Martin opened the one file he had been ignoring. Elizabeth's medical license picture was clipped to the corner of the first sheet. Chase Security's technical analysis department was thorough. He reviewed her education transcripts. A year after she completed her high school degree at home, she began work on her bachelor's degree in nursing from Columbia University in New York.Why did you homeschool?
Four years later, she entered Johns Hopkins Medical School and stayed working in Maryland until eighteen months ago when she moved back to Silverton. In 2013, she took a leave from Hopkins to volunteer in Gaza for Doctors Abroad. An irrational protective urge niggled at him.
The next pages were an overview of her financials. An investment account at Silverton Financial was never touched. The opening date corresponded with the time of her mother's death. No extravagant purchases. Her driver's license was current. She had auto, homeowners and her own malpractice insurance. Her home had a manageable mortgage. She also carried disability and life insurance. The beneficiary was Doctors Abroad.
Martin turned the page to find stellar references about her surgical abilities. The file concluded with her medical records. He felt voyeuristic but not enough to stop.
Physical exam reveals a palpable scar and indentation along the occiput. A thick, vertical abdominal scar secondary to an emergency cesarean section performed at age seventeen is white and bumpy. Elizabeth reports one pregnancy and one live birth. Infant succumbed one hour after birth from complications related to prematurity and blunt trauma to the mother.
Martin swallowed hard when he found copies from Mary Greeley Hospital in Des Moines. Martin sorted through the pieces.
April 24, 1999, 17-year-old female, 32.5 weeks pregnant, admitted unconscious and unresponsive after a twenty (20) foot fall under suspicious circumstances to a marble floor. Possible victim of marital violence. The patient sustained an occipital skull fracture with subdural bleed. Positive Grey Turner's and Cullen's signs.
Martin reached out to Pete. "I need some answers. What's a Grey Turner's sign and a Cullen's sign?" he asked without a preamble.
"Austin has them, but it's expected. By the way, our guys landed." At Martin's silence, Pete continued, "Those are signs of abdominal bruising, Grey Turner's is the flanks; Cullen's is around the belly button. From severe internal bleeding. Who else has these?"
"No one important. If a person is pregnant, what would that mean?" A sour taste filled his mouth.
"Disastrous to the mother and fetus. Life-threatening. Martin, what's going on?"
"Don't worry. One more question: someone falling twenty feet, where would they hit their head?"
"Jesus, Martin. I wish you would tell me what's going on. Generally, jumpers go feet first, so destruction travels up the spine. People who are thrown land headfirst. Any help?"
"Yeah, a lot." He disconnected the call. "Who did this to you?" He kept reading.
Parents consented to life-saving procedures. Father adamant about sparing mother first. Exploratory laparotomy performed. Damage to liver, large intestine, and a uterine artery was repaired. Craniotomy performed to relieve a moderate subdural hematoma and repair of a fractured occiput. The patient gave birth via cesarean section to a live, 3 lb. 2 oz. baby girl in respiratory arrest. A four-inch diameter hematoma caused placental abruption. Despite prolonged resuscitation attempts, baby girl Reed was pronounced dead 4/24/99 23:21.
Martin felt ice cake over his body. The baby had to be his. He scanned the next pages. A social worker's note made the ache deeper.
4/28/89 Elizabeth awakened from coma X 72 hrs. She remains agitated and uncooperative. The patient is refusing to eat. She sobs, begging for forgiveness, broken only by sedation. Asked from whom she wants mercy, she repeats “Queen Mab.” (A fictitious Shakespearean fairy.) A psychiatric consult is pending.
Martin closed his eyes. "Oh, Sunshine." He was Queen MAB, a Shakespearian fairy discussed in their English class. Elizabeth started calling him that as a joke. His full name was Martin Aaron Bailey.
The final page in the file included a copy of her divorce dated 4/26/99. If the dates were correct, she was comatose at the time of her signature. He needed to speak to Elizabeth—now.
Martin sped to the address listed in the file. The home was located on a well-kept dead-end street. Her traditional-style stone house and the landscaped property were the last on the block. He parked his truck and jogged up the flower-lined white pebble path before clanging the antique brass doorknocker.
"Coming." The sound of the shifting bolt preceded the creak of the oak door. Martin stood dumbstruck. Elizabeth's hair fell in waves around her face. She wore a sheer, white blouse over a flowing pair of bright-colored palazzo pants, her manicured feet bare except for a toe ring. "Marty, what are you doing here?"
"No one told you not to open your door without asking who's there?" The admonishment came out of his mouth like a harsh order. Elizabeth pressed her weight against the door, stopped by Martin's shoe. "I'm sorry. Elizabeth, I need to talk to you."
"I'll be back at the hospital tomorrow. We can talk then." Elizabeth shoved the door against his ankle. "Steven Keys or your own people will be happy to assist you until then.”
"Elizabeth, please."
"I have nothing to say, Marty. They awarded your man, Patrick Hedges, full surgical privileges. Austin doesn't even need me." Her voice quivered. "I won't be in your way anymore."
"Why, Elizabeth?"
"Why what, Marty?" His eyes locked on hers, and she gazed up to the sky. "Please, neither of us needs to be hurt again rehashing memories that should stay buried."
"What needs to stay buried? Please, talk to me," his voice softened.
A marked patrol car parked in front of her house as they spoke. Two uniformed officers walked up the path. "Elizabeth Reed?" one of the officers requested.
"Yes, I'm Elizabeth. May I help you?"
