Solemn Oath (25 page)

“But everyone in town knows Jarvis George hasn't been back to his office since his collapse.”

“This letter was meant to place doubt in their minds.” She paused a moment. “A further complaint, which he says he has tried to rectify, is about how the acting emergency department director—”

“That would be me.”

“—was dismissed from his residency program due to questionable professional conduct and came here with his tail between his legs because he couldn't make it in the city.”

Lukas got that old sick feeling in his stomach. “I told you I shouldn't be the director.”

“Are you questioning my administrative expertise?”

“Not with anything else.”

“Just trust me with this, Lukas. Consider it a growing experience.”

“Haven't I grown enough?” Here came the whiny kid again.

In her years as attorney in this community, Estelle had probably won cases for or against half the citizens. People either loved her or hated her. Most loved her.

“There's more,” she said.

“You're ruining my day.”

“From what I hear, it was already ruined. Bailey also announced RealCare's interest in purchasing Knolls Community Hospital and suggested that the county might have more cash flow for other important community-oriented services, such as the police and fire department, if they didn't have to spend all their tax dollars on us.”

“Is that how the county financial policy is set up?”

“No, and Bailey knows that. He's just stirring up trouble. I've seen him work too many times to be surprised by anything he does. He knows how powerful his little innuendos can be to a mob mentality, and this letter is going to stir things up. He also hints at the trouble they're having apprehending the arsonist.” She fell silent, as if catching her breath.

Lukas waited a few seconds. “Anything else?”

“Just expect repercussions in the E.R. You'll get the backlash from the patients, and you need to be warned. Everybody who has had any experience with Bailey will see through this ruse, and that could put us ahead of the game.”

Lukas was still reeling from the shock of the news, but he thought he detected a familiar quality in her voice. He shook his head. “I think you're almost enjoying this.”

She hesitated a moment, then chuckled. “You know, I think you're right. When I first took over this job, I thought I would be bored. That isn't proving to be the case. I'll be in touch.”

As soon as she hung up, Lukas got another call.

“This is the emergency room. Dr. Bower speaking.”

“Yes, Dr. Bower, you're the person I wanted to talk to,” came a woman's voice over the line. “I'm calling from Cox South ICU, and we thought you might like to know that Darlene Knight just woke up.”

Lukas thanked her and hung up, then sank down onto the nearest chair. Once, when he was about nine years old, his big brothers took him on a wild roller-coaster ride at Six Flags in St. Louis. They thought he was enjoying it until he lost his lunch. He felt like that now.

“Lord, thank You,” he whispered. “And, Lord, help!”

I
t was late Thursday afternoon, and Mercy was making a final check of Clarence's vitals before she left the hospital for the day. His blood pressure was better than she'd seen it in a while.

“I talked to Darlene on the phone today,” Clarence said, his deep voice vibrating the bed.

Mercy placed her stethoscope against his chest, listened to the muffled
lub-dub
of his flesh-enfolded heart and nodded, satisfied. “She sounds good, doesn't she? They're still checking her, but they don't think she's lost any mental function. She should come home in a few days, and so you need to concentrate on getting better. How's the pain?”

“Not as bad. But they're starving me in here.”

“I don't want you to be starved. I just want you to lose weight and keep losing. Try drinking more water during the day, at least three quarts.”

He gasped, then choked. “Three quarts! Are you crazy?”

“We're already having your intake and output measured.” She jotted down some instructions on his sheet. He needed vitamins and minerals. “Trust me, you won't drown or overdose.” She looked back at Clarence. “I heard you had visitors today.”

“Yeah.”

“Lukas?”

“Yeah, he came and talked with me awhile. He prayed with me for Darlene.”

Mercy stepped back in mock amazement.
“You prayed?”

Clarence's thick eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “I let him do all the talking.” He hesitated. “Ever do that with patients?”

Mercy thought about Arthur Collins, the missionary whose wife had lost her leg. “Not willingly.”

“It helps. Ever pray by yourself?”

“Only when I'm desperate.” Mercy hung his clipboard back on the end rail of the bed. “I'll be back to check on you later, Clarence.” She turned away.

“Everything okay between you and Lukas?” Clarence blurted before she could get out the door.

She stopped and turned back. “Why, did he say something about it?”

“Nope. Didn't have to. Everybody else in the hospital is. I heard a couple of nurses talking about a fight in the E.R. today between you two, and when he came in here I could tell he wasn't too happy.”

