heartbeats Lance warned her about were out of place at best. Their patient didn’t wear a medical alert bracelet that gave witness to any serious medical conditions. A Colorado driver’s license identified him as Casper English. Age thirty-four. Five foot nine. One hundred and eighty pounds.
Another nurse, Katie, pulled a photo from another of Mr. English’s pockets. Her eyes locked Ashley’s in terror as the red blood cells in her face scurried elsewhere, leaving her pink cheeks washed white. “It’s you,” she stammered.
“What?”
The young nurse held out a shaky hand. “The photo in his pocket is of you.”
Ashley plucked the photo from her fingers—the image of her at her medical school graduation. Why would a stranger have this photo? She swallowed past the tension in her throat.
First things first. If I want answers, I have to save his life.
Two police officers huddled in the hall. A man found beaten in the woods certainly warranted their notification by the ER staff. His socks and shoes were missing. His shirt torn...no, sliced up the middle by something razor-sharp. A pair of worn, tattered jeans the only barrier left to protect him from the biting wind.
Why do you have my picture? The thought became intrusive. She tried to shove it away.
“What’s his temperature?” Ashley asked.
“Ninety-three degrees,” Lance replied.
“He has hypothermia. His heart doesn’t like this low body temperature and if we don’t get a handle on it, we’re going to have more problems on our hands. Warm blankets. Lots of them. Let’s get those IV fluids warmed up, as well.”
Ashley frowned and gathered her dark brown hair into one of the ponytail holders she always kept on her wrist.
So much for getting off work on time. Lord, would it be too much to ask to have an end of shift without a major crisis?
As a favor to the night shift physician, Ashley had agreed to examine the mysterious arrival that had been dropped off by a stranger and his dog. The man who’d left him hadn’t wanted to answer many questions. Ashley hadn’t thought she’d walk in to find a critical patient flirting with the grim reaper.
In a flurry of activity, Lance changed out the IV tubing so the fluid ran over a warming plate. Several heated blankets were placed over their patient. Katie grabbed a set of hot lights and set them over the ER gurney, their patient like fast food waiting for delivery.
Ashley placed two fingers in the groove of the unconscious man’s right wrist, finding his pulse under hers like a weak echo. His face and torso were a road map of fury to whomever Casper had run into on this bitterly cold night. Angry circular bruises of various sizes and shapes dotted his skin. Some were clearly triangular shaped, indicating an object had been used to create the injury driven into his skin at high velocity. The tip of a boot? Ashley’s fingers traveled up his forearm. His skin was cold, doughy under her touch. She pulled his arm away from his torso, looking for any injuries that could be more life-threatening than the hypothermia he was suffering from.
Are you a stalker? Is that why you have my picture? And if you are, why has someone beaten you? To protect me?
Working in the ER lent credence to this question. He wouldn’t be the first patient to take an unusual interest in her.
Ashley returned her attention to the unconscious man. Severely beaten was an understatement. In fact, he might find death a welcomed relief compared to the pain he would be suffering when his brain reengaged with this world. At least, Ashley hoped he would find his way back.
What little information they’d garnered from the Good Samaritan was he’d been found while he was out walking his dog in the woods. Upon discovering him, he then carried him to his truck and brought him here. It had been easier to lay him in the open bed of the pickup and he figured the short drive wouldn’t do any harm. That ride likely worsened their patient’s hypothermia. The story was strange and the actions of his rescuer somewhat odd, but it definitely wasn’t the tallest tale Ashley had heard in her years as an ER doctor.
What was Casper doing in the woods? Alone, all by himself? Essentially left to die.
The monitor triple-beeped—its better-pay-attention-to-the-patient-because-he’s-trying-to-die tone. Everyone in the room glanced at the mysterious man’s heart tracing and each knew in their gut this man was starting to circle the drain.
“Start CPR. Get the defibrillator pads on him,” Ashley ordered.
The ER tech and Lance turned Casper on his side and slid a CPR board underneath his back. As the tech started CPR, Lance placed two large white adhesive patches on Casper’s skin.
“Charge to one-hundred-and-sixty joules,” Ashley said.
Katie dialed in the electricity. The machine toned it was ready. “Everyone clear!” she yelled.
The medical staff close to the bed backed up one step. The man’s body jerked slightly as the electricity coursed through his chest. Within seconds of the shock, the man’s eyes bolted open and he sat straight up in bed, his brown, nearly black eyes wide with confusion. He grabbed Katie’s wrist and held it firmly, his breath heaving.
Ashley’s heart galloped in her chest. She’d heard stories like this, about a shock waking a patient up, but never had she seen it. She took three quick steps to the bedside and rested a gentle hand on her patient’s shoulder, hoping her touch was reassuring enough to calm him down.
“Sir, you’re at Castle Peak Medical Center in the emergency department. I’m Dr. Ashley Drager. You were brought here after someone found you unconscious.” Ashley smoothed her hand down his arm over the tense muscles to his hand that held viselike onto the nurse. “Please, let her go. You’re safe here.”
The man’s eyes locked her gaze. A flash of something, perhaps recognition, was gone as quickly as it came. Did he know her? Would he be able to tell her about why he had her picture? All that remained in the darkness of his irises was terror.
“Do you remember what happened to you?” Lance asked.
Ashley curled her fingers around her patient’s and began to pull his appendages up one at a time. The man allowed her to do so and when the last one was released, Katie rubbed her wrist, the skin reddened from the grip.
“Do you know your name?” Ashley asked.
The man blinked at her several times and remained silent.
“Your driver’s license states your name is Casper English. Is that correct?”
He began to shiver. Ashley walked to the warmer and grabbed another blanket. Her patient remained sitting, and she unfolded the worn cotton to drape over his shoulders. Just as she was about to release the linen, she saw the tattoo that branded him between his shoulder blades. The medical staff inked in black superimposed over a blazing red biohazard symbol.
Identical to the one her father had. In the same exact spot as his.
Her missing father. Gone for just over two years.
Ashley began to tremble and held the warmed blanket to her chest to drive the chill away. Her mouth gaped open, her lungs hungry for air but seemingly
