meet him. "How bad is it?"
Jesse stumbled past Steve and took a seat. Steve remained standing.
"Mark is going to be fine," Jesse said. "He'll be out of surgery in about an hour."
"What happened?"
"He had a seizure. We ran an MRI and discovered subdural bleeding."
"What does that mean?" Steve asked impatiently, a tinge of anger in his voice.
"It's an accumulation of blood beneath the protective membrane around the brain. The skull is rigid bone and it can't expand, so bleeding exerts pressure on the brain, essentially squeezing it into the opening at the base of the skull. If left untreated, the pressure will compress the brain stem, stopping respiration and leading to immediate death. We had to relieve the pressure, and there's only one way to do that."
"You cracked open his skull," Steve said.
"It's not that extreme. We're drilling a hole about the size of a quarter to drain the fluid," Jesse said. "Later, we'll seal it with a bone graft or a metal plate."
"That still sounds pretty extreme to me," Steve said. "Though I suppose there isn't any choice. What are the dangers?"
"Brain damage, infection, more bleeding," Jesse said. "But I don't think that will happen."
"You didn't think this would happen either," Steve snapped, then caught himself. "I'm sorry. This is the second time you've saved Dad's life today. What I should be saying is thank you."
"Don't worry, Steve. I won't leave him until he's conscious and out of danger."
"The hell you won't," Susan said, approaching them now. "You haven't slept in over twenty-four hours and you need to get that knee looked at."
"She's right," Steve said. "I'll stay with him."
"That won't do Mark or you any good," Susan said. "I have a better idea. I'll keep an eye on Mark while Jesse gets some sleep and you catch whoever did this. Besides, it's my job and I'm pretty dam good at it."
Jesse looked at Steve. "She has a point."
"But I'm the only family he has," Steve said.
"No, you're not," Susan said, without a trace of anger or hurt feelings.
She was simply stating a fact that, in his worry, he'd overlooked. Mark had always considered Jesse, Susan, and Amanda his family, too.
"You're right. I'm sorry," Steve said. "I keep saying stupid things that I don't mean."
"It's okay. You're allowed when a loved one is hurt and you're afraid of what might happen," Susan said. "Saying stupid things is entirely normal in this situation."
"Thank you." Steve smiled and gave Susan a kiss on the cheek before turning to Jesse. "I'll need those files that Dad gave you."
Jesse tossed him a set of keys. "They're on the kitchen table."
Steve nodded and headed out the door, Susan and Jesse looking after him.
"That's the first time he's ever kissed me," Susan said.
"That's good to know," Jesse said, rising painfully to his feet and limping past her. "He's never kissed me."
"Jealous?" she teased.
Jesse grinned. "A man can dream."
Steve picked up Jesse's files on the way back to the beach house and brought them into the kitchen, setting the box on the table. He took a bottle of root beer out of the refrigerator, twisted off the cap, and began looking for Mark's copy of Amanda's report.
He found the report, and a legal pad full of notes, on the nightstand in Mark's bedroom. From what he could gather, Mark had begun sorting the patients based on their cause of death. A lot of the names were circled and connected with arrows to other names. Steve didn't know what the arrows meant.
It would have been helpful, Steve thought, if his father had included a key to the symbols. What does a circled name mean? How is it different from an underlined name? What do the arrows mean? And what about the lists of names without any heading? What are they lists of?
Steve set Mark's report and notes on the table, then went to the garage and brought in the dry-erase board and easel. He liked to see things in black and white, organized and clear. The way Steve solved cases was through dogged
Jesse stumbled past Steve and took a seat. Steve remained standing.
"Mark is going to be fine," Jesse said. "He'll be out of surgery in about an hour."
"What happened?"
"He had a seizure. We ran an MRI and discovered subdural bleeding."
"What does that mean?" Steve asked impatiently, a tinge of anger in his voice.
"It's an accumulation of blood beneath the protective membrane around the brain. The skull is rigid bone and it can't expand, so bleeding exerts pressure on the brain, essentially squeezing it into the opening at the base of the skull. If left untreated, the pressure will compress the brain stem, stopping respiration and leading to immediate death. We had to relieve the pressure, and there's only one way to do that."
"You cracked open his skull," Steve said.
"It's not that extreme. We're drilling a hole about the size of a quarter to drain the fluid," Jesse said. "Later, we'll seal it with a bone graft or a metal plate."
"That still sounds pretty extreme to me," Steve said. "Though I suppose there isn't any choice. What are the dangers?"
"Brain damage, infection, more bleeding," Jesse said. "But I don't think that will happen."
"You didn't think this would happen either," Steve snapped, then caught himself. "I'm sorry. This is the second time you've saved Dad's life today. What I should be saying is thank you."
"Don't worry, Steve. I won't leave him until he's conscious and out of danger."
"The hell you won't," Susan said, approaching them now. "You haven't slept in over twenty-four hours and you need to get that knee looked at."
"She's right," Steve said. "I'll stay with him."
"That won't do Mark or you any good," Susan said. "I have a better idea. I'll keep an eye on Mark while Jesse gets some sleep and you catch whoever did this. Besides, it's my job and I'm pretty dam good at it."
Jesse looked at Steve. "She has a point."
"But I'm the only family he has," Steve said.
"No, you're not," Susan said, without a trace of anger or hurt feelings.
She was simply stating a fact that, in his worry, he'd overlooked. Mark had always considered Jesse, Susan, and Amanda his family, too.
"You're right. I'm sorry," Steve said. "I keep saying stupid things that I don't mean."
"It's okay. You're allowed when a loved one is hurt and you're afraid of what might happen," Susan said. "Saying stupid things is entirely normal in this situation."
"Thank you." Steve smiled and gave Susan a kiss on the cheek before turning to Jesse. "I'll need those files that Dad gave you."
Jesse tossed him a set of keys. "They're on the kitchen table."
Steve nodded and headed out the door, Susan and Jesse looking after him.
"That's the first time he's ever kissed me," Susan said.
"That's good to know," Jesse said, rising painfully to his feet and limping past her. "He's never kissed me."
"Jealous?" she teased.
Jesse grinned. "A man can dream."
Steve picked up Jesse's files on the way back to the beach house and brought them into the kitchen, setting the box on the table. He took a bottle of root beer out of the refrigerator, twisted off the cap, and began looking for Mark's copy of Amanda's report.
He found the report, and a legal pad full of notes, on the nightstand in Mark's bedroom. From what he could gather, Mark had begun sorting the patients based on their cause of death. A lot of the names were circled and connected with arrows to other names. Steve didn't know what the arrows meant.
It would have been helpful, Steve thought, if his father had included a key to the symbols. What does a circled name mean? How is it different from an underlined name? What do the arrows mean? And what about the lists of names without any heading? What are they lists of?
Steve set Mark's report and notes on the table, then went to the garage and brought in the dry-erase board and easel. He liked to see things in black and white, organized and clear. The way Steve solved cases was through dogged
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