Chapter Two
AS THE SIRENS wailed in the night, Dr. Julie Banks and Stacy Mason, RN, alert and on call, quickly followed the ambulance in Julie’s car. The glow of the flashing lights illuminated the road ahead. Upon arriving at the hospital, they exited the car and sprinted to the emergency room’s ambulance entrance.
Tension filled the air inside the teaching hospital as Julie’s clinical partner, Dr. Carlos Garcia, already in place, took charge of Simon’s care, skillfully navigating the emergency room with calm determination. Meanwhile, Julie, focused and resolute, prepared to operate on Mr. White with her trauma nurse, Stacy, by her side, ready to assist and support her every move. The weight of the situation bore down on Julie as she readied herself to confront the challenge ahead.
“Don’t dispose of the gloves we used at the scene,” Julie reminded Stacy, her voice steady yet urgent as a nurse fastened a crisp, sterile apron around her. Although the atmosphere buzzed with an unspoken understanding, this was no ordinary situation. Julie, a trauma surgeon and part-time professor at the teaching hospital, had an obligation to explain to the students following her the reasons behind her actions. “Knowing the alleyway has been classified as a crime scene, it’s important to preserve every piece of evidence—even the smallest detail can matter.”
Julie shook her head, thinking of her friend Laura Wills, who had stood at the edge of the chaotic scene, clutching her phone to her ear as she relayed frantic details to the 911 operator. As she watched Julie and Stacy spring into action last night, she exclaimed, “Who carries disposable surgical gloves in their purse? That’s just…strange.”
“Did that include the clothes you put in the bag, Dr. Banks?” Darlene Lang asked, her brow furrowed with curiosity as she observed Julie and Stacy prepare. The second-year medical student had an inquisitive nature that often drove her to delve deeper into conversations. “I remember both of you carefully placing your clothes into separate bags and labeling them clearly. It makes me wonder—why would the police be interested in those items?”
“That’s a great question, Miss Lang.” Julie turned to Ryan Fair, a third-year medical student aiming to become a trauma surgeon. “And why is that, Mr. Fair?”
Ryan, ever prepared, stood tall and replied, “Because any evidence might have been transferred to your clothing or gloves while you assisted the victims, Dr. Banks.”
“Correct.” Julie glanced around the sterile, brightly lit room, her brow slightly furrowed with concern as she evaluated Stacy’s preparedness. “All right,” she said, her voice steady yet gentle, “if you’re not ready for the surgery, you need to sit this one out or watch from the gallery.”
The sounds of beeping monitors from the next room and the rustle of medical instruments filled the air, amplifying the moment's weight as she searched for her trailing students. She heard an “Aww” from Marla Rollins, a first-year, eager student who spent too much time preparing and missed most surgeries. Julie hadn’t yet decided whether that was intentional. At that moment, she couldn’t dwell on it. She had a patient who needed her attention.
With a swift motion, Julie nudged the adjoining door to the operating room open with her elbow, stepping into a whirlwind of activity. The sterile environment buzzed with the sounds of medical staff preparing for the upcoming surgery. Scrubs-clad nurses moved purposefully, their voices a soft murmur against the backdrop of beeping machines and rustling equipment. Julie's gaze fell on the anesthesiologist, who glanced back at her reassuringly, signaling that the patient was ready for the procedure.
“Okay, everyone,” Julie said. “Let’s see what we’ve got.” She glanced up at the gallery and noticed several students yawning in attendance. She had no idea why they chose to watch her instead of Simon, but she would ensure they learned everything she could teach them without compromising her patient’s health.
Rodney White was positioned on the surgical table, lying on his stomach, covered by a crisp white sheet from his hips down to ensure both modesty and warmth. With his head turned to the side, the anesthesiologist had easy access to his neck and face.
The room radiated a calm, focused atmosphere as the fluorescent lights illuminated the sterile environment.
After examining the X-rays on the lightboard mounted on the wall, Julie turned to Ryan and said, “What’s your assessment, Mr. Fair?”
As the student cautiously approached, Julie's sharp eyes tracked his every movement while she monitored the patient’s vital signs on the screen. Although the injured area was not life-threatening, it throbbed with an urgent need for attention, and Julie understood that any delay could complicate matters. She felt a weight of responsibility pressing on her, aware that time was critical to ensuring the patient's well-being.
Ryan cleared his throat from behind his mask. “Well, he has a laceration on his back that might indicate a hepatic injury. Without further evaluation, I can’t determine if this is a serious liver injury, such as damage to the hepatic portal vein.”
Julie raised an eyebrow at the assessment. “Miss Lang, can you tell if the hepatic portal vein has been damaged?”
Darlene nodded. “There isn’t enough blood.”
