A/N: FromLaura Jones point of view (Lucy's sister)
"Mom?" Lucy's voice was hoarse, and she was very groggy. I was in the ambulance riding with her speeding along to the hospital. I was concerned about the seizure, but I was just as concerned, or even more so about the knock to her head from the edge of her desk. I had a feeling from the way the EMTs were checking Lucy's eyes, that she had a hell of a concussion.
"It's Laura." I said, reaching my hand out, touching her forehead like our mother used to do. It made me sad to hear her ask for mom. Our father had died when Lucy was in college, our mother had died about 3 years ago.
"Where's mom?" She asked, her eyes not open. She was disoriented. Mom had always been there, or at least been there soon after the other times Lucy had a seizure.
"It's Laura. Do you know where you are?" I asked, trying to get her to think about the present. I knew in a matter of hours she would probably be a bit more coherent.
"I hit my head." She winced.
"Yeah, yeah you did." I agreed with her. We were pulling into the ambulance bay of the ER, and the EMTs were in motion to get her inside the hospital. I followed along beside as best I could, but once inside, a nurse waylaid me for some basic information.
I tried to provide as much as I could, as quickly as I could. Mainly I just wanted to get back to the exam area with Lucy, and after a few minutes they let me by.
"Mom?" Lucy called for our mother again as I stepped inside the curtain. An ER doctor was examining her, looking at her eyes, examining where she hit her head against the desk.
"It's Laura." I said again, this time she was looking at me, but was not really focused.
The doctor asked me a series of questions, and I gave Lucy's medical history, and history of seizures. I asked about her hitting her head against her desk, and he acknowledged concern about her head wound. He spoke with a nurse, ordering some tests, blood work, etc., and said he would be back in a few minutes.
"I hit my head." She said again.
"Yeah, yeah you did." I said again, wondering when she would stop looping through the same conversation. I was familiar with this as well. I knew she would get her bearings soon enough.
"Can I use this?" I asked the nurse about using the phone. She looked at me for a moment, and finally nodded her head. I had left my purse, including my cell phone, at Lucy's office. I needed to phone my husband Bruce, tell him about Lucy, and ask him to go by and collect my things from her office. My phone call to Bruce was quick enough, but I also needed to call Helen and make certain she was there to so Bruce could get in and get my things.
"Hi Helen, this is Laura Jones." I said, when I heard her voice on the phone.
"Lucy will be fine. She had a seizure, most likely has a concussion, but she will be fine. But, I left my purse there. My husband Bruce will be by to pick it up within the hour. Could you stay until he gets there?" I asked, and then Helen started talking so fast I could barely understand her.
"When you called me to call 911, I was on the phone. And, he heard all of the commotion. I must have hung up on him, and so he came here to see what was going on, he was very agitated." Helen was talking to me, and I was not hearing the yes I can stay for an hour to give your husband your purse reply I had been waiting for, so it took me a minute to catch up to what she was saying.
"Who, who was on the phone?" I asked.
"Detective Goren. He was calling for Dr. Jones." Helen continued. "He showed up here, at the office, with his partner. They looked so official, with their badges. They forced their way into Lucy's office. He was very agitated by the blood, the vomit on the floor. He was demanding to know what had happened, was Lucy injured, where was she, why did I have to call 911, who was with her." Helen kept talking, and I had never realized anyone could talk quite that fast.
"He had on his badge, and his partner, had on her badge. And they were asking me all these questions, and you had just left, and there is blood on the desk and on the floor." Helen kept talking, she was extremely upset.
"I told them, I told them Lucy fell and hit her head, and that I called 911 and they took her to the hospital. I know, I know I'm not supposed to give out that kind of information, you know, health information is protected by all kinds of laws. But, they had on their badges, and he, Detective Goren, just kept asking, and his partner, she was just staring at me." Helen finally took a pause to take a breath.
"Helen." I said her name, "Its OK. Lucy is OK. You're OK. Can you stay another hour or so, my husband will be by to pick up my things." I repeated the question I had originally asked, while I thought about everything she had just said.
"Yes, yes, I can stay." She answered me. "I need to call maintenance. There is blood on the desk and on the floor." She repeated.
"Helen, what else did you say to Detective Goren?" I asked.
"Oh, right, well, he was very agitated," Helen said, she kept using that word, and I couldn't quite imagine what that meant, agitated. How does a detective act agitated?
"He asked me how Lucy hit her head, was she pushed, like attacked or something." Helen said, and I sighed, placing my hand on my forehead.
"Did you explain?" I asked.
"Yes, yes I think so, I said that she fainted, and hit her head." Helen offered. I was about to correct her over the fainting part, but decided it probably was not worth it.
"He's on his way there." Helen said, and I squeezed the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger.
"Thank you. Thank you for waiting for Bruce, he should be there within the hour." I repeated, hoping that Helen had enough composure to remember she needed to wait for Bruce to come by.
"I will cancel Dr. Jones's afternoon appointments. I won't tell anyone else what happened." Helen said, a bit more slowly.
"Good, that sounds good." I said.
"Is there a number where I can reach you later?" I asked, thinking I should call her and check back in, she really did sound quite scattered.
"Oh, yeah." She said and gave me her cell phone number.
"I will call you later this evening and let you know how Lucy is doing." I said.
"OK." Helen said, and I could tell she was distracted by something.
"I will call you later." I repeated.
"Thanks." Helen said, and hung up the phone.
"Ms. Jones?" A nurse came in. "We need to take your sister for some tests, some scans." She said. Lucy was asleep. I nodded; I was familiar with this part as well. I anticipated the usual tests, and hoped for the usual "no apparent cause" for the seizure. At first I remember how deeply frustrated mom was that there was no clear reason. Mom had wanted a reason, a fixable reason. But after a few doctors, mom realized that most reasons for seizures were not readily fixable, so we became comfortable with the "no apparent cause" reason.
When I walked back out in the waiting room area, I could see two NYPD detectives. One of them, a tall, large man, was standing incredibly close to the nurse at the desk, leaning over her in a very intimidating manner. There was also a petite brunette nearby, with her badge neatly displayed, watching what had to be her partner, Detective Goren.
"Patient Lucy Jones. I need her status, and her location." He was saying, his hands were clenched at his sides.
"Detective Goren." I said his name, he turned around so quickly he practically knocked me down.
"I'm Laura Jones, Lucy's sister." I looked up at him, and I fully understood what it looked like to be agitated.
Bobby Goren was not at all what I expected. He was tall, and I had expected that, but much, much bigger. I had imagined him to be tall and thin, like a basketball player. My son Jake had said he played basketball. And, I had imagined him to be kind of an ex-jock type guy, kind of smooth, even. He was definitely not any of those things. He kept flexing and clenching his fingers, trying to keep his hands still, and he was having a hard time looking steadily at me. I thought for a moment that if I did not tell him where Lucy was he might reach out and try to shake the information out of me.
A/N: I think we're supposed to think that most people probably think Bobby is a little peculiar...
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