Chapter 3 – Would You Lie With Me and Just Forget The World?
The Hildy in the break room was working overdrive this morning. Dr. Woods drummed her fingers on the countertop as the machine brewed what must have been her sixth coffee since the start of her shift. She pulled out her phone as she waited for the coffee to stop dripping and fired off a quick good morning text to her husband. The girls would be up by now and she could picture the usual chaos of getting the twins ready for the day.
"Good morning, Diane." A too cheery voice for six in the morning boomed out.
"Morning, Mark." Diane answered despondently pulling her mug from the machine.
"That bad, huh?" The man asked as she picked up a handful of sugar packets, ripping three open at once she upended them over the brown liquid and followed it with one more. "Rough shift."
"You could say that." She pulled open the refrigerator door and grabbed the milk carton.
"I didn't realize you were that busy." Mark looked over his shoulder back down the critical care hallway.
"We're not." She admitted as she poured the last of the milk into her mug. She tossed the empty carton across the room where it bounced off the wall and into the trash can in a practiced move. Leaning back against the counter she lifted the mug to her lips and blew a stream of breath across the surface sending steam swirling before her eyes.
"Rough case." Mark surmised. "Wanna talk about it?" He asked resting his shoulder against the door jam and shoving his hands in the pockets of his lab coat.
Diane sipped her coffee and looked over at him. "Young man was brought into the ER tonight, drugged, beaten, and raped. Just makes you wonder what's wrong with the world."
"Man, that is rough." He agreed.
"Yeah."
"You have to stop letting these patients get to you." Mark smiled softly at her, his words teasing more than chastising.
"I don't."
He laughed and raised his eyebrows at her. "No?"
"No." She said adamantly.
"How many times have you gotten home from a shift and immediately called the hospital to check on a patient?" Mark asked her.
He was right. She opened her mouth to answer but realized she had no argument.
"Exactly. You have to shake them off, Diane."
"It's not that easy." She admitted sadly.
"It is for me."
"Yeah, well, you're a man."
"You, of all people, did not just play the gender card." He laughed again.
"Okay, so I get too emotionally involved. You didn't see this kid, Mark. Whoever did this really did a number on him." She took a long swig of the still too hot coffee, years of experience of downing caffeine in between rounds had lowered her temperature threshold. "You know he's a firefighter? He puts his life on the line to save others and he gets attacked and left to die in the parking lot of some scummy bar."
She lashed out a foot in anger and caught the trashcan. It span on one corner but refused to fall adding to her sour mood.
"Well, hopefully, the police will catch the guy," Mark said soberly. "Come on, why don't we get some fresh air?" He backed into the hallway and she shuffled to follow him with her mug in toe.
They walked past the door to Buck's room and she glanced at the closed blinds in the window. She had no idea what the story was behind the man's pseudo parents, a fire captain and a police officer, and why his birth parents weren't his emergency contact, but she could see the complete and utter love and care that they had for him. She knew that a lot of first responders were like family units, many spent more time with their crew than their real families.
Whatever the situation was she was comforted by the fact there were, clearly, people who were ready to support him to the ends of the earth.
She caught up with Mark at the elevator and they stepped in together when the doors opened and he pushed the button to take them to the roof. The doors opened and they were bathed in the early morning LA sun, the air was already warm as they headed along the gantry past the helicopter pad to the well-used stretch of roof that looked out over the city below.
Mark pulled a carton of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and flicked it open holding it out to her. She pulled one out and tucked it between her lips. Mark took one for himself and lit it before handing the lighter over. She sparked and took a drag, the heady rush of the first nicotine fix of the day speeding through her.
It was her only vice, she didn't drink, didn't party, she worked hard to provide the best for her girls. She never smoked at home or actually possessed her own cigarettes, it was only ever with Mark. He had a knack for knowing when she needed a hit and would show up just in the nick of time.
"You're still thinking about him, aren't you?" He stated looking sideways at her where they both rested their arms on the metal railing running the perimeter of the roof.
"I can't help it." Diane sighed.
"What's his condition?"
"He's stable, on a vent but starting to breathe on his own. The bastard used ketamine."
"Ketamine?" Mark frowned. "That's different."
"What do you mean?" She asked as she blew out a puff of smoke.
"Well the norm is Rohypnol or GHB," he mused. "What we're his levels?"
"High. Around what you'd expect to see for surgical anesthesia. He was certainly dosed with enough to shut down autonomous breathing."
"Hmm." He puffed on his cigarette for a moment.
"What are you thinking?" Diane asked.
"Ketamine is usually administered IV or IM, right?"
"Right." She confirmed.
"Ketamine as an antidepressant is in pill or capsular form. It would take pretty much an entire blister pack to account for the high levels he was given, hard to disguise that being slipped into a drink in a crowded bar." He stubbed out his cigarette on the wall and dropped the Butt into the bucket that was kept there just for that purpose. "What if it was administered orally in liquid form?"
"You mean straight from the vile?"
"mm." Mark hummed in confirmation, he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the wall while he waited for her to finish.
"That was my suspicion." She told him. "Undiluted, as though it was poured directly into his mouth."
