Dr. Gibbons extends a hand to Wren first. She shakes it and smiles as best she can.
“We’ve met. Nice to see you again, Dr. Gibbons.”
“Always a pleasure, Dr. Muller. And nice to meet you, detective.”
“Yeah, same here, so what’s going on?” Leroux steamrollers, still firmly grasping the doctor’s hand.
The doctor nods, placing a hand gently on his arm, and starts, “Now that you are all here, we can discuss this together inside.”
He gestures to the building behind him, and the four of them enter together. He leads them into a small room with some chairs and a large table. It’s meant to be a more private space for families to wait and receive updates away from the main waiting area. Will and Wren sit across from Dr. Gibbons, but Leroux remains standing, rubbing his hands together.
“Spill,” he commands once the door closes.
Will opens a notebook in front of him, leaning back and reading it off like a grocery list.
“Tara Kelley. White, female, twenty-nine years old; found by two night hunters in Elmwood Park off Bayou Tortue Road. The guys reported hearing some screaming and commotion. When they ran up to her, she was holding her throat, which had been slashed deeply only moments before.”
Leroux stops him, leaning over the table.
“Was it him?” he asks angrily.
“Possible. Though it’s shocking that he would get this sloppy now. Doesn’t really fit his MO. But I suppose it happens to all these jackasses the longer they go.”
Dr. Gibbons stays quiet as Leroux and his deputy volley their questions and answers back and forth. His lips are pulled into a tight line as he waits to speak.
Leroux shakes his head, slapping a hand on the table.
“Dammit! But she’ll be okay, right?” Leroux asks, moving his eyes from Will to the doctor now.
Wren can already tell what the answer is, but she stays quiet, trying to disengage from the situation and remain professional.
Dr. Gibbons clears his throat, and answers, “The short answer is yes, she’s stable. The wound was substantial, spanning from ear to ear. Her attacker likely intended to sever the carotid artery, but, instead, perhaps in a moment of haste, just nicked it. She still suffered immense blood loss, but thanks to the men who found her, the bleed was abated to a degree that we could work with. She came out of surgery about an hour ago.”
Dr. Gibbons’s eyes reflect Leroux’s exhaustion.
“When can I speak to her?” Leroux asks pointedly.
“Well, she can’t vocalize right now. Her attacker did manage to sever one of her laryngeal nerves and damage her vocal cords. She won’t be able to speak while she heals from surgery.” Dr. Gibbon’s stops for a moment to pull a piece of paper from the file in front of him, sliding it across the table to Will and Leroux. “The paramedics who brought her in said she was frantically trying to tell them something, so they gave her this piece of paper to write it down.”
The torn notebook page is smeared with dark blood. In blue pen, barely legible enough to make out, it reads “Jeremy.”
Wren feels her breathing get faster and shallow. Shock radiates through her system like electricity. Even though she knew already where this path would lead, she still can’t fully believe that this man has been walking around Louisiana all this time. That is, until she had it spelled out for her in ink by a bleeding woman.
“Should I know a Jeremy?” Will questions, struggling to catch up.
Dr. Gibbons clears his throat again. “The police who arrived on scene collected a few items from the immediate area around her body, including a receipt for where she was earlier in the evening. I’ll have someone bring them to you before you leave. Good luck, gentlemen. Dr. Muller.” He nods as he walks to the doorway.