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“I’ll have them waiting in the locker room. Hurry.”
I hang up the phone and dart from the restaurant. Fortunately, I’m able to snag a cab and get to the hospital in five minutes. I murmur a prayer of thanks that Arthur and Kate chose a restaurant in our neighborhood.
By the time I walk into the ER, Summer’s waiting at the entrance. She fills me in as we walk to the locker rooms.
“She came in an hour ago by ambulance. Unconscious.” Summer keeps her voice low as I strip out of my suit. She hangs it up while I pull on scrubs. “I think there may be internal bleeding.” She lists what they’ve already done and the meds they’ve administered.
I pull the top on and follow her out of the room. “Where’s her husband?”
“Down at the police station.” Summer stops speaking, but I can tell there’s more to the story. She doesn’t want to tell me everything.
I can’t blame her. Fury is pulsing through me, red hot. I’m about to rip this building apart.
“Summer. Tell me.”
She groans but finally relents. “Cops showed up for a suspected domestic altercation. Found Grace unconscious and called the ambulance.”
“Is he under arrest?” My hands flex into fists. He’s lucky he’s not here because I’d fucking kill him myself.
“No, but they’re investigating what happened.”
“As they should. It’s better he’s not here.” I head down the hall. “Where is she?”
“Exam room four.”
I stop outside the door. Keeping my voice low and my emotions contained, I ask, “Is there anyone here to advocate for her?”
“No. She’s alone.”
“Fuck.” I take a deep breath to calm myself. I need a level head before I go in. “Okay.”
I’m her advocate. The unspoken words take up space in my brain, expanding until they consume me with determination. I push aside the curtain and step into the room.
My heart plummets.
Grace lays quietly on the gurney. The wires and tubes attached to her look like something out of a science fiction film. I should be used to it, but no one should be complacent about seeing a young woman in such a way. An individual who should be full of life and vitality has been transformed into a bruised and battered victim of her circumstances.
Like Marcy had been.
Shit. I shove the thoughts aside and allow myself to fall into a familiar rhythm. I’m a doctor damn it. I can help her. I can save her.
I flip through a mental checklist as I examine her. Oxygen, fluids, medication, all good. Heartrate, elevated and irregular. The bruises on her face are now two distinct shades. Yellow—from the aging ones—and deep purple and red. Those are fresh. Fuck.
My examination leads me down a dark path. The suspected injury from yesterday seems to have worsened. There’s hemorrhaging beneath the skin of her abdomen and chest.
Summer watches from the other side of the bed with a worried expression. “What do you want to do?”
“I want a full CAT scan. The swelling on her face looks like it may be a fracture. I also want bloodwork done. What’s her type?”
“A-positive.”
“Okay, let’s make sure we have some on hand.”
“Got it.” Summer darts from the room. I can hear her barking orders on the other side of the curtain.
I rest my hand on Grace’s. “Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you. You’re safe now.”
A crew appears and wheels her down the hall to get the tests I requested. I follow behind, going through all the possibilities in my mind. I was on call today, but they didn’t actually need me. There’s no logical reason for me to be here.
