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“Probably. I’m on my way to examine them.”
At that moment, a knock on the door announced a new visitor. A stocky man entered.
“I’m Detective Robertson from the Drug Investigation Division. Sheriff Turner has asked me to conduct an investigation. I have a few questions to ask Emily Alvery.” The man turned to Matt. “Are you her doctor?”
“Yes. I’ve just examined her.”
“Is she healthy enough to answer questions?”
“I think she can answer a few questions. Mr. and Mrs. Alvery, I will come back in the afternoon to re-examine Emily and discharge her. Have a good day.”
He left them and went to knock on the next room, Marly following him.
“This is Tom Marren’s room. According to his report, he too had drugs in his system. He broke his arm against the door and suffered a concussion when his forehead hit the back of the front seat.”
“Okay, let’s visit the young man.” He entered the room where an older woman sat in a chair dozing. “I’m Dr. Winston. How are you doing Tom?”
“Not too good,” the teenager answered his voice groggy. “My head is killing me and my knee hurts when I turn it.”
“Okay, let me examine you. Marly…” The nurse helped the boy up and uncovered his back.
“Is he getting better?” the old lady said. “I’m his grandmother. He was staying with me for two days and look what happened. Just when the parents are in vacation in Las Vegas. They’re going to think I neglected him.” Tears filled her eyes.
“This has nothing to do with you, ma’am. I’m sure you were taking good care of him.”
“Nothing would’ve happened if that stupid girl hadn’t started a fight with Nick, pulling on his arm while he was driving.‘You’re going too fast,’she kept whining.”
Matt examined him.
“Your head may hurt for a few days. I’ll give you medication for the concussion. It would help if you avoided strong light. Don’t use electronics until your head feels better. Marly, I want an X-ray on his knee. They may have missed something last night.”
“When can I take him home?” Grandma asked.
“Maybe tomorrow. Tom, there’s a detective on his way who wants to ask you a few questions.”
The boy cringed. “What type of questions?”
“Questions about the accident.”
“Ah, okay. He should talk to Mia. It’s all her fault.”
“Just tell him what you know. See you later.”
“Who’s next?” he asked Marly when they stepped out.
“Nick Blacken, the driver. He’s in bad shape, and his mother hasn’t stopped raising hell all morning, threatening to sue the hospital, the school, and mostly the other girl, Mia Clark.”
“I see.” They were all pointing fingers at the person suffering the most.
Matt followed his routine, introducing himself and asking the boy how he felt.
“He can’t even answer,” the mother said. “He’s in pitiful shape, my poor boy. All because of that girl.”
Again? Throwing the blame on Mia?
Matt read the report. Two broken ribs and serious back injuries with several discs in the spine and neck area ruptured. Nick had more drugs in his system than the other two, and yet he was the one driving the car. Last night, the surgeon had operated on his back.
Like Mia, the boy was hooked up to an IV, receiving pain medication and antibiotics. Matt examined him, but didn’t ask any questions.
