Jim leaned over the desk and gave the nurse a polite smile. "Listen, Carol, I know you aren't allowed to tell us anything. That's fine. It's just that Mark's only family, his parents, are out of the country right now. We're the closest thing he has."
“Can you tell us anything?” Lily added her own plea and the fear and desperation it contained softened the nurse and she stepped close to the desk again.
“I know that they were getting ready to put a tube down his throat to help him breathe.” The nurse touched Lily’s arm. “I’m sorry I don’t know more, but don’t worry, Dr. Jenkins is the best.” Coming around the desk, the nurse said, “Won’t you all come with me? There’s a quiet room you can wait in. I heard one of the paramedics mention lots of press were already at the scene, so it would probably be better for you to wait somewhere private.”
The nurse led them to a small room with two love-seats and an easy chair. “There’s coffee across the hall in the lounge; feel free to help yourself. I’m pretty sure it’s even fresh.”
Jim nodded. “Thank you.”
“I should call Mark’s parents.” Lily sat on the edge of one of the loveseats, worrying the nail on her thumb. She put her hands to her temples. “I should have paid closer attention when Mark mentioned something about them going on a vacation. I'll have to check his desk and see if he has their contact information anywhere."
“Why don’t we just wait and see? Maybe it’s not that bad and he can call them himself later today.”
Lily glanced at Jim, but she didn't appear to have heard him.
Jessie stood, too keyed up to sit still for more than a minute. “I could really use some of that coffee. How about you?”
Lily shrugged. “Sure.”
"Jim?"
He nodded.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Thirty minutes later, Jessie tossed a half of a cup of cold coffee in the trash. They hadn’t heard anything yet and she opened her mouth to tell Lily that she was going to go demand some information when the door to the room opened.
A tall distinguished looking man with dark hair, graying at the temples, entered. He stopped a few steps in, his blue-eyed gaze touched on Lily and Jim and then swung towards Jessie.
“Hello.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Doctor Jenkins. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to get back here to let you all know what’s going on until now.”
Jessie shook his hand. “Detective Jessica Bishop, Chicago PD, and this is Lily Martin, friend and business partner of Mark Taylor’s and Jim Sheridan…a friend.”
Lily stood. “How is he, Doctor?”
The doctor cleared his throat. “I take it none of you are family?’
Jessie shook her head. “No.”
Lily took a step closer. “We’re the closest he has right now. His parents are on a cruise…I think in the Mediterranean. I’m not even sure how to contact them. Mark and I have been business partners for five months now. We're good friends.”
Dr. Jenkins sank onto the easy chair with a sigh and then shrugged. “Well, he’s stable for now. His most serious injuries are to his throat and the stab wound in his abdomen. I had to insert a tube to keep his airway open, but in a few days, the swelling should go down and that will come out. He’s breathing entirely on his own, so no worries there.”
No worries? Jessie dropped onto the edge of the love seat. She’d seen enough severely injured people in her line of work to know what a breathing tube was and what it meant. They were never good.
The doctor continued, “His abdominal wound is a little more troublesome. He seems to have some internal bleeding from that so he’ll be on his way to surgery for an exploratory laparotomy-they’re going to take a look around inside his belly and see if he has any active bleeding. I don’t expect there to be too much damage from the location of the wound. It missed everything vital."
He clasped his hands and paused. “Right now, his blood pressure is our biggest problem. He lost quite a bit of blood through his various injuries and was rather traumatized. His body temp is low and he’s shocky. We’ve given him warmed fluids along with medications and we’re monitoring his blood pressure closely. The thing he has going for him is he’s young and looks to have been in excellent health. Those factors will hopefully work in his favor to overcome that.”
Lily voiced what Jessie was thinking, “Hopefully?”
“I’m fairly confident that he’ll be fine. I have to tell you that in addition, he has a probable concussion, lots of bruises, a dislocated shoulder and, of course the injuries to his hands and feet. None of those are life-threatening, but they’re painful and it’s going to be awhile before he’s back to normal.” He stood and tried to stifle a yawn. “I’m sorry. I just finished up my shift.”
“Thank you, Dr. Jenkins. I know you must be tired, but we appreciate that you took the time to tell us all of this.” Jim stood and clasped the doctor's hand again while Jessie did her best to pull her scattered emotions together.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Sheridan."
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Morning, Tina. How's he doing?" Matthew Jenkins greeted the nurse as he breezed into his patient's room.
Since he had admitted Mark Taylor three days ago, the papers had been full of stories on the man and Matt was fascinated, but also worried for his patient. Not just for his physical condition, but for his mental state as well. It had been almost a blessing that Taylor had required sedation due to the breathing tube. Matthew hoped that by the time Mark was alert enough to be aware of the media circus that things would have calmed down.
At first, the stories in the news had been full of wonder, but now the press was beginning to turn against the guy. Some radio personalities wondered if Taylor had arranged the whole thing, pointing to his visit to the Medea girl and the job interview as evidence. The rumors had fired up the airwaves with debate. Matt felt guilty, but he found himself tuning in every chance he got, which, with Chicago's traffic, meant at least an hour every day during his commute. Most of the callers had silly conspiracy theories, but occasionally, a caller would get through who would tell a story of Taylor doing some good deed for him or her. Matt was sure that not all of them actually had a tale to tell, but some of the stories rang true.
One in particular stood out because the caller claimed it had happened only the day before the incident. That man spoke of Taylor catching the man's child and then having lunch with the caller's family. The man insisted that he'd called the radio station to defend Taylor more than to relate any heroic deeds and seemed reluctant to give too many details, but he did mention that Taylor had hit the back of his head against the pavement. That interesting detail matched a bruise Matt had found on the back of Mark's head. It had the characteristics of an older bruise, with yellowing at the edges. The one beside it was obviously new and the injury that had required stitches a few days prior had been to the right side of the head.
In fact, the reason that Matt had remembered the bruise at all was because when he'd initially seen it, he wondered about possible complications to having three head injuries in such a close period of time. It was fortunate for Taylor that he'd had no brain swelling or bleeding.
Matt supposed that there were some crackpots out there who might go to such extremes to garner attention, but after speaking to the people who actually knew Mark Taylor, he found it hard to believe the speculation that the whole thing had been staged.
Cards, letters and flowers had poured into the hospital for their famous patient. So many, that his business partner advised the hospital to give most of the flowers away to other patients.
Matt stood at the foot of Taylor's bed and glanced at the windowsill to where a small sample of the gifts were displayed. For the most part, his patient had been kept too sedated to notice any of them. A couple of times they had tried to decrease the sedation but the results had been scary. The poor guy had awakened extremely disoriented and fighting. They'd had to restrain his right hand and his left was in a sling due to the dislocated shoulder, but that hadn't stopped Taylor from straining to get free. At the moment, Mark was still, his breathing unlabored and his color good, but the livid bruises on his neck had taken on an even more colorful hue as the edges began fading. The yellow contrasted sharply with the still vibrant purple that circled his neck like a morbid tattoo.