With a chuckle behind her mask, Julie said, “That’s the gist of it, but later, you both will explain to me—in detail—ways to quickly assess the potential severity of an injury before you start the surgery. Believe me, you’ll learn more when you open them up, but it’s important to know what you’re about to face.”
The two students nodded. “Yes, Dr. Banks.”
“Let’s get started,” Julie said, her voice steady and determined as she extended her hand expectantly. Just as she issued the first command, a sharp glint from an instrument caught the light. Stacy slapped it into Julie’s palm with confident precision in a swift motion, the cool metal pressing against her skin, signaling it was time to work.
Two hours later, Julie peeled off her blood-stained gloves, the slick crimson remnants a stark reminder of the intense surgery she had just completed. With a practiced motion, she untied her mask, loosening the tight fabric that had pressed against her skin, and finally inhaled deeply, welcoming the fresh air into her lungs. Julie took great pride in her surgical skills, always striving to leave minimal scarring on her patients. Mr. White was no exception. The precision of her techniques ensured he would heal beautifully, a testament to her dedication and expertise.
“Another great one, Dr. Banks!” Stacy exclaimed as she entered the room and carefully removed her sterile surgical attire. “He’s one lucky bastard,” she added with a playful smirk, her eyes sparkling with admiration and excitement for the skillful work they had just accomplished.
Julie nodded thoughtfully, her eyes surveying the bustling scene as her medical students peeled off their crisp surgical gowns and engaged in quiet conversations. Throughout the intricate procedure, she had maintained a steady stream of dialogue with them, guiding them through the complexities of the case and addressing their probing questions about various medical techniques and protocols. She loved her role as a teacher and surgeon.
Before she could thoroughly remove her sterile surgical attire, a nurse rushed into the room, urgency evident in her eyes. “We’ve got a gunshot victim in the ER!”
Julie sighed, a sound heavy with the burden of her reality. Being on call entailed more than just staying late. It involved sacrificing her time, her rest, and sometimes even her sense of self as each hour blended into the next in the demanding world of trauma care.
Julie quickly stripped down and rushed to attend to the next patient, leaving her students behind. The group would catch up with her before the subsequent surgery. She needed water and a quick granola bar, which she ate while navigating the maze of halls to reach the ER.
After an hour of sleep in the doctor’s lounge, Julie felt rejuvenated and prepared to tackle her on call rounds before heading home for eight hours of rest.
In the Intensive Care Unit, Julie observed Dr. Garcia engaged in a quiet conversation with the police chief. Their heads were leaned close together, a gesture that sparked an unsettling feeling within her. The intensity of their discussion made her heart race, and despite her efforts to dismiss it, she couldn’t shake the unease arising from the chief's involvement in her patient’s case. The weight of that connection lingered in the air, intertwining her professional concerns and a deep, personal discomfort.
“Dr. Banks,” one of the nurses said, “Mr. White is awake.”
Finally. Would he remember his question for her? She mentally shook her head. How silly it was to think about that, of all things.
“Dr. Banks, wait a moment,” Police Chief Ronald Wise said as he hurried after her. “I need to talk to that patient.”
Anger ignited within her, a fierce blaze fueled by her protective instincts. She understood the police’s need to interview her patients—those who had been victims of horrific crimes—but the urgency of their quest conflicted with her professional duty. At the very least, she believed she should thoroughly assess their mental and emotional states before allowing anyone else to pry into their suffering. “I’m not sure he’s in a state to speak with you,” she said, her voice steady yet tinged with compassion as she sought to shield the vulnerable from further harm.
“Oh, I imagine he’s spitting fire by now,” Chief Wise remarked with a chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Julie furrowed her brow, confused by the humor that eluded her.
“Do you know the patient?” she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and concern.
Chief Wise nodded, his expression serious as he stepped closer to her. They rushed down the busy hospital corridor toward the recovery room, where Mr. Rodney White was waiting. “You could say that,” he responded cryptically.
As they entered the brightly lit room, Mr. White’s eyes widened in astonishment at the unexpected sight of her standing beside the police chief. His expression hinted at a whirlwind of emotions, leaving her to wonder which had caught him off guard more.
“Mr. White, I’m Dr. Julie Banks, and this is Police Chief Wise. How are you feeling?” She took the stethoscope off her neck to examine her patient.
With a dazzling grin, Mr. White flashed a wicked smirk in her direction.
Before he could say anything, Chief Wise commented, “Hey, Doc.”
Julie faced the imposing figure of the chief. Her brow furrowed in curiosity. “Yes?” they both responded.
She quickly glanced back at the patient, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re a doctor?” she exclaimed, her voice filled with surprise.
Instead of giving a direct answer, he cleared his throat, his expression serious as he responded, “Doc, you owe me an answer to a question.”