Page 18 of One Left Alive
A woman wearing a pink stethoscope crossed the room towards her.
‘Doctor Andreas; are you the one who brought her in?’
‘Yes, I’m the officer who found her. Is she awake, or likely to be anytime soon?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. She slipped into a coma on the way here. Her head injury is severe and she scored three on the GCS which is the lowest you can get.’
‘GCS?’
‘Glasgow Coma Scale, it’s what we use to assess the severity of a brain injury. Three is the lowest, chances of survival are generally small, I’m afraid.’
‘But there is a chance?’
‘There’s always a chance; she’s young. We’re sending her for a CT scan so we’ll know more then, but there’s no point in you waiting here. It could be days, possibly weeks before she regains consciousness or, I’m sorry to say, if she does.’
‘I’ll leave my details at the desk. Could you put on her file that if she does wake up police will need to speak to her immediately? And Doctor… would it have made a difference if I had found her yesterday?’
Doctor Andreas smiled at her kindly. ‘Impossible to say, but perhaps not; her head trauma is severe. We can add the details to the file though, and we can set up a safe word so you can check on her progress without going through the hassle of trying to explain to everyone why you want to know.’
Morgan asked the control room to get the DS to contact her. A few seconds later her radio was ringing.
‘Sarge, the hospital suggested a safe word. Is it okay to proceed?’
‘Yes, absolutely. How is she?’
‘Serious, she slipped into a coma on the way here.’
‘Tell them we’ll use the word campervan.’
She frowned, not sure why, but not wanting to question him. ‘Okay, thanks.’ She passed the information on to Doctor Andreas.
‘Make sure you tell the receptionist to add it on her file.’
The doctor turned around. Two porters had arrived to take the bed in which Bronte lay down to the X-ray department. Morgan stepped out of the way and watched as the doctor, nurse and two porters expertly pushed the bed and equipment attached to it along the corridor. She left her contact details, that of the duty sergeant’s office back at the station, and a number for DS Matthews with the receptionist.
Walking outside, she suddenly realised she was stranded in Lancaster with no van or car to get back to the station. Unclipping her radio, she took it off her body armour and scrolled through the menu to find the list of recent calls, dialling the one the DS had rung her from.
‘Go ahead.’
‘Sarge, it’s Morgan. Is there more I can do here?’
‘Actually, I need you to stay with her until CSI get to you. We need to take her clothes and samples for forensic analysis.’
She felt her face turn red.
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.’
‘It’s okay, you’re not supposed to know all this stuff on day two. I’ve called the late shift CSI in early to come straight to you. As soon as I’m not needed at the scene, I’ll also be coming to talk to the doctors, so you can grab a lift back with whoever is finished first.’
‘Thank you.’
She ended the call, turned around and walked back through the automatic doors in search of the X-ray department.
Thirteen
Ben watched Declan from the bottom step of the basement stairs, giving him room to work. He’d taken samples, body temperature, room temperature and bagged both victims’ hands up. Not touching the faces, he turned to Ben.
‘Can I remove these cloths?’
