He was dimly aware that a tall, blond woman had appeared at his side and was calling for an ambulance. When she turned toward him, she said, “I’m Detective Riley Simmons, Frisco’s partner. Help is on the way.” She paused, staring at him. “Hey, are you okay?”
John realized he was swaying. The shock of the last half hour was finally catching up to him, and he plopped down on the floor, putting his head between his knees. He took a couple of deep breaths and once he felt in control again, he responded, “Yeah. I’m fine.”
He glanced up the escalator. “Where the hell is that ambulance?” He knew the detective had just called for help, but every second Jo lay unconscious was an eternity.
Just then, he heard the faint wails of emergency vehicles headed their way. A few moments later, three groups of EMTs descended the escalator.
One of the EMTs looked at Detective Simmons. “We heard there were several people down. Where are the gunshot victims?”
Riley pointed off in the direction that John had first heard the screams. “A campus police officer is down over there, near the Great Hall.” While one EMT crew rushed off in that direction, she pointed in the other direction. “We have a MPD officer there, behind that stack of sweatshirts.”
The third crew began to work on Jo. A young, dark-haired woman knelt down next to Jo. Her eyes quickly assessed the situation. “Tell me what happened.”
John responded, “The gunman took me hostage up to the top of the escalator and then pushed me on top of her…”His voice cracked as he recalled the feeling of tumbling down the moving stairs with Jo taking the brunt of his fall.
He cleared his throat and finished, “When we fell to the bottom, she hit her head and was knocked unconscious. Also, you should know she’s pregnant.”
The EMT nodded and wrapped a brace around Jo’s neck. She and another EMT then carefully slid Jo onto a board.
Once they had Jo strapped down to the board, the EMT looked at John. “Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay, just a little shaky.”
They hoisted Jo up the escalator and John followed. The EMTs placed Jo on the waiting gurney at the top of the steps and rolled her out to the ambulance.
John had to step to one side as the other set of EMTs came through with another gurney, this one with the victim completely covered by a sheet. John wondered which of the shooting
victims had died and felt queasy when he realized it could have easily been him or Jo under that sheet.
As John stepped out into the sunshine, he saw Frisco put the man from the escalator into his vehicle. The detective looked over at Jo and raised his eyebrows when he spied John. John shrugged. What could he say? He wished he could tell Frisco Jo would be fine, but at the moment he really didn’t know.
He walked over to the EMTs who were loading Jo into the ambulance. He turned to the dark-haired EMT. “Remember she’s pregnant. Let them know at the hospital.”
The EMT nodded and closed the doors. Since the University of Minnesota’s hospital was only a few blocks away, John ran in that direction, his long legs covering the campus grounds quickly. A few minutes later, he entered the emergency room doors and looked around.
Because she had a head injury, John knew Jo would be triaged immediately. He caught a glimpse of her being wheeled to a bay, an intravenous line already started by the EMT. Every fiber of his being wanted to be at Jo’s side, but he knew he needed to follow the proper protocols first. He quickly answered the check-in questions at the receptionist desk, then raced down the hall to Jo’s bay.
The doctor turned to him. “Are you a relative?”
John nodded. “I’m her fiancé, John Goodman.” He shook the woman’s hand.
“I’m Doctor Cooper.” The doctor stopped and stared at John a moment, her eyes widening. “Wait, I recognize you from your picture from the paper. You’re the neurosurgeon who saved that kid’s life, aren’t you? His remarkable recovery is all anyone’s talked about lately. ”
John felt color rising in his face. “We were lucky.” He looked down at Jo. “What are her vitals?”
Doctor Cooper looked down at the chart. “Her heart rate is a little high, 70. Her blood pressure is 130 over 95, also on the high side. No vomiting, which is a good sign. We’ve already done a blood draw to check her CBC, Chem 7 and a CMP.”
John knew she was referring to Jo’s complete blood count, as well as a test for her electrolytes, glucose and complete metabolic panel. They would also check for blood coagulation, to make sure she wouldn’t bleed out. He said, “Has she had any eye response to light?”
