Part 4
Dr. Rowan packed the bleeding point and held pressure while the transfusion line was connected. Boone’s heart rate climbed, then settled as blood entered his circulation.
The vessel was small enough to repair, but the splinter blocked part of the opening it had created. Removing it too quickly could release more bleeding than Boone’s weakened body could tolerate.
“We take it out along the same path it entered,” Dr. Rowan said. “Slowly.”
She separated the inflamed tissue from the wood, advancing a few millimeters at a time. The fragment resisted near the diaphragm, where scar tissue had closed around it like a fist.
When it finally moved, the entire room seemed to focus on her hands.
The splinter emerged in one piece.
It was longer than Dr. Rowan’s index finger, jagged at one end and dark with old blood. A fragment that large should have announced itself months earlier, but its shape had allowed the skin to close behind it.
Dr. Rowan placed it in a specimen container and turned back to Boone.
Removing the wood had solved only the first problem. She repaired the injured vessel, closed the tear in the diaphragm, and removed tissue damaged by infection. The team washed Boone’s chest repeatedly before placing new drains on both sides.
After nearly three hours, the monitors showed a steadier rhythm.
“Let’s close,” she said.
Outside, Daniel watched the clock change from one hour to two and then three. Officers brought coffee no one drank. Emma’s father tried to persuade her to lie down on a couch, but she remained beside the door with her knees pulled against her chest.
At 1:38 a.m., she asked Daniel the question he had been asking himself.
“Is this your fault?”
He looked at her.
“You keep saying you should’ve known,” she continued. “So do I. But Dr. Rowan didn’t know until I touched the scar.”
Daniel studied the floor tiles between his shoes. “It was my job to notice changes in him.”
“And it was Boone’s job to find me. He got hurt, and he still found me.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
Daniel opened his mouth and found no honest answer. Emma’s mother sat beside her daughter, one hand resting lightly on her back.
“Maybe it was hidden,” Emma said. “Hidden isn’t the same as ignored.”
The operating-room doors opened before Daniel could respond.
Dr. Rowan stepped into the hallway with her cap still on and exhaustion visible above her mask. Everyone stood at once.
“We removed the entire fragment,” she said. “It had injured a blood vessel and punctured the diaphragm. The infection spread into his chest, which is why he collapsed so suddenly.”
Daniel looked past her. “Is he alive?”
“He survived the surgery.”
Emma’s father exhaled and folded over, hands on his knees. Several officers turned toward one another, relief passing through the group without celebration.
Dr. Rowan raised a hand before anyone spoke. “He is still in critical condition. The infection has affected his whole system, and he lost a significant amount of blood. Surgery removed the cause. His body has to do the rest.”
“Can we see him?” Emma asked.
“One person for a minute.”
Daniel nodded toward her. “She goes.”
Boone lay in the intensive-care unit beneath fresh blankets. The oxygen mask had been replaced by small tubes at his nose, and the new chest drains rose from beneath bandages on both sides. His eyes were closed, his face slack with anesthesia.
Emma stood beside him and placed her hand near his paw without touching the IV.
“They found it,” she whispered. “You can stop hiding now.”
She waited for an ear to move or a claw to flex.
Nothing happened.
At 4:12 a.m., after Emma had fallen asleep in a chair near his enclosure, Boone opened his eyes. Daniel called her name, and she rushed to the gate while Dr. Rowan checked his reflexes.
Boone recognized them. His gaze followed Emma, and his front paw shifted toward her voice.
His hind legs did not move.
Dr. Rowan pressed gently between his toes and watched for a response. Boone’s head lifted, but his back remained still beneath the blanket. – “He’s awake,” she said. “But we may be dealing with nerve damage…”
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