Copyright© 2019 by Richard Gerald
I do apologize for the delay here, but I was pushed off my schedule by circumstances. I want to thank all the readers who stayed with me through my health problems. This will be my last online story for a while as I have some other work to complete. Please email me if you can, and I will try to answer. I know some people like to leave public comments and do feel free, but unfortunately, I don't get online often enough to read them. With private comments, I can read them on my phone. Thanks again for staying with me.
Chapter 12
Lynda woke up in a hospital bed and breathing through something uncomfortable in her throat. She could hear monitors beeping around her, but she wasn't in a room. It was some kind of ward. There was a male nurse sitting by her bedside, and as she woke, he jumped up to get the doctor. He came back with a short Hispanic looking woman in tow. She was wearing plain green scrubs but was obviously a physician.
"Good of you to wake up for us, dear. You had me worried for a bit, but I think, we got all the poison out. The dose was too high for someone your size, but fortunately the paramedics started you on a ventilator and Naloxone," the doctor said. She had no accent, and on closer examination, Lynda could tell, she was part Asian.
"Steven?" Lynda tried to ask, but only a weak croak came out.
"Now don't try to speak. I will take the tube out in a moment."
The doctor was as good as her word and had the tube out of Lynda's throat with a flick of her wrist and a cough from Lynda.
"Steven is he, all right?" Lynda wheezed through her sore throat.
"If that is your friend who called for help, I believe he is all right, but he is not here. There are a number of people waiting to see you, but they will have to wait until we get you to your room. Right now, you are in the emergency ward. I didn't want to move you until I was sure you would have no further problems. Fentanyl is a dangerous drug.
"Just relax my child you are in a safe place. This is a secure area. There are guards and locked gates," then the doctor turned to the nurse, "Ok Sam, you stay with her until she reaches her room," she said, smiled, squeezed Lynda's hand, and walked away.
It seemed like hours before they moved her, but the nurse Sam chatted away the whole time not expecting her to do more than nod. He told her the doctor's name was Reyes, "From the Philippines, but you would never know it the way she speaks." They were in the Westchester Medical Center secure facility. When they moved her, she went on an elevator and came out to a floor guarded by an officer in a glass booth who operated two locked gates with a space between them just big enough for the gurney.
Down The corridor, her room clearly locked from the outside, but they didn't lock or close the door. They stationed two female guards outside to protect her. One of these women came in every hour to check on her. They were friendly and constantly cracking jokes ready to help her to a drink or more comfortable position on the bed if needed. When the shift changed one of the new women was someone, Lynda knew from her worked in the D.A.'s office, a sheriff's deputy named Brenda Sussman.
"Hey, how you doing?" Brenda asked deep concern in her voice. She was a big black woman whose upper body looked like she worked out in a gym which Lynda knew she did because once they frequented the same gym.
"Ok, I guess," Lynda croaked back.
Brenda smiled, "That's our mighty mouse." Brenda pulled her chair from outside into the room because her round womanly bottom was too large for the room's visitor chairs. Sitting down, she reached her hand over and placed it on Lynda's arm, her dark hand making an eerie contrast with Lynda's ghostly pale skin.
"Want you to know, we're all pulling for you, and don't you worry. To get in here, they'll have to go through half the sheriff's department not to mention that phalanx of FBI downstairs."
"Who?" Lynda asked, but Brenda could only shrug and say, "Don't know who all the bad guys are, but more reporters than I can count."
Lynda could only cringe and ask, "Steven Fitzgerald, do you know whether he's alright?"
"He's your man huh?" Brenda asked.
Lynda nodded her reply.
"Rumor has it the FBI took him, but they let the woman who shot the priest go. D.A. supposedly madder than a hornet. Wanted to examine her. That man smells a scandal, and he's on it like a dog on a bone."
"What woman? What priest?"
With that, Brenda filled in Lynda on the highly exaggerated rumors coming out of the Croton police department. Then Brenda relived her partner for her mid-shift break. Lynda had no idea of the time except it was dark outside.
Eventually, Doctor Reyes came in to check on her. "If you are up to it, there are people downstairs that would like to talk to you. Apparently, it is important and can't wait until morning."
"Who?" Lynda said feeling her throat getting better.
"A deputy attorney person who acts very important and lets you know she comes from Washington. Also, there's an FBI agent named Costello, who says he has news of your friend Steven."
"The woman is a Deputy Attorney General, perhaps?" Lynda queried.
"Yes, I believe that's it? Do you want to see her?"
"No, but I do want to hear about Steven."
"Well, I'm afraid it is both or neither. I'll send them up."
Perhaps a quarter hour passed before there was a commotion at the door. Lynda could hear Brenda arguing against another woman.
"No one but the medical staff goes into the room without an escort. "
The woman argued back in a voice that could only belong to a lawyer, but a firmer male voice intervened, and some agreement was reached. Into Lynda's room came a woman in a dark pinstriped dress suit. She was tall, thin, blond, and late forties to early fifties. She sported an over large diamond behind her wedding band and stone-cold continence.
The woman didn't say hello but pulled up a visitor's chair close to the bed and sat herself leaning in, "I'm afraid we will need to keep our voices low. The guards insist on being able to observe us. Fortunately, the FBI is here to distract them. My name is Nancy Reeves, and I'm deputy attorney general in the organized crime section. I've been sent from Washington to interview you."
"I understand, and the guards are just doing their job as they've been instructed. You see, this is a prison ward. The security rules are made for that purpose," Lynda said in a whisper forced by her raw throat.
"I see, well that explains I guess, and I perceive you are a local."
"I used to work for the Westchester D.A. office."
"I bet you wish you never left there, but I need to get to the point. What can you tell me about the man who attacked you?"
"Nothing, two men forced their way into my apartment and forced me to call Steven. That's the last thing I remember."
"They didn't say why?"
