepad with her bad hand. Finally she reached for it with her other hand. She tore the page off and handed it to him.
Lincoln hesitated a moment before he took the offered paper, and then read the shakily written words.
You can clip an eagle’s wings, but you cannot strip its pride,
For its spirit will soar beyond the mountains tall and wide.
I can’t offer you your freedom, but I can remind you of our time,
To give you love inside your heart and peace inside your mind.
Trust is what I ask from you for I cannot be there to say,
To tell you that I love you and I do so more each day.
“Prophetic words, Sarah. Are they for Abby, or for you?”
“When...you leave...give it...to Abby.” Her words were slow and forced, and barely more than a hoarse whisper.
“I’m not leaving. Not until you look me in the face and tell me to go,” he said daringly. “I know you think things are bad right now, but they’ve improved so much already. They’re only going to get better.” He looked down at her hand as she flexed and relaxed her fist. “Give yourself time to heal and mend. What you saw—”
“Was horrendous,” she finished for him.
“It looks bad only because you still have stitches. When Dr. Greene is—”
“Lea-ve.” Her rough, gravelly voice broke under the strain of her demand.
Lincoln’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “All right, all right, I’m leaving.” He got off the bed, folded up the poem for Abby and put it in his pocket. “I’ll be back later.” There was no response.
♥
Lincoln was hard at work in his small office, his face buried in the medical examiner’s report, when there was a knock on the door.
“You’re going to make me look bad, coming in before me,” Nathan said as he stood in the doorway, but the look on Lincoln’s face stemmed his teasing. “Long night, or did you find something?”
“Both,” Lincoln said with a sigh as he leaned back in his chair. Nathan entered and closed the door behind him.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m torn, Nathan. I need to be working on Abby’s case.”
“You don’t have to be in the office, Lincoln. If the work’s out in the field, then that’s where you should be.”
“That isn’t it. It was leaving the hospital this morning, leaving Sarah alone like that.” He ran his fingers through his short cropped hair.
“How’s she doing?”
“Not very good.” Lincoln looked to Nathan. “How’s Abby doing?”
“I’d have to say not much better,” Nathan responded. “So tell me, what can I do to help? What does Sarah need?”
“I wish I knew. She’s speaking now, but so far she hasn’t said much more than ‘leave’ and ‘get out’. She’s not eating, she’s not sleeping. Sound familiar?” Nathan nodded. “And I know Webber will be coming back, but I don’t honestly think there’s anything for Sarah to tell him. Thankfully the doctor’s more concerned about Sarah’s health than about her talking to that ass. The poor kid is alone in that hospital.”
The words echoed in Nathan’s memory and it gave him pause, but only for a moment. “Tell you what, I’ll look after Sarah today and you look after my niece’s well being.”
“I’m not sure how Sarah will react to another stranger.”
“I may be a stranger, but I’m a friend, and she’ll just have to get used to that. I met her father once, you know,” Nathan revealed. “He’s a real piece of work — a self-centered pompous ass, if you ask me. From what you and Abby have told me about Sarah’s relationship with her parents, it doesn’t surprise me that they’ve abandoned their own child. Leave her to me.” He stood up and grabbed the door handle. “Did you find something in the ME’s report?”
“Yeah.” Lincoln sifted through the files on his desk. “Ward’s hands were bound with plastic zip-ties.” He looked up at Nathan. “You know what they are?”
“Yes, they’re what electricians and mechanics use to secure wires together, but sometimes the cops use them as handcuffs.”
“Correct. What’s strange is that from the position of the nodular ends, his hands were bound together when they were in front of him, not behind him.”
Nathan paused for a moment. “He was found with his hands tied behind him.”
“Uh-huh.” Lincoln lifted several papers, searching for something else. “And there was Demerol in his blood stream as well as cocaine and morphine — loads of it.”
“So he was higher than a kite when he died.” Nathan’s brow pulled into a familiar crease.
Lincoln caught the expression; it reminded him of his partner. “Yeah, he would’ve been flying all right. He probably didn’t feel a thing.”
“I don’t know, I think any man getting his dick cut off would feel it no matter how high he was.”
“I think I would have to agree.”
“Well, keep on it, Linc; there might be something there.” Nathan opened the door. “In the meantime, I’ll phone Mary and see if she can call off Webber.”
♥
It had been a long time since Nathan had been in a hospital, and that one hadn’t looked anything like this one. He stopped at the nurse’s desk and introduced himself. “How is our patient?”
“Not much to tell. She hasn’t spoken to a soul since Lincoln left. Her IV has been taken out, but unless she starts to drink something, it’ll have to go back in.”
“And her voice?”
“The doctor doesn’t think there is any permanent damage, though time will tell. The biggest problem we are having besides her not eating is that she doesn’t want to see anyone or be seen by anyone. It’s actually quite normal with an injury like hers, but still... Dr. Greene is due here soon and I’m hoping she’ll talk to him.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“She’s going to have to deal with nurses and doctors sooner or later. Unfortunately, we don’t have the time or manpower to deal with the psychological effects on every patient. W
e are doing the best we can, but we have to draw the line somewhere.”
Nathan looked at the head nurse. “So, what are her options?”
“Sarah’s going to need special care and attention. This isn’t a private hospital, Mr. Holoman. We just don’t have the resources to give her the care she needs.”
“Understood,” Nathan said. “Can I see her?”
“Sure. That’s her door over there. She prefers the lights to be left off, and don’t expect any conversation, pleasant or otherwise. And duck if she throws anything.”
“Got it,” he said as he headed toward Sarah’s room.
Nathan stopped just outside her door. He could face almost anyone and anything, but there was something about a young woman in a hospital room that completely unnerved him. Although this time was different. At least that was what he kept telling himself as he entered the room.
There was no light on, however he could see her petite outline in the bed. If she heard him, or the opening of the door, she didn’t make it known. His mouth got very dry; he tried to blame the hospital air, but he knew it was more than that.
“Sarah.” Nathan stopped just inside the door. He didn’t want to cause her any alarm. “You don’t know me. My name is Nathan Holoman.” There was no response as he looked over the small figure lying so still, her back to him. With a sense of déjà vu, he thought about a much younger Abby. He had to remind himself this was Sarah, not Abby.
He walked over and pulled the one chair closer to the bed. She made no movement or sound to show she had heard him. “Sarah?” For the first time, he wondered if she was even awake. In the dim light of the room and with her back to him, it was impossible to tell whether she was sleeping or not.
“The nurses are concerned about you not eating.” He looked over at her tray and the selection of drinks that he was sure she hadn’t touched. “You need to eat something or they’re going to have to put your IV back in.” There was no response, not even a grumble or a mumble.