Grievous Sin. Faye KellermanЧитать онлайн книгу.
been well populated. But that was during the daytime. It was almost nine, and most of the ancillary staff went home by five. The nighttime floor nurses must be occupied with women in labor.
Next to the nurses’ station was a lab room, its counters stocked with scopes, slides, and vials. A large industrial sink was mounted on the wall—stainless steel with a deep bowl like the ones at the morgue. The recollection made him shudder. Past the lab, down the hallway began a series of doors leading to the labor rooms. He peeked through one of the windows, feeling a little voyeuristic, and saw a woman, her bloated belly hooked up to machines, face contorted in pain. Through the closed door, he could hear panting, then an agonizing moan.
Stretches of empty pale pink corridor, the smell of antiseptics, hallways echoing feral growls—a real house of horrors. Maybe this was a nightmare. He was going to wake up any minute and find Rina safe, asleep at his side. A tap on his shoulder made him jump, reminded him this was all too real.
Georgina—her eyes on Marge.
“Excuse me, miss, but this is a restricted area.”
“I’m just accompanying Sergeant Decker. He’s wondering what’s going on with his wife.”
“I’ll be happy to help Sergeant Decker,” Georgina said. “Would you like directions out of here? It can be a maze.”
Marge nodded. Georgina directed her down the hallway and told her to follow the Exit signs. They’d lead her back to the lobby. Marge thanked her, threw Decker a sympathetic look, turned, and walked away.
Decker managed a sidelong glance at Georgina, feeling assertive and sheepish at the same time. “I was just wondering …”
Georgina took his arm. “Let’s go talk somewhere else. Hallways aren’t conducive to conversation.”
She took him inside the nurses’ station, giving him a seat at the front desk. The woman in the blue scrubs and the woman with the broomstick were still deep in conversation. There was a series of numbered monitors against the back wall, each one making audible beeps at different tempos. At least the pitch was the same. Hanging on the right wall was a blackboard with the labor rooms’ numbers, the name of the patient, doctor, and any specifics. Decker found Rina’s number. After her name was delivered, then the letters or along with the names of three doctors.
“She’s still in the operating room?” Decker asked.
“Yes, she’s being operated on,” Georgina said flatly. “I don’t know the nature or the extent of the procedure. All I know is they called in a couple of scrub nurses and an anesthesiologist. I’ll let you know more—”
“Are they doing a D and C?”
“I don’t know exactly—”
“Is she still bleeding?”
Georgina gave that all-too-telling pause. “I’m sure everything’s being done to control her situation.”
“Is she in imminent danger?”
“She’s in good hands—”
“That’s not what I asked you.” Decker stood, then felt his knees buckle. “God, I’m going to be sick.”
Georgina helped him back into the chair. She heard a high-pitched continuous beep and turned to one of the monitors. “I have to check on someone. You just sit there, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Decker nodded. Head down, he watched spots of light dance on his lap. He raised his chin, felt his head swim. Catching sight of something in blue paper garb marching down the corridor, he leapt up and caught her by the arm. The woman immediately backed away. Her head was still covered by a cap, but her face mask dangled by strings around her neck like an undersized bib. Her name tag said dr. wallace.
“Are you with my wife?” Decker whispered.
The woman looked at her arm still in Decker’s clutches. “Who’s your wife?”
“Rina Decker.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”
Decker released the woman’s arm. “My God, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Decker, I understand.”
Decker regarded her eyes—intense and purposeful, but not the kind of eyes that were about to deliver tragic news. Man, he’d seen that look before.
“Your wife is being operated on—”
“I know that. How is she?”
“She’s holding, but she’s lost some blood, Mr. Decker. We already gave her a pint of her own blood. She was smart enough to donate autologously before she went into labor. But she’s going to need more—another couple of pints. Before we start with the banks, we were hoping she might have a blood relative who can donate. Matched relatives are always your best bet for good takes on transfusions.”
“Her parents are here.”
“Then let’s go test them.”
Decker started to walk, but stumbled. This time it was Dr. Wallace who caught his arm. “Do you need to sit?”
“No.” Decker cursed his weakness and commanded his legs to be steady. “She has her sons out there. I don’t want to scare them.”
“Frankly, this could scare them.”
“It’s bad?”
“Don’t panic, Mr. Decker, I just don’t have anything definitive to tell you right now. Uncertainty is very scary for little kids. For you, too. But Dr. Hendricks is the best. And he’s as cool as a cucumber, in total control.”
Decker felt his throat clog. He picked up his pace, trying to keep step with Dr. Wallace. “What should I do about my boys? They’re perceptive.”
“How about if I talk to the parents, and you occupy your boys?”
“They’re going to want to know what’s going on. What do I say?” Decker ran his hands over his face. “God, I can’t believe …”
“She’s in very good hands.”
“If I hear that one more time, I’m going to throw up! How serious is her condition?”
“It’s serious.”
“Life-threatening?”
“It’s serious. Let’s leave it at that for now.”
“God, this is just a nightmare.” He heard his voice crack. “Is this unusual?”
“Not as unusual as you might think.”
They had reached the lobby. As luck would have it, the group was all there. Stefan had returned with the boys from the gift shop. Cindy and Magda were deep in conversation. Marge was leaning against the wall next to the complimentary coffeepot. She was the first to notice and pointed the others in his direction. Again he was met with expectant faces. But this time there were no smiles. Decker took Dr. Wallace over to the group.
“She need …” Again his throat swelled. “She could use some blood from a relative.”
Slowly, Rina’s parents rose. “Where do we go?” Stefan asked calmly.
“Come, I’ll take you,” Dr. Wallace said.
Sammy spoke up. “I want to come.”
Dr. Wallace said, “You have to be seventeen to donate blood.”
“I am seventeen,” Sammy persisted. “I’m small for my age. I already have a complex. Don’t make it worse.”
“I want to come, too,” Jake piped in.
“Boys, just stay here,” Decker said weakly.
Sammy yelled, “I want to help my mother, damn it!”
Decker