“You’ll call Ryan?”
“Yeah, right—in a few hours. You know how Sleeping Beauty gets if he’s sleep deprived. Plus, knowing him, he’ll have some contraption built by noon.”
Casey smiled. “Good point. I’m heading back to catch a few hours of sleep. Then I’m calling Nancy Lexington and seeing if I can set up an appointment to explore the idea of donating additional funds to Manhattan Memorial.”
“Gotcha. Good luck.”
“You, too.”
11
MADELINE JUMPED UP from her chair in the hospital waiting area the instant a young female intern emerged. The intern scanned the empty room until her gaze finally settled on Madeline.
“Mrs.
Westfield?”
“Yes.” Madeline and Patrick were already in motion.
“Dr. Westfield is up to having visitors.” She stared at her clipboard with a frown. “Dr. Lacy asked about family. I realize you’re his health care proxy, but you’re also divorced. Is there someone we should notify?”
“I’ve already called Conrad’s father and his brother,” Madeline replied. “His father is frail and elderly, and not up to making the trip from Arizona. His brother and his family are out of the country on vacation. Each of them is waiting to hear from me. You can contact them directly if you’d rather.” Madeline’s features tightened in concern. “Why? Is something wrong? Have there been complications?”
“No, nothing like that.” The intern brushed an arm across her forehead. She looked tired, cranky and exhausted. “Dr. Lacy just likes to follow protocol. I’ll get those names and phone numbers from you after your visit.” A quick glance at Patrick. “And you are...?”
“Patrick Lynch.” Patrick knew exactly what he had to convey. “I’m a close family friend of the Westfields. Madeline called me immediately after you called her. We drove up here together. I’d like to go with her to see Conrad, if Dr. Lacy has no issue with that.”
The intern almost flinched at the sound of Dr. Lacy’s name, and based on what Casey had reported about her “talk” with the good doctor, Patrick suspected that Lacy was a slave driver.
“It’s no problem,” the intern assured him. “Follow me.”
They headed down the corridor and paused outside Room 43. The intern gestured for them to go in.
So this was Conrad Westfield, Patrick thought silently as they entered the room. Or at least Westfield on a bad day.
The man in the hospital gown, propped up on pillows, and with his headboard raised, looked as if he were normally strong and physically fit. Salt-and-pepper hair. Sharp features. Half-open eyes that were a keen blue in color, although slightly glazed right now. Lines of stress were visible on his forehead and around his lips. Calm, given what he had been through. Yup, the description matched what Patrick had expected.
There was an IV bag beside Conrad that was dripping fluids into his body to restore his strength and to replenish whatever nutrients he’d lost. There were also a couple of other monitors attached to him, blinking steadily and beeping in a regular rhythm.
Despite how tired and weak he was, Conrad gave a slight smile when he saw his ex-wife.
“Madeline.” He reached out a hand. “Thank you for driving all the way up here.” His voice was raspy from the endotracheal tube that had been put down his throat during the stomach-pumping process.
“I came as soon as I heard.” She took his hand, simultaneously dragging a chair closer to the bed and sitting down. “How do you feel?”
“Like I was run over by a truck. But thankfully, none of my organ systems was affected. The ambulance got me here in time.” Conrad’s gaze flickered to Patrick. “I’m sorry, have we met?”
“Not yet.” Patrick stayed back, not wanting to crowd Conrad. “I’m Patrick Lynch. I work at Forensic Instincts with Casey Woods and Marc Devereaux.”
“Ah.” Conrad nodded. “And you drove Madeline up here to safeguard her and to keep her from making this ridiculously long drive alone. I’m glad. Thank you.”
“It looks like you’re going to need some safeguarding, too,” Madeline said anxiously.
Before Conrad could reply, Patrick hit him with the unspoken question. It had to be now, before the conversation veered off in a different direction.
“Did you try to take your own life, Dr. Westfield?”
The start of surprise Conrad gave, the pained widening of his eyes and his hoarse “What?” told Patrick what he needed to know.