Chapter Nine
Anne shuddered, tamping down another wave of nausea while sitting in the cold sterile room staring at the machines and tubes that were connected to her daughter. Grace was slumped in sleep in the chair beside her. Spencer sat in the chair next to Emily’s hospital bed bent forward and resting his head on the metal railing. Four a.m., almost six hours since Spencer had called to give them the alarming news about Emily passing out at a bar. Arriving at the hospital in fifteen minutes, the scene awaiting them was even worse than they feared.
The emergency room doctor regurgitated mumbo-jumbo about her respiration being severely depressed, causing cardiac arrest... doctor-speak for “she quit breathing and her heart quit beating.” Why would a healthy twenty-four-year-old’s lungs and heart quit working? Drug overdose. Probably a combination of drugs and alcohol. Doctors restarted her he
art and hooked her up to a respirator.
Then came the infuriating questions. Did Emily have a history of drug and alcohol abuse? Did she have problems with depression? Had she ever been hospitalized for drug or alcohol use? How much alcohol did she consume on a weekly basis?
But when the doctor recognized Steven, her words in Emily’s defense were suddenly more plausible. Yes, it was possible someone put something in her drink. Blood and urine samples were sent for analysis and the doctors performed gastric lavage, fancy words for pumping out her stomach. Steven insisted they call the police.
Charlie called on Emily’s phone, returning Emily’s earlier call. “If I had only answered my phone, I would have made her leave that place. I didn’t hear it ring, and I didn’t realize she’d called me until I got home. I should have talked her out of going in the first place.”
Anne felt equally guilty. “It’s not your fault, Charlie. She told me about it, too. She wasn’t interested in being talked out of it. For some reason she was determined to go out with this guy.”
“Mom, she wouldn’t have listened to you. But I might have been able to talk her out of it. I figured it was too late, since she didn’t call me until right before she left.”
Charlie booked a flight to New York in the morning. She insisted on coming, saying Emily would come for her.
Anne was emotionally and physically exhausted, but tried to hide the fatigue and the returning nausea from Steven. He was in power mode, ordering everyone around and using his considerable influence to make things happen. He was like a dictator—a well-meaning dictator, but a dictator nonetheless. If he suspected she wasn’t feeling well, he would send her home or simply check her into the hospital. She had no chance of winning an argument with him right now.
Steven marched into the room, surveying the surrounding scene.
Spencer stood, keeping his hand clasped around Emily’s limp one. “What happened? What did you find out from the police? Did they talk to Denning?”
Steven’s jaw muscles clenched. “Yes, they talked to him. They don’t think he did it. It wasn’t long from the time Becca sent you the picture until Denning called Grace. In his statement, he claimed she was acting really drunk when they were leaving. He said she complained about feeling bad, sat down, and passed out. They never even left the bar.”
“He was still a jerk. He didn’t even stay with her until we got there. He left her passed out on that chair.” Spencer released Emily’s hand, pacing with long strides while he pulled at his hair.. “I should never have left her there. She’s too naïve, and I thought he looked like a sleaze. But, I was so mad she lied to me.” He paused beside Anne’s chair. “That guy didn’t even know where she lived—she barely knew him. What was she doing anyway? Why would she go on a date with him?”
“I don’t know, Spencer. She’s normally mature and sensible. But every once in a while, she gets caught on some tangent. When that happens, she gets really stubborn, and no one seems to be able to talk sense into her.” What could she say to soothe his obviously raw feelings. “I hope you’ll give her a chance to explain... when she wakes up.”
He moved back to Emily’s side, gently lifting her hand while turning to face Steven. “If it wasn’t Denning, then who was it?”
“Denning swears she had a cup of coffee and a glass and a half of wine. He said she was perfectly fine until after she started drinking the second glass of wine.”
Anne said, “I can’t even believe she started a second glass. She usually has a strict limit of one, and that’s if she drinks anything at all.”
“She seems to have broken a number of her normal rules for this guy,” Spencer remarked sullenly.
Steven continued. “But the tests showed an extremely high level of this drug in her system. If it was all in the second drink, and she only drank half of it, someone must have spiked it with a huge amount of this Rohypnol. We’re lucky she only drank half of it. And the doctor said she probably won’t remember much—the drug gives you amnesia.”
“Spencer?” Anne pointed her chin at Grace, still sound asleep in her chair, with her head cocked at a strange angle. “Why don’t you go home and take Grace? You’ve done so much.”
“Yes, Spencer.” Steven moved to grasp his shoulder. “The doctor’s tell me you probably saved her life with the CPR in the taxi.”
He slumped into the chair beside Emily, shaking his head miserably. “No. I could barely remember what to do. I don’t even know if I got any air into her lungs, and I couldn’t get enough room to do the chest compressions the way I needed to.”
“You did the best you could, and she’s probably alive because of you.”
“But we won’t even know if she’s okay until she wakes up.” His eyes dropped to his lap. “I was so mad, I wanted to drop her off at her apartment. I thought she was drunk. It was Grace who said it might be something more. It was Grace who made me call you.”
Steven glanced at her contorted form. “Then we’re thankful to Grace as well. But you really should take her home and get some sleep.”
“No, thank you. I want to stay until Emily wakes up. I have to. I can’t leave until I see her awake.”
Steven opened his mouth to object, but Anne caught his eye and silently bid him to her side. She whispered in his ear, “Let him stay. He needs to stay. Let’s send Grace home.”
Nodding, he roused Grace and guided her half-sleeping form down the elevator to be driven home. Meanwhile Spencer kept his bedside vigil with his head on the bedrail and his hand firmly clasping Emily’s. Steven returned to the room and collapsed into the chair beside Anne. She reached out to grab his hand and squeeze it.