He nodded as his eyes scanned the horizon. "I'm no expert in the street drug trade but I'd imagine vials are harder to come by, it's not exactly freely available on prescription."
"So, the question is, how did the attacker get it?" Diane took one last drag of nicotine then flicked the end, in a repeat move from the break room, the butt bounced off the wall and landed squarely in the bucket.
"How do you do that every time?" Mark asked amusedly.
"Skill." She boasted with a smooth flick of imaginary hair over her shoulder.
They walked in companionable silence back around the rooftop to the single elevator.
"Hey," Mark bumped her shoulder with his. "Maybe it was a doctor?" His voice held a glint of humor but as the silver doors opened and they stepped inside Diane could see the logic.
Drug vials held higher doses and were, therefore, more carefully monitored. Mark was right that they weren't easily obtained on prescription, they were only issued to patients with serious chronic conditions or disabilities who required higher doses to save them having to refill prescriptions every week. Even then they were closely tracked by in-home health aides and nurses.
A physician, nurse, or even a hospital porter could gain access to a locked drug cupboard with a stolen key. The notion wasn't too far-fetched. Diane remembered the scandal from a few years back on the hospital's psychiatric ward where a nurse was swapping out the meds distributed to the patients with vitamins then selling the real drugs on the black market. He'd been operating for years before he was caught.
She said goodbye to Mark in the elevator and he continued down to the second floor. Stepping out of the elevator she saw Helen waving her over, a police officer stood next to the desk.
"Officer Williams," he said introducing himself. "I'm here to collect a SAFE kit."
"Yes, um, would you mind just waiting here a moment? There's a colleague of yours that would like a word before you go."
"Sure." The officer answered with a friendly smile.
Diane strode away towards room eight and knocked softly on the door. When she heard a muffled 'come in' she quietly pushed open the door. The sergeant and the fire captain still sat on either side of her patient's bed, their hands still holding his. She smiled at the sight and looked towards the woman.
"Sergeant Grant, you asked to be notified when the replacement officer arrived, he's here now."
"Thank you." The sergeant stood from the chair. She had removed her utility belt and unfastened a couple of her shirt buttons. She didn't bother to fix either as she followed Diane out the door.
"Officer Williams, I'm glad it's you." Diane watched the two officers shake hands with a casual familiarity. She moved behind the desk and took Helen's vacant seat when she left to retrieve the evidence box.
"Sergeant Grant, I didn't expect to see you here."
"You're here to collect a SAFE kit, right?" She asked her colleague.
"Yes."
"I was the original responding officer but I've had to recuse myself from being attached to this case." Diane watched as the sergeant swallowed thickly as though mustering the courage to continue. "I know the victim. I can't be on the investigating team."
Officer Williams nodded with understanding. "Of course."
Sergeant Grant flicked her eyes to Diane and she quickly occupied herself with sorting through the stack of patient files to her left waiting to be archived. They didn't need her eavesdropping on their conversation.
The sergeant took a step closer and dropped her voice. "It's Buck." She told him quietly.
Officer Williams' face scrunched in confusion briefly then his eyebrows shot up. "Firefighter Buckley?" Watching through her eyelashes she saw the sergeant nod. "Oh, sergeant, I'm…I'm so sorry."
She waved away his offer of apology and leveled him with a steely look. "I don't have to explain how sensitive this is, I need you to please keep the identity to yourself other than to register the kit at the crime lab."
"Of course, sergeant." Williams assured her.
"Good, because if I hear any hint of this in the station gossip, I'll know exactly where it came from."
Diane couldn't help but smile at the clear threat the sergeant's words carried. This was one fierce mama bear.
"Sergeant, you have my word. Firefighter Buckley, he's a great guy, he doesn't deserve this." Officer Williams spoke with such sincerity that Diane had to turn in her chair and focus on putting files in cabinets to keep her eyes from misting. By the time she turned back around the sergeant was heading back towards Buck's room.
"Sergeant Grant!" The officer called out. "If there's…" He shook his head slightly. "If there's anything I can do, please don't hesitate to let me know."
The sergeant gave him a small smile accompanied by a curt nod and she disappeared back down the hallway and into room eight. Helen chose just that moment to emerge from the store cupboard holding the file box containing the evidence kit. Diane watched as officer Williams checked through the contents and signed his name to the form before picking up the box and bidding them both a farewell.
Diane sighed and dropped her head to her hands resting her elbows on the desktop.
"You okay, Dr. Woods?" Helen asked her. Diane looked at her watch, 06:25 a.m. A little over four and a half hours of her shift remained. She wondered if she could call Mark and ask him to drop her another cigarette the next time he rode the elevator.
She opened her mouth to answer but before she could a long alert rang out, looking at the board behind her she saw the call light from room eight light up. Dropping the file in her hands she sprinted down the hall and burst in through the door.
Mr. Nash and his wife were both on their feet standing pressed to the head of the bed, the police sergeant had her hands resting gently on either side of her patient's face. She was speaking quiet words to the man that Diane can't hear from her position in the doorway.
"He opened his eyes!" Mr. Nash voiced urgently to her.
