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I Keep on Loving You
Chapter 10
The telephone call was brief but the message had gotten Gil Grissom out of bed, dressed, dogs let outside and back into the house—all in less than twenty minutes. Not about Sara—not directly; he thanked God as he drove to the quickly scheduled meeting in an unfamiliar coffee shop. He missed the narrow place of business the first time and doubled back, driving through a parking lot to get to the place.
It wasn't everyone who could get him out of bed at dawn, but when Benita had told him she wanted to "talk to him about what was happening at Red Rocks" and "this may be important—or not", he rolled out of bed, wide-awake and half-dressed before ending the call. He remembered Benita's cousin was the nursing assistant who bathed Sara—washed her hair, shaved her leg, helped to dress Sara. He had not met the woman but Sara had praised her and looked forward to her daily shower.
He parked in front of the coffee shop, no logo or brand name on the sign, just 'Madear's Coffee"; several other cars were parked in an otherwise empty strip mall. The world is being taken over by strip malls, he thought; at least this one had no vacant store fronts and wasn't filled with pay-day loans and pawn shops.
Inside, there was no line as he ordered coffee, easily spotting Benita—corner booth, and another woman with her. The cousin, he thought, and had no recollection of her name. The two women had similar appearances of high cheekbones, dark eyes and hair, but Grissom recognized a mixed parentage in Benita's cousin. And when the cousin greeted him, he heard no trace of an accent.
Both women welcomed him with easy smiles, asking how he was doing as they passed sugar and cream containers his way.
"Sara looked good yesterday," Benita added.
Grissom nodded, saying, "She is—she's looking forward to therapy." Glancing at the other woman, he said, "And getting a good shower." He held out his hand. "I'm Gil Grissom."
"Dona Davis," a laugh, "I know who you are. You are one lucky man—got a sweet wife."
"Yes, I do." He stirred his coffee while a moment of awkward silence followed. He waited.
Benita was first to speak. She reached into a very large brown bag beside her and pulled out a bundle of folded papers. Pushing them across the table, she said, "Dona has something to say—took me all night to convince her that someone needs to know about this."
Before his hand touched the papers, Dona's hand covered them. Briefly, her dark eyes met Grissom's before shifting to Benita as she said, "Benita says to trust you—and I don't know where this will go, but I've worked at Red Rocks since it opened. Twenty-seven years ago when it was a small nursing home, I got a job as an aide." Her eyes came back to Grissom. "It's not a fancy job—I make good money because I've been there a long time—and most people—those who are not residents—never see me because I'm part of the bath team."
Benita interrupted, "She's head of their bath team, Dr. Grissom. Supervises fourteen people and she sees nearly everyone in the nursing home on a regular basis—when its bath time." She made a soft chuckle and crossed her arms. "You heard Sara bragging about her shower—that's Dona's work! She provides dignity to the process."
Grissom had no doubt of Benita's confirmation.
Dona waved a hand. "The thing is—the facility and the employees are more than a place I work. They are family—to me it's like a big family." Her fingers slipped between the papers as she continued, "I've written down all I know—we—everyone there knows something is wrong. Been going on for nearly a year—enough to be long past having a streak of bad luck."
When Benita made a low cough, Dona glanced at her cousin.
"Well, you know what I mean—Dr. Grissom, I'm sure you've seen a run of bad luck when you worked law enforcement—sometimes it just happens that way. Sometimes we'll go weeks without a death in the facility, then suddenly it's three in a week." She pushed the papers in front of Grissom. "Every morning we have a 'stand-up meeting' of the charge nurses, supervisors, dietary, admissions, social worker, administrator to talk about anything that's happened during the shift. I'm there because of the bath team, so I take notes, listen, know what's happening so I can take it back to my team.
"The first one who died—well, we all thought it was something like a blood clot—real fast—he literally fell over in rehab." She tapped a sheet of paper. "I've put down what I remember but I know there's been at least nine." Her eyes traveled to Grissom's again. "Nine men to young to die—they were healthy—healthy—except for needing rehab and should have walked out of here but they didn't."
Grissom did not know what to say yet thoughtfully raked a hand across his face before saying, "You believe nine men died at Red Rocks who should have lived—are you talking about a serial killer? Someone at the facility is causing the deaths? And only men?" Suddenly, he remembered what Sara had said. "The water—that's why Gracie was going on about the water in rehab."
Dona nodded her head. "No one believes it could be someone—you just don't want to think that about people you've known for years!" A slight grin, "Yeah, I knew Gracie was onto the deaths—this is her second time to be here for rehab and she's a smart lady. She thinks it's the water cooler." Slowly, Dona shook her head. "It's not the water—believe me, everything and everyone who works rehab has been checked, questioned, but all on the hush-hush."
"Why haven't the police been called?"
Quiet laughter came from both women. Benita said, "First and foremost, you don't want the state and federal regulators to find out any of this! Second," she nodded at Dona, "what's the proof? People die every day—guns, knives, baseball bats! And in a nursing home—not like most of them are making long-term plans for vacation. Third—every death has a physician there—calls it a heart attack. One had a seizure and then died, right? So who's gonna question?"
Grissom nodded his understanding as he tried to hide his confusion.
"It's weird, Dr. Grissom, suspicious, a gut feeling, something wrong and no one knows what to do. I know the last three guys were healthy—I don't think any of them were taking regular medications. They brought in crash carts, doctor, nurses—but they were gone. The therapist who is working with Sara—Rhonda has been here for years and she's good—she said the last one was dead before he hit the floor."
