Jail's Bait: Parole's Victim (Book 4)

Claire lay under heavy sedation, thick white bandages wrapped around her face and shoulders. A cadre of specialists were being flown in at top speed, courtesy of the Hill family's personal physicians. Two of them were neurologists, set to work on Rena Howard's case. The rest were a group of plastic surgeons and skin graft specialists, who immediately got to work on Claire's prognosis, which was severe; Leo had clawed her face so deep in some places that there was exposed bone.

The staff finally arrived at the hospital and while the two cardiologists rushed off to attend to Rena the others gathered to consult on Claire. Everyone was in agreement; there was no way to restore her face to the way it was, no matter how delicate the operations could become. The most to hope for was to use skin grafts from other parts of her body to replace a bulk of her shredded face and lessen the pain until the grafting bonded with the new, healing part. In short, to keep her face as close to the original shape it would no longer be smooth- the rough raw patches would heal yet the deeper scarring would remain permanent for the rest of her life. Whatever the case, the severity of he injuries dictated that they be dealt with immediately- and so Claire was prepped for surgery and sent to a surgical room to wait while the best two of her assigned physicians went to dress and scrub up for the procedure.

"What do you think of her prognosis, doctor," one asked the other, lathering his forearms vigorously.

"I believe that we'll be able to graft a large part of the scarring, at least 65%," the doctor replied as he studied his wet fingers. "As far as the rest..." and he trailed off.

The first doctor looked somberly at his partner. "I know what you mean," he sighed. "We've sent for a picture of her originally, but it hasn't gotten here yet. To operate and try to save her face when we don't even know what she used to look like- it's going to be impossible."

"I concur," the second doctor said, finishing up and letting the attending nurse dress his hands with sterile gloves. "If we have to re-shape her face blind, there's no telling what we'll come out with..."

The first doctor was getting his hands gloved, and he looked at the second as the attending nurse tied on his face guard. "You ready?"

The second one nodded. "Let's go- and may God help this woman..."

*****

Meanwhile in Rena's part of ICU, the two neurologists assigned were carefully examining her case. "Do you see things the way I do," said the one to other.

"You mean the previously undiagnosed pre-existing condition..?" the second neurologist said, looking closely at Rena.

"One and the same," the first neurologist said, combing through her chart. "She never got tested for this before, so she was a walking time bomb and never knew. Luckily this Detective Clark was able to ID her so we could pull her full medical history."

"How surprising that she went through her whole childhood and never got hit on the top of her head before," the second neurologist exclaimed.

"Like I said, she dodged bullets all the way up to now, seeing as her anterior fontanel never closed up completely. Her having a lot of hair right on top probably kept her parents from noticing," the first one replied.

"It's not that common- and besides, her 'parents' probably wouldn't have known that anything was wrong," the second neurologist said mysteriously. "Look at the second page from the top."

The first neurologist flipped to that page, read a little- and gave a low whistle. "No wonder she was never diagnosed," he said then with newfound insight. "It makes a sad kind of sense."

"I said the same thing," the second one said. "It IS sad- not too many people would take the time to give an adopted child a more detailed check-up."

"These adoption agencies need to change the child protection laws to actually make them PROTECT these kids," the first one agreed, placing the chart down and coming over to read Rena's EKG. "The state just giving adopted kids the once over, a band-aid and a lollipop, just doesn't cut it sometimes."

"So it was the blow to the head that put her into this coma," the second one asked.

"The blunt force trauma compromised her fontanel, breaking the posterior membrane- and if we can't bring the swelling down around the brain tissue she could stroke out," the first one replied grimly. "Whoever did this couldn't know that even the slightest tap on the top of her head would have put her in here regardless," he added.

"The second devil in this game is- even if we relieve that pressure, she'll probably remain comatose for the rest of her life," the second neurologist said darkly.

*****

"Excuse me, miss..."

The receptionist downstairs at the ER looked up to see the most attractive older man, dark haired and tall, dressed in a flattering sweater and matching dark slacks, with hints of gray here and there in his magnificently dark chin-beard that extended down almost to his chest. It almost reminded her of the prophets of old...

"How can I help you," she asked with a come-hither smile.

"I was just wondering on the condition of a... Claire Clark," he said, dark eyes twinkling in a suggestive manner that made the heat rise to the receptionist's face. "She was brought in tonight."

"Oh, yes, I know who you are talking about- dreadful, just dreadful," she replied with a shudder. "She's in surgery at the moment."

