The nurse then pointed. “ICU 303. Around the corner, at the end. Can’t miss it. Look for the woman cop.”
Woman cop? Jes?s Jim?nez thought.
Shit!
But he simply said, “Gracias,” and began pushing the gurney in the direction she’d pointed.
“It’s so good of you to come by, Matt,” Mrs. Andrea Benjamin said after she had given him a big hug. “It’s such a terrible time. Did you see Chad?” She looked down the corridor. “He was just here…”
“Yes, ma’am, earlier,” Payne said. “He sent me a text message saying he got a call and had to run an errand.”
James Benjamin was not in the mood for niceties.
“Matt, this situation has all the makings of that goddamn Skipper Olde. You know he’s a no-good sonofabitch. Had to be his drug deal gone bad. And he dragged in my girl.” He paused. “You can’t charge her with anything for just sitting in her car in a damned parking lot!”
Payne, out of the corner of his eye, saw the blue shirt look up from his paperback.
Well, that got the bored guy’s attention.
“James!” Mrs. Benjamin said softly. “Please.”
“Mr. Benjamin,” Payne replied, “I’m not charging anyone with anything. That will be someone else’s call, most likely a white shirt at the Roundhouse. There’re a lot of questions yet to be answered.”
And that really got his attention.
Then one of the swinging doors to the ICU beside the cop opened.
“Dr. Law!” James Benjamin said. “Any news?”
Matt Payne turned to see an absolutely beautiful blond woman in the white coat of a doctor step out into the corridor. She pulled a powder-blue surgical mask down from her face. She looked to be not quite thirty, five-feet-five and maybe 110 pounds, her golden hair pulled back in a short ponytail under a surgical cap. She had the lean look of a runner, and an air about her of complete confidence.
Jesus! Payne thought. Now, that is a gorgeous woman!
Bright, intelligent face and eyes.
And the body of a goddess.
She walked up to them, a clipboard under her left arm.
Payne’s eye went to the left patch pocket of her white lab coat. There, enhanced by a magnificent mound of bosom beneath the fabric, was stitched in blue: Amanda Law, M.D., F.A.C.S., F.C.C.M.
Payne mentally translated the alphabet soup:
A medical doctor who’s a Fellow of the American College of Surgeons and the American College of Critical Care Medicine.
Correction: An absolutely stunning Fellow.
Payne decided he must have been staring, because Dr. Law suddenly turned and looked at him questioningly.
“Doctor,” Mrs. Benjamin then said, “this is an old friend of the family. And of course Becca’s. Matthew Payne, Dr. Law.”
Dr. Amanda Law looked at him again, curtly nodded once, then turned back to the Benjamins.
She pulled the clipboard out and flipped pages.
“As we discussed briefly, the trauma is significant, worse than the burns, which are about three percent TBSA-”
“Would you mind going over that for me?” Payne said.
She made a face of annoyance at the interruption. She looked to the Benjamins for permission.
They nodded their assent.
“Total Body Surface Area,” Dr. Law said. “A specialized burn center is required for any injury over five percent TBSA, or a burn of the face or hands or one that encircles an extremity. Third-degree-what do you know about burns, Mr. Payne?”
He held up his right hand about ear high. The palm faced her, the thumb holding down the pinky to leave the middle three fingers extended together.
“Everything! I’m an Eagle Scout! And, please, call me Matt.”
She looked at him incredulously.
“First-degree burns,” he went on, lowering his Scout sign, “are mildest. Only the skin’s outer layer is damaged. Second-degrees are worse-deep and very painful. Usually blisters. And third-degree burns, also called full-thickness burns because all skin layers have been affected, are the worst. Very deep and serious. And there may be no pain in the burn because of destroyed nerve endings.”
“Not bad,” Dr. Law said with a serious face. “That is, for a Boy Scout. But there is a fourth-degree. They extend down to the muscle, sometimes to the bone. Fourth-degree is rare.”
Payne nodded. “The pair who died in the explosion had fourth-degree. I just assumed those were categorized as severe third-degree burns. Which, now that I say it, would appear redundant.”
Payne then wondered if Skipper had fourth-degree burns.
Tony Harris also had told him that when Skipper bolted out of the burning motel room, he thought that the staggering man had been damn lucky to get out alive with only his clothes blown to shreds. Then Harris had realized the man was naked. What he’d thought were strips of clothing actually had been his flesh blown into strips.
“You were at the motel, Matt?” Mrs. Benjamin said with great interest.
“Yes, ma’am. Afterward. After the firefighters finished.”
“And you saw the ones who died?” Dr. Law asked.
Payne nodded. “The tech from the Medical Examiner’s Office showed me.”
“May I ask what you were doing there?” Dr. Law asked.
“I’m with the Homicide Unit.” He reached into his front pants pocket and pulled out a wad of cash folded under a silver money clip. From the middle of the bills he slipped out one of the three or four business cards he kept there. He held out one to her. “Sergeant Matt Payne. My information, in case you can think of something I should know later.”
And with that statement the blue shirt now has figured me out.
She looked at it, then wordlessly-and perfunctorily-took it. She stuck it on her clipboard, then looked him in the eyes.
Do I detect, my dear doctor, something more than idle interest?
Please? You’re certainly Law. I would like to study…
“Matt,” Mr. Benjamin injected, “do you mind if we get back to Becca?”
Dr. Law said: “My apology, Mr. Benjamin. Your daughter is now heavily sedated and immobilized. The windshield that hit her actually did her a bit of a favor. That is to say, what hurt her also helped her.”
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Benjamin said.
“It served to protect her from worse injury. Her burns are limited to her upper scalp and her right hand. The glass protected the rest of her body.”
“Thank God!” Andrea Benjamin said, then audibly sighed with relief.
“Unfortunately,” Dr. Law continued, “the blunt-force trauma of the windshield has caused intracranial hypertension-”
“Becca’s brain is swelling?” Payne interrupted.
Dr. Law nodded. And it was clear by the look on her face she was impressed Payne even knew the term “intracranial hypertension.”
She looked between the Benjamins and went on: “We are going to try some first steps, ones that could correct the problem. But, Mr. and Mrs. Benjamin, I must caution you to be prepared that it may come to us having to induce a coma.”
“A coma!” James Benjamin said.
Andrea Benjamin put the handkerchief to her face and sniffled.
“We may not,” Dr. Law said, her tone soft yet reassuring. “I will of course be conferring with colleagues, specialists, before deciding. And of course with you.”
