At 1300 hours, Hunter stood at the foot of Cassie’s bed with Jack, his jaw locked in deep concentration. Talking to Kieran, he said, “I don’t have time to explain at the moment, but I’m taking Cassie back into the OR. If she makes it out, I need two of our med personnel with strong critical care and dialysis credentials per shift. Tell them to take five hundred milligrams of Cipro. They’ll know why. Find your brother. I just spoke with the family—it’s bad.”
Hunter was the calmest person—even when bullets were flying around him. Now the controlled doctor was feeling out of control.
“They’ll be there ASAP,” Kieran said.
The tension in the operating room was palpable. Anger rolled in an avalanche down Hunter’s shoulders. “Good to see you again, Juan. Try to keep her alive. I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said to the anesthesiologist. He was used to the logic of medicine, and this made no sense. He had expected sepsis, but not this.
Hunter worked with scrub nurse Pamela Barnes often and also shared his personal life with her. Today, Hunter was furious and demanding. All business. There was no easy chitchat. No music. Even Pamela couldn’t soothe him.
Taking a scalpel, he slit open the stitches in Cassie’s thigh. Pamela gasped as putrid-smelling pus exploded over the top of his hand.
“Damn it. I’m gonna kill Maddox when I’m done,” Hunter announced.
The only sound in the room was the rapid ping of Cassie’s heartbeat. “Culture it. Start cleaning the wound.”
After scrubbing again and changing his gown and gloves, Hunter took an hour to scrape away the infection and the dying tissue. His long fingers explored every inch of the now enlarged wound. The sinews of leg muscle were pale from lack of circulation. “She may still lose this leg.”
As his hand followed the length of her femur, he cursed. Between the bone and the semitendinosus muscle, he found a piece of surgical sponge. “Everyone see this? Get me a sterile cup.” He dropped it inside.
Sloughing off the fury again, Hunter refocused to make sure the wound was as clean as he could get it. “Let’s pack and wrap this. I don’t have enough healthy skin to close. We’ll grab a graft from her other leg when she’s ready.”
The young doctor looked up. “You’re optimistic, Dr. Montgomery.”
Hunter kept working. “Okay, folks. We’re on borrowed time. Let’s get her back to the unit. Before we go, Pam, get me a fresh set of bloodwork. And let’s pray.”
Entering the recovery room, Tucker Hanlon and Pete Walter, former Air Force pararescuemen, were waiting. After serving in Afghanistan, they both became physician assistants with multiple subspecialties. Tucker, a full-time ER PA, was fresh off the per diem assignment for the Eagle’s Talon, and Pete worked part-time for Chase Group employee health and the emergency room. Both were now assigned full-time to Cassie’s care on the Chase Group’s payroll.
“Am I glad to see you two,” Hunter said as they exchanged one-armed hugs.
“Kieran called and said it was priority one. We took the Cipro. What’s going on?” Pete asked.
Hunter helped Pamela attach Cassie to the transport monitors for a return to intensive care. “Pamela Barnes, let me introduce you to two of the best. They’ve been hiding in the ED.”
Pam flashed a warm smile. “Nice to meet you. Let me introduce you to your patient.”
Tucker and Pete turned serious as they listened to Cassie’s complicated history.
Chapter Seventeen
Ian and Kieran waited outside Cassie’s ICU room with Luke and Rachel Paulsen while Jack Parker explained the situation and gave them prophylactic medication to prevent the contagious disease. The infection control nurse obtained a list of Cassie’s contacts. Everyone was rattled. If the timetable were accurate, it would mean she was contagious at the dinner, but it made no sense. There was no sign of anything brewing in any of her previous bloodwork.
Christian and Caleb Paulsen called to say they were en route from the airport. The other three boys were still finding their way from overseas and, barring a SNAFU, would be home late Tuesday.
Ian stayed quiet and maintained his iron self-control. Luke looked him up and down. “We appreciate your generosity, Ian. Thanks to you, she’s still alive. I’ve known you for a long time now. What’s going on with you and Cassie?”
Rachel placed a knowing hand on her husband’s arm. “Leave Ian alone. It’s clear he cares for Cassie, and when I spoke with her Wednesday morning, she sounded hopeful. I think he made her want to try to move forward. Isn’t that enough for now?”
Luke hugged his wife. “I’m sorry, Ian.”
* * *
The doors to the unit swung open, and two powerful men in navy blue scrubs wheeled Cassie inside. Pete squeezed the vinyl bag, rhythmically filling her lungs.
“Good afternoon, folks. I’m Tuck Hanlon.” Tucker extended his hand. “We’re here to take care of Little Miss Cassie. Just give us a bit to get her settled.” His smooth, Texas drawl was warm and comforting, but his worried eyes told quite another story. “Dr. Montgomery will be here soon to explain everything. He’s taking care of some business.”
Once he reattached her to the mechanical ventilator, Pete introduced himself in his thick Boston accent. “We promise to take outstanding care of her.” They rearranged the equipment, positioned Cassie with reverence and, double-checked the medication and tubes.
The nurse administrator tapped her toe at the room’s entrance. “What do you two know about the appropriate nursing care?”
