Resuscitation (47 page)

“Does that mean you’re considering giving him another chance?”

“Not sure. Just not sure.”

Emily slipped her arm around Sami’s shoulders and gave her a hug.

“Want some advice from a snot-nosed kid?” Emily asked.

“Sure. You’re wiser than most people twice your age.”

“I don’t understand much about relationships, so this is coming from my gut. But I think what Al and you have is something special. Something rare. Maybe you can’t see it, but when he looks at you, I can tell that he just loves you to death. He’s a good guy. Sometimes good people screw up. I would guess that when he was in Rio, thinking that his sister would die, he was weak and vulnerable. This nurse came along and gave him comfort. I don’t think it was about sex or a negative reflection on his feelings for you. It most certainly wasn’t about his feelings for the nurse. It could have been anyone close enough to offer him emotional support. If I can be so bold as to offer my opinion, don’t let him get away. Give him another chance to prove his love. He’s worth it, Cuz.”

Sami squeezed back the tears. “I love you, Emily.”

Julian stopped by the nurses’ station and commandeered a nurse to assist him with McKenzie’s pre-op tests. Again, a policeman stationed just outside McKenzie’s hospital room stopped him at the door.

“Hello, Doc. Back again, hey?”

“Ms. O’Neill is scheduled for surgery early tomorrow so I have to run some pre-op tests.” He pointed to the nurse. “Ms. Oliver is here to assist me.”

“Okay if I join you?”

“Do I have a choice?”

The cop shook his head. “’Fraid not. It’s standard procedure.”

Julian didn’t care that the cop tagged along because he had no intentions of harming McKenzie in any way. He’d already decided that her moment of truth would come during surgery. But in spite of Julian’s indifferent attitude, he couldn’t deny that the cop annoyed the hell out of him. “So, doctor-patient confidentiality means nothing?”

“Not in this situation.”

Julian walked in the room with the cop and nurse following behind. Nurse Oliver knew exactly how to proceed without direction. While she drew blood from McKenzie’s left arm, Julian went through a series of diagnostic tests, one of which was to check her pupils to see if they reacted to light. Just as he backed away, McKenzie’s fingers twitched and her eyes opened slightly. Julian didn’t think that either Nurse Oliver or the cop noticed this, but he stood directly over her and her eyes locked on his face.

“It’s you,” McKenzie said softly.

Julian backed away as if she’d hit him in the gut with a battering ram.

“It’s you,” she said again, a little louder this time.

If she regained total consciousness, there would be no place for him to hide.

“Did you hear that?” Nurse Oliver said.

“Hear what?” the cop said.

“The patient said something. Did you hear it, Doctor?”

“I heard her mumble something, but I don’t think she’s conscious. It’s not uncommon for a comatose patient to experience brief moments of responsiveness.”

“It’s you,” McKenzie said. This time much more pronounced.

“I must resemble someone she knows,” Julian explained, hoping they would buy into his reasoning. “Considering the critical condition of her heart, we can’t let her get riled.” He turned towards Nurse Oliver. “I need 10 milligrams of diazepam,
stat
. I’ll update her chart and make the appropriate notations.”

“Right away, Doctor.” Nurse Oliver left the room immediately.

“Forgive me, Doctor,” the cop said, “but the detectives assigned to handle this investigation asked me to alert them the moment the patient regained consciousness. A five-minute conversation could help us apprehend her assailant. I don’t quite understand why you’re going to sedate her.”

Julian wasn’t sure if he could hold himself together, but he did his best to stay calm. If the cop prevented Nurse Oliver from administering the sedative long enough for Detective Rizzo to get here, everything in his life would come crashing down.

“She may appear to be lucid,” Julian insisted. “But I assure you, the only thing that’s going to come out of her mouth is incoherent mumbling. Her heart is barely functioning. If we don’t keep her completely at rest, she may never make it to surgery tomorrow morning.”

