Page 10 of Tropical Heat

“Ah, thanks for looking out for me,” slurred the man on the table.

“I’m not doing it for you, Hauser. Nothing would make me happier than watching them kick your ass, but I don’t want anyone to lose their job. You’re not worth it.”

According to his chart, the man’s BAC was .27. He claimed to have no recollection of hitting the deputy. At that level of intoxication, he was probably telling the truth. Not a hundred feet away, other doctors were attempting to save Deputy Cooper’s life, and I had to care for the man who almost killed him.

I reminded myself that although the man’s actions were reprehensible; he was still a patient and entitled to the best care I could provide. That didn’t mean I had to be polite about it. “Lay back and don’t move,” I ordered, before cleaning his wound with alcohol. While I stitched him up with the largest suture needle I could find, I listened to the conversation between Dante and the other deputy.

“Kunkle is bringing Patti in,” Dante said. “I want to be here when she arrives. Can you get Charlie to help you with transporting the prisoner for booking?”

“I will let him know.” The other man turned to leave, but Dante stopped him. “Platt, make sure you take him out through the ambulance bay. We don’t need a scene in the lobby. This one needs to be by the book. I don’t want to give Hauser’s lawyer any ammunition to challenge the arrest.”

“Understood sir.” When he was gone, I asked who Patti was.

“Cooper’s wife.”

As soon as I finished the last stitch, I returned to trauma room one, but the team was just finishing when I arrived. There was nothing left for me to do. There was nothing any of us could do but wait. The patient was stable but still in critical condition. He would be transferred to the ICU, and later, the surgical team would decide if his condition had improved enough for them to operate.

My shift had ended an hour earlier. I headed to the locker room to change, but made a detour to the waiting room and found Dante. “Play it straight with me, Morgan. What are his chances?”

EMS got to Deputy Cooper quickly and kept him alive long enough to give us a fighting chance. But with the sheer number and severity of his injuries, there was only so much we could do. Feeling Dante could handle the truth, I did not pull any punches.

“Not very good. The next 24 hours are going to be critical. The good news is everyone here is among the top in their field. But even with the best care, there's only so much damage the human body can withstand.”

He absorbed the information stoically, but I got the impression he was hanging on by a thread. “Over here Patti,” he called and walked towards the front door. I turned just in time to see a pretty redhead rush into the building with a young boy in tow.

When she spotted Dante, she calmly walked towards him and listened as he spoke. As a member of her husband's care team, I remained nearby, prepared to answer any questions she might have.

“We got the son of a bitch responsible for this. He’s going away for a long time.” Dante’s words appeared to be of little consequence to her. It was obvious from the red splotches on her cheeks she had been crying, but somehow had composed herself before entering the hospital.

I could not fathom the courage it must take to love a member of law enforcement. To always wonder when they left for work if you would ever see them again. The constant fear of the knock on the door that would change your life forever. What comfort could I possibly offer this woman whose worst fear had just become reality?

To my great relief, Dr. Ambrose came out and spoke with her. She asked if they could see her husband before he was transferred to the ICU.

The crumpled body of his father; swollen and bruised, wires and tubes coming out of it, was something no five-year-old should ever have to see. I caught Dante’s eyes and looked towards the little boy.

He immediately understood what I was trying to convey. “Hey Eddie, how about you and I go check out the candy machine at the end of the hall?”

The boy leaped into his arms. When they were out of earshot, Dr. Ambrose prepared the woman for what she was about to see.

Eight

Dante

Morgan hung around and helped me keep Eddie distracted. Even after Patti’s mom arrived, she showed no signs of leaving. I wondered if she took such an interest in all of her patients. “I need a cup of coffee. Do you want to take a walk?”

In the cafeteria, Morgan asked how we took Hauser into custody so quickly. “I thought it was a hit and run.”

“Witnesses provided dispatch with a description of the vehicle. When the call went out to be on the lookout for a blue F-250, I left the hospital and headed south towards the scene of the accident. Less than a mile down the road, I spotted a vehicle matching the description heading north. Its right headlight was out.”

I hit my lights and made a U-turn. The suspect immediately sped up. I pursued and called for backup. Despite issuing several orders for him to pull over, he accelerated, weaving in and out of traffic.”

“As we continued to pursue the suspect, traffic became heavier. Having already ascertained the vehicle’s plate number, and wanting to avoid another accident, I gave the order to break off the chase. Seconds later, the suspect lost control of the vehicle and slammed into Charlie’s Chicken Coop.”

Fortunately, the restaurant was closed at the time and no one else was injured. Jacob Hauser had been arrested seven times before for DUI. This was the first time he had injured anyone.

I noticed Morgan seemed distracted and was not really paying attention. When I finished, she said, “You did a wonderful thing before, helping with the little boy. Are you friends with the family?”

“I was Coop’s training officer when he joined the department. We hit it off right away.” The department shrink would probably say our shared trauma is why we bonded; we both grew up without a father. But the real reason we were so close was because we could count on each other to always have the other’s back.

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