"No autopsy? What do families think?" Grissom asked. He was curious, but he also knew the high risk posed to healthy people who had catastrophic injuries.
Dona's eyebrows rose. "There hasn't been an autopsy on any of them! The doc says the heart stopped—heart attack—families are devastated, but their son or husband is dead! He wasn't shot or stabbed—he died in a health care facility! Everything was done that could be done—you ever heard of malpractice? Not here—not for these guys! The administrator goes to the funerals, sends flowers, everyone is so sadden by the loss of your fine husband or son." Her eyes narrowed. "If any of this gets back to the administrator, my job is history."
Benita spoke up, "Dona thinks if you read about these—maybe something will jump out—maybe you'll see something no one else has thought of."
"Sara," he whispered, "Sara is there—if this is…" He stopped, leaving his thoughts unspoken.
Dona reached over and patted his hand, saying "Sara will be fine! She's female for one thing. For another—she has Gracie looking after her—and me! These guys died in rehab—one on the treadmill, another on weights. Sadly, she's not in great shape—got a long way to go before she's doing much in rehab."
Grissom did not attempt to hide his distress.
Benita said, "Sara will be there a week, two at the most, before she's transferred back to the institute."
Making an audible sigh, Grissom, trying to wrap his mind around what he had heard, asked, "What's the connection between the hospital's rehab facility and Red Rocks? Who's in charge?"
"The institute—fancy name for expensive rehab—was set up by the ortho docs at the hospital. So they could walk over and check on patients. After it was built, everyone realized a lot of patients—like Sara—needed more nursing care for longer periods of time before they could handle extensive rehab." Benita looked at Dona, asking, "Who was that tennis player at your place? Tina something—anyway, she blew out her knee in some big tournament and had surgery at the hospital. Poor thing, she couldn't get herself to the bathroom after four days—so she came here for a week."
Dona took up the explanation. "Red Rocks has always been a nursing home, added the rehab wing several years ago and most of the patients were elderly with knee replacements or hip fractures—that kind of thing. About two years ago, the administrator made an agreement with the hospital to get the patients who were not ready to go to the fancy place…"
Benita interrupted, saying, "Hot shots across town."
"Yes, I've heard they have all kinds of stuff over there—but the guys who died—they were not on the list to go to the institute. They were here for basic therapy." Dona pressed her lips together in thought for several seconds. "I don't think the ones who died came from your hospital, Benita. They came from different hospitals, different doctors." Several long seconds passed in silence before she said, "Which brings up an interesting idea—the docs—the ones Benita works with—they don't know about these deaths. It's not talked about here—no one announces 'another one died yesterday'. All deaths are reported in stand-up but we don't discuss—we all know it but we don't mention it except between each other. I wrote down what I could remember—those guys were ready to walk out, ready to go on living!"
For a few minutes, the three remained quiet. Grissom stirred his coffee again, grown cold as the women had talked. Benita waved at the woman at the counter who immediately approached the table with the coffee pot. Quickly, Grissom swallowed enough of the cooled brew and nodded for a refill.
"I don't know what to do," Dona said softly. "Red Rocks is a good place—people really care about our residents. These guys were not there for long term, just a few weeks."
Grissom, out of habit, passed his hand across his face in gesture old friends would say indicated he was "thinking", and he was.
The two women stirred coffee.
Their silence was broken by the sudden arrival of the woman who had brought the coffee. She put a white plate on the table saying, "Ya'll been here a while—biscuits are hot—on the house." She smiled, "So's the ham—I'll see y'all again."
Five biscuits as large as Grissom's palm filled the plate. Each one had been split open for an equally large slice of ham—thick and dripping with hot grease.
Dona passed Grissom and Benita napkins. She said, "I'm all for some good food." She wrapped a napkin around one of the biscuits. "Anyone want jam or jelly?"
Grissom did the same, took a bite and chewed for several minutes. "Okay, I'll read your notes, but no promises of anything." He lowered his head in Dona's direction as he said, "Your administrator needs to call authorities—suggest the deaths are suspicious and ask for help."
"He won't—but I'll promise you this—if you'll back me up, after you read what I've written, I'll go to him. Put my job on the line—maybe get one of the nurses, too—and talk to him. It's—it is like mildew in the shower—keeps growing unless you clean it out." Sadly, she shook her head. "I just can't believe someone is doing this."
They ate the biscuits in awkward silence at first, but when one of the women made a smacking sound, both laughed.
"These are some good biscuits," Benita said as she laughed.
"Good ham," Grissom added.
Benita laughed again, teasing him with, "Yeah, Sara's a vegetarian—better brush those pearly whites before you kiss her this morning!"
After they finished the ham and biscuits, all five of them—Grissom ate two and the women shared the last one—Grissom and Dona exchanged phone numbers. He placed a generous tip on the table as they left the shop, opening the door and stepping outside to another long sunny day in Vegas.
Waving as the women drove away, he pushed the air-conditioning higher inside the car and unfolded the hand written pages, noticing Dona had written about half a page on several of the men—the first three or four, and had written a page on the last five. Making a quiet grunt as he glanced over the pages of notes, he decided Dona had known for quite some time that something unusual was causing young men to die in rehab at Red Rocks Rehab and Recovery Care Center.
A/N: Can two women be wrong? Gracie isn't a gossipy old lady-or is she? And what can Dona know? More to come and- Thank you for reading. And for reviewing! If you haven't sent us a comment or review, do so, please. Let us know what you think! More to come!