Manhattan
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” the recovery room nurse said. “She doesn’t know what she’s saying, and as I told you, she won’t likely remember—”
“I know,” Nicole said, unable to control her own tears. “But whatever she’s feeling right now breaks my heart.”
“It’s like a dream, Dr. Berman. Not even a real emotion.”
Officer Martinez had her phone out, causing Nicole to give her a sharp look. “Not recording yet,” Julia said. “She’s not makin’ sense.”
A quiet knock announced Dr. Thorn. “How’s our girl doing?” he said, flipping on the lights and taking her chart from the nurse. “Daughter can stay. Have the visitor step out.”
“Ain’t no visitor,” Officer Martinez said, producing her badge.
The surgeon put a hand on her mother’s shoulder and spoke loudly. “You with us yet, dear? Soon as you’re up to it, you can eat, okay?”
“Not hungry.”
“You will be. Surgery went long but well. I’ll check in on you again tomorrow afternoon—well, this afternoon, actually.”
Her mother nodded, but Nicole read frustration on her face. As the doctor began to pull away, Virginia held on to his wrist. “Daughter …”
“Yes! The one you were telling us about. She’s been watching out for you.”
“Hates me.”
“Mama! No, please!”
Dr. Thorn turned his back to Nicole’s mother and whispered, “You’ve been told this is the sedation talking, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Let’s talk outside,” he said.
Officer Martinez followed them into the hall, phone out. “Gotta tell the detective what you found, why we’re here.” She recorded as he talked with Nicole.
“I found less bone density than—”
“Get to why you called the police,” Nicole said.
“I had no choice.”
“I’m not disputing that. What made it so obvious that her injuries were inflicted by someone else?”
“We were told the housekeeper found your mother on her stomach on the floor, unconscious, with a rug burn on her forehead. Paramedics determined her vitals were good, but when they examined her for internal injuries, they suspected the broken hip. That determined how they positioned her for transport here. MRI technicians found the back bruises and noted them on her chart, but when I got in there I saw the extent of the damage—besides the hip fracture, lower back soft-tissue damage, broken ribs, and spinal trauma. It’s simply not possible for this to have been accidental, let alone the result of a fall—even a bad one. I could conclude only that my patient had been brutally attacked.”
Nicole shook her head. “I can see you had no choice but to make that call. ’Course now I have a problem.”
“Ma’am?”
“I’ve never known my mother to have an enemy. Not one. This had to be a home invasion, maybe a robbery.”
“Obviously that’s beyond my purview. But you have a more serious problem, don’t you? Even if this officer had not been here, the nurse and I would be obligated to inform the police of what your mother said.”
“That? She’s recalling some childish spat from more than twenty years ago when I was a know-it-all high schooler. And you said yourself she’s confused, won’t remember—”
“She said you hated her, Dr. Berman. That’s not for me to evaluate, but it has to be included in any investigation.”
“Indulge me just another second, Doctor,” Nicole said, “please. My mother sounds delirious. Can she be expected to own what she says in the state she’s in?”
Dr. Thorn shrugged. “Delirium is common with hip fractures among the elderly, but frankly, your mother is on the young side for that. Most of my hip patients are eighty or older. So I would ascribe any incoherence to anesthesia.”
“Well, you did anesthetize her twice.”
“That was necessary and wholly safe. If she’s not more lucid when she becomes fully conscious, we can administer simple tests of concentration. But even if she does awaken with no memory of what she said about you, I can’t rule out that she may have been expressing some very real but suppressed fear. I’m duty bound to report that.”
“I got it, Doc,” Officer Martinez said.