"I would like to see her when she's back in her room," he said, leaning inward, the receptionist catching a whiff of his exotic cologne.

I-I'm sorry," she flustered, "but that information is for family members only at this time."

"Oh? Well, let's just say I'm her ...brother-in-law," he demurred; "well, I used to be, if you know what I mean," he chuckled amicably.

"I understand," the receptionist said, her eyes betraying her obvious attraction to him. "I guess that'll be ok." Her fingers flew across the computer, every so often looking up at the man, her smile full of suggestive promise.

He smiled back. "Do you show anything on her condition," he asked again.

The receptionist read the screen. "Its touch and go right now," she said seriously; "she'll be out of surgery soon. Yet her facial scars are extensive- she may never look the same again."

"Wow," he whistled, a stunned look on his handsome features. "That's horrible. When... can she have visitors...?"

"Well, that wont be for a few hours after she's out of post-op," the receptionist replied. "You could wait it out, or... if you'd like, I could... CALL you when she can be seen..."

He smiled licentiously. "And here I was going to give you my number anyway- but only if you're going to use it to call me, and not just for my ...sister-in-law."

"Oh, NO," the receptionist gushed, "I'd use it for... other reasons too." As she smiled at him, he noticed that her nipples had begun to peak through her uniform.

His eyes arched as he nodded encouragingly to her, wordlessly picked up a pen in one hand, took her free hand into his other hand and wrote his number onto her palm. She giggled when he lingeringly released her hand.

"And your name is..?" the receptionist asked then, breasts perked and heaving innocuously.

"It's Lionel," he answered politely- "Lionel Jenkins." He held her gaze another moment, and then he backed away, blowing her a kiss that titillated her all over. "Call me when she's awake, okay?" he smiled again, turning to head for the ER entrance.

"Maybe even before then," she replied, absently rubbing her hand against her shirt, along the left nipple.

*****

Kap stood his ground as Marquis faced him in the darkened bedroom. “You think you can take me,” Marquis said, chest heaving, breathing hard.

Kap said nothing, he just cracked his knuckles.

“I just popped you across yo face,” Marquis spit with venom; “why wont you hit me back?”

Kap just stood there.

“HIT ME BACK!!!!” Marquis howled with anger, and grabbed a vase off his nightstand and hurled it to the floor. Yet because the floor was laid with plush carpeting, all the vase really did was bounce and roll to stop against the edge of the bed.

Kap didn't move, he just stood and watched Marquis.

“Goddamn YOU,” Marquis said, coming over to Kap and swung again- but this time Kap grabbed his arm and in a air-defying move borne of his wrestling training, he twisted Marquis in one shot, slamming his back to the ground and simultaneously straddled his chest- all in a matter of seconds.

Marquis gasped with shock, heaving and struggling for air- while surprisingly Kap was un-winded. “Are you ready to calm down,” he said quietly.

Marquis looked at him- and burst into tears.

Kap sat on Marquis’s chest for a second longer, then got off and pulled the sobbing man towards his own chest as Marquis cried on.

The door softly opened, Carmen and Angelina peeking inside. Kap looked up and his eyes locked with Carmen’s.

Thank you, she mouthed wordlessly, a look of relief on her face.

Kap smiled quietly, nodding at Carmen as he soothed Marquis’s back.

The girls ducked back out of the room and closed the door softly. “Are you okay,” Angelina said, putting her arms around Carmen and kissing her lips.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Carmen said as they sat down on the floor outside Marquis's bedroom door. Carmen laid her head on Angelina’s shoulder, her eyes watering. “He scared me for a second, but I know where that came from. This whole night- it was too much to handle at once; anyone would crumble.”

“It really doesn’t seem that just this morning we were graduating from high school, does it..?” Angelina reflected.

“I almost forgot that,” Carmen half-laughed. “Wow, that feels like it happened last year…” she smiled through her tears. After a moment she cleared her throat. “He needs to vent- and I couldn’t get that out of him.” She looked over at Angelina. “There are some things only a girlfriend can do, there are some things only a best friend can do, and then there are some things only the love of your life can do…”

*****

Inside the room Kap and Marquis quietly sat on the floor with their back against the great bed, side by side. Kap still had his arm around Marquis’s shoulder, and Marquis was holding onto his hand with a vice grip, staring out of the window.

After a time Marquis whispered, still staring out of the window, “I’m sorry.”

After a time Kap finally answered him, also staring out of the window. “For what..?” And Marquis knew what he meant.

And so they sat there, staring out at the dark night.