Impulsive (37 page)

A pair of nurses answered his panicked call, hurrying up to them.
One ushered him past the automated hall doors, into a small room. "There.
Lay her on the table."

The second nurse started firing questions. "What do we have
here? A wound? Gunshot? Is she bleeding?"

"No," Ty panted out. "We were at a party. I think
someone might have slipped something into her drink."

An intern, appearing in time to hear, shouldered Ty aside.
"Damn! Another O.D.? I hate this frigging holiday! What did she take? How
much?"

"I don't know. Jess doesn't do drugs. She wouldn't touch them
with a ten-foot pole. At least not knowingly. Someone must have spiked her
punch."

"Yeah, that's what they all say."

"She started hallucinating in the car. That's when I knew she
wasn't just drunk," Ty elaborated. "She said her heart was pounding
out of rhythm."

Another woman in uniform came in and drew Ty aside while the
doctor and first two nurses continued to examine Jess. "Sir, I need your
friend's name and address, her social security number and/or insurance
information, and a list of anything she might be allergic to. Also, do you know
her next of kin and how to contact them?"

"I have no idea if she's allergic to anything," Ty
responded tightly, "and I don't know her social security number. Her name
is Jessica Myers. We're from Columbus, Ohio—in town for the game. I can't
remember the name of our insurance carrier, but it's whichever one covers the
Knights."

"The football team?" the intern called out. "She's
that Jess Myers? The kicker?"

"Yes."

"And who are you?"

"Ty James. Jess's fiancé."

"The quarterback. Well, Mr. James, if we pull her through
this, I'll expect an autograph from both of you."

Ty didn't like the sound of that.
If
we pull her through.
"You'd damn well better do something, and fast, or there's going to be
hell to pay."

The ward clerk patted his arm, trying to calm him. "They'll
do their best, sir, but sometimes these things are touch and go. Why don't you
come with me? You can wait in the hall, out of the way. Perhaps you should
phone her parents and alert them."

Ty shook his head. "I'm staying. I'll call her mom as soon as
I know Jess is going to be okay."

From the exam table, where they were hooking Jess up to a monitor,
the doctor grumbled, "What is this tangle of wire she's wearing? Get her
out of it."

"Her wings," Ty replied, his voice cracking. "Those
are her blasted tooth fairy wings."

"She'll be lucky if she's not wearing another kind before the
night's over," the doctor predicted. Then, as if his prophesy had triggered
a reaction, he exclaimed, "Damn! We're losing her! There's no pulse! Get
the defib over here, stat!"

The ward secretary pulled Ty out of the way as a nurse brushed
past him to pull the machine to the table. Ty watched numbly as they readied
the paddles. "Please, God. Please, Jess," he sobbed, unable to
formulate an actual prayer.

Through his tears, he saw her body lurch off the table as they
tried to shock her heart back into action. Once. Twice. On the third attempt,
they got a heartbeat, and Ty released the breath he hadn't even known he'd been
holding.

"She's back. For now," the intern announced tersely.
"But we've got to get this shit out of her system." He jerked his
head toward Ty. "You. Go call her mother. Find out if she's allergic to
anything, particularly medication. I don't want to save her only to kill her by
administering something else she shouldn't have. And get her permission to
operate—just in case. We shouldn't have to open her up, but it's best to be
prepared, on the off chance of hemorrhage or some other complication."

Loath to leave Jess's side, Ty obeyed the directive anyway. There
were no two ways about it. He had to call Claudia. Though he dreaded telling
her, she had a right to know that her only daughter's life was hanging by a thread—and
the hospital needed information only she could provide.

He tried to compose himself as he dialed the number, but the
moment he said her name, Claudia knew from the sound of his voice that
something was terribly wrong. "Tell me straight out, Ty. I know it's Jess.
Is she..."

"She's in the hospital, here in Miami. They need to know if
she's allergic to any medication... and they want permission to operate if
necessary."

"What happened? Were you in an accident?"

"No. We went to a party. We think someone slipped her some
drugs. The doctor is working on her now."

There was a stunned silence, then, "Oh, my God! Is she
conscious?"

"Not yet. She was, until just before we got to the hospital.
Claudia... her heart quit. They had to... to shock her back to life."

"I'm coining," Claudia vowed through her own tears.
"Tell her I'm on my way. Tell the doctor she's only allergic to
strawberries, and to operate if they have to."

"Wait! The nurse is right here. She needs to hear you give
permission."

He turned the phone over to the nurse and hurried back to Jess.
They were still working over her at a feverish pace. "How is she?"

"Do us a favor, Mr. Touchdown, and don't ask us that every
two seconds," the doctor said. "We'll tell you when there's any
significant change you should know about. Did you get hold of her mother?"

"She gave permission for any medical treatment and said Jess
is only allergic to strawberries," Ty related.

"Good. So, this is where we're at. We've pumped her stomach, hooked
her up to an IV and the monitor, and now we're going to sit back and see how it
goes. You can sit with her, if you want. Talk to her. Let her know she's safe.
If she regains consciousness, call the nurse. The monitor will automatically
signal the desk if she goes into arrest again, so don't panic and charge out of
here with your tail on fire. We'll be on our way before you clear the
door." He headed out of the room, then turned and added, "By the way,
there's a rest room down the hall if you'd like to wash that gray stuff off
your face, assuming that's not your normal complexion."

