The Other Daughter Read Free

was to forget all about Russell Lee — a task he would gladly accept.
    Eleven thirty-one P.M. The countdown began, and the many subterfuges and manipulations that had started more than five years before finally came to a head. All rooms were quiet. All occupants were tense.
    The man who was responsible sat in the chair with tape over his eyeballs and ground his teeth into the bite stick.
    I AM POWERFUL. I AM HUGE!
    His bowels let loose. And he gripped the end of the armrests so hard his knuckles turned white.
    Love you, baby. Love… you.
     
     
    “CODE BLUE! CODE BLUE!” Josh simultaneously shouted orders and checked the little girl's pulse. “I need a cart, stat! We got a young female, looks to be eight or nine, barely breathing. Somebody call peds!”
    Dr. Chen rushed into the room. “Where did she come from?”
    “Don't know.”
    Staff and crash cart arrived at the same time, and everyone fell into a fast, furious rhythm.
    “She's not on the boards,” Nancy, the head nurse reported, grabbing a needle. The IV slipped in, followed by the catheter. Immediately they were drawing blood and urine.
    “She's running a fever! Oh, we got hives!” Sherry, another nurse, had finished snipping away the cotton sweatshirt to attach the five-lead heart monitor and revealed the little girl's inflamed torso.
    “STAND BACK!”
    The chest X ray flashed, and they fell back on the patient, working furiously. The girl's body was covered with a sheen of sweat and she was completely nonresponsive. Then her breathing stopped altogether.
    “Tube!” Josh shouted, and immediately went to work to intubate.
    Shit, she was small. He was afraid he was hurting something as he bumbled his way around her tiny throat like a water buffalo. Then the tube found the opening and slithered down her windpipe. “I'm in!” he exclaimed at the same time Sherry whirled out of the room with vials of fluid for the CBC, chem 20, and urine drug screen.
    “Pulse is thready,” Nancy said.
    “Assessment, Josh?” Dr. Chen demanded.
    “Anaphylaxis reaction,” Josh said immediately. “We need one amp of epi.”
    “Point-oh-one milli,” Dr. Chen corrected him. “Peds dosage.”
    “I don't see any sign of a bee sting,” Nancy reported, handing over the epinephrine and watching the doctor administer it through the breathing tube.
    “It could be a reaction to anything,” Dr. Chen murmured, and waited to see what the epi would do.
    For a moment they were all still.
    The little girl looked so unprotected sprawled on the white hospital bed with five wires, an IV, and a bulky breathing tube sprouting from her small figure. Long blond hair spilled onto the bed and smelled faintly of No More Tears baby shampoo. Her eye-lashes were thick and her face splotchy — smudges under the eyes, bright red spots staining her plump cheeks. No matter how many years he worked, Josh would never get used to the sight of a child in a hospital.
    “Muscles are relaxing,” Josh reported. “Breathing's easier.” Epinephrine acted fast. The little girl's eyes fluttered open but didn't focus.
    “Hello?” Dr. Chen tried. “Can you hear me?”
    No response. He moved from verbal to tactile, shaking her lightly. She still did not respond. Nancy tried the sternal rub, pressing her knuckles against the tiny sternum hard enough to induce pain. The little girl's body arched helplessly, but her eyes remained glazed.
    “Hard to arouse,” Nancy reported. “The patient remains nonresponsive.” Now they were all frowning.
    The door burst open.
    “What's all the ruckus about?” Dr. Harper Stokes strode into the room, wearing green scrubs as if they were tennis whites and looking almost unreal with his deep tan, vivid blue eyes, and movie-poster face. He had just joined City General Hospital as a hotshot cardiothoracic surgeon and had already taken to striding the halls like Jesus in search of lepers. Josh had heard he was very good but also seemed to know it. You know what the