Criss Cross

Chapter 107

Two days later, on the third floor of the neurology unit at Georgetown University Medical Center, an orderly wheeled Diane Jenkins on a gurney toward me. Her right arm was in a cast; her leg was heavily bandaged.

Her husband, Melvin, walked at her side. He came straight to me and shook my hand. “I’m sorry for the things I said to you, Dr. Cross.”

“Water under the bridge,” I said, then I looked at his wife. “You gave us quite a scare with that leg.”

She shook her head. “I’d never heard of compartment syndrome, but the surgeon said I’m lucky I didn’t lose it below the knee. How is Ali?”

I smiled. “Concussion, but no skull fracture. The gash is what caused all the blood and made it look so bad. And he was exhausted. Do you want to see him?”

“How could I not?”

I looked over at Bree, Ned Mahoney, and John Sampson, who were waiting down the hall outside a hospital room. The orderly pushed Mrs. Jenkins toward them.

Melvin Jenkins gazed at me, apparently uncomfortable. “Look, Dr. Cross, I’m deeply, deeply grateful Diane’s alive. And, well, I’m wondering if we have any idea where he put the five million dollars I borrowed?”

I put my hand on his arm. “We do. And I’m sure the person who has it will return it to you once she understands that the money went to her to throw us off M’s trail and implicate her in his crimes.”

Jenkins’s shoulders relaxed, and he hugged me. “Thank you. Shall we go in?”

I patted him on the back. “Melvin, I’d appreciate it if you’d watch on the feed. I need to do this alone.”

You could tell he didn’t want to leave his wife, but he nodded. “Right next door?”

“Right next door.”

He went to join the others inside an adjoining room set up with monitors so they didn’t miss a thing. The orderly pushed Mrs. Jenkins through the next door down. Before I entered Ali’s room, I paused outside, bowed my head, and for the thousandth time thanked God for the miracle of his survival.

They’d been giving my son fewer and fewer drugs the past day, bringing him slowly up out of a tranquilized state the doctors wanted him in while they assessed the extent of his injuries. He was semi-upright in his bed, and as alert as I’d seen him.

“Mrs. J.!” he said when he saw Diane Jenkins. “Why’s your leg like that?”

“I bashed it good enough to pinch the blood supply, and it got all swollen, so they cut it open to fix it and drain it,” she said. “It’s still draining.”

He gave her a slightly disgusted look that made her laugh.

“We’re alive,” she said. “Thanks to you, young man.”

Ali looked at me. “Mrs. J. did as much as I did.”

I held up both hands. “That’s why you’re both here. I want to hear everything. From the beginning.”