"Thanks, but you still haven't answered my question. Is she
going to be all right?"

"We won't know that for a few hours yet, but it helps that
you got her here as quickly as you did. The longer the wait, the more drugs
enter the bloodstream. She's also fortunate that she consumed the drugs orally.
Via injection, we're talking a direct hit to the veins. Just for the record, I
did check, very thoroughly, for needle marks. The cops always like to know
these things."

"Cops?" Ty repeated, still in a daze of worry. "I
guess I ought to call them, too, in case anyone else at the party—"

Ty moved his car from in front of the emergency entrance, availed
himself of the bathroom, and then stationed himself at Jess's bedside, prepared
to stay the duration, however long that was. Half an hour later, the police
arrived, their demeanor bordering on the blasé as they took his statement, got
the location and names of participants of the party, and left. Ty figured they
must get this type of call on a regular basis. It was probably no big deal to
them anymore, especially compared to rapes, murders, and the like. But they had
assured him they would check it out, if only to make certain other people
hadn't unwittingly consumed drugs.

"More than likely, Miss Myers got hold of someone else's drink,"
the older officer presumed. "That, or some idiot thought it would be fun
to spike the punch and space everyone out as a Halloween prank."

"An awfully expensive and dangerous prank, if you ask
me," Ty said.

Three hours later, Claudia and John tiptoed into the room, looking
frazzled and frantic. "How is she? Did she wake up yet?"

Ty shook his head. "Not yet, but they haven't had to call
another code on her, either. She seems to be holding her own."

Claudia approached the bed, leaning over the side rail to brush
Jess's hair from her damp forehead. "My poor baby," she crooned.
Then, to Ty. "She's soaking wet."

"I know. The nurse told me it's a good sign, that she's
sweating the drugs out of her system. We've been wiping her down and changing
the pads under her to keep her more comfortable."

Perhaps it was the sound of her mother's voice that finally
brought her around. Jess opened her eyes slightly and managed a wobbly smile.
"Mom." She winced. "My throat's sore. I don't want to go to
school today." Immediately, she dropped off to sleep again.

Claudia, tears filling her eyes, caressed Jess's cheek.
"That's all right, sweetie. You just rest and get better. Mom's right
here, and I love you."

Ty buzzed for the nurse. Upon learning that her patient had
regained consciousness, however briefly, she noted Jess's vital signs again and
ran a few quick checks. "Her reflexes appear normal, her pupils are
responding much better, and her pulse seems less erratic. All pointing toward
recovery. You say she spoke? How did she sound to you?"

"Hoarse," Claudia answered. "She said her throat
hurt."

The nurse nodded. "That's typical. We pumped her stomach. But
you could understand what she was saying?"

"Her voice was somewhat slurred, but yes," Ty
contributed.

"Good. If she's a little disoriented, don't worry. At least
she's able to speak and think, which is a definite plus."

John spoke up. "You thought perhaps there might be brain
damage?"

The nurse was noncommittal, saying only, "It's been known to
happen."

Ty drew a shaky breath. "Does this mean she's out of
danger?"

The three of them kept their faithful bedside vigil, but Jess
slept on. Somewhere around one in the morning, the police officers returned to
speak with Ty again. "The party was still in progress," they
reported. "As far as we can tell, no one else has suffered any ill
effects, so it was probably an isolated incident. Likely just a quirk, like we
said before."

"Unless someone deliberately chose to harm Miss Myers,"
the second officer noted. "Did she, or you, offend anyone there? Was
anyone particularly nasty?"

"Only Bambi, one of the Knights' cheerleaders," Ty told
them. "But that's nothing out of the ordinary. She's been jealous since
Jess and I started dating, and that's been months now, though it didn't set too
well when she heard Jess and I became engaged."

"Since when?" Claudia asked in surprise.

"Since I proposed and gave Jess a ring Saturday night."

"Maybe we ought to have a talk with this Bambi," the
first officer decided. "Do you know her full name, and where we might find
her?"

Jess slept until four o'clock that morning, woke briefly, and went
back to sleep for another few hours. Around six-thirty, the same two police
officers stopped by for another chat with Ty.

"Tell us more about this altercation between you, Miss Myers,
and Bambi Shultz at the party last evening."

"There wasn't any altercation," Ty corrected. "Just
a couple of nasty remarks tossed around. Bambi called Jess a fairy, alluding to
more than her Halloween costume. Jess returned the compliment by calling Bambi,
who came dressed as Eve, a tart. I refused a bite of Bambi's, aka Eve's, apple.
Bambi hit the ceiling over our engagement, wishing us both misfortune, and that
was that."

"What time did you and Miss Myers leave the party?"

"I can't pinpoint it precisely, but I'd estimate about
fifteen or twenty minutes before we arrived here. Frankly, I was driving like a
bat out of hell, once I realized that Jess was hallucinating," he
admitted.

"Did you speak to anyone just prior to leaving the
party?"

"I recall thanking a couple of the Dolphins for inviting us,
and Jess stopped on the way out to say goodbye to Pepper, the Knights' head
cheerleader. Why? Just where are you heading with all this?"

"We'll ask the questions for now, if you don't mind. Did you,
at any time between your arrival at the party and your departure, leave the
party and return?"

"No. We stayed for a couple of hours, then left."

"Did you and Miss Myers become separated from each other
during this time?"