Amnesia (18 page)

“Lissa? She said she would love to help out. I can bring her down whenever you like. When do you want us?”

“Actually, I need to leave now,” she answered. “Why don’t I leave my key under the mat, so you can get in? Pretty cliché, but it should work.”

“That would be great. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Thank-you, Shirley, I wasn’t sure what to do,” Lissa responded gratefully.

“It’s I who should thank you,” she rejoined. “People are probably always coming to you for advice being a doctor and all. It’s probably getting pretty old. But I didn’t know what to do, and there you and Bill were, holding out a helping hand.”

Lissa was warmed and embarrassed by the remark, but also very grateful that she was able to provide the help when it was needed. That was one of the biggest reasons she had gone into medicine in the first place.

“It’s not really that bad. It’s nice to be able to help.” She decided to repay the compliment. “Besides, you were the one that stepped in to help out in the first place. Boise’s very own Good Samaritan.”

“Thanks.” Lissa could hear
the smile in the other’s voice, and felt a bond being forged between them. “We’ll be over shortly.”

They both hung up, and Lissa paused for a moment, staring at the phone, wondering what she would have done in the same situation. She was afraid that she might have passed by on the other side of the road, just like the others in the biblical parable.  She shook her head and smiled hopeful that she could get to know Shirley better. She also hoped some of that pure love might rub off onto her.

Fifteen minutes later Doctor Brandon pulled into the same parking lot she had frequented mere hours earlier. She shuddered as she remembered all that had happened the last time she was here, but shook it off, motivated by the need to check in on her patient.

She quickly went into the emergency ward and found her three-year-old charge and his distraught parents. Billy was their only child, and it had taken years for them to even have him. He was their miracle baby and they were terribly frightened that he might be taken back to his heavenly home. Doctor Brandon took a few moments to soothe them before checking Billy’s chart.

The prognosis was very positive. The oxygen was helping his breathing immensely, and had been turned down a half liter to 1.5. He was also responding well to the antibiotic; the tests showing a measurable decrease in white blood count, a reliable indicator that the pneumonia was indeed bacterial, and that the immune system and medicine had joined forces to fight off the infection. He wasn’t out of the woods yet, but the progression was stopped and was turning around.

She downgraded Billy’s hospital admittance from PICU to the pediatrics floor, and added her own orders to Doctor Ramier’s. She delivered the good news to the frantic parents, and put her arm around the poor mother’s shoulders who nearly collapsed in tears of relief and gratitude. She smiled at the love she saw in their eyes as they spoke of their worry as they waited for the orderly that would relocate their son to the fourth floor. She even walked up with them as they traveled with the boy to his room, leaving them only when she had ensured everything was in good order.

The day had started wonderfully after all, despite the nastiness of her dream. She called the office and found she didn’t have any appointments until after noon, so she decided to check on her other patient, Peter, from the night before.

Lissa found the room Peter had been assigned after checking with the charge nurse in the ER, and walked up to the bed looking over the man she had examined scant hours earlier.

He had a central line IV hooked into his neck, an indicator that there had indeed been internal bleeding. Through it the physicians were monitoring blood pressure as well as delivering much-needed electrolytes via the saline solution. He also had the usual array of wires attached to his chest and finger, hooked up in the emergency room to monitor his vital signs. Now they just sat impotent, but ready for the eventuality that his heart may falter, a possible complication of the extreme loss of fluid.

She also noted they had inserted a Foley catheter to capture any fluids his body might void, but as yet the bag was nearly empty. They would have to watch his kidney’s pretty closely after what he had been through. He was definitely in bad shape, but they had caught him in time and he should surely recover.

The doctor glanced through the chart she had retrieved from the nurses’ station, and quickly scanned the admitting attendant’s notes and orders. She smiled at the similarity to her own diagnosis, as well as prognosis and treatment, the exact thing she would have done in the same situation. Then she noted the name at the top of the chart, and her jaw dropped in amazement.

“Frindle?” she voiced aloud, wondering how they had possibly gotten that from the unconscious form.

“I recognized him once we got into the light,” responded a bass voice behind her.

She jumped at the sound, her heart pounding inside her. She whirled around, ready to fight or flee, terrified that the man with the scar had finally caught up to her. Instead she saw the tired face of the police officer she had come to…appreciate.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I guess I should have let you known I was here in the first place.”

“No,” she forgave, “I’m just a little jumpy these days.”

“I can certainly understand why. After the incident with the stalker and the car, I would be jumpy myself,” Bill said.

She chose not to reveal the story about running into Scardoni and the potassium overdose, not because she didn’t want him to know, but simply because she didn’t want to have to relive it. She chose instead to pick up the conversation about Mr. Frindle.

“You know him?”

“Actually recognized him from the APB we have out on him.”

She shook her head in confusion, not understanding the connection.

“I’m sure you heard about the senator’s daughter missing?” he attempted.

“Yes, something about being out jogging and not coming home. I thought she and her boyfriend had run off together.”

“That was what everyone had hoped.” He sighed now knowing the real truth behind the disappearance. “Their pictures had been circulated around the station for everyone to keep an eye out, and I recognized his face, although much the worse for wear. The boyfriend’s name was Peter Frindle.”

She stared at him slack jawed as the realization hit her, and with it a healthy dose of fear.

“That means…,” she started. He nodded his head in confirmation.

“That means that the girl in your apartment is Beverley Windham, the good senator's daughter.”

She sat down on the opposite chair, her legs weakening at the revelation. Her mind was racing through everything that had happened to her and to those that now surrounded her. Though strangers she had just met, they were quickly becoming friends. She also felt the heavy burden of danger settling on her shoulders as a mantle, and she found her heart fiercely protective of these new found friends.

