Nikki nodded that she understood and made a weak thumbs-up sign.
Doctor. Just before the fat guy in the business suit had attacked her, he had called her "Doc." Who could have told him that? The two men weren't out to rob her or even to rape her. They were going to kill her.
Why?
Matt returned to Nikki Solari's bedside after washing, shaving, and gathering the things he had appropriated for Lewis Slocumb. The hours of sleep had served him well and, at least for the moment, he felt sharp and focused. Yesterday he had planned to return to the Slocumbs' farm to replace the jury-rigged chest tube after just a few hours of work in the hospital. Now nearly a full day had gone by. Well, he reminded himself, he could only do what he could do and hope that Frank Slocumb had the sense to drag his brother into the hospital if he was in trouble.
Solari looked alert and a bit more animated. Her X ray had showed no pneumonia and her blood gases were excellent. It was time to keep his promise and remove the tube. Hopefully, then, the questions surrounding the events at Crystal Lake would be answered. One mystery that had already been answered was the bizarre dream in which Matt had been immersed. On the top of Solari's left foot was a tattoo, orange and black, of a Gila monster. Matt had noticed it during his initial exam, but was far too engrossed in trying to save her life to give it much thought.
The woman with the elegant, long-fingered hands, who he'd guessed might be a potter, had turned out to be a coroner. And the coroner, who played bluegrass music, had an orange and black Gila monster tattooed on her foot. As popular as tattoos had become in the general public, they were still not that common among middle-of-the-road med students and doctors. Was she offbeat enough to be into drugs in some way? he wondered. Maybe dealing? Is that why she was being chased through the woods near Niles Ledge?
Matt considered the possibility as he prepared to remove the breathing tube from her throat. He also pictured his own tattoo — injected into his arm as a constant, permanent reminder of love and loss. No, he decided, glancing up at Nikki Solari's expressive eyes, whatever the significance of the odd tattoo, it had nothing to do with drugs.
The technique for removing the endotracheal tube was as straightforward as the potential complications of the procedure were life-threatening. Suction out the trachea, deflate the balloon, have the patient attempt to cough, and pull out the tube. Simple. Lurking in the shadows, however, was the specter of a reactive spasm of the larynx severe enough to shut off the airway, and tight enough to make reinsertion of a breathing tube near impossible.
Matt had never actually performed an emergency tracheotomy, but he had the equipment to do so near at hand. At that moment, there was nothing in the world he wanted to do less.
"Dr. Solari, we're all set," he said.
Nikki nodded and gave him a weak A-okay. The woman was tough, he was thinking. Whatever else she was, she was tough.
"Good," he said. "I know this next part isn't pleasant, but we've got to do it. Suction, please, Julie."
The nurse snaked a small suction catheter down beyond the tip of the tube into Nikki's trachea. Nikki reacted to the intrusion with violent coughing, tears overflowing her eyes and running down her cheeks.
"I'm really sorry," Matt said, deflating the balloon on the tube. "Let's get this part over with. Just take a breath and cough."
Nikki did as he asked. A slight tug and just like that the tube was out. The nurse moved to suction out Nikki's mouth and throat, but Nikki pushed her hand away.
"Bless you," Nikki croaked.
The nurse slipped a clear, polystyrene mask over Nikki's mouth and nose. For a minute, then another, no one spoke as Nikki took long, grateful draughts of humidified, oxygen-enriched air. Her blood oxygen level, as measured by the oximeter clipped around her fingertip, remained good, and her cardiac monitor pattern, steady. There was no significant laryngeal spasm.
"You all right?" Matt asked finally.
"Ugh, that was just awful," Nikki said. "Hardly the way to greet a new patient. Where I come from, doctors usually start by asking who their insurance company is."
Lights in the ICU cubicle were dimmed once again. The nurses had gone off to prepare for another admission — an admission who would probably be given Nikki's room. Haltingly, dozing off every few minutes, Nikki shared the story of the faked accident on the roadway, the chloroform, the gunshots, and the subsequent chase through the forest. She had no recollection whatsoever of the events immediately surrounding her plunge into Crystal Lake.
The frightening account was totally engaging to Matt, but no more so than the woman who was sharing it. Exhausted and clearly dealing with a headache, dizziness, and other effects of a concussion, Nikki (she insisted he call her that) had a spirit, intelligence, and wry humor that even her compromising condition could not diminish.
He had questions, dozens of them, and undoubtedly, Grimes would as well. But for the moment, he had no desire to deal with the man. Soon, after she was persistently awake, he would call the station. For now, he sat quietly and waited while she rested. He was actually surprised to realize he was studying her face. Why did it appeal to him so? There was little if anything about it that was reminiscent of the woman he had loved for so much of his life. If Ginny was beach sand and midday sun, Nikki was more moonlight and the still, dark water of a lake at night. Ginny's mouth was innocent and childlike, Nikki's full and sensual. Over the years since Ginny's death, he had, from time to time, been with one woman or another. But never had he been drawn to any of them this way. He felt awkward, strange, and a little disloyal. What was he doing contrasting and comparing this woman with Ginny?
… Have those memories remind you of how wonderful life can he again. Isn't that what Mae had said to him?
At that moment, the voice that bothered him with such things reminded him that he was her physician. Romantic involvement by a doctor with his or her patient was prohibited not only by the Hippocratic Oath, but by most states' legislatures as well. For too many docs, such involvement ended up being a shortcut to grocery clerkdom.
"Hey there, still here?" she asked dreamily.
"I… um… may have dozed off."
"Again?"
"I aced nap one-oh-one in med school. Tops in my class."
"Me, too. I was slated to be a surgeon, but they booted me out after I fell asleep at the operating table."
"I can picture you toppling face first into an open abdomen. Nikki, tell me, why did all this happen to you?"
"I have no idea. But those men knew who I was. I'm sure of that."
"Could they have been after drugs?"
"Anything's possible, I suppose. But from what I recall, I think they were after me, pure and simple. I think I heard them say each other's names, but I can't remember."
Matt rose from his chair.
"I'll be back," he said.
"Where are you going?"
"To call the police. Chief Grimes will want to know you're awake, and until we know what this is all about, I want a guard next to your door."
Nikki rubbed at her eyes.
"I think I spent some time with the police chief."
"You did. He told me."
"From what I remember, he was very friendly."
"That explains it," Matt said, flashing on Grimes's totally inappropriate, thinly veiled threat in the ER.
"What?"
"Nothing. Nikki, we haven't contacted your family. Just give me the numbers and I'll call your husband or parents or anyone else you want."
"My dad's recovering from a small stroke, my mom gets hysterical at the sight of a robin eating a worm, and the candidates to be my husband are still out there fighting one another to the death for my favor. Since I'm probably going to make it, why don't we just not upset anyone? Oh, except my job. I was supposed to be at work."