Page 4 of Her Only Hero
Patrick strode toward the car and got in. “You and I are finished here, June. Have you decided where you’d like me to take you? St. Eugene’s? Or a walk-in? Or I could drive you home, though I advise against it.”
“Let’s go to St. Eugene’s,” I said, agreeing only because of the off chance of needing a CT scan. But for me, that hospital had toomany memories and secrets trapped in its walls—both amazing and horrible.
We arrived too soon and pulled up to the emergency entrance.
“Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I said unconvincingly.
We walked into the building. His presence by my side was comforting. He remained close as the triage nurse measured my blood pressure, temperature, and oxygen saturation, after which we moved to a curtained area. In a short amount of time, a woman entered, wearing OR greens and a stethoscope around her neck.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Carter.” She had straight, light brown hair hooked behind her ears. Her eyebrows furrowed and then released. “Can you tell me what happened, June? I understand you had a spill.”
“Yes. Someone shoved me to the ground and banged my head in a dumpster bin.”
Dr. Carter squinted. “Oh, dear. Let’s have a look.” She moved my hair aside and examined my forehead. “You have a bit of a hematoma.” She shone a light into my eyes. “Are you dizzy or nauseated?”
“No.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“She may have been a bit confused,” Patrick said.
I cringed. But he was right.
“I think further investigation is warranted,” Dr. Carter said. “There’s a blood test that detects TBI—traumatic brain injury. I’ll get that ordered. And I’ll have the nurse disinfect your wounds and apply dressings.” She examined the caked blood on my forearm.
“It’s strange,” I said. “I don’t feel this cut at all.”
“Hmm, this is odd,” Dr. Carter said.
“Odd? How do you mean?” I asked.
Patrick moved closer.
“I see no abrasions or contusions on your skin,” the doctor said. She tilted her head. “June, I don’t think this blood is yours.”
“Not my blood?” My stomach turned.
“I’ll clean it to check for sure,” the doctor said.
“Excuse me, Doctor,” Patrick said. “I’d like to submit what is cleaned off for evidence. Could I trouble you for sterile water, gauze, and a container?”
Dr. Carter nodded. “Of course. I’ll be right back.” She slipped out through the slit in the curtain. All of a sudden, it became silent. I glanced at Patrick. He had creases around his eyes.
“How are you holding up?” He stood like a pillar, and somehow, I drew from his strength.
“Holding fine I guess, considering I have some stranger’s blood on me.” I recoiled from my own arm. “I hope this blood contains nothing infectious. Who the hell was that guy?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Patrick said. “We’ll take a sample to the lab for DNA analysis. I know a lab worker who can get it done in no time.” He winked.
I couldn’t help but smile. His faith in my skills as a scientist lifted my mood.
Dr. Carter returned with the requested items. She reached for a box of gloves on the shelf, but Patrick stopped her.
“That’s all right, Dr. Carter, I got this.” He assessed the boxes of gloves. “No extra-large?”
