“Here you go.” I handed a can of soda to J.T. and sat down next to him. “Any sign of Dr. Adams?”
“Since two minutes ago when you went back to the vending machine?”
“Yeah, smart-ass, since then. You know I don’t have any patience.”
J.T. shrugged and looked toward the ICU doors. “It shouldn’t be long. Think about it, Jade. If Jane can process our questions logically and talk well enough to be understood, we could have an actual eyewitness sketch drawn up of him by tonight.”
“I’m afraid to hope. I might jinx it.”
J.T. patted my shoulder. “I’ll admit, I did say a little prayer.”
I smiled at him. “Who would have thought a big, tough guy like you prays. I’m impressed.”
“You should try it sometime. It’s good for the soul.”
I gave his shoulder a slight shove. J.T. reminded me of Jack more and more every day.
We heard the sliding door to the ICU open and looked to our left. Dr. Adams was heading toward us. I crossed my fingers and my legs.
“Agents.” The doctor extended his hand and gave each of us a hearty handshake.
“I hope you have good news.” I was on pins and needles.
“The young lady in cubicle six is still very groggy. She is physically able to speak, but the facial swelling inhibits her from forming words properly.” He rubbed his chin. “Or it could be because the sleep medication hasn’t fully worn off, but either way, her words are thick and slurred. She is on heavy pain meds too. I’ve checked her vitals, and her pulse and heart rate are normal. I’m going to take her downstairs for an MRI as a precaution. I want to make sure there isn’t any swelling on her brain. I’ll let you see her later when she’s more fully awake and back in her room.” He pushed up the sleeve of his lab coat and checked the time. “I’ll meet you right here at five thirty. Go have an early dinner or relax in the visitors’ lounge. There are plenty of magazines in there as well as a TV. This young lady has a long road ahead of her, but I think she’ll pull through okay.”
I heaved a deep sigh. “That’s really good news, Dr. Adams. We appreciate everything you’ve done for her.”
“It’s a shame there aren’t any friends or family here, but without an ID, we have no idea who she is.”
The doctor caught the sideways glance I gave J.T.
“Agents, is there something you’d like to share?”
J.T. asked in a lowered voice, “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” We were only feet from the nurses’ station, where wide eyes and perked ears watched and listened.
“Certainly.” The doctor glanced over his shoulder, and the nurses quickly found something to busy themselves with. He nodded as if he understood. “Follow me. We’ll talk in my office.”
We entered his office, which was decorated in serene muted tones. A large walnut desk took up a good portion of the room.
“Have a seat, agents.” Dr. Adams rounded the desk and pulled out the high-back leather office chair. He took a seat, folded his hands on the desk, and waited.
I looked at J.T. His nod told me I was the designated storyteller and I’d explain to the doctor what we knew so far.
“Dr. Adams, her name is Jane, not as in Jane Doe but as in Jane Weeks. She lives and works in the Champaign area. Obviously, without a positive ID from her family or a DNA test, we can’t say with one hundred percent certainty it’s her, but we’re relatively confident it is. That’s why we’re so eager to speak with her. If she confirms her name, it could save a lot of time. The photograph we showed you earlier is from her work ID. Unfortunately, according to her boss, her parents are out of town and don’t know anything about the attack. That’s why nobody is here to identify her. We’re in the middle of an ongoing investigation, and apparently Jane’s assailant has killed a number of people in the last few weeks going as far south as Arkansas. We’ve been on his tail since Missouri, but it seems he’s always one step ahead of us. We don’t want fodder for the watercooler spreading throughout the hospital, if you know what I mean.”
“It’s imperative to keep everything about Jane and the person that attacked her quiet since her family hasn’t been located and told yet,” J.T. added.
Dr. Adams leaned back in his chair. “Now your persistence in wanting to speak with her makes sense.”
“We have to locate her parents as soon as possible, and we need Jane to give us a description of her attacker,” I said.
The doctor stood. “I guess I should expedite that MRI and see how her speech is coming along. I’ll get you two in her room as soon as I possibly can.”
“Thank you, doctor. We’ll grab a quick dinner downstairs and then be at the nurses’ station from five o’clock on,” J.T. said.
We exited the doctor’s office and took the elevator to the lower level.
“We have an hour to relax and eat. Once we’re back upstairs, let’s jot down everything we need to discuss with Jane, and hopefully she can answer our questions,” I said.
I grabbed a dinner tray and slid it across the rails. Now I was actually hungry.
An hour later, we were back at the guest chairs that lined the wall opposite the nurses’ station.
I whispered with my hand cupped in front of my mouth. “I don’t feel comfortable brainstorming out here. There are too many ears in the area.”
“You’re right. Hang on.” J.T. approached the nurses’ station and addressed the nurse that had been answering calls. “Is there a small private area where Agent Monroe and I can work?”
“Sure”—she stood and came around the counter—“I know just the place.”
I rose and walked alongside J.T. as the nurse led us to a quiet area at the end of a hallway. Two upholstered chairs sat in the corner with an end table and a lamp between them.
“How’s this?”
“It’s perfect,” I said. “Can somebody come and get us as soon as Dr. Adams shows up?”
“Not a problem.”
I watched as she turned and went back to the beginning of that hallway where the nurses’ station was located. “That’s better. Okay, I’ll do the writing, you do the thinking.”
“First, we need to assess her ability to remember his face. If she seems focused enough to give us details, we’ll call in a sketch artist right away. Spelling can track someone down and give us their contact information.”
I wrote that in my notepad.
J.T. continued. “We need to know everything she can remember from her very first encounter with him.”
“Right, and that was likely in the gift shop.”
“Uh-huh, and then later when she had lunch in the truck with him. I’m interested in hearing what he told her about himself, even though it was probably all lies. There could be a little truth mixed in every now and then. We need to know if she heard an accent or a regional dialect.”
“What if her mind went blank from the trauma and she doesn’t remember anything?”
“That would be good for her but bad for us.”