Mercy stifled a groan. This place had too many ears and too many loose lips, and that new secretary, Tonya, was a gossip. Time for Lukas to have a talk with her if the hospital didn't want to get slapped with a charge of violation of patient confidentiality. “You'll hear rumors floating through here all the time, Clarence. I learned a long time ago not to listen.” And she wished she'd learned long ago to keep her mouth shut when she was mad. She'd never been able to do that, and she couldn't forget the expression of hurt surprise on Lukas's face when she snapped at him for calling the police about Delphi. There had been no time since then to discuss it.

Clarence grunted. “When you've been cooped up in a room with a television as long as I have, you'll learn to listen to everything. Did they ever catch that gal that escaped from the police?”

“No.” Estelle had assured Mercy that they probably wouldn't even try. Abner had come through surgery fine, and if he knew what was good for him, he would not press charges against his long-suffering wife. “Clarence, you should write soap operas.”

“Maybe I will, if I don't go back into auto mechanics or start my own weight-loss clinic. I had another visitor today, too. You know that guy that brought me in Monday? Buck? He came up to see how I was doing.”

Mercy stepped forward and leaned against the side of the bed. This was the most she had ever heard him talk. She knew the depression he fought would probably come back to haunt him, but as long as this mood held, he could recover more quickly.

“He told me he just got back into town this afternoon from a fishing trip. The poor guy is all alone. He told me about his problems with his wife,” Clarence explained. “Buck says to call him when I get my weight down some, and he'll start me exercising, maybe help me lift some weights.” He reached forward and slapped his huge stomach with his right hand. “I told him I already lift nearly five hundred pounds every time I stand up. I bet even Buck can't do that.”

“That's why you pull your muscles so easily,” Mercy said.

“Think Buck and his wife'll get back together?”

“I hope so. He's a nice guy.”

“He's lonely.”

Mercy knew Clarence could identify with that. “Friends are important. When do you think you'll start breaking out of your shell and meeting new people?”

The big man gave a bitter laugh. “Who'd want to meet
me? I'm a fatso. I live off the state. Other people are paying for this hospital room.”

Mercy stifled a wave of irritation at this old story. “We both know how hard you fought that. Why don't you give yourself a break?” She hesitated for a moment. “Clarence, may I have your permission to discuss your case with an outsider?”

That old characteristic blanket of wary cynicism crept back down over his large, handsome features. “Are you going to sic another social worker on me?”

“You need more help than a social worker can give you. What are you going to do at home when I release you?”

“I'm not going home. I'm going to Darlene in Springfield. Now that she's awake she'll need me to help her get back on her feet.”

Mercy hesitated. “Clarence, use common sense. Darlene will probably be out by the time you are, and she needs you to be as strong as possible when she gets here. I don't want you taking any chances with those pulled muscles. You both need someone to help you when you go home, and I know someone who takes causes like a bee takes pollen, and she loves it.”

Clarence narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Who?”

“My mother.”

He watched her for a moment, as if waiting for a punch line. “You've gotta be kidding.”

“Nope.”

“You're talking Mrs. Ivy Richmond, one of the richest widows in town, who practically supports this hospital? You're talking about that lady?”

“I think you've got it all wrong, Clarence. My mother's no lady.”

“Is she anything like you?”

Mercy scowled at him. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“She'll be bossing me all the time. I won't even be able
to sneak in a candy bar, because she'll have eyes in the back of her head, just like you do. I don't need another prison warden.”

“You know, it's a good thing you never got married,” Mercy said, mimicking his grumpy drawl. “You wife would've killed you by now, and I wouldn't have the pleasure of your company.”

He curled his lip in a mock grin, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don't have a choice, do I?”

“Not if I can convince you to use your brain and lay off the self-pity.”

He glowered at her. “Anybody ever tell you that you have a charismatic personality?”

“Nope.”

“Didn't think so. I've been reading this book about the four personality types, and you're choleric. That means bossy.”

“I'm a doctor. It's my way. You should be glad I have a tough enough hide to put up with you. Will you see my mother?”

“Fine. Call out the cavalry.”

Mercy patted his arm. “Knew you'd see it my way. I'll be in touch.”

The overhead page reached Mercy before she could get out of the hospital. She walked to the nurses' desk and dialed the operator, who connected her to the E.R.

“Oh, thank goodness, Dr. Mercy!” It was Tonya's voice. “Dr. Bower hoped you'd be there. We have a rape victim down here in E.R., and you're her family doctor. She came in by ambulance with a police escort, and her parents are going nuts. She doesn't want a man to touch her, and Dr. Bower was wondering if—”

“Who's the patient?”

“She's a teenager. Shannon Becker.”

