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A doctor waited outside the door to Summer’s room.
She looked young, not much older than Summer to Bill’s eyes. She wore blue scrubs and a white lab coat. At some point in the day she’d put a pencil in her hair to hold it up in a messy bun.
“I’m Dr. Renee Davis,” she said, cutting to the chase. “Summer’s injuries are severe. She has two broken ribs. She also has a hairline fracture of the skull as well as a fracture of her eye socket. And a number of cuts and abrasions, some of which required stitches. She doesn’t need surgery right now, but we can’t rule that out. It’s too early to tell whether she’ll have any long-term damage from these injuries.”
An annoying beeping sound came from Dr. Davis’s pocket. She reached in and pressed a button, making it stop. But she didn’t say anything else. She looked at Bill as though she expected him to say something. He felt like an actor on a stage who didn’t know his lines.
“I don’t understand,” he said. “Long-term damage. What does that mean?”
He looked from the doctor to the detective and back again, unsure who would provide the answer.
“It means we don’t know if her vision will be affected,” Davis said. “Or if there is any brain damage. We’re encouraged because there doesn’t appear to be any bleeding or swelling in the brain. But we’ll have to watch her closely for the next forty-eight hours.”
Brain damage. Vision loss.
The nightmare might never end. It might continue on and on for the rest of Summer’s life. The very essence of who she was could be shattered. Her laugh. Her intelligence. Her sarcastic humor.
But she was alive. Bill reminded himself of that.
Life. That mattered.
“I just want to see her,” he said. “Even if she’s not awake, I don’t want her to be alone.”
“Her injuries are quite severe,” Davis said. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this, Mr. Price, but we have to watch her very carefully. She’s gravely injured.”
“I heard that already.”
“Because of the swelling in her face, she looks...”
“Bad?” Bill said. “Is seeing that worse than not knowing where she was all weekend?”
“She’s not going to look like the girl who left your house two days ago,” Davis said.
Bill stepped past the doctor.
“Bill?” It was Detective Hawkins’s voice.
Bill stopped and looked at the two professionals.
Hawkins turned to Davis as though they both knew something, and then Hawkins said, “Her hands are bandaged. She had a number of injuries to them.”
“Are her hands permanently damaged?” Bill asked.
“It means she resisted, Bill,” Hawkins said, his voice tinged with a paternal pride he seemed to want Bill to experience as well. “They’re injuries consistent with putting up a very good fight.”
Bill knew the detective was trying to make him feel better, but the information came as no surprise. Bill already knew Summer would resist. He knew she’d fight. He’d fought with Summer enough since Julia died.
But even as a child, she’d fought. Resisting bedtimes. Resisting foods.
Stubbornly independent. Bill quickly learned one of parenting’s hardest lessons—you’re going to see yourself, warts and all, in your kid.
“I hope she kicked his nuts up into his throat,” Bill said.
The detective and the doctor just nodded, indicating agreement with the statement.
Bill said, “Doctor, the detective mentioned something about... checking for sexual assault. I was just... How long does that take to know?”
“Given her condition, we didn’t conduct a full examination. Much of it is invasive.... But we’ll hand everything over to the police.”
“She didn’t ever say anything, did she?” Bill asked. “Anything at all?”
Davis looked disappointed that she couldn’t deliver better news to Bill. “No, she didn’t. But please let me know if you have any questions. We’ll all be keeping a close eye on her.”
“Thanks,” Bill said.
“When you come out, Bill, I’ll have some more questions for you,” Hawkins said. “I know you need to be in there now, but we have some more work to do out here.”
Bill took a deep breath, one he seemed to hold at the center of his being, and pushed open the door to Summer’s room.