Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
Forty-five minutes and more than a few traffic violations later, we pull into the emergency room parking lot at Bronson Hospital.
Without a word, we all scramble from Matt’s truck and rush into the hospital.
A large circular desk sits just inside the glass doors.
There are a multitude of chairs on both sides.
Most people are gathered in groups. We pause for only a moment, allowing our eyes to adjust as we search.
Sitting off to the right near a large window, we spot our father.
“How is she?” Liv asks as we hurry toward him.
“Unconscious.” Dad leans forward, supporting his chin with his fists, elbows on his knees. With only his eyes peering upward, he adds, “Your mother is with her.”
It’s Liv who settles into the seat beside Dad and embraces his arm. “What do you know and where’s Marty?”
His eyes close as he gathers his thoughts. “Deputy Morton was the first on the scene.” Dad’s Adam’s apple bobs as he sits up. “I don’t understand how or why this happened.” He stands, freeing himself from the vinyl seat, turns a slow circle, and runs his hand through his hair.
For no reason, the grayness hits me.
At one time our father had dark amber locks.
Grandma used to say it was the shade of the setting sun.
As he aged his hair grew darker, turning to a reddish-brown.
In my mind it’s a deep mahogany, like shiny wood.
Now, after years of marriage, raising four children, and doing his share to support them, the gray is overtaking the color.
The silver shimmers under the combination of harsh lights and afternoon sun coming from the large window.
My gaze lowers, seeing the deep creases in his forehead and small lines spidering from the corners of his tired blue eyes.
My father has aged.
Finishing his slow spin, Dad turns to us, lowering his voice. “They’re running tests. They said Julie is dehydrated, and they’re trying to learn more.”
My mind fills with the hodgepodge of medical knowledge I’ve collected through my work. I’m not a doctor and I don’t pretend to be. However, I have some understanding. “What kind of tests? Do they know why she’s unconscious?” Those are only two of the questions swirling through my thoughts.
Dad’s gaze catches mine before turning away without a response.
“Dad, what about Marty?” Liv asks again.
His expression blanks, the skin on his cheeks goes slack, his lips gape, and his eyes lose focus.
“Julie was found” —he exhales— “in an old gardener’s shed, far back on the McKenna property.
According to the deputy, the place is probably a hundred years old, hasn’t been used since before the McKennas moved off the property and their house and barn were torn down. ”
I imagine a scene in a show—my arms cover in goose bumps.
There would be worn wood slats along the walls with visible gaps for insects and vermin. Spiderwebs hang thick and sticky from every surface, complete with carcasses ready for the spider’s next meal. And the wood or concrete floor is thickly blanketed in layers of droppings.
Acid bubbles in my stomach as I push away the images and listen to what is being said.
“How did Julie get there?” Ollie asks.
Dad sighs and retakes his seat. “Deputy Morton didn’t speculate. He only said that they’re making the building off-limits and the county is coming in to do some tests. Guess there was some blood and other evidence.”
“Blood?” I ask. “Are you saying they’re considering it a crime scene?”
Before Dad can answer, Liv asks, “Other evidence?”
“Julie’s hurt.”
Hurt—that’s a word with broad implications.
“What about bites from insects and mice?”
Liv again, “How is she hurt?”
“She’s unconscious,” he snaps before shaking his head.
“I’m sorry. I only saw her briefly, but from what I saw, she looked.
..” He looks up with unshed tears glistening in his blue eyes.
He forces a smile. “I saw her again after they cleaned her up. You know...she looks...good. Like she’s just sleeping.
Some bruises. The doctor said her heart rate is very low. And she isn’t breathing right.”
“What does that mean?” Ollie asks.
Dad’s hand again goes to his hair. “It means she is breathing, Ollie.” His volume raises. “Your sister is alive.”
We all look from one to another.
“Was Marty there? Was it her blood?” My sister continues asking questions.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I guess, we don’t know. Julie was alone. And there’s something else” —he seems to gather his strength— “the reason the shed caught their attention.” We were all listening. “The door was padlocked from the outside.”
“What?” Ollie and Matt question in unison as their hands ball into fists at their side.
Dad nods. “That’s how they found her or why they looked. The padlock looked new for the age of the building.”
I speak up. “That means someone locked her in there.”
“Sheriff Manes didn’t say that,” Dad replied, “but I’ve been thinking, and I think that’s what he meant.”
If that’s true, she didn’t willfully do this. Someone in Blue Gil or at least someone at that party tried to hurt her.
“Where is Marty?” Liv asks for a third time.
Dad shakes his head as his eyelids lower, veiling the blue. “No sign of her.”
“Wait.” I say, beginning to pace. “Are we worried about Julie’s friend’s safety or suspicious that she did this?”
“No,” Liv says, standing. “Marty wouldn’t hurt Julie. They’ve been friends forever. And besides, if she had, she would be home.” Liv turns toward our father. “Are people still searching for her?”
“I think so,” he murmurs as he slouches back into the vinyl chair, extending his jean-clad legs. Mud from this morning by the pond is caked on the soles of his boots.
Liv stays at our father’s side as I turn, taking in the waiting room. It’s then I notice Matt and Ollie standing near the entry doors, speaking quietly between themselves. I move closer. “What are you two thinking?”
