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“Well, where have you escaped off to?” I say teasingly.
“Hello, this is Nurse Erikman from Hollybrooke United Hospital. This phone was on the person who is my patient. I assume you are a relative, or spouse?”
“Yes.” I croak, my throat suddenly dry.
“Good. Mr…?”
“Adams. Benjamin Adams,” I rasp.
“Mr. Adams. Isabella was in a motor vehicle accident. She was just moved into the ICU after surgery and is currently in critical, but stable, condition.”
“I'm on my way,” I say and hang up as I get into the elevator.
My mind is racing in a thousand directions. I dial for my driver and wait for him at the curb. While I wait, I call Maggie and inform her of the situation and indicate that I'll follow up on what we spoke about when I have a chance. She offered to come with me, but I declined. I need to see Bella, by myself. I need to make sure she's all right, to see her with my own eyes and confirm she is okay.
* * *
She lies still in the hospital bed with tubes and machines surrounding her. Her area has an eerie silence interrupted only by the constant beeps of the machines and monitors. One of the machines breathes for her, another machine is providing her fluids, wires are hooked up to her in all sorts of places and even though there is constant beeping, there's a thickness in the room. Her face, her neck, and her arms are blotchy and bruised.
I feel so helpless. The lights are dim, but bright enough to burn my eyes as I fight off the range of emotions that I'm feeling. I sit in the chair beside her bed with my head in my hands. I feel like I'm having deja vu. I shake my head and fall back into the chair beside her bed.
The room is bright and smells like hand sanitizer. Renae is motionless in the hospital bed, hooked up to wires that connect to hospital machines.
These machines are keeping her alive until her mother arrives.
“Brain dead,” the doctor said, his voice full of apology. “She and Mr. Hunter – her boyfriend – were speeding down the highway and were stuck by another vehicle. Her boyfriend was taken in an ambulance as well, but we believe he was discharged with non-life-threatening injuries. He said he would be right back, but that was hours ago. Who are you again?”
I clear my throat. “Family.” I'm not sure if that’s the right answer right now, but the rest I will have to sort out later.
Not even a year ago, I sat in this very hospital saying goodbye to my ex. Now I have to do the same to her.
A uniformed police officer knocks on the window, breaking me out of my past. I stand to greet him.
“I'm Officer Simon. Mr. Adams, I presume?” He shakes my offered hand and then motions to the chairs against the wall near the door.
I nod, then clear my throat. “What happened?”
“Ms. Dubois's vehicle was struck head on by another vehicle. The airbags deployed, but it appears that there seems to have been a malfunction. The individual of the other vehicle attempted to flee the scene; however, he is in our custody at the moment. The act appeared to be intentional based upon the scene and the actions of the suspect.” He pauses and clears his throat. “We would like for you to come down to the station when you can to see if you can ID the suspect,” he states. “I am hoping that you would be able to identify the suspect and hopefully you’ll be able to provide us with information pertaining to our investigation.”
“You can't ID him?”
“He's not speaking, he had no identification on his person when we picked him up, and his fingerprints are not in our system.”
“No facial recognition matches coming up with DMV searches?”
“That can take too long. If you know who he is, that's a hell of a lot quicker.”
I nod with understanding.
“Let me speak with the nurse and make sure that they have my number in case she wakes up.”
Moments later, I'm walking through the hospital flanked by two police men on the way to their patrol car outside. We arrive at their station and I'm directed to a viewing room. Officer Simon stays with me as the door on the other side of the two-way glass opens. A man, dressed in all black walks in, his head is hanging down, stringy dark brown hair shielding his features, which appear to have dirt all over them. He keeps his head down as he's moved by the policeman to the seat at the table. The officer takes the man’s hands and pulls them up to handcuff him to the eyelet in the center of the table. The man's head is still down.
“Was he injured in the accident at all?” I ask, not taking my eyes off of him. He seems familiar, but I can't be sure until I see his face.
“Miraculously, not as bad considering the damage seen on the vehicles. His airbags deployed, he has some bruising but his injuries are minor.” Officer Simon says as he reaches to the button to turn on the speaker so we can hear what's being said on the other side of the wall.
“—we need to know what your plan was with striking the other vehicle as you did.” The voice of the officer facing the suspect says with a stern tone through the speaker.
