Page 35 of Deception

“Good, because there were problems in Texas after the shooting. Some of Turner’s buddies thought what happened at the airstrip could have been handled differently, that she didn’t have to kill him.”

“You’re kidding.” From what he’d seen in Madison, he was pretty sure she would’ve done everything in her power to keep from having to shoot a fellow officer of the law. “I appreciate you telling me, but like I said, I don’t have any reservations working with Madison.”

“I thought you’d feel that way.”

Another call beeped in on Clayton’s phone. Merit Hospital. He’d asked to be notified of any change in Jane Doe’s condition and had left his number with the nursing staff in the unit. “I have another call I need to take. I’ll see you later today.” He quickly switched to the second call. “Bradshaw.”

“Good morning, Clayton,” the caller said. “This is Rebecca Temple in Surgical ICU at Merit. I thought you’d like to know our Jane Doe patient is waking up.”

Good. “Thanks. Is she still on the vent?”

“We’re weaning her off.” Rebecca chuckled. “This lady is a fighter. According to her chart, she’s had a remarkable turnaround, but she’s still very weak.”

“Has she remembered what happened? Or if there’s any family we can notify?”

“Come on, Clayton,” she said. “You know as well as I do our communication is mostly limited to yes and no answers until the vent is removed. But the best I can tell, the patient has no memory of being shot. When I put a pad and pencil in her hand, she was able to write ‘What happened?’ I imagine she’s very confused.”

“Will I be able to talk to her?”

“That’s what I was hoping for. It’d be good if you could tell her what you know.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Clayton quickly ran his electric razor over his face and then dressed in the park service gray-and-green uniform and strapped on his service pistol. On the way out the door, he grabbed a protein bar and ate it on the drive.

Five minutes later, he pulled into a parking space at the hospital and jogged to the front door. Rather than wait for the elevator, Clayton took the stairs two steps at a time to the waiting room.

21

Madison groaned as she returned the recliner she’d slept in to an upright position. By the time she’d gotten to the ICU waiting area, all the sofas were taken by the family members of other critical patients. She’d been lucky to find the recliner.

She stretched and then smoothed yesterday’s clothes that she’d slept in.

“Coffee’s over in the corner.”

She turned and nodded to the older woman who’d spoken. “Thanks.”

“You’re new,” she said. “I’m Caroline. My son’s been here a week today.”

“I’m so sorry.” Madison followed her to the refreshment center.

“Me too. He was riding a motorcycle, and a car turned right in front of him. They say if he lives, he’ll never walk again, but I don’t care about that, just that he makes it through this.” She poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Madison. “Who are you here for?”

“My grandfather.” She wasn’t ready to share that he’d been shot.

Caroline nodded. “Oh, by the way, there’s a shower in the bathroom around the corner—just knock before you open the door.”

It would feel good to get out of the day-old clothes. “Thanks.”

A man came out of the bathroom with water dripping from his hair. “Better grab it while everyone is in the back visiting,” Caroline said.

“You go ahead.”

“I’m going to take a walk while my husband’s here. Fresh towels and washcloths are on a shelf just inside the door.”

“Okay ... thanks.” Madison rolled her suitcase to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later she walked out, amazed at the difference a shower and clean clothes made. Another cup of coffee would only make it better. Then she’d check and see where Clayton was.

After pouring her coffee, she turned and almost dropped it. “Steven?”

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