CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

Dr. Julia Chambers was weary. She’d been on duty over thirteen hours. This wasn’t by the hospital’s direction. In fact, regulations forbad shifts of this length. But Julia felt a responsibility. Jimmy Harrison’s case baffled her. She’d been present during the attack—had seen the whole thing. Still she couldn’t ascertain just what had occurred. From her perspective, the patient—flat-lined, no tidal volume, no B.P. whatsoever—had reached up and choked the startled EMT. Contact had been minimal, no more than a few seconds. The naked man had then knocked Julia to the floor, leaped from the gurney, and fled down the corridor, leaving Jimmy Harrison quivering in seizure. None of Jimmy’s symptoms had been consistent with strangulation. The windpipe was intact, not damaged in any way. He had not been held long enough to suffer from lack of oxygen. But still, he slipped into coma; his skin color became blue as if he was deprived of oxygen. His vital signs became erratic, and only in the past two hours had he shown hints of returning consciousness.

And there were those strange pale white puncture marks on the back of his neck. Almost indiscernible. How had those come to be?

Julia blinked, attempting to focus on the test results she held. She would need to sleep soon or risk becoming counterproductive.

Soon, but not yet.

She needed to check on Jimmy one more time before leaving. Besides, the only thing waiting at home was a lonely bed, and she wasn’t sure that even now she was sufficiently exhausted to deal with that. Six years of marriage, and suddenly she was alone. They weren’t necessarily six good years, but well, the marriage hadn’t been Boardwalk, but it wasn’t Baltic Avenue either. Something more middle-of-the-road: Indiana Avenue, or Illinois.

Apparently her soon-to-be ex-husband, Charles, thought differently. He complained about her long hours, her “marriage” to her work. He wanted children, longed for them, craved them even. Julia wasn’t sure she’d ever known a man to desire fatherhood so fervently. He would make a good father. That was evident every time Charles’ brother came by with his three boys. Julia wanted children too, but not yet, not until… Well, that was it, wasn’t it? Not until when? Julia had to admit that she could have made adjustments. She could have eased back on her duties, could have conceded and joined the ranks of working mothers. She wasn’t exactly in her twenties any more. If she was going to do it, it needed to be soon.

She loved Charles. She really did. Or was it that she loved what Charles represented—having someone waiting for her when she arrived home, no matter how late in the evening or early into the next morning it had become? Charles had been good to her. He’d tried to be flexible. But in the end Julia made an unspoken choice to put her work first and Charles second. That was something he just couldn’t accept. He was still a reasonably young, good-looking man, with a solid income. With that Denzel grin and those Fishburne eyes, there were always other options out there—and he’d found one. Or, she’d found him. Either way, the damage was done.

All for the cause, she’d thought many times. All for the cause.

The irony was that Julia was unsure that she still believed in the cause. She’d been full of self-importance. She was saving lives, she was wresting people from the hands of death—she was prescribing cough syrup and antibiotics to every illegal alien who walked through the door and detoxing the same homeless men over and over. She was doing the same things both vital and trivial that any other competent physician could do—and would do—if she weren’t here. Was this worth losing her marriage over? Or was the marriage the same as the position? Was it just another facet of Julia’s master plan, that, when examined in the light of her life, held little or no true significance? Did anything have meaning? Anything at all?

Jimmy had meaning.

Jimmy Harrison lay inside that room, fighting for his life, waiting for Julia to bring him back. If nothing else had significance, this did. This one patient, right now, in this very moment. Maybe that was all she could hope for, significant moments. And if there were enough significant moments, would that add up to a significant life? Most likely not. Julia seriously wondered if there was such a thing.

She closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, cleared her thoughts. She was bogged down in what-ifs and lunchroom philosophies. This was probably natural concerning her life circumstances. But none of it belonged here—not ever. Another cleansing breath and she walked through the door.

Jimmy had three visitors: a tall young woman standing midway between the patient and the doorway, a man of perhaps thirty with pure white hair—yes, that man, the one from earlier—and a fortyish red-haired man, leaning over the bed talking with Jimmy.

Talking with him.

Jimmy had regained consciousness. Why had no one alerted her? “Excuse me. Who are you people?” she asked, probably with more of an edge than necessary. Most likely these were simply concerned family members.

The red-haired man angled his head in Julia’s direction, his bearded face void of expression. “I’m Donald Baker. This is Mr. Daws and Miss…Taz. I assume you’re James’ physician.” The man had a distinctive upper-crust Boston air to his voice; but there was something else in there as well, something foreign, eastern European perhaps.

“Yes. I’m Dr. Julia Chambers. Are you related to Jimmy?”

“No, Dr. Chambers, there is no relation.” The man wore tinted glasses, but even so, his gaze was unnerving. “Tell me, were you present at the time of the attack?”

Was this man with the police? Was he a hospital administrator? “Yes. I was there and have treated him since.”

The man moved forward a step. “Actually, your treatment is inadequate. Massive amounts of electrolytes are required. He must be hydrated to beyond standard tissue saturation. Don’t worry about over hydration. In this case, that should not be an issue.”

“Excuse me, Donald. Are you a doctor?” If the hospital had sent an outside physician to check on her, well, they would hear about that. This was her patient—her friend—and she was doing everything in her power to help him recover.

Donald Baker cocked his head slightly to the left and smiled a haunting, unnerving smile. A smile that should not have been, thought Julia. She didn’t know exactly what this notion could mean, but she held to it none-the-less. “A doctor, yes. A physician, no. My expertise lies in other areas. Though I do have considerable experience with cases such as these.”

Now Julia was truly confused. Who was this man and what gave him the right to imply that she was incompetent? “Are you with the police? The media?”

“We’re concerned for James and seek information on his assailant.”

Well, that answer was no answer at all. “I’m sorry. But, unless I’m missing something, you have no official reason to be here.”

Donald offered a tight, close-mouthed grin. Again, wrong, artificial, not a true grin at all. “Official? No. Ours is a moral obligation.”

“Well, I’ve got a moral obligation to kick your skinny butt out of here.”

Finally the young white-haired man spoke. “Dr. Chambers, this probably seems strange, but we can hel—”

“That’s enough, Mr. Daws,” said Donald Baker, cutting him off mid sentence. “We’ll be on our way, Doctor. Once again, my name is Dr. Donald Baker. I’m staying in a suite at the Venetian should you have need of me.”

“Can’t imagine why I would,” said Julia as Donald nodded and strolled past her and out through the door.

“Sorry about that, Doctor,” said the young man as he moved awkwardly toward the door. “He can be that way.”

“Yeah, but he’s still awesome,” grinned the tall, black-haired woman. “Donald Baker! Can you believe it? Donald Baker!”

“Mr. Daws. Miss Taz,” came Donald Baker’s voice from the hallway. “Say nothing further.”

“Coming, Doc,” said the young man with the hair of a man thirty years his senior. He paused in front of Julia. It seemed he was searching her face with eyes that sang a sad and bitter song. “Listen,” he said in a near-whisper. “Donald Baker’s a pain. No arguments there. But he’s an expert in this area. I can’t say much, but he can help your patient.”

With that, he turned and disappeared around the corner.