“So that’s why she didn’t want to come to the hospital,” Lissa spoke after a few moments of silence, receiving another nod from Bill. “Did anyone else recognize him?”

“I’m not sure, but the surgical consult seemed to, although he didn’t say anything. It was mostly just a passing recognition in his eyes. It may have been nothing, but I’m usually pretty good with reading faces.”

It wasn’t uncommon for the attending doctor to call for a surgical consult when there was a concern about internal bleeding, she would have called for one herself. But it did seem a little odd that the consult didn’t say anything if he did recognize the patient; many laws, several specifically addressing these issues, surrounded the medical profession.

“Who was the consult?”

“Doctor Darrion Stanton. Do you know him?”

A chill ran through her at the mention of the name, recalling the dream only hours earlier. She had felt trapped by Darrion then, but in the light of day it all seemed silly. She also remembered how sincere his concern had appeared when she had broken down yesterday. It didn’t add up in her head, but she felt certain that if he had recognized Peter he would have done something. At minimum called the police.

She shook her head. “He must not have recognized him. He would have been legally obligated to call the police. But that’s good. The only people that know his true identity are you and me, so he will be safe.”

She looked imploringly at Bill, hoping to find the assurance for herself that shone in his eyes. She was getting tired of being frightened all the time, and needed an arm to support her. In Bill Lowell she was not disappointed.

“I think you’re right. However I do need to tell my captain, at least about Peter. He’ll need to know so he can keep looking for the guys that did all of this.”

“Of course.” She took a deep breath, reminding herself that this was all going to work out okay. For some reason, looking at Bill she didn’t have to work as hard to believe it.

Suddenly her stomach growled loudly, breaking the tension in the air. They both chuckled at the sound, grateful for the distraction. She realized that she had skipped breakfast that morning, and decided that sharing a meal with the tall, well-built man would be a welcome diversion.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” she smiled, “my treat.”

“Why not?” He eagerly accepted. “Where’s the cafeteria in this place?”

“Down in the basement. The kitchen is pretty scary, it feels like you’re in a submarine. But the foods edible.”

After sitting opposite each other in the main cafeteria, Bill started the conversation in safer territory, unwilling to bring back the fear he had seen flash into the lovely face of his newfound friend.

“You’re not from Boise originally, are you,” he stated.

“Not hardly. I grew up in California,” she answered, surprisingly comfortable in his presence. “I was the nerdy girl in high school that didn’t have any friends, and would do just about anything for attention.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he countered. He wanted to get to know her, and couldn’t i
magine any
one not wanting the same.

“It’s true. I had good grades, but never seemed to have anyone to just ‘hang-out’ with. I did play in the band, and did tall flags one year. But I never really had anyone I could call a ‘best friend.’”

“What did you play?” he asked.

“Clarinet. One day I decided that I wanted to play it, so I picked it up, bought the finger charts, and learned to play. I never was great at it, but I was good enough to win first chair. Mr. Bruno, our band teacher, was a great guy that made you want to be good for him, so I practiced hard, and did okay.”

“Sounds like you did more than okay to me. Do you still play?”

“Nope. Put it up when I graduated. Never really had much time in college or med school for it. Part of me wants to pick it back up again sometimes; it was a lot of fun. But I just never have. Besides it’s still in La Jolla at my mom’s house.”

A dark look passed over her features as she spoke of her mother, and it piqued Bill’s interest. He couldn’t imagine that she wouldn’t be very family oriented. He almost decided to let it pass, but instead felt that maybe she wouldn’t mind talking to a friend about it.

“I take it things aren’t going well between you and your mother?”

She drew her head back in surprise at his perceptiveness. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to talk about her mother; she had been enjoying her break from the ugliness of life after all. She decided to hedge instead, throwing him a bone with only a tiny part of the story.

“She’s just a little overbearing sometimes. She’s been on my case a lot recently about this guy she wants me to hook up with. In fact it’s Darrion Stanton, the surgical consult you met. I keep trying to tell her to back off, but she won’t let it be.”

He felt a twinge of jealousy at the mention that there was someone else after her attention, but he quickly suppressed the feeling. She was a beautiful, intelligent, and articulate woman, of course there would be many men seeking her attentions.

He could also tell that he had guessed wrong about her willingness to talk about her mother, recognizing the diversion for what it was. He decided not to pursue the matter, honoring her unmistakable wish to avoid it.

“So why Boise?”

“That’s a long story, but fairly straightforward and mundane. I was finishing my residency at Baylor in general medicine, and wanted to leave the Texas weather and bustle for some place quiet, like maybe opening up a family practice in the country. I talked to the Chief of Staff at the hospital about it, and he warned me against it, telling me that it wouldn’t be like ‘Little House on the Prairie.’ He suggested that I concentrate my time on specializing in a field where I could make a good deal of money, and leave the romantic ideas of helping people to the saps that write books.

“After thinking it over for some time, I came to realize that he was right, about specializing that is, and I started looking around at the other doctor’s at the hospital. I wasn’t impressed by any of them, which only stiffened my resolve to get out of that place as soon as I could.

“Then one night, at the end of a marathon 100 hour week, a lady gave birth to a beautiful baby boy that was having difficulties getting enough oxygen. I watched the father sitting in the NICU staring at his newborn son knowing that he couldn’t hold him, and my heart just melted. I wanted to go over and tell him that his son would be fine, that it would only be a short while until his son would be all right. Then I looked around the room at the other parents, and saw that they all had that hopeful, but distraught look on their faces, putting their whole lives, and the lives of their children, in the hands of complete strangers. I decided then that I wanted to be the one to comfort them, to erase that look.