Chapter 2 - The Alteration
The air in Bay 4 turned instantantly hostile.
Officer Hendricks adjusted his duty belt, looking slightly uncomfortable as the Chief of Surgery asserted his dominance in the room. "Dr. Voss, I was just beginning the preliminary intake questioning—"
"My son has a head injury, Officer," Dr. Voss interrupted without turning around, his eyes never leaving Maren's face. "He has just survived a catastrophic motor vehicle accident. He is in shock, he is confused, and he is legally a minor. You will not ask him another question without legal counsel present."
"Dr. Voss," Maren said, keeping her hands flat on the desk counter behind her. "Tyler’s neurological exam is clear. His Glasgow Coma scale is fifteen. He was fully oriented when—"
"I am a board-certified surgeon and an officer of this medical staff, Nurse Doyle," Dr. Voss snapped, stepping closer to the computer terminal. "I know how to read a neurological picture better than a staff nurse on a night shift. Shock presents in innumerable ways. Children say nonsensical things when their brains are suffering from micro-concussions and extreme emotional trauma."
He leaned over the monitor, his eyes scanning the lines Maren had just typed. As his eyes reached the quote—"Jamie wasn’t driving. I was"—a subtle twitch caught the corner of his jaw.
"This is unacceptable," Dr. Voss said softly, though the tone carried the weight of an executioner's axe. "You have recorded a hallucinated, shock-induced rambling into a permanent legal document as if it were a clinical fact."
"It was a direct quote spoken spontaneously by the patient before any medication was administered," Maren said, her voice remaining firm despite the rapid pounding of her heart. "Hospital policy and state nursing board standards require me to document all spontaneous admissions regarding trauma mechanics word-for-word."
Outside the glass, a woman's voice broke out in a desperate, ragged sob.
Maren looked past Dr. Voss's shoulder. Standing in the corridor, held up by a hospital chaplain, was Jamie Nolan’s mother, Jamie's blood still staining the knees of her jeans from where she had dropped to her knees in the driveway when the police arrived. She caught Maren’s eyes through the glass.
"Was my son driving?" Mrs. Nolan choked out, her hand reaching out to grab Maren's wrist through the open curtain frame. "Please, Nurse Doyle. The police said he might have caused it. I need to know if my boy killed himself... or if someone else did."
Tyler shrank back against his pillows, pulling his white blanket up to his chin, refusing to look at Mrs. Nolan.
Dr. Voss immediately stepped into the doorway, blocking Mrs. Nolan’s view entirely. "Jamie’s mother needs to be escorted to a private family room immediately," he ordered the chaplain sharply. "She is disrupting an active trauma area."
Once Mrs. Nolan was led away, Dr. Voss turned back to Maren. He reached out, grabbed the wireless mouse from the desk, and opened the electronic chart’s administration menu.
"You are going to amend this note, Maren," Dr. Voss said. His tone had shifted from anger to a chilling, paternal authority. "You are going to add a secondary clinical addendum stating that the patient was experiencing acute post-traumatic delirium and disorientation at the time of the statement."
"I cannot do that," Maren said. "That would be a falsification of a medical record. Tyler was not delirious. He gave me his name, the location, the time, and a coherent narrative."
"He is seventeen years old!" Dr. Voss hissed, leaning down so close that Maren could smell the sterile, metallic scent of the operating room on his scrubs. "His life will be utterly destroyed by a single sentence written by a nurse who doesn't understand the legal ramifications of what she’s typing! Do you have any idea what a vehicular manslaughter charge will do to a minor?!"
"I know what happened to Jamie Nolan," Maren said, her eyes burning with a dark, steady flame. "Jamie Nolan is dead, Dr. Voss. And his mother deserves to know the truth."
Dr. Voss stared at her for five long seconds. Then, he slowly let go of the mouse, straightened his back, and smoothed down the front of his scrubs.
"Officer Hendricks," Dr. Voss said, turning to the policeman. "I am exercising my right as Tyler’s legal guardian to decline all further police questioning tonight. We are requesting an immediate transfer to St. Jude’s Private Hospital across town for specialized orthopedic care."
"Sir, County Nine is a criminal scene right now," Hendricks said hesitantly. "I need a formal statement."
"You will get a statement from our attorney in the morning," Dr. Voss replied coldly.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his personal smartphone, and dialed a four-digit extension.
"This is Dr. Voss," he said into the phone, keeping his eyes locked on Maren. "Get Director Vance out of bed and have him meet me in the Chief Nursing Officer’s conference room in ten minutes. We have a severe compliance breach in the Emergency Department."
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He clicked the phone off, stepped closer to Tyler's bed, and placed a hand on his son's shoulder.
"Don't say another word to anyone, Tyler," Dr. Voss whispered. "I'm changing that sentence."