“Okay, Doctor. Point well taken. I still have to follow my orders and contact the detectives at once. Whatever they decide to do is between you and them.”

“Fair enough.”

Just then, Nurse Oliver returned with the syringe. While the cop was facing the other way, talking on his cell phone, she injected the sedative into McKenzie’s IV.

Unless Sami Rizzo was driving a rocket ship, Julian thought, McKenzie O’Neill would be out cold long before the detective got here.

For the first time today, Julian felt a slight sense of relief.

After a long dose of soul searching, Sami prepared herself to meet Al at the Del Mar Fertility Center. Just seeing him was painful. During the night of restless sleep, Emily’s words played in Sami’s mind like an endless CD. Over and over again, Sami kept hearing the same words: “Give him another chance to prove his love. He’s worth it, Cuz.”

Sami didn’t doubt that Al was worth it. His worth was not the issue. What she doubted was her ability to ever trust him again. Without trust, a relationship is doomed. If he came home a little late, would she give him the third degree? If he went out with the guys for a beer, would she chew on her fingernails wondering if he was on the prowl? If she picked up a strange scent when she hugged him, would she accuse him of being with another woman?

All these troubling questions and few answers.

Just as she was about to pull in the driveway of the fertility center, her cell phone rang.

“Detective Rizzo.”

“It’s Officer Dolinski. I just wanted to tell you that for a brief period, Ms. O’Neill opened her eyes and mumbled a few words.”

“What did she say?”

“Her words were barely audible. I couldn’t quite make them out.”

“Is she still conscious?”

“The nurse—I believe her name was Ms. Oliver—gave her a sedative to help keep her calm. The doctor said that her heart is very weak and if they didn’t sedate her, she could go into cardiac arrest.”

“What’s the doctor’s name?”

“So many doctors fly in and out of her room, his name escapes me. My shift just ended and I’m walking to my patrol car. The clipboard with the list of doctors and nurses authorized to see Ms. O’Neill is with Joe Martinelli, the officer who relieved me. I’ve had some difficulty getting a cell phone signal in the hospital, but I’d be happy to go back upstairs, check the clipboard, and call you right back.”

“That’s not necessary, Officer. You go home and get some sleep. I’ll contact Doctor Templeton directly and find out what’s going on. Thanks for calling.”

She parked her car in the lot next to the fertility center and flipped open her cell phone. She didn’t think she’d find Doctor Templeton in his office this early in the morning, but remembered that he had called her from his cell phone a few days ago. She pushed a few buttons and went into the “Received Calls” menu. Sure enough, she found his cell phone number.

After three rings, she expected to hear a voice mail prompt. Instead, she heard the doctor’s voice.

“This is Doctor Templeton.” His voice sounded labored.

“Hi, Doctor, sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but—”

“No need to apologize, Detective Rizzo. I’ve been awake since the wee hours. Just started my morning cardio workout, so I might sound a bit out of breath. What can I do for you?”

“I understand that McKenzie O’Neill regained consciousness for a brief period, but some doctor ordered a sedative to put her out. Was that you, Doctor?”

“No, that would likely be Doctor Hastings, a fellow cardiologist. He was scheduled to complete some pre-op tests on the patient early this morning. We haven’t spoken yet.”

“Why would he sedate her? We left explicit instructions to contact us if she even twitched. We may have missed an important opportunity to speak with her that might lead us to her assailant.”

“Well, Detective, it’s hard for me to comment without first speaking to Doctor Hastings. However, to me, it sounds like he made the right call. This young woman is clinging to life by the skin of her teeth. Any excitement at all could place her in a life-threatening situation. Under normal circumstances—if there even is such a thing in medicine—we would have already operated on this young woman. Unfortunately, without some guidance from Doctor Fisher, a cardiothoracic surgeon up in San Francisco, the risk to operate would be greater than the risk of a short postponement. Doctor Fisher is flying in later this morning. He and I, along with two other heart surgeons, will evaluate Ms. O’Neill’s condition and determine exactly how we will proceed. We’ve scheduled surgery for first thing in the morning, and if we’re successful, she should regain consciousness within twenty-four hours. When she does, you can speak to her for as long as you like without it endangering her life.”

