Free Twisted Justice by Patricia Gussin Page A

five thirty. In a station wagon. They all left with their little tote bags.”
    â€œThey’re not staying overnight.” Laura felt a prick of panic as her heart picked up speed.
A station wagon? Could it belong to the guy who’s apartment Steve is staying in?
    Marcy shrugged. “Maybe he’s taking the kids swimming or something.”
    â€œMaybe. Steve said he had plans, but I didn’t ask him what they were. Tell you what, I’ll call you if I’m not going to be homeby seven. Or you page me if the kids come back before then, and I’ll see if I can get home earlier, okay?”
    Though Marcy nodded in agreement, Laura worried all day. Something was not right.
    By noon, Laura had made post-op rounds with the residents and med students. She felt nauseated and hadn’t had a thing to eat — refusing even a Snickers bar, her favorite. Scattered throughout the morning there’d been three surgical admissions from the ER, but only one requiring immediate intervention, an appendectomy in a healthy young man, which she supervised. Counting her own patients and those of her four colleagues, she had five in the ICU to watch over. One — not hers — had gone into kidney failure following the repair of a dissecting aortic aneurysm that had required all day heroics just to keep him alive on a ventilator. The others were in critical condition following major surgery, but when all was said and done, they were doing well.
    At four o’clock she headed reluctantly to the small alcove next to the chapel for the meeting with Mr. Sanders. Roxanne was already there sitting next to the tall, gangly attorney. Unexpectedly, Louis Ruiz, in a wheelchair, was seated on her other side. Both legs, still in casts, were elevated and protruding forward. Wearing a teal and black striped silk bathrobe with a gold sash, his jet black hair was combed neatly over his ears, his sad eyes seeming brighter. Laura looked from him to Roxanne as she hesitated at the threshold of the room and noted the tasteful décor in comforting muted patterns of beige and maroon. She made a mental note to use this room on those occasions when she had to deliver painful news. Focusing on the situation at hand, she felt irritated. Roxanne should have told her that Mr. Ruiz would be here too.
    â€œDr. Nelson,” Roxanne began. “You remember Louis Ruiz?”
    â€œOf course,” said Laura. “I hope your recovery is going well.”
    â€œThank you, doctor, it is. Allow me to apologize for being so rude the last time we met.”
    â€œPlease,” Laura said quickly, “I understand.”
    â€œAnd this is Mr. Sanders,” Roxanne went on. “I know you’ve exchanged a few words, but let me introduce you properly.”
    â€œIt’s Sam, Dr. Nelson.” The attorney rose and held out his hand to Laura. He held her gaze without a waver. “Appreciate your meeting with us. We know how busy you are.”
    â€œOf course. I should warn you that I am on call.” She took a seat in the chair nearest the door and placed her beeper on her lap.
    â€œThen I’ll save time and be perfectly blunt,” Sam Sanders began. “Mr. Ruiz was the victim of a horrendous accident. He lost his wife and two daughters. He’s left with three sons to bring up on his own and two are still in this hospital. His medical insurance is inadequate. The driver who hit him was legally intoxicated. He’s had prior DUIs. He’ll go to jail, but that won’t help Mr. Ruiz. The guy has no insurance and has no assets to attach. The only way we can help Mr. Ruiz cope is by suing this hospital for negligence in treating his oldest daughter, Wendy.”
    Laura stiffened. She could still see the small form, could hear the clink as her forceps hit the shard of glass in the aorta so near to the heart. She could hear the dying blip of the cardiac monitor as they lost Wendy. The same frustration