“Padlock,” Ollie says, his jaw clenched. “What the actual fuck?”
Though Matt doesn’t answer, tension is written all over his face: his features are taut and the cords in his neck have bulged to life.
Considering the productions where I work, my thoughts go in nefarious directions. “It seems that someone either intended for her to die out there or that person had other plans, like coming back for her.” My gaze moves from Ollie to Matt. “I’m scared about the tests they’re running on her.”
“Scared?” Matt asks.
“Why is she still unconscious? I’m going to go out on a limb and say there is one or maybe more illegal substances in her system. Were they administered by someone else or did Julie willingly take them?”
“Did Julie willingly allow herself to be locked in a shed?” Ollie asks through clenched teeth.
“Of course she didn’t,” I reply. “But how did she get there?” When neither of the boys reply, I go on, “The two possibilities are that she walked into that shed willingly, and most likely under false pretenses. Or she was drugged somewhere else and taken there. Julie is probably all of one hundred and twenty pounds—or less—but still, someone carrying her would make a scene. That would be something witnesses remembered.”
“Hell, I’ve never seen a shed on the McKenna farm,” Ollie says. “Have you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I’ve never gone as far back as the pond. When I was young all the excitement was in the barn or maybe into the trees.”
“So, who would even know it’s back there?” Matt asks.
“Someone did,” Ollie responds. His shoulders droop. “And what about Marty?”
“I have no idea.”
Time passes with bits and pieces of information.
Nearly three hours later, our mother comes out and takes all of us back to a room with a round table and a counter with a coffee maker, sink, and a small refrigerator.
“Your sister is still a minor.” Mom’s tired eyes move about the room.
“I want this family united.” Her gaze comes my way.
“We’ve been otherwise for too long. I asked the doctor who’s been treating Julie to come and talk with you.
I don’t...can’t,” she corrects, her voice cracking, “answer your questions. She can. This is to stay between us. Only us.”
We all agree.
The six of us are seated around the table as the door opens.
We’re joined by a tawny-skinned woman in scrubs.
She appears a bit younger than my parents, while older than the rest of us.
Wearing little makeup, her scrubs are covered by a white lab coat, and her hair is covered by a cap matching her scrubs. She introduces herself as Dr. Chaudhry.
“Hello,” we all acknowledge.
“Dr. Chaudhry,” my mother says, “we’re all family here. I want to be open with them.”
“Mrs. Thorne, Shannon” —Dr. Chaudhry looks at my mom with a steady expression that suggests she excels at bedside manner before she turns toward the table— “asked me to talk to you. This information is to remain with the family. The Blue Gil police have asked that only minimal information be released to the public.”
Collectively, we nod our agreement.
“First the good news,” the doctor begins, “Julie’s breathing has improved.
Her oxygen levels are at ninety-six. When she was first found, they were near sixty.
She was immediately put on supplemental oxygen.
We’ve successfully removed that. There is significant evidence to indicate strangulation.
Though external bruising is minimal, there is swelling inside her neck.
Julie has fluid in her lungs. This could be from the injury or her reaction to the combination of drugs.
We’re assessing the damage to the carotid arteries.
There can be some long-term effects. If the bleeding continues, clots could form, or if she sustained prolonged lack of oxygen to her brain. ”
“Brain damage?” Liv asks.
“Your sister is responding to stimuli. That is exceptionally good.”
The tension around us builds as we wait for the not-good news.
Dr. Chaudhry continues, “Your daughter and sister has many substances in her system: alcohol, marijuana, and cocaine. We’re waiting for more tests.
The substances that were found stay in the blood for anywhere from two to thirty days.
We can only assume they were introduced last night.
We can’t know that for certain until we do more tests and speak to Julie.
When she was found, she was severely dehydrated.
She’d expelled bodily fluids while in that shed.
” The doctor pauses. “The vomit and excrement suggest her body was doing its part to rid her of the toxins. Vomiting can also be the body’s reaction to loss of oxygen. ”
Vomit, urine, and diarrhea...no wonder they needed to clean her.
“Did she lose a lot of blood?” I ask, wanting to know about the blood my father had mentioned.
The doctor’s gaze goes to my mother, who nods, and back to us. “It appears Julie was assaulted.”
“Beat up?” Ollie asks.
Liv sucks in a breath. “Raped?”
“Not exactly,” Dr. Chaudhry says to Ollie. She then turns to Liv. “There is no evidence of semen or contraceptive. The deputy found some old gardening tools that are believed to be the instrument used by whoever did this.”
“Oh my God,” Liv whispers as she lowers her head to Matt’s shoulder.
“Will she be all right?” I ask.
“Physically,” the doctor says, “time will tell. We were able to suture the lacerations. There were minimal vaginally. However, rectal tissue is more likely to tear. With the incontinence that followed, we need to concentrate on infection. For that reason, your parents have decided to keep Julie in an induced state of unconsciousness. This will give her body time to heal.”
When I turn to my parents, my father’s arm is around my mother, and her head is on his shoulder. I’m almost certain she already informed him, but by the expressions on everyone else’s faces, we are all in a collective state of shock and dismay.