Chapter 24

I wasn't sure how much time passed but I awoke in the hospital. My mouth felt like someone has pissed in it and then used a pair of dirty underwear to soak up the urine.

My head was hazy and the room was dark. My chest felt like it might have been where the elephant had stood when it pissed in my mouth. I didn't even have enough energy to lift my head. My throat was too dry to make a croaking sound. My left arm was in a sling and the nurses call button was on the left side.

I figured I was fucked as far as getting someone to notice that I was awake so I fell back to sleep. I awoke some time later to find Carrie sitting beside me looking at me.

I tried to smile but I don't think it worked.

She was out of her seat in an instant and frantically pressing the button I couldn't reach.

Soon the room was a bustle of activity.

"You gave us quite a scare, Mr. Cavenaugh," I remember a doctor saying as he checked a host of machines that surrounded my bed.

I tried to croak out something but no sound came. I tried coughing and it was only marginally more successful. At least the nurse got me some ice chips. As soon as the coolness hit my throat I felt 10 times better.

"What happened?" I asked when the ice soothed my throat enough to speak.

"We'll talk later," Carrie answered.

I nodded before the doctor spoke again.

"You had some trouble with the anesthetic," the doctor said. "We had a great deal of trouble waking you up."

"It wouldn't have been nearly as much trouble if you would have put the call button on the side without a cast," I mumbled. "I woke up a couple of times before but there was no way I could let anyone know so I went back to sleep."

The doctor looked down at the call button and then at my sling. He then shot a pointed looked at a blushing nurse.

"How long ago did you awaken?" the doctor asked.

"How in the hell would I know?" I asked.

"Of course, of course," the doctor said.

"If you would have let me stay here like I wanted to there wouldn't have been a problem," I heard Carrie say. I reached across the pat her hand that was on my arm.

"Jesus, what a stupid idea that was," I said to change the subject. "It seemed so much easier in my head."

Carrie tightened her grip on my hand and shook her head. With her eyes she glanced at the medical personnel in the room.

"You're actually very lucky," the doctor intoned pompously. Or at least it sounded pompously to me.

"Yes, you've told everyone who will listen how lucky he is," Carrie said with disgust. "We know. He knows. Now how is he?"

I felt guilty about the pain that was evident in Carrie's face. I hoped the Lemons was sufficiently out of commission that he didn't harm her or my daughter. Then it hit me: Kasey wasn't in the room.

"Where is Kasey?" I asked quickly. "She's OK, right?"

The nurse was telling me to calm down but there was no way I could.

I felt tears on my cheeks and then Carrie's finger drying them.

"She's fine, hon," Carrie said. "She is just fine. We both are just fine thanks to you. But she's only 17 and Dr. Douchebag here refuses to let her in to see you for even a moment. Hon, you're still in ICU."

"Well then get me the fuck out of ICU," I told the doctor. "Or get me an administrator in here this very minute."

The doctor's face was red and I could see he was battling with his temper. I didn't really give a fuck.

"You can leave ICU when I say you can," he said with an arrogant tone.

"Then you better say I can with your next sentence or you better remember that one day I will get out of here and you really don't want to see what happens next," I said.

"Oh, he's already going to get the shit kicked out of him," Carrie said. "Kelly and Elizabeth are already on the warpath so you know his days here are numbered."

I couldn't suppress a chuckle.

"You poor fucker," I said. "You're too full of yourself to even realize how deeply you stepped in the shit pile. My ex-wife is an expert at making people's lives miserable. Elizabeth Drayton is called the Dragon Lady. They might not even find your body."

"Oh, Elizabeth is one unhappy camper," Carrie confirmed. I saw the nurse give a slight nod. "Kelly already has Josie Ayers working on it. After the anesthesia he ordered, he'll be lucky to be able to cut out ingrown toenails at the free clinic by the time Kelly and Elizabeth are done with him. Then I'll pick the rest of the meat off the carcass. Now, I distinctly remember you asking about an administrator. Yet I have yet to see him call for one. Miss Harrison, would you be so kind as the contact this doctor's supervisor."

The nurse shrugged at the doctor and left the room. The doctor left seconds later.

"Now, what the hell happened yesterday?" I asked. "Other than that fucker Lemons stabbing me. Jesus Christ."

Carrie closed her eyes for a moment.