The doctor nodded. “Yes, her accommodation is normal, and both pupils are the same size. By all indications, she has suffered a minor concussion, but we’re scheduled to take her for a MRI in a moment. I was told she was pregnant, so we’re doing that in place of a CT scan.”
John nodded. “Do you need any other information from me?”
“What type of meds is she on? Any prenatal vitamins?”
“Nothing currently; she was scheduled for her first OB/GYN appointment tomorrow.”
Doctor Cooper tilted her head. “How far along is she?”
John felt sheepish, not really knowing the answer. “I’m not sure. Two, three months maybe? She says she’s not very regular.” He paused, and then continued, “Will she be seen by an OB/GYN soon?”
“Yes, we’ve already contacted the doctor on consult from labor and delivery. He’s waiting on us to wrap up the MRI. I’ll go check on that now.”
After the doctor stepped out, John studied Jo’s face. Bruises and scrapes from the tumble down the escalator were already beginning to appear on her face. John felt a red-hot anger rise within him. He shook his head, trying to clear away the desire to hit something.
He took a deep breath to calm down and sat on the chair next to Jo’s gurney. Through the curtained opening, he heard a child crying for his mother to make his arm stop hurting. In the other direction, he heard a man pleading for someone to save his daughter’s eye. The sharp scent of fear assaulted his nose, an odor he was all too familiar with.
He wished Jo would wake up and look at him. He couldn’t remember being so helpless before this moment. He was used to being the one in charge. He was the surgeon, not relying on anyone else but himself. Even when Jo had been in danger in their first case together, he had been there to make sure nothing happened to her. This time, there was nothing he could do but wait and pray. This time, it wasn’t just Jo’s life at risk.
John was startled out of his thoughts a few moments later when Doctor Cooper returned. “Doctor, we’ll take her down for the MRI now. “
***
John sat at her bedside thirty minutes later, when Jo let out a moan. He grasped her hand. “Jo. Can you hear me?”
Her eyes fluttered open, but she quickly closed them again. John said, “We’re at the hospital, sweetheart. You suffered a mild concussion. You need to stay overnight, for observation, but the doctor was encouraging.”
Her eyelids flew open and her eyes had a haunted look about them. She croaked out, “The baby….”
John squeezed her hand tighter and made an attempt at a smile. “They’re going to perform an ultrasound shortly, but I’m sure the baby is fine.” With a sinking feeling, he realized he said the words to reassure himself as much as Jo.
Of course, nothing mattered more than Jo right now. First things, first, he reminded himself.
A frown formed between her eyebrows. “Mazlo?”
John was torn between wanting her to rest and wanting to keep her awake because of the concussion. He decided she needed to stay awake more. “I assume you mean the guy who took me hostage.” He smiled briefly. “I spoke with Detective Simmons, Frisco’s partner, while you were getting the MRI. She said Frisco raced up the down escalator while I was wrestling with Mazlo and managed to tackle him at the top, like an all-star defensive lineman.” He blew out a breath. “He’s in custody.”
He could tell she was growing
sleepy again when all he could see was a sliver of her green eyes. She said, “Why…why were you there?”
“I had a meeting at the university today. I had just stepped off the elevator onto the main floor when Mazlo literally ran into me.” He shook his head. “Jesus, I’ve never been as frightened in my life as I was when I landed on top of you at the bottom of that escalator.” He tried unsuccessfully to swallow back his anger once again.
He released his frustration on her, “What the hell were you thinking? You’re pregnant, Jo. You can’t just keep running after bad guys, like only your life matters anymore….”
He stopped abruptly when he saw the tears coursing down her cheeks. He felt terrible for berating her. This was neither the time nor the place to have this discussion, and he knew she was just as frightened about their baby as he was. He ran his hand through his hair. “Jo, I’m so sorry….”
