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“CT-scan,” Lisa informs me as she wheels the girl’s bed out into the hallway, just as I’m approaching.
The head injury would be of first concern, and given she was unconscious and has a substantial laceration on the back of her skull, it’s a definite possibility. I’m sure they’ll be taking a closer look at her leg in radiology after. Unfortunately, if that break is as complex as I think it is, she’ll likely have to be transferred to Spokane. We are a small hospital and don’t have all the specialized departments the medical centers in the big city do.
I poke my head into the walk-in clinic’s waiting room to find it empty, and end up wandering into the lobby to wait for Bridget’s mother.
I’m surprised to see Rick leaning against Mildred Gessler’s desk.
Rick
* * *
“What are you doing here?”
I turn my head as Dana walks up.
“Hey.”
A smile slides over my face the moment I see her. A pleasant diversion from the job I’m here to do.
I happened to be in the office when the first reports from the accident scene came in. The deputy who responded to the initial call needed backup to help figure out what exactly happened, so Hugo sent me.
Even though the victims had already been transported, it was a tough scene. Finding out most of the blood soaking into the asphalt belonged to a little girl, whose bike lay mangled on the side of the road, made it even harder.
There’d been a witness, the older driver of a delivery van, who was so rattled at what he’d seen, he was physically shaking and was barely able to get his words out. Concerned about his well-being, I thought it was best to get him checked out and offered to drive him. I figured I’d kill two birds with one stone and check in on the victims at the same time.
The shaky old man was just taken into the back by a nurse.
“Following up on an MVA on Boone, south of West Lincoln. I actually brought in a witness to be checked out—he wasn’t feeling well—and was hoping to get an update on the victims.”
“I’m not sure about the condition of the driver, but I was working on the little girl and she is in pretty rough shape. She did regain consciousness and was able to communicate a little, but she may need to be transferred to Spokane. We’re waiting for test results to get a better picture of her condition.”
“She talked?”
“Gave me her name and I was able to contact her mom. I’m actually waiting for her now, she’s on her way.”
My relief is like a punch in the stomach, and I take a moment to catch my breath. Then I pull my notebook and pen from my jacket pocket.
“What’s her name?”
“Bridget Larson. Her mom’s name is Sandy.” Dana suddenly narrows her eyes on me and puts a hand on my arm. “Are you all right? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. Blame it on lack of sleep,” I add with a grin and a wink, hoping to distract her.
But all I do is draw the attention of the white-haired volunteer, whose ears visibly perk up at my attempt at an inside joke, and who is now eyeing us with avid interest.
Dana is visibly uncomfortable with the sudden scrutiny and drops her hand from my arm.
“Is there a quiet place where I can ask you a few more questions about the girl’s condition, and maybe talk with the mother, when she gets here?”
She nods. “Yes, of course.” Then she turns to the volunteer. “Mildred, when Sandy Larson gets here, could you please send her straight through to the clinic?”
I follow her into a small, empty waiting room off the lobby, and down a short hallway leading to a couple of treatment rooms and an office toward the back.
“Wouldn’t it be better to wait back there so we know when Mrs. Larson gets here?” I suggest.
“A buzzer goes off in here when someone comes into the waiting room,” she explains.
She turns around and leans her ass against the edge of her desk.