Diane raced to his side of the bed and he moved back to allow her unimpeded contact. She can now hear sergeant Grant's repeated string of words.
"We're here, Buck. Bobby and I, we're both here. You're okay."
Diane pulled out her penlight and indicates to the woman she needs to access her patient. She removed her hands and laid one on Buck's chest instead whilst the other reached down for his hand beneath the bandages. In her peripheral vision she saw Mr. Nash, Bobby, take up a station next to her also taking a gentle hold of the fingers peeking out from the cast.
Diane pulled up gently on one eyelid and flicked the light up and over the eye a few times. The pupil contracted, quicker than before, and she repeats the test on the opposite side breathing an internal sigh of relief when it too contracts quickly. As she lets the second lid go and it closes she noticed how his eyes were moving minutely under the thin layer of skin, almost as if dreaming.
"Mr. Buckly." She called him. "Buck. Can you open your eyes for me?" The lids remain closed but the eyes continue to move. She looked to the woman standing guard opposite her and nodded her head toward Buck indicating she try. A response to a familiar voice may be more likely.
"Buck, baby." The woman soothed. "Open your eyes for us, sweetie, let us see those baby blues."
Nothing happened for a moment and the three of them hold still watching and waiting. The lips wrapped around the plastic tube twitch slightly and Diane happily notes that the vent has been quiet since she entered.
"Keep trying." Diane whispered to the sergeant. She leaned closer to Buck, her face inches from his and she cupped her hand around his cheek again.
"Come on, Buck. We miss you, baby, open your eyes. Bobby and I are both here."
His eyes stay closed but Bobby lets out a puff of air behind her. "His fingers moved." He informed her.
"Buck, if you can hear me, squeeze Bobby's hand." Diane says, looking back at Bobby but he shakes his head sadly. When she turns back the eyes have gone still beneath the lids and she lets out a sigh.
"Is he waking up?" Bobby asked her.
"It's definitely a sign that the drugs are loosening their hold on him. It may be some time before he's fully awake and aware, expect him to drift in and out of consciousness for maybe a few days." Diane said as she moved around the bed to the machines, collecting the chart on her way. "He'll most likely be confused and disorientated. Some patients describe it like coming out of a very deep sleep or a dream-like state, others say they weren't away of any thoughts or feelings until several days after."
Diane looked over the readings on the vent, it hadn't breathed for Buck for some time. Another hour to be sure and then she would extubate him. She told the couple as much and saw the twin signs of relief and Buck's further progress.
A ringtone sang out to the room and the sergeant dug into her pocket to retrieve it. "It's Elaine." She said glancing up at her husband. "I better get this." She swiped her thumb to answer and lifted the phone to her ear as she slipped out of the room into the corridor.
Diane looked back to Bobby. The man was still stood by Buck's head, his fingers carding through his hair as he gazed down at the man's battered and bruised face. He looked at him with such love. It was the same look she gave her daughters when she returned home from late shifts to find them already asleep. She would tuck the covers in around them and press a kiss to each of their tiny foreheads and just watch them for a while as they slept. It was the look of a parent, a look that said, 'I would do anything for you'.
"How long have you known Buck?" Diane found herself asking before she could stop.
"Almost five years," Bobby answered, then let out a fond laugh. "He was a smartass kid who thought he was God's gift to the world. Every time we went out on a call he would rush headfirst without thinking."
"What kind of person is he?" She asked as she placed the chart back in its place.
"One of the best," Diane noted the pride in the man's voice. "There's nothing he wouldn't do for his crew or his family."
The door opened and the sergeant walked back in. She picked up her utility belt from its resting place on the back of her chair. "I have to go back to the station, Elaine has granted me a few days leave but I need to go clock out, will you be okay for a while on your own?" She asked her husband.
"Go, Athena, I'll be fine. I don't plan to leave his side."
Athena, Diane had never known a name suit someone so much. Goddess of wisdom and war she was also known as the helper of heroes, terribly accurate in this mix and match family scenario. Diane watched as she fastened the belt around her waist before moving around the bed to peck her husband on the lips.
"Alright, you call me if you need anything."
"I will." He assured her.
"I'll walk you out." Diane said and the pair of them left the room. As they reached the elevator Athena turned to her.
"Thank you." She said, sincerely. "Bobby said you've been very kind to him."
"Oh, I'm just doing my job." Diane shifted awkwardly on the spot.
"Bobby's first wife and two children died in a fire; he doesn't do well when someone he loves is hurting."
Diane's heart broke for the man.
"That boy in there," Athena continued. "he's a reminder of what his son could have grown into. They are as close to father and son as you can get without being related by blood. Thank you for being there to support him when I couldn't."
Not knowing what to say Diane simply nodded at her and retreated to the sanctuary of the break room before anyone could see her cry.
She started up the Hindy to have something to occupy herself and set about making a fresh coffee for herself and also one for Bobby. Whilst she didn't have Helen's talent for predicting how people took their brews she was observant and added the sweetener to his as she waited for her own to finish pouring.
She thought about the little family unit she had been introduced to, she wanted to know everything, how they'd met, what brought them together.
Diane sighed.
Mark was right, she really needed to stop letting these patients get to her.