The Trophy Wife

Status: Finished

The Trophy Wife

Status: Finished

The Trophy Wife

Book by: graymartin

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Genre: Thrillers

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Content Summary

When cosmetic dermatologist Jake Goodwin meets Briana Caulder, she leaves a lingering impression, and it’s not a good one. Beautiful. Entitled. Obnoxious. In short, his new patient is the caricature of a Fairfield County, Connecticut trophy wife. But when Briana returns days later, she’s a transformed woman: soft-spoken, polite, shy. And terrified.

Goodwin immediately suspects she's a victim of spousal abuse. Trapped in his own faltering marriage, he can’t help but reach out to her. But when friendship turns into something more, Briana’s powerful husband retaliates, with deadly consequences. Suddenly, Goodwin stands to lose everything: his career, his family, even his life. But can he trust Briana to help him? Or does she have her own dark, hidden agenda? All feedback is welcome! I shelved this for a while and wouldn't mind getting guidance from new sets of sharp eyes...

Content Summary

When cosmetic dermatologist Jake Goodwin meets Briana Caulder, she leaves a lingering impression, and it’s not a good one. Beautiful. Entitled. Obnoxious. In short, his new patient is the caricature of a Fairfield County, Connecticut trophy wife. But when Briana returns days later, she’s a transformed woman: soft-spoken, polite, shy. And terrified.

Goodwin immediately suspects she's a victim of spousal abuse. Trapped in his own faltering marriage, he can’t help but reach out to her. But when friendship turns into something more, Briana’s powerful husband retaliates, with deadly consequences. Suddenly, Goodwin stands to lose everything: his career, his family, even his life. But can he trust Briana to help him? Or does she have her own dark, hidden agenda? All feedback is welcome! I shelved this for a while and wouldn't mind getting guidance from new sets of sharp eyes...

Author Chapter Note

The CME and her Deputy arrive at Stamford Hospital, expecting to perform another autopsy.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 25, 2013

Comments: 12

In-Line Reviews: 2

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 25, 2013

Comments: 12

In-Line Reviews: 2

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Tuesday, 11:35 p.m., Stamford Hospital

Alice Roberts

 

Throughout her long forensics career, Doctor Roberts had made her share of late night hospital visits. Typically though, they took her to the morgue instead of where she now found herself – in the trauma bay of the Stamford Hospital ER, paging through the hit-and-run victim’s intake sheets.

From what she could glean, Erin Shea was still alive, but just barely.

She skimmed through the EMS log, picturing the horrific scene the clipped jargon described: Young Caucasian female, victim of observed hit-and-run. Nonresponsive on arrival. PERRL (pupils equal, round and reactive to light – a positive sign that her brainstem was still functioning).  Pulse 150, Respirations 22, blood pressure palpable. Severe blunt force trauma, multiple fractures, internal hemorrhage suspected.

She shook her head, following the heroic resuscitation effort. Her trained eye picked out more important terms:  

 

DPL+ (diagnostic peritoneal lavage positive, confirming blood in the peritoneal cavity)

Ultrasound: c/w splenic rupture, hepatic laceration

GCS (Glasgow Coma Scale) score = 12

Head CT: 3.5 cm epidural hematoma, multiple small foci of intracerebral hemorrhage

 c/w TBI (traumatic brain injury)

Tx to OR 3 for emergency laparotomy, neurosurg

 

The last short-hand entry told her the hit-and-run victim had been taken to the OR for emergency abdominal and neurosurgical procedures. While one surgical team struggled to control massive internal bleeding, the other would be fighting to relieve the pressure from the intracranial hemorrhage squeezing her brain.

Roberts shook her head before handing the chart to her Deputy Chief. “Any update on the girl’s status?”

“She’s been on the table for almost four hours now,” Patel reported bleakly. “They’ve finished the splenectomy, but they’re still dealing with bleeding from the hepatic and mesenteric vessels. She’ll be going to interventional radiology next to embolize the bleeders they can’t reach.”

“And the head trauma?”

Patel grimaced. “Neurosurg just finished the craniotomy and they’re still working on bringing down her intracranial pressure.”

“So she’s stabilized.”

“Not really. She’s losing heme faster than they can pump it in, and she’s had three V-fib arrests on the table. Longest one lasted just under three minutes.”

Shit.” Roberts scowled and they shared a knowing look. The girl might not make it through the night. “Why do I suddenly feel like the goddamned Grim Reaper?”

Patel lowered his prematurely balding head in agreement. The way things looked, they’d be doing an autopsy after all, probably within the next few hours.

“And we’ve confirmed the vic is Erin Shea?” Roberts asked, even though she already knew the answer.

“Yeah.” Patel handed her a small weathered Coach purse with keys attached. “Her ID’s in there.”

“Can’t be a coincidence.”

Patel frowned in agreement. They both knew where this investigation was headed.

Homicide.

The part of the job Roberts hated most. She massaged her throbbing temples, wondering why she’d put off retirement for another year. Nightmare cases like this made her really second guess that decision, but Samir just wasn’t ready to take over yet. Still too naïve, too eager to please. Assholes like Redmond would shred him.

“Samir?” She glanced up at her Deputy. “Is Stamford PD still here?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “They’re interviewing Goodwin in a conference room on the third floor.”

Goodwin, she knew, had ridden in the ambulance with the victim less than five hours ago. According to the EMS report, he’d been one of the first people on the scene and the one to initiate CPR.

“Well…” She rose from the swivel chair, eyes hooded with fatigue. “Why don’t you make sure he doesn’t leave when they’re done? Tell them we have a few questions of our own.”

After Patel had gone, Roberts unzipped the hit-and-run victim’s purse and removed a Connecticut State driver’s license. She turned the card between her thumb and index finger, studying the girl’s pretty face. Copper hair shimmered beneath the hologram-imprinted laminate, framing warm hazel eyes and a cheerleader’s smile.

Who smiled like that for the DMV?

“Damn,” she muttered to the image. “Why didn’t you just return my calls?”

 

*****


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