Hostile Witness

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 32

"Are you family?" - Nurse/Intensive Care

"Yes." - Josie

Hannah wasn't beautiful anymore.

She was swollen, raw, shaved, bruised and broken.

Her face was red and black on one side, her skin shredded where she hit the pavement; microscopic flecks of blacktop were still embedded in her skin. A patch of hair had been shaved from the top of her head to her right temple. A long, ugly line of stitches ran from the edge of her eyebrow into the bald patch. A monstrous bit of machinery had her head locked steady, bolting her into a box that would keep her from moving if she ever woke up. One arm was bandaged from fingertip to shoulder. The other was in a splint. Josie could see the outline of Hannah's legs and breathed a sigh of relief when she counted two. Without her make-up, her piercings, without being able to see those green eyes, Hannah suddenly became what Josie had always argued she was - a hurt child.

Josie touched the sheets that were so tightly tucked around Hannah. Her fingertips quivered. Her arm felt heavy. The memory of the Davis children, dead under pristine white sheets, flashed into Josie's head. She snatched her hand back. Instead of looking under the sheet, Josie leaned forward and touched what was left of Hannah's hair and whispered.

"Hannah, what have you done to yourself? Hannah?"

Hannah didn't answer but someone else asked:

"Who are you?"

A small woman in big green scrubs walked into the room like she owned it. A surgical mask and stethoscope dangled around her neck. She glanced at Josie, grabbed Hannah's chart, spent some time with it, looked at the monitors and finally at Hannah, yet it was clear she was waiting for an answer.

"Josie Baylor-Bates." Josie slid her hand away from Hannah.

"You don't exactly look like a relative? Only relatives are supposed to be in here." The woman in scrubs hung the chart back on the end of the bed.

"I'm her attorney. The cops called my office. I just got the message."

"Attorney, huh?" The woman actually smiled. "Guess in some cases that might qualify as family. You must have got here before he did."

"Who?" Josie looked over her shoulder.

"There's a cop outside," the woman said matter-of-factly. "He's not supposed to let anyone in or out. I told him it's not like this baby is going anywhere any time soon, poor thing. I told him he might as well go home, but he looks like he's digging in."

The woman adjusted the drip tube on Hannah's IV. She looked at a monitor above the bed once more.

"I'm Fran Taglia. I caught her in emergency." Doctor Taglia stepped back, her expression one of compassionate detachment. "She doesn't look like a murderer."

"This one isn't even close," Josie muttered. "Do you know what happened?"

"Not the details, just that it was a car accident. They must have hit her hard." Taglia sighed and crossed her arms. "I'd like to say she's a lucky girl, but I don't think this kid has had a stroke of luck in her life. I was following her trial. I figured you worked things out, because I haven't heard a peep lately."

"We've had a recess. Unfortunately, we'll be back on the front pages when the press gets wind of this. She was supposed to be monitored twenty-four/seven."

"You don't have to worry about that now. We're a twenty-four/seven kind of place."

Doctor Taglia put her hand out and held onto the IV stand like she was leaning on a fence post. From across the hall came the sounds of Jeopardy. A muted call bell rang. Dinner trays clanged while they were collected. The scents of alcohol and medicine, bodies long unwashed, salves and creams overwhelmed Josie. Taglia was immune to it all.