And she wasn’t lying, she
“I’m sorry we’re running so far behind, Dr. McCoy,” she said, approaching the guarded door. “There wasn’t anything to do. They got the CT Scan up and running late this morning. The lawyers were unrelenting. They insisted we proceed as soon as possible.”
“If his blood pressure’s been dropping all night, you should have called me, not waited for the lawyers to raise hell.” He walked to the door, holding his Parkland ID up to the officer and looking at the chart. “Maybe I should call and get them out of bed at three in the morning with the results.” He looked directly at the officer. “It’s what lawyers deserve, right?”
The officer covered his mouth with his fist to hide his chuckle. She started to follow Dr. McCoy through the door and saw her baby brother.
“Nurse Chapel?”
“What?” Could she really do this? Could she walk into that room and pretend her brother was just some regular guy?
“You forgot to show Officer…” He looked at his name tag. “Officer Waggoner your badge.”
“Sorry, ma’am. It’s fine.”
“My fault,” she said, showing him the piece of plastic on her lanyard. “It’s been a long night.”
And yes. She could do anything to save her brother’s life. Even break the law.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She stared at a pale body, hardly resembling the little boy she’d taken care of all her life. She wanted to whisper in Michael’s ear,
Wasn’t it perfect irony that if he woke up now, they’d all go to jail?
“I’ll be outside.” An officer stood from his chair, punching the remote and clicking the TV off. Neither officer seemed to give their assumed
Darby had to bite down to keep Michael’s name off her lips. She hadn’t seen her brother in a couple of months and had been an emotional punching bag since they’d been informed he was in custody. It killed her not to be allowed to care for him. Helplessness compounded her guilt.
Erren placed his back to the open door and positioned Michael’s chart at her brother’s feet. He set the cell next to Michael’s arm, then took a stethoscope from his coat pocket and listened to her brother’s chest.
“Pulse is one-twenty. Breathing is shallow.” He rolled Michael slightly on his side and listened to his back. “Absent breath sounds on the right. Not good.”
Darby wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around Michael’s left arm and watched the officers stretching their backs outside the door. She inflated the cuff and pretended to take her brother’s blood pressure.
Erren looked at her, smiling, while he flipped the chart open and pointed his finger down the page. Then he frowned, changing back to Dr. McCoy. “What’s his BP?”
“Sixty over forty.”
“What the heck is happening? His blood pressure was fine in ICU. Does he have a bleeder? A pneumothorax?” he said a bit louder, grabbing the attention of Officer Waggoner. “There’s no explanation for this.”
Waggoner nudged the second cop, Rios. Both officers stepped closer into the doorway, just as Erren had predicted.
“This shouldn’t be happening. Check his fluids, Nurse.”
She verified that his saline drip was mounted to the corner of his bed. He wasn’t connected to oxygen. Thank goodness. That was the Medic’s biggest concern. His Foley bag was hidden beneath the blanket.
“Pulse is fast and irregular, Doctor.” She continued through her checklist of things the Medic had given to her.
“What’s going on?” Waggoner asked.
Darby saw the triumph in Erren’s eyes as the officer stepped through the doorway. They were buying it—and her—for now.
“Keep them out of here, Nurse.” Erren’s voice had gone high, showing the supposed strain of a doctor facing a crashing patient.
She crossed the room, plastering a grim, concerned look on her face—something else she had practiced in the truck’s vanity mirror for miles. “I’m sorry, could you…?” They stepped backward as she began to shut the door. “Thank you.”
When she’d taken her place at Michael’s side again, Erren mouthed “You ready?”
She nodded.
“Get the EKG hooked up and let’s see what’s going on. I want X-ray and an O.R. on standby.” He took two giant steps and pulled the door open.
“When’s the last time someone checked on this man?”
“Normal rounds. It’s right there on the dry-erase board. They said he was improving.” Waggoner pointed to the nurses’ initials. “It was before we came on duty.”
“He’s dying now. And he shouldn’t be.”
“The guy’s a cop killer. Maybe he’s getting what he deserved,” Rios blurted out.
“I’ll remember you said that,” Erren answered firmly. “If he doesn’t make it…”
“No one touched him.”
She disconnected the first lead from the EKG. The cop only reacted to what he’d heard. Brian may trust these men, but they didn’t care if Michael lived or died. If she hadn’t been convinced this was the only course of action before, she was now.
The monitor beeped differently. She unplugged the other leads.
The flat line wasn’t real. She knew it wasn’t real. But it sure felt real. Her own heart wanted to beat for her brother.
“Start CPR,” Doctor Erren McCoy instructed and Nurse Darby Chapel performed.
She concentrated on making each step look as authentic as possible without actually hurting Michael. She’d practiced. She knew what to do.
“He’s not responding,” she said, letting the genuine panic in her voice bubble through. Erren’s hands slid over hers as he took over the bogus CPR. For several minutes she pulled drugs from the cart, draining the syringes into the sheets near Michael’s body.
Erren put on a show of working on Michael’s chest. He forced his breathing into short pants as if he were exhausted.
“Anything?” he said. “Come on, man. You can do it. Fight!”
He’d raised his voice, and she caught the cops leaning toward them out of the corner of her eye.
“Nothing,” she said.
Erren wiped his brow and shook his head. He sighed, placing his hands over hers, looking directly into her eyes, maintaining contact, letting her know he didn’t mean the words. “No reason to continue, Nurse. He’s gone. Time of death…6:17 a.m.”
She dropped her chin to her chest, pulling the sheet loosely over Michael’s head.
“He’s really dead?” Rios asked.
“My God, man, I’m a doctor, not a miracle worker.”
“Cut it out,” she whispered. He was pushing their luck by enjoying his role a little too much.