She squeezed his hand. “No, I’m sorry. You’re right; I have to do a better job at balancing this. But when I saw that gun to your head….”
They were interrupted when a new doctor stepped into the room. He was short, not much taller than Jo, and looked to be somewhere in his early fifties. Extending his hand to Jo and then John, he said, “Hello, I’m Doctor Fillmer. Glad to see you’re awake.” He raised an eyebrow. “I understand you’ve had a bit of a tumble recently. Let’s make sure everything is in order, shall we?” John thought the doctor’s voice sounded a little too hearty when he continued, “Ready?”
Jo swallowed and nodded. John held tight to her hand as the doctor sat on a rolling chair next to her. After the ultrasound machine was hooked up, he raised Jo’s gown to bare her stomach. The doctor squirted some gel onto the end of the transducer probe and slowly rolled it across her midriff. All eyes were glued to the display screen. John crouched forward, searching for proof their child was alive and well. He could feel Jo’s hand tremble in his own and he gave it a squeeze to reassure her.
The doctor moved the probe back and forth, making small noises in the back of his throat. “So far, no signs of lacunae.”
Jo looked to John for explanation “He means there is no evidence of blood leaking between the placenta and the uterine wall.” He smiled at her. “It’s a great sign, Jo.”
John’s eyes returned to the screen and, looking carefully, he began to see a child’s form. A lump formed at the back of his throat as he realized he was looking at their child for the first time. He almost stood up and cheered when he saw the baby move its tiny arm, but suddenly realized he saw something else.
There were two babies on the screen. He looked up at the doctor for confirmation. The doctor smiled. “They’re doing very well, I’d say. Their fetal heart tones sound normal.”
Jo shook her head gingerly. “Must be this damned concussion. I thought you said, ‘they’re’, as in more than one.”
John’s grin was so wide it almost hurt. The words escaped from his mouth, “My, God, Jo. We’re having twins!”
Chapter Forty-Five
Turners Bend
March
IT WAS NEARLY SIX IN THE MORNING when Chief Fredrickson drove Chip home before he headed to the Bun for breakfast with Agent Masterson and Iver. As they neared his house, Chip called Jane. “Hi, Honey. I’ll be home in about ten minutes.”
All she said was, “Okay,” which set Chip to worrying. This is not going to be easy, and I’m way too tired to deal with it.
When he arrived, Jane was at the stove stirring a pot of hot oatmeal. She was dressed in her ratty terrycloth robe, which was once white, and a pair of wool slipper socks. Hair had fallen out of her carelessly bound ponytail. She did not turn when Chip entered the kitchen. She spooned oatmeal into two bowls, added brown sugar and raisins and put them on the table, along with a carton of cream.
Chip removed his outerwear and hung it on a hook near the backdoor. He sat in a kitchen chair across from Jane and watched her flood her oatmeal with cream. She had still not spoken a single word. She placed her elbows on the table, folded her hands and stared at him…waiting.
Chip gulped and started at the beginning. He kept nothing from her; he didn’t evade or sugar-coat any of the details. Jane did not interrupt with comments or questions. Meanwhile their oatmeal remained untouched, cold and congealed.
When Jane finally spoke, it was not at all what Chip had expected her to say. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m going to the hospital to see Hal.”
“Mom. I want to go with you. I want to see Dad.” Chip and Jane turned to see Ingrid standing in the kitchen doorway in her snowman-print, flannel pajamas.
***
The three of them headed for Des Moines with Jane driving. The calm, clear night had turned into a gray, windy morning, and snow blew off the tops of snow banks and drifted across the road, the wind buffeting the car. Chip dozed in the back seat while Jane and Ingrid rode silently up front.
Before they left home, Jane talked with Chief Fredrickson and agreed to give Deputy Anderson a ride back to Turners Bend, saving the chief a trip to the hospital. She also called Methodist for an update on Hal’s condition, but was unable to get much information.
