Page 55 of Chandelier Sin
He gave a weak nod of consent.
Easing the stethoscope into my ears, I placed the bell to the patient’s chest, listening to his heartrate and counting the beats while observing his breathing.
Satisfied his heart sounded strong, I glided the bell downward, listening to first his left and then right lung, reassured they were clear. “I’m rolling you over,” I warned him.
He responded well to moving. A good sign. If there was internal bleeding, moving would be agony. The auscultation of his lungs ruled out a puncture.
Dragging up his shirt, I noted contusions on his ribs. An X-ray would confirm my suspicion they were broken, injuries consistent with a fight. There were no defensive wounds on his hands. He’d been outnumbered, or knew he had to take the hits.
I’d always seen myself as the protector of the underdog. This time was no different.
Only this was a fucking first.
His pain had him taking shallow breaths. Examining him further, checking for open wounds and not finding any, I tried to discern what I was dealing with as far as his stability.
I’d never been one for second guessing my first reaction.
I roused him. “We’re calling an ambulance.”
He shook his head, proving he, too, feared alerting the authorities.
“They can’t hurt you now,” I said, trying to reason with him.
“No,” he blurted out.
“At the very least, you need an MRI,” I insisted.
He shook his head. “No record of this.”
Jaw tight, I threw Eve a look of contempt that she’d not done the right thing. That she’d wasted time by having me drive all the way here.
“Who are you scared of?” I asked him.
Her husband was a reasonable guess.
Ben closed his eyes.
Hell, I’d call for an ambulance myself. Once the medics arrived, Ben could sign an AMA form if he wanted. At least I’d have done the right thing. At least I wouldn’t get sued for neglect or malpractice. Or stay awake at night filled with guilt.
I led Eve to the farthest corner of the room, lowering my voice. “He needs a scan to check for internal bleeding.”
She let out a sigh. “Just do what you can.”
“He needs fluids,” I added.
“Can’t you do that?”
“Why do you own such an extensive first aid kit?”
“Because I do.” She stepped over to the dresser and reached into the kit, lifting out a bag of 0.9 % Sodium Chloride and then ripping open the plastic protecting it. “Will this work?”
I snatched it from her and instinctively glanced at the expiration date. She shoved the sterile IV packet of coiled tubing into my hands.
She literally owned a combat medical kit. That’s what this was—an extensive collection for emergency field care.
These injuries were consistent with a warning.
Within minutes, I’d sited the IV into Ben’s medial cubital, in the bed of his arm. The vein being good, I used the Tegaderm to tape it down. With the IV secured, I pushed up from the bed and marched over to Eve.
