“She was passed out when I got here. Her breathing was shallow and she had blood running out of her mouth.”
Floyd looked at the room. “Sexual assault?”
“I don’t think so, but she was so badly battered I wouldn’t hazard a guess. I haven’t seen any evidence of burglary either.” Floyd looked into the bedroom and pointed to the pattern of blood droplets sprayed on the walls. “Whoever did this was really angry. I didn’t see a cut on her, so all the blood here is from wounds inflicted with a blunt object. If you look at the blood spatter, you’ll see the droplets are tiny and spread rather far apart. Someone was swinging a blunt object really hard and fast to make a pattern like that. In my book that means intense anger and the desire to take something out on the victim.”
“Any sign of the weapon?”
“Not in the house, but I haven’t looked around the yard or driveway. With all the flowers in the yard it might just be laying out there hidden under the leaves.”
“Bloody fingerprints or footprints?”
Kerm motioned Floyd into the room and pointed to the doorframe. “One palm print here. It looks like someone cleaned up in the kitchen sink so we may pick up more there. I just haven’t dusted the sink yet.”
“I wonder where her creepy friend is?” Floyd said to himself.
“Kenny’s over talking to the pastor now,” Kerm said. “That was the first comment the neighbors made too.”
“I’m heading for the hospital,” Floyd said. “Dan should be here shortly. Make sure he calls the sheriff so he doesn’t get blindsided by the press.”
The morning I-35 traffic was starting to pick up when Floyd accelerated down the Hinckley entrance ramp. He turned on the red and blue flashers to get an opening in the traffic, and then he flew past the remaining cars as they eased to the right lane.
“Who would want to hurt Kathy Tucker?” he asked himself. “I can’t believe the gay guy from Minneapolis cared one iota about Kathy. No husband, so a boyfriend is the second most likely suspect.”
The morning-shift hospital employees dressed in blue and green scrubs were walking from the employee parking lot when Floyd sped to the emergency room entrance. He approached the admissions desk with his badge holder. “Where’s Kathy Tucker?”
An aging admissions clerk with red-rimmed eyes looked like he was probably ending his night shift. He pointed down the hallway. “Room two.”
Floyd stopped at the empty nurse’s station and checked the white board listing the room numbers and occupants. No one had written Kathy’s name on the chart. Generally, that was a sign the staff was too busy with the patient to step away.
The rooms were actually dividers with curtains hung across the hallway opening. Under the curtain covering room two Floyd could see several pairs of white shoes and he could hear muffled discussion. He pulled the curtain back enough to peer into the controlled chaos. Kathy’s naked body lay on the bed as people rushed around her. A monitor traced the EKG and beeped out a steady rhythm.
“Get that guy out of here!” A man wearing a surgical mask shouted.
A nurse broke away from the group and pushed Floyd back. “I’m sorry sir, you have to wait in the other room.”
Floyd pulled back his windbreaker, exposing the badge clipped to the waist of his jeans. “I’m Floyd Swenson with the sheriff’s department.”
A matronly nurse with graying hair peeking out from under a blue surgical cap gently put her hand on Floyd’s arm and walked him back to the nurse’s station. “She’s got a punctured lung, probably some other internal injuries, and numerous broken bones. We’re giving her whole blood to see if we can bring her blood pressure and oxygenation up. If we get her stabilized we’ll transfer her to a trauma center in the Cities for intensive care and orthopedic surgery.”
“If she gets stabilized?” Floyd asked.
“About the only thing going for her is that she doesn’t have head injuries,” the nurse replied. She hesitated and drew a breath. “I’ve never seen anyone injured this badly survive.”
“Did you do a rape kit?” Floyd asked.
“Not yet, but I’ll tell the doctor you made a request, but that won’t be a priority right now. Now please go to the waiting room, I’ll keep you informed.”
“Has anyone notified her parents?”
“Not as far as I know.”
Floyd went to the empty waiting room and found the admissions clerk. “Show me where I can find a cup of coffee and a phone.”
“Use the phone in the cubicle next to me, and I’ll grab a cup for you. Black or otherwise?”
“Black would be great,” Floyd said. He dialed the dispatcher and told him to get a deputy over to Tuckers’ and tell them to get to the hospital ASAP.
By the time he hung up the phone the clerk was back with coffee in a Styrofoam cup. “Black and on the back burner for half the night. If you want fresh, the cafeteria will open in half an hour.”
“Thanks,” Floyd said taking the cup and drinking half of it in one gulp. “It’s better than we have at the courthouse.”
“I pity your stomach.”
“The girl in the back is pretty bad, isn’t she?” Floyd asked.
The clerk paused. “They usually leave someone at the nurse’s station unless they get someone really bad.”
The clerk shook his head. “They haven’t asked me to call for the LifeLink helicopter yet. They usually have me call right away unless…”
“Unless they’re afraid they can’t save them?” Floyd asked.
“That’s pretty much it.” The clerk looked at his watch. “I’ve got to close out the end-of-shift reports. Holler if you want more coffee.”
Floyd drank the last of the coffee and walked back to room 2. Through the curtain he could hear the voices of the staff as they worked to save Kathy Tucker’s life. More importantly, he could hear the steady beep, beep, beep of the cardiac monitor. Kathy was hanging on.
A hand pushed the curtain back and a man stepped out as he stripped off bloody surgical gloves. He held the gloves in one hand and took the surgical mask off with the other while facing away from Floyd.
“How’s she doing, Glenn?”
Glenn Bergstrom, MD, spun around, startled by Floyd’s voice. “Christ, Floyd, don’t sneak up on me like that.” He took a deep breath and pointed toward the nurse’s station. “She’s starting to stabilize, but I’m really afraid she’s got major internal injuries. Do you know what happened? It looks like she’s been beaten with a baseball bat.”
“She called 911 herself. When my guys arrived she was passed out. All we know is that she was assaulted in her own bedroom, and that whoever assaulted her did it viciously.” Floyd paused, and then added, “Most often an attack like this is by a lover or husband. We’re not aware she has either, which is why I asked for the rape kit.”
“There’s no sign of sexual penetration, but we’ll take a swab.”
“There’s one other thing you should know, she told me she’s HIV positive.”
“To be on the safe side we treat everyone like they’ve got hepatitis or AIDS, but I appreciate the warning.” Bergstrom paused, “Sorry I yelled to have you thrown out. Things weren’t going well and I didn’t need a spectator. I didn’t recognize you peeking around the curtain.”
“Not a problem. That girl’s life is more important that my feelings.”
A woman in a lab coat walked briskly toward them carrying a sheet of paper. “Here are the blood gases.”
Bergstrom studied the numbers briefly. “Cross-match two more units of whole blood,” he said to the medical technologist. “I’ve got to get back in with her.”
“I had a deputy dispatched to notify her parents,” Floyd said.
“Maybe you should dispatch one to light some prayer candles, too.”