Part 24 (1/2)
Suddenly, the door above me opened, and I heard Rafe say, ”She's down there.”
I moaned and rubbed my right ankle as the nurses hurried down the steps toward me. One of the nurses, a woman whose name tag said Teresa Warner, crouched down to examine my right leg. She felt along my calf and s.h.i.+n, probed the bones in my ankle, and turned my foot. I gasped for effect, but not enough to raise any big concerns, or so I thought.
”I think I just bruised something,” I said, wincing. ”Rafe, help me up.”
”We need to get you to X-ray,” Teresa said. ”You might have a broken bone.”
Oh no! That would require time and money I wasn't willing to spend. ”I'm sure I'll be fine. Rafe, would you help me up, please?”
”No, don't do that,” the other nurse said, das.h.i.+ng up the stairs. ”I'll call for a.s.sistance.”
I glanced at Rafe and gave him a help me now look.
At that moment, Nikki came through the door, saw me, and cried, ”Abby, what happened?”
”I missed a few steps,” I said as Nikki raced down the stairs toward me. ”Teresa thinks I might have a broken bone.”
”Let's get you down to X-ray,” she said. To Nurse Teresa she said, ”I know these two. I'll take responsibility for them.”
Rafe scooped me up and started down the stairs, calling back, ”X-ray's in the bas.e.m.e.nt, right?”
”I'll show you,” Nikki offered, leading the way.
I glanced over Rafe's shoulder at the stunned nurse. ”Thanks, Teresa. You've been a great help.”
”You're a lot heavier than you look,” Rafe grunted, setting me down at the bottom. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.
”Thanks for that.”
”Come on,” Nikki said, pus.h.i.+ng on the door that led into the bas.e.m.e.nt hallway. She took us to a waiting area filled with people, where we huddled in a corner to hear Nikki's report.
”Harding's not dying from cancer,” she said quietly. ”His lymphoma is in remission.”
”Then why is he here?” I asked.
”According to his chart,” Nikki said, ”Harding has multiple contusions, abrasions-”
”In English, Nikki,” I said. ”The condensed version.”
”He's in a coma.”
”A coma? From what?”
Nikki shrugged. ”There's nothing in the file about how he came to be in that condition, only what his condition is-severe trauma to his head, a crack in his skull, concussion, cuts, bruises, frostbite on his hands and face . . . Right now, he's at high risk for dying.”
”When I saw Harding,” I said, ”his eyes were open. Was he in a coma then?”
”Yes. That's actually a common occurrence. The eyes are open, but we don't know if the person actually sees anything.”
”Here's what I want to know,” I said. ”If Harding pulls through, will he be released or stay on for further cancer treatment?”
”Unless further tests show the cancer is flaring up, or he needs physical therapy from his head trauma, he'll be released.”
That was not what I wanted to hear. ”Did you happen to notice when Harding was admitted?” I asked.
”This morning.”
”What about for his cancer treatment?”
”Gee, I glanced at the file so quickly, but I believe he was transferred in about four weeks ago. I know he was released after five days of treatment. He'd probably be due back soon for follow-up blood-”
”Nikki,” we heard someone whisper. I glanced around and saw the other X-ray tech, Erin, motioning to her.
”I'll be right there,” Nikki called back. ”I've got to go, Abby.”
”Promise me you'll keep an eye out in case Harding does recover and is released.”
”Of course.”
”Thanks for your help, Nik,” I said, giving her a hug. ”I know you took a risk for me.”
”You'd do the same for me.”
Make that I'd done the same for her.
I turned to look for Rafe and saw him leaning against the wall, flirting with Erin. ”Rafe,” I called. ”Let's go.”
As he started toward me, Nikki said, ”Wait, Abby. I just remembered something.”
I grabbed Rafe's coat sleeve before he could head back toward Erin. ”How about pulling the car up to the door, Romeo?”
”Will do,” Rafe said, then winked at Erin and strode toward the door.
”Slowly!” I called before turning back to Nikki. ”What did you remember?”
”H. Bebe was listed on the initial admission form as Harding's contact person.”
”Charlotte H. Bebe?”
”It just said H. Bebe. I figured it was either her or a relative.” Nikki showed me the digits she'd jotted on her palm. ”Here's the number if you want to look it up.”
”Better yet,” I said, moving closer to the exit, ”I'll call and see who answers. It certainly wouldn't be Charlotte.” As I pulled out my cell phone and punched in the number, I said to Nikki, ”Do you realize that if H. Bebe is Charlotte, we'll have a link between Harding and the kidnappers?”
”h.e.l.lo?” a female voice said in my ear.
Yikes. I hadn't planned what to say. ”I'm, um, looking for a friend of mine. To whom am I speaking, please?”
”Just tell me your friend's name,” came her curt reply.
”Charlotte.”