How could she, a layperson, dispute his professional opinion? “Thanks for the explanation, Doctor. Any idea at this point how long you expect her to be in surgery?”

“It’s hard to say. The surgical procedures we’re dealing with will likely take ten to twelve hours. Ultimately, Ms. O’Neill will need a heart transplant, which, believe it or not, might be less risky than what we’re facing. Unfortunately, thus far, we do not have a donor, so our goal is to keep her alive until we find one. Without the surgery she faces tomorrow, I doubt she’d live another seventy-two hours.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Doctor. Hope you have a great workout.”

“These old bones ain’t what they used to be. Have a nice day, Detective Rizzo.”

Almost like clockwork, Sami disconnected Doctor Templeton, and Al pulled up next to her. He got out of his car and waited for her to grab her purse, check her face in the vanity mirror, and step out of the car.

“Mornin’, Sami.”

Sami barely acknowledged him with a quick wave.

The center would not open for another ten minutes, so Sami hoped their conversation would remain professional and not personal.

“Have you spoken to this Doctor Hastings?” Al asked.

“The only one I’ve met on the surgical team is Doctor Templeton, but I’ll contact Hastings when we’re finished.”

“I hope it amounts to something,” Al said.

“Officer Dolinski couldn’t make out what she mumbled. But maybe Doctor Hastings did. I would think that if she’d said anything significant, uttered a name, or something even remotely tangible, Doctor Hastings would have contacted us.”

“One would hope so.” When they walked into the center, the receptionist immediately acknowledged them with a smile, which was a dramatic change from the tepid greeting they’d received the day before.

“Good morning, Detectives. Can I get either of you a cup of coffee or some water?” Her tone was saccharine sweet.

Sami shook her head. “No thanks.”

“I’d love a cup with cream and two teaspoons of sugar,” Al said.

“Please have a seat. Ms. Cardoza will be with you in a minute.”

They barely had time to sit down when Ms. Cardoza appeared from the back room.

“Nice to see you again, Detectives. Please come into my office.”

As Al passed the receptionist, she handed him the coffee and Sami noticed that the young woman winked at him.

“Thank you,” he said.

This was
exactly
the situation Sami dreaded. Was it an innocent wink, or was she outwardly flirting? Was he attracted to her? Did he wink back? If they reconciled, wouldn’t she be sentenced to a life of paranoia and suspicion? She now realized that she needed to speak with Doctor J again. Maybe she could clear Sami’s head and help her sort out her conflicting emotions.

When they all sat down in Cardoza’s office, Sami tried to read the woman’s eyes, but they gave her no clue of what was coming next.

Maria Cardoza set a manila folder on her desk and pushed it toward Sami. “We found a DNA match. However, this particular client is one who requested to remain anonymous, so he goes by a pseudonym.”

“You allow that?” Sami asked.

“It’s not the norm, but if a client insists on remaining anonymous, who are we to challenge that request?”

“And what name does this guy go by?” Al asked.

Cardoza opened the folder. “John Smith.”

“How utterly original,” Sami said.

“It would surprise you,” Cardoza said, “if I told you how many men use John Smith as their name.”

“Do you have his photo?”

“As part of his anonymity, he did not want a photo taken.”

“So,” Sami said, “when a client comes in looking for a sperm donor, what would make them choose an anonymous donor when they have no information on him? For all they know, he could be Charles Manson’s brother and have the IQ of a housefly.”

“Detective Rizzo, I didn’t say that we knew nothing about our anonymous donors. Only that they use a pseudonym and do not have a photo taken.”

“Tell me about this guy,” Sami said.