"It wasn't yesterday, hon," she said. "It was three days ago. Now, I've got to call Kasey and let her know you're alright. Then I've been instructed not to say anything to you until the police can get a statement."

"Hell, I can't fucking tell them a thing," I said.

"I think they want to tell you some things," she said. "I'll be back in about 10 minutes. I can't use my cell anywhere but outside and I have strict orders to call about a dozen people."

I held her hand tightly when she stood.

"I love you, Carrie," I said. "And I'm sorry I put you through this."

She leaned over a kissed my cheek softly.

"I love you too, Mike," she told me. "More than you might ever know. I was so scared that I had lost you. Please, please, promise me that you won't do anything like this again."

"I will certainly do my best," I answered honestly.

Carrie had been gone only a couple of minutes when I saw a state policeman that I played softball with enter my room.

"Hi, Fitz," I said. "It's nice of you to stop by."

"Actually, Mike," he said. "I'm here officially. My office is handling the investigation."

"Oh, that's good to know," I said. "You guys are good at what you do and I have a lot more faith in you than in the parole office."

He pulled a sheet of paper out his clipboard and handed it to me.

"Read this and sign and date it," he said.

"Is this a Miranda warning?" I said aghast.

"No, Mike," he said. "Hell no. Listen to me for a moment. Robert Lemons is an attorney. He is disbarred, yes. But he is still capable of filing numerous lawsuits for himself. He is threatening to do just that. In fact, as soon as he regained consciousness, he started screaming that he was going to sue everyone he could think of."

I laughed.

"Let him sue me," I said. "What the fuck is he going to get? A five-year old car and a couple hundred bucks. Fuck him."

"Mike, how much do you remember?" Paul Fitzgerald asked me.

"Not a lot," I said. "I saw him coming up the walk."

He held up a hand.

"Let's skip to after he stabbed you," he said. "What do you remember after that?"

"Looking down and passing out," I replied. "No, I saw my girlfriend and my daughter come out on the porch. That's really all I remember."

Paul pulled out a chair and sat down with a smile.

"OK, unofficially," he said. "You broke Lemons femur. The femur is hard to break with a direct hit. Almost impossible from what I've heard. So you knocked the shit out of him. A compound displaced fracture. The bone was broken so thoroughly that it pushed through his hamstring and was protruding from the back of his leg. Where was the swing during softball season?"

I chuckled.

"Good," I said. "I hope it never heals."

"Oh it'll heal but you can bet he'll be in a cast for quite a few months," Fitz told me. "He'll be unable to escape all the ass rapes he's got coming his way. So, Lemons was completely — legally — incapacitated. He was no longer a threat. Can we agree that with a broken femur he wasn't going anywhere?"

I nodded.

"See here is where things get interesting," Paul said. "Amazingly, after Lemons stabbed you — in the heart and lung, by the way — you managed to pepper spray him and break pretty much every bone in his face."

"Do you guys need to cover your asses, Paul?" I asked with some skepticism. "Did you guys rough him up on the way to the hospital. I mean he is a fuck so I won't blame you and I'll tell whatever story you want me to."

Paul broke out in gales of laughter.

"Not our ass," Paul said. "Look, your girlfriend is a prime candidate for a lawsuit against her. And your daughter might have to work for the rest of her life to pay off a civil suit if Lemons wins. Mike, the legal definition of self-defense was voided as soon as Lemons posed no further danger. Your golf club pretty much took him out of action. Unofficially, of course. Officially, you were unarmed."

I guess my confusion was evident.

"Just read the official version," he said. "Lemons' doctor agrees that Lemons' injuries are consistent with a fall from your porch during the struggle he had with you as he tried to break into your house. Your girlfriend has said that you asked her to call the police as soon as you recognized him. You answered the door, saw Lemons and struggled with him. During the struggle you punched Lemons several times in the face and head and managed to get your hands around his neck and knee him hard enough in the balls to rupture one of his testicles. During the struggle Lemons stabbed you. That much is not in question. Lemons' fingerprints are all over the knife — including the blade that nicked your heart. Your momentum carried you off the porch when Lemons broke his leg and landed — hard — on his face. By the way, you also suffered a dislocated elbow in the fall."

Well, at least that answered the question about the sling. The throbbing let me know it wasn't a ruse.

I read over the report as Paul looked on. It basically said what he told me it would. Eventually I put two and two together and I looked up at Sgt. Fitzgerald questioningly.