“Jesus, Tom,” Pam said, “did you have to spray the whole house?”
“Do me a favor next time,” the trooper said as he brushed off his burgundy pants. “Don’t call me for backup,” he said, gasping to catch his breath. “Either that, or shoot the sonofabitch. I’ll swear it was self-defense.” He wiped at his eyes with a handkerchief.
Floyd and Tom helped Mark Roberts from the floor. In their rush to subdue him, they hadn’t noticed that the interior of the house was a shambles.
“What a mess,” Pam said, looking around, “I wonder if they were trashing the place when I got here.” She then remembered Sue Roberts and limped to the closed door down the hallway. “Mrs. Roberts, are you okay? Everything is under control out here. You can come out now.”
After a few seconds the doorknob turned and the door opened a crack. A blue eye appeared. “Is it safe? Is Mark gone?” Sue’s breath also smelled of beer. Pam looked at her watch. It was barely two o’clock in the afternoon.
“He’s under control. Are you okay?”
The door opened slowly and Sue Roberts emerged. Her heavy makeup was streaked with trails left by her tears. A trickle of blood flowed from her nose and over her bruised and swollen top lip. She stepped into the hallway, her left arm wrapped across the housecoat that was pasted to her body with sweat. Her breath came in short, shallow rasps.
“Are you okay?” Pam asked. “Does your chest hurt?”
“Yes,” Sue whispered. “I hurt it when I fell against a table.” Her words came in short gasps.
Pam reached for her radio, only to discover that it had been ripped free at some point in the struggle with Mark Roberts. “I’ll call an ambulance,” she said. “Wait here.”
“No!” Sue gasped. “We don’t have insurance.”
Pam ignored the plea and limped back through the house, looking for her radio. She reached under the table and felt a twinge in her back that caused a spasm. “Ow!”
Floyd was leaning on the doorframe smiling like a Cheshire cat. “It’s hell to get old.”
“I think I fell into a chair when the trooper stepped on my ankle.” Pam held a hand to her low back. “I bet that’ll be a hell of a bruise tomorrow. Maybe it’ll match my ankle.”
“Sue Roberts looks like she’s been beaten,” Floyd said. “I called an ambulance.”
“I thought so, too. She’s holding her ribs like one or more might be broken.” Pam rolled her shoulders and grimaced.
“Greg, the highway patrolman, rolled his ankle when he fell over you.”
“Maybe it was his knee in my back that’s killing me and not the chair.”
“Ride the ambulance with Sue,” Floyd suggested, “and have the ER doc check you out. I’ll have someone drive your cruiser over to the hospital.”
“Where’s Mark Roberts?” Pam asked.
“He’s already on his way to the jail in Tom’s car.”
CHAPTER 25
Pam was sitting with Sue Roberts in an ER exam room when Floyd arrived. Both women were wearing hospital gowns. Pam’s uniform shirt and bulletproof vest were hanging over the back of a chair in the corner of the room.
“How are you two doing?” Floyd asked, closing the door as he entered.
Sue’s eyes flew to Pam, who answered, “The doctor says I’m only bruised, but Sue has cracked ribs.” She paused while she composed her thoughts. “Sue says Mark was upset because she hadn’t cleaned the house while he was on the road. He got back early this morning and started drinking. He forced her to have a few beers with him and then got mad and started throwing his weight around.”
“You know it’s not your fault,” Floyd said to Sue, sitting on the edge of the closest chair. “Mark has to be able to talk to you without hitting. There’s no excuse for a man who hits a woman. None.”
“I can’t get going sometimes,” Sue explained, her head hung in shame. “The house gets to be a mess and the dishes pile up. I know it makes him mad when he comes home to a mess. It’s my fault. I just can’t help it.”
“No matter what the house looks like, he shouldn’t hit you,” Pam said.
Doctor Ken Swanson knocked lightly on the doorframe and stepped into the exam room. He was only a few years past his residency and was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in the county. He wore blue surgical scrubs with a matching blue cover over his brown hair.
“Sue, I want you to wear a sling for two weeks until your ribs don’t hurt anymore. I ordered Tylenol with codeine for the pain. Take one every four hours when the pain is bad.”
He flipped the charts and addressed Pam. “Based on where you indicated the chair struck you, I’d say your bulletproof vest took the brunt of the impact. You’re going to have some sore muscles, but there are no broken bones and no cracked ribs.
“Keep your ankle iced and wrapped in the Ace bandage tonight and maybe it won’t swell up like a basketball. Take a couple of Aleve with your next meal and take them every twelve hours for the next few days.”
Kristie Naber, the ER nurse, came in carrying a pill bottle and a styrofoam cup of water. She handed Sue a pill and the water. “Take this, and you should get some pain relief in a few minutes. The rest of the bottle goes home with you.”
“Can someone take me home?” Sue whispered, the effort to speak made her cringe with pain.
“I think you should go to a shelter for a few days,” Floyd suggested. “Mark’s in jail and it’d probably be best for you to be somewhere you can have some other people around.”
Doctor Swanson set the charts on a table and sat on a small stool. “Mrs. Roberts, this isn’t the first time you’ve been here with bruises. Your chart lists at least a dozen visits in the past ten years. Every time you come in there’s a story about how you fell down the stairs or ran into a door. Each time you come in, the injuries are a little more severe. I can believe an accidental fall story once, but this is out of control. If we don’t intervene I’m afraid we’ll have you in the intensive care unit.”
“Mark would never do that. He gets mad because I get blue and he has to snap me out of it. It’s really my fault.”
“Tell me about your blues,” Swanson said, gently.
“I just get tired. You know how it goes; some days things get overwhelming and I just can’t get myself out of bed. Just the thoughts of all the things I have to get done are too much.”
“Is your family doctor treating you for depression?”
“Mark doesn’t believe in that stuff. I have to do what he does — just suck up and work my way through it.”
“How often do you have bouts of the blues, Mrs. Roberts?”
“It runs in streaks,” Sue replied. “Sometimes I’m just overwhelmed for a couple weeks. Sometimes it’s just for a couple days. It’s been worse lately. Mark’s gone a lot lately so I’m home by myself. That seems to make it worse.”
“I think you need to see your family doctor and have a talk about depression,” Swanson said. “Do it today. He can prescribe something that will make it easier to cope with your blues. You don’t need to let it become overwhelming.”
“Mark won’t let me take any ‘happy’ pills. I have to cope on my own.”
Doctor Swanson looked at Floyd, waiting for him to jump in.
“Mark will be in jail for a while, Sue,” Floyd explained. “He assaulted you, and he also assaulted four police officers. A judge will set bail and I expect that he won’t be able to pay it, so he’ll be in jail until there’s a hearing and maybe even until a trial.”
“What will I do?” she asked. “I don’t work and there isn’t much in our savings. We’ll have to sell the farm.” A few tears rolled down her cheeks.