Page 8 of Free to Fall

“It didn’t help.” I scribble a few notes on a clipboard. “Did our labs on curtain eleven come back?”

She hands me the chart. “I issued the drugs a few hours ago. You were right; it was PID.”

I nod as I affix my signature to the chart and instruct Karimat to discharge the patient when she has a moment. She agrees before asking, “What did Moser say?”

“Do you want the translation or the actual?”

“Both.”

“Translated? Our Mr. Doe would never be the same man regardless.”

“In Moser’s words?”

“That if ‘He survives this surgery, I’m looking forward to signing off on a night of paperwork from you people. Christ, you’re setting this man up for a lifetime supply of a vent—however long that is.’”

She sneers. “Lovely.”

“He followed that up with, ‘He’s lost too much oxygen and I can’t wave a wand to make John Doe into an organ donor.’” I slurp some more coffee before my eyes narrow. Placing the cup down, I shift away from the stack of charts.

“Where are you going, Gore?” she calls out.

I don’t respond. Instead, I approach the two men I’ve been studying. Their features so closely resemble my patient, it would be like someone placing me and my brothers next to my parents. My intuition is screaming at me, I just know they’re related to my “John Doe.” Working up my nerve to deliver the news no one in any hospital anywhere wants to deliver, I probe, “Gentleman? Can I help you? Are you looking for a specific patient?”

The bigger of the two bruisers circles around the back of me while the second one speaks. “It was you—you operated on our Pops.”

“I’m sorry. There’s been a number of people in this evening. Can you be more specific?”

“You took him upstairs.” The man describes the way I escorted my John Doe upstairs, the blood trail that ultimately led to his unfortunate demise confirms my suspicions. They’re related to my John Doe.

“I apologize. He didn’t have any identification on him. I didn’t even know his name.”

The smaller of the men clarifies their random statements. “Tiberi. His name was Aldo Tiberi. I’m his son Paulie. That’s my brother, Gino.”

A shiver ripples through me. Tiberi. Christ. You can’t listen to the news and not know who the Tiberi family is. They’re only the largest crime family in Connecticut, with ties to the larger ones in New York and Jersey. Still, I hold out my hand to shake the hand of the man in front of me. “Dr. Lockwood. I stabilized your father down here in the ER and assisted in the surgical trauma suite upstairs.”

He doesn’t accept mine. I let it drop after a few beats. Instead, he demands, “So, how long until Pops can go home?”

The next words are never easy, but right now, with these men, they’re causing an unease I can’t quite rid myself of. Still, I push it down long enough to ask, “Mr. Tiberi, would you and your brother like to come with me?” I gesture to a small, private waiting room.

The menacing voice behind causes me to jump when he sneers, “We’re fine right here, doc. Get on with it. How’s Pops?”

Right. Straight to the point. “Your father came in with a gunshot wound ...”

“I’m aware of that,” Paulie interrupts. “That shouldn’t have taken more than a few minutes to stitch.”

Taking a deep breath, I continue. “During the course of stabilizing him in the ER, we also discovered that he had been stabbed. That was the greater of the two injuries.”

I briefly explain the injuries and how I first observed them. A dark, forbidding silence envelops the three of us.

“But he’s gonna be all right?” Gino demands harshly.

Carefully, I outline all the organs and nerves that were severed with the upward thrust of the knife wound. Then I circle around to the news no one wants to hear. “Despite our best efforts and a team of three surgeons ...”

“Don’t say it,” Paulie warns.

The corner of Gino’s eyes begins to twitch.

My heart hurts for these two men despite the unspeakable crimes their associates have committed in the past. Family—however it’s formed—is a bond that even death can’t sever. Certainly the edge of a knife can’t. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss.” My head turns and I encompass Paulie in my condolences. “Truly.”

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