Mercy caught her breath and nearly dropped the phone.
For a moment shock held her as if she'd been covered in concrete. “Oh no.” With an ambulance in attendance, it couldn't possibly be statutory rape, could it?

“Can you come down, Dr. Mercy?”

“I'll be right there.”

 

Lauren and a female police officer in an imposing full black uniform were standing in the OB room with Shannon and her parents when Mercy entered. Ignoring the others for a moment, Mercy went straight to her bruised, sobbing patient sitting in her torn, bloodied clothes on the exam bed. It was not merely statutory.

The skin around Shannon's left eye had swollen nearly shut, and a streak of blood caked the right side of her chin. Tears and sweat had smeared mascara down her cheeks, and her limp light brown hair matted around her neck and shoulders.

Shannon reached for Mercy on a fresh sob, and Mercy drew her into a gentle embrace.

“I don't want to be here, Dr. Mercy,” Shannon murmured in a voice that was hoarse from tears—and maybe from screaming. “I want to die. I can't do this. Why do all these people have to be here? Tell 'em to go away. Please! I can't go through with this!”

Mercy held her more tightly and gazed over the girl's head to Zach and Lee Becker, at their tear-worn faces and tortured eyes. How could something so horrible happen to their sweet, bubbly, life-loving daughter?

“Please, Dr. Mercy, can't we be alone?” Shannon asked, still gripping Mercy's hand with both of her own. “Can't everyone else go outside the room, like when you do my exam?”

Mercy nodded for the policewoman to step just outside the door.

Lee stepped over to Shannon and took her hand. “Honey,
are you sure? I can stay here with you through the exam. I don't want you to be alone.” Her voice wobbled.

Zach put his arm around his wife. “Come on, Lee. Shannon's a big girl, and she needs to do this on her own right now. She knows we'll be right here for her.” He placed a callused hand on Shannon's leg. “We'll get the guy who did this. The police are looking for him now. You did good, getting that license number for us.” His voice grew husky and shaky. “We'll get him.”

Lee looked up from her daughter. “How could this happen, Dr. Mercy? Shannon's a good girl. She doesn't deserve it!”

Mercy patted Lee's shoulder and urged her out the door. Parental tears and questions would only make Shannon feel worse, and her ordeal was far from over.

Shannon pointed at Lauren, who was busy filling out her section of a questionnaire. “Does she have to be here?”

“Yes, honey. In this case we need a nurse present as a witness that I did my job correctly. Don't worry. Lauren's on your side. We'll be gentle, and we'll get those clothes off you and check you over from head to toe and take care of any injuries.” Mercy knew she was talking to Shannon as if she were a little girl.

Lauren stepped over to the other side of Shannon's exam bed and took the girl's trembling hand. “That's right, sweetie. We'll take good care of you. Dr. Mercy's going to ask you a lot of questions, and we want you to take your time and answer everything as completely as you can. Then we'll take our kit, here—” she held up the sealed white cardboard rape kit that was about the size of a John Grisham novel “—and we'll take specimens that can help us prove who did this to you and put them into the little envelopes and seal them. That way we'll stop this guy from hurting you again, or hurting somebody else.” Lauren looked at Mercy. “Social Services is sending a victim advocate.”

“No.” Shannon shook her head. “I don't want anybody else in here.”

“That's okay,” Mercy said. “She can talk to you after we're finished. I think it'll help you and your parents get over this more quickly. Lauren, would you please get us a hospital gown?” She reached forward and gently touched the bruise on Shannon's face. “Does it hurt badly?”

“It did when he hit me. Now I feel kind of numb.”

“We'll check it out. Now we'll help you get out of your clothes, and we'll seal them in a plastic bag. They'll be examined for evidence that can be used in court.”

As Lauren and Mercy helped Shannon remove her clothes, Mercy used her stethoscope to listen to the girl's chest, back and stomach, then checked more thoroughly for injuries on the rest of Shannon's body. She found other cuts and bruises and nodded. “Lauren, did you bring the camera?” She took note of drying blood beneath Shannon's fingernails. The police would want a specimen of that.

“What do you mean?” Shannon asked, stiffening. “Why do you need a camera?”

“We need to take pictures of your injuries, honey. We've got to prove that this was rape.”

“You mean everybody's going to see me like this?” Shannon's voice rose in a crescendo.

“No, not everybody,” Mercy said quickly. “And not in any private areas.” She took Shannon's hand. “But see the blood under these fingernails? I'd like a picture of your hands, and of your face, and the scratches on your arms and legs. Any jury that looks at these pictures will know you were not a willing participant.”