When they arrived at the hospital they were directed to a family lounge where they found Deputy Anderson asleep in a recliner. They registered at a reception desk and were told the hospitalist would be paged. They helped themselves to lukewarm coffee and waited until a small dark-skinned man in a white coat entered the room. In a lilting accent he introduced himself as Dr. Sanjay Singh.
“Are you Mr. Swanson’s wife?”
“No, I’m his ex-wife. This is his daughter, Ingrid, and this is my husband, Charles Collingsworth.” Dr. Singh shook hands with them, bowing his head slightly to each.
“Please let us sit.” They seated themselves in leather chairs that surrounded a small low table littered with tattered People and Prevention magazines.
“When Mr. Swanson arrived early this morning, he had a challenging compound fracture of his right femur and had lost a significant amount of blood. We successfully did an open reduction with an internal fixation by which we essentially pinned the bone back together. You understand, yes?”
They nodded. “Just like with Runt,” said Ingrid.
“Runt is our dog, Dr. Singh,” explained Jane. “His broken leg was repaired but with an external fixator. How is Hal now?”
“With compound fractures our greatest concern is not the broken bone; it is infection. This morning it became clear he has developed a bacterial infection, which we are culturing. In his weakened condition, his body is not able to fight the infection, and he is in very critical condition.”
“May we see him?” asked Jane.
“Because of the circumstances of his injury and the presence of law enforcement people, Mr. Swanson is in isolation in an empty section on the fourth floor. You will have to check with the guard at the door to gain entrance. If you will follow me, I will show you the way.”
Chip recognized the agent who was seated outside Hal’s room as one of the agents who had first come to Turners Bend with Agent Masterson to investigate Hal’s laundering of drug money. He was the one Bernice thought looked like Paul Newman.
The agent stood as they approached. “Agent Warner,” he said extending his hand to Chip. “We met a couple of years ago.”
“You may remember my wife, Jane Swanson, and this is my step-daughter Ingrid. Would it be possible for them to see Hal?”
“It’s supposed to be medical personnel only, with me in the room, but under the circumstances I think I can let them in for a private visit, just for a few minutes.”
While Jane and Ingrid were in Hal’s room, Chip tried to sort out his own feelings about the man. All he could come up with was pity. Hal made one bad decision after another and ruined his life, lost everything and now faced harsh punishment for his misdeeds. Chip remembered that he himself had been heading down the path of self-destruction. Maybe not the same path as Hal, but an equally bad road…the road to
perdition. Somehow in the middle of Iowa he managed to turn his life around. He suddenly felt the need to remind himself of his gratitude. There, but for the grace of God, go I.
Jane and Ingrid exited the room, holding each other, grim faced but dry eyed. Two strong, brave women, Chip thought. He didn’t know if he deserved them, but he was proud to call them his family.
“Let’s get some lunch before we head home,” he said, walking down the hallway with his arms around both of them.
They ordered navy bean soup and grilled cheese sandwiches in the hospital cafeteria and crowded around a small table. They picked at their food without much appetite. Chip finally broke the silence. “How was he?”
“He was sedated. We hardly recognized him; he’s changed so much. They had him hooked up and wired to lots of machines and monitors. I think he’s in pretty bad shape,” answered Jane.
“Do you think he heard us, Mom?”
“Yes, Ingrid. I believe he heard us and understood who we were and what we were telling him. I’m sure he did, sweetie.”
Chip wanted desperately to know what they have said but knew he had no right to ask. Ingrid, however, told him.
“We told him to always remember at one time he was very much loved. That we will remember the good times, forget the bad times, and hold him in our hearts forever. And he shouldn’t worry about us; we now have someone else in our lives to take care of us, and that man is a good person.” She stopped and looked to her mother before she continued. “Someone who loves us and Sven, too.”
Chip had always wondered about the “lump in the throat” description, but now he experienced it, and the lump was accompanied by watering of his eyes. He reached over and put his hand on Ingrid’s cheek and kissed her on the forehead.
Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 03 - Writing Can Be Murder Page 24