Night Shift by Annelise Ryan

Author:Annelise Ryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2020-04-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

I know that the scene at the house we’re headed for will turn the domestic violence stereotype on its head. The victim is most likely the husband, Stewart Riley, a kind, intelligent man who is hopelessly in love with his wife. Stewart is a small man, standing about five-five and weighing maybe one-thirty. His wife, Marla, is several inches taller, at least forty pounds heavier, and strong as an ox. Marla spent time in the military and saw some action in Iraq, where a vehicle she was riding in hit an IED. The resultant explosion killed everyone except Marla, though she was badly wounded.

Marla recovered physically, but her mental wounds have proven more stubborn. She retired from the military with PTSD and developed a significant drinking problem. Unfortunately, Marla is not a very nice drunk; alcohol brings out the worst in her temperament. Also, unfortunately, her husband, Stewart, who has consistently stayed by her side, encouraging her to get help, is often the primary target of her rages. It started with verbal and emotional abuse, but it didn’t take long for things to escalate to the physical. I’ve seen and spoken with Stewart half a dozen times in my years at the hospital, and I knew of other visits he had when I wasn’t on duty.

I was the one who finally got the truth out of Stewart. In the beginning, either out of embarrassment or a desire to protect Marla, he tried to explain away his injuries with lies. For the most part, his stories were plausible. I finally got him to admit to the abuse one night when he came to the ER with a broken arm. It was what the doctor called a spiral fracture, an indication that the arm was twisted violently, making the break literally spiral around the bone. It’s a type of fracture that cues medical professionals to suspect abuse in children when they see it—the same type of fracture that put Child Protective Services onto Al Whitman’s family. Such a break in the arm of a grown man is less suspect, and the explanation Stewart gave made some sense. But one savvy, alert nurse saw something in the way Stewart answered certain questions and refused to look at her, and she called me in for a referral.

It took me about thirty seconds to decide the nurse had been right to be concerned, but it took much longer to get the truth out of Stewart. I’d seen Marla in the ER a few times, too, on those rare occasions when she’d let Stewart bring her in for detox, and I knew what she was like when she drank. Looking back at the number of times Stewart had been in with injuries, I commented that he seemed to be awfully accident prone. A few more comments and some hems and haws from Stewart eventually led to his breakdown confession. His wife regularly beat up on him when she drank, and he, believing that women were

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