Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(34)
The index finger on her left hand was being clutched by a white plastic pulse oximeter measuring the oxygen saturation in her bloodstream and her heart rate. The results, along with her blood pressure, were being transmitted on the screen to her left.
Her right hand was covered in white plaster holding down the intravenous cannula. Blood had seeped through the tape, indicting they’d had trouble accessing the vein.
Kim’s eyes travelled to the woman’s left wrist and the circle mark she knew so well. She wondered if Jane would still rub it for years after the mark had disappeared. Would she now and again just feel, for a split second, like it was still there? The mind could be cruel that way.
Kim’s hand fell and touched the red band. This woman had moved her wrist considerably to try to free herself. There were the telltale marks between her wrist and her knuckles where she had tried to force her hand through. Just like Jemima. And Kim herself, many years ago.
The memory of her own six-year-old hand scraped raw by her numerous attempts to free herself was sudden and painful. Kim pushed it away and rubbed gently at the skin of the girl nicknamed Jane as though trying to erase it from her flesh.
Her thumb passed over an area of raised skin. She rubbed her thumb back and forth a couple of times, frowning.
She turned the wrist over gently and saw what she would not have been able to see last night. Four very definite lines of scar tissue ran across the wrist. This girl had attempted suicide, and she hadn’t been messing about.
‘Officer…?’
Kim turned to an attractive dark-skinned man she presumed to be Doctor Singh. His white coat was unbuttoned and revealed plain black trousers and a white shirt. There was a kindly smile in his eyes.
Kim briefly wondered how long it would take the NHS to knock that out of him.
He stood at the end of the bed and picked up Jane’s chart.
‘Our patient here suffered a depressed cranial fracture and was in surgery until six this morning.’
Kim heard a slight trace of his Indian accent but only on certain words. His voice was caring and warm, and she liked him instantly.
Kim knew that depressed meant that the injury had caused the skull to indent or extend into the brain cavity.
‘There are many types of fracture but only one cause,’ he explained.
Kim knew the only cause was a blow to the head strong enough to break the bone.
‘The surgeon has released the pressure on the brain, but she has scored six on the Glasgow Coma Scale.’
Kim frowned. It wasn’t something she’d heard before.
‘It is a scale used to assess head injuries from a score of three to fifteen. A score of three is the most severe, but any score between three and eight reflects that the patient is in a comatose state.’
‘What’s that?’ Kim said, pointing to a wire leading from the back of Jane’s head.
‘Intracranial pressure monitor. It is monitoring the space between the skull and the brain. It will alert us to any changes in the pressure inside the skull.’
‘Will she survive?’ Kim asked, adjusting her voice to match the doctor’s soft, gentle tone.
He took a few steps away. ‘We don’t know. Really she should not have survived the injury, but somehow she managed to hold on. We must hope she continues to be strong.’
‘Can she hear?’ Kim asked, realising he had stepped away to speak.
He shrugged. ‘I like to be sure, especially when discussing chances of survival.’
Kim understood. ‘Do you have any idea how long…?’
The doctor was already shaking his head. ‘I can’t answer that. The brain is more complex than any of us can comprehend. People we expect to survive often don’t and then others…’
His words trailed away and Kim got his point.
‘And if she does wake?’
‘Inspector, you are asking me every question that I cannot answer.’
His voice was still kind but with a hint of amusement.
Kim smiled at his easy manner. It was a bit like her conversations with Keats, the pathologist – only this doctor was pleasant.
‘Well, thank you for your help… oh, actually there is one more thing,’ she said.
‘Of course.’
‘There is something I need to check on her body but I wouldn’t…’
He nodded his understanding. She would never handle Jane’s body without seeking permission.
He stepped back towards the bed and drew the curtain around him. ‘Where?’
‘The back of her legs.’
He lifted the sheet and gently moved the woman slightly onto her side.
‘May I?’ Kim asked.
He nodded.
Kim gently lifted the bottom of the hospital-issue nightgown.
The marks were there.
Two one-inch red lines stretched across the back of her lower thighs.
Kim took out her phone and clicked a couple of photos.
‘I need to check her stomach.’
Doctor Singh placed Jane onto her back and lifted the sheet up to her midriff before raising her nightgown.
The line stretched just above her belly button. Kim snapped a couple more photos.
She reached for the sheet to cover Jane back up and then paused. A tiny red cut to the skin of the lower leg caught her attention. She moved around the bed, taking photos of the woman’s legs from the knee down.