Bobby Cole - The dummy line

The doctor could clearly see the terror in Tanner’s eye. “It’s OK now. I promise. You safe…nothing happen you now,” Dr. Sarhan explained in his soothing Indian accent.

Tanner tried to talk, but the tube down his throat prevented it. With his good eye, he tried to communicate his urgency to the doctor. The doctor misinterpreted the look as pain, quickly ordering the nurse to increase the morphine drip. “Now!” he exclaimed.

As the nurse hurriedly approached, she watched Tanner. Fifteen years as an ICU nurse had honed her clinical observation skills. She recognized Tanner’s efforts.

“Dr. Sarhan, he’s trying to speak!” she excitedly informed the doctor.

“What?” he replied, looking up from the medical chart. “He can’t talk…he is intubated.”

“He sure is trying…maybe he can write!” the nurse said as she rounded the bed, grabbed a notepad, and took a pen from the breast pocket of the doctor’s lab coat. She placed the pen in Tanner’s hand and wrapped his fingers around it. She guided his hand to the notepad.

“Write what you want, dear.” She spoke slowly and deliberately. She could see Tanner’s immediate relief. Dr. Sarhan also observed it.

Tanner was in a haze from the morphine, but all he could think about was Elizabeth. The image of her face was all he could see. He could hear her screaming. He fought to keep his mind clear. With great effort and concentration, he finally scribbled Elizabeth’s name then opened his eye wide with worry, waiting for the response.

“Elizabeth…he’s asking about Elizabeth!” The nurse excitedly headed for the door. As she pushed it open, she saw Deputy Lakreshia Gibbons walking quickly toward the room.

“Lakreshia, come quickly! He just scribbled Elizabeth’s name…he’s asking about Elizabeth!”

Lakreshia knew they were searching for Elizabeth but didn’t know any details. She rushed to Tanner’s side. Dr. Sarhan, still concentrating on Tanner’s injuries and pain level, reluctantly stepped back, out of her way.

Tanner had scribbled another note and was trying to give it to someone. She grabbed it and tried to read it.

“I can’t read it,” Lakreshia said in a frustrated tone, handing it to the nurse.

“I can’t either,” the nurse responded.

Lakreshia looked at him, concerned, and bluntly asked, “Where’s Elizabeth? We can’t find her? Tanner…where is Elizabeth? She’s not at your Jeep.”

Tanner’s heart monitor started racing as he struggled to sit up. He was obviously very upset. He grabbed at the tube and the IV lines in his arms. He was trying with every fiber of his being to sit up when Dr. Sarhan pushed him back and ordered the nurse to immediately administer more sedative.

“Now!” he ordered. He watched her bypass the drip machine’s settings, giving Tanner an immediate dose.

Tanner struggled to communicate. He couldn’t speak. White-hot flashes of pain coursed through him, taking away his breath. He couldn’t make his hands move like he wanted. He could think clearly, but couldn’t communicate.

“Everything OK. Pain will leave shortly,” Dr. Sarhan said, not about to let the young man suffer.

In Tanner’s mind, he was screaming NO! He couldn’t keep his eye open. He wanted to find out more about Elizabeth! Where is she! They have to find her! The drugs were kicking in hard now. Everything became heavy and fuzzy-except for Elizabeth’s image, which was crystal clear.

Mrs. Tillman appeared in the doorway. Dr. Sarhan encouraged her to come in, thinking her presence might help calm Tanner.

Holding her hand over her mouth, she approached her son. Right behind her, Olivia Beasley came in, anxious to ask Tanner some questions.

Tanner could hear everything being said.

“He not awake long,” said Dr. Sarhan, stepping back to let the women get closer.

“Tanner, where’s Elizabeth?” Mrs. Tillman asked.

Tanner’s eye grew wider and then rolled back slightly. She could tell he wanted to talk, but the morphine had a big grip on him.

“Tanner?” she asked, trying to keep her emotions together. “Tanner?”

“He can’t talk. He has tube. He in great pain.”

“Yes…yes,” Mrs. Tillman responded, trying to be upbeat, positive.

The nurse again handed Tanner the pen and replaced the notepad under his right hand.

“Tanner, can you write where Elizabeth is? There’s a pen in your hand, sweetie. Just write down where she is. Tanner, are you with us?”

His eye rolled again. Mrs. Tillman thought he understood, but his hand never moved. Tanner couldn’t stop the heavy curtain of drowsiness from being pulled closed. Elizabeth’s image, every date, every kiss replayed in fast-forward. He silently screamed. The questions about Elizabeth hurt his soul. No one knows where she is!

“Tanner? Please!” Olivia Beasley begged.

His hand slowly scribbled as everyone in the room watched intently. He desperately tried to write but couldn’t.

“That’s it, Tanner…just write it down!” his mother said, encouraging him.

Tanner’s hand twitched again, and then his eye closed. It stayed closed.

“Sorry, ladies. He out now,” Dr. Sarhan explained. His primary focus was on his patient.

“Who is Elizabeth?” Dr. Sarhan asked as an afterthought.

“She was with Tanner on a date, and now she’s missing,” Tanner’s mother explained. “We have no idea where she is…the sheriff doesn’t even know where to look.” She began to sob.

“I see. I alert you when he wakes up,” Dr. Sarhan said, preoccupied, looking down at Tanner’s chart.

Dr. Sarhan had not been apprised of the circumstances surrounding Tanner’s injuries. Had he been, he would not have ordered that last surge of morphine. He quietly left the room to search for Narcan to reverse the effects of the morphine. He didn’t know if the hospital had any.

Tanner had heard every word.

Mrs. Tillman again covered her mouth while she looked at him. Her right hand brushed the hair over his forehead as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Olivia Beasley took the piece of paper but couldn’t make out anything legible. Maybe a “g” or a “9,” and the second letter might be an “a,” she thought. Two letters…what are they? She walked out of the room and stopped at the nurse’s desk to study the scribbling. It didn’t make any sense.

A huge county map was spread on the table when Ollie walked in. Marlow had four Hale County deputies, three Sumter County deputies, the Sumter County game warden, and Zach Beasley all standing around the table. Ollie thanked everyone for being there, then quickly ran through the story, explaining in detail what they knew and what they theorized might have happened. He was careful not to paint a picture of Jake Crosby’s innocence. The deputies were attentive, anxious. This was the rush for which they lived.

“What we want to do is contain this area around the gate, and then set up a perimeter that will stretch out to these points,” Ollie explained, pointing to the map. “The good news is that there are only a few ways to exit the property by vehicle. The bad news is we have no idea if they are actually on it.”

“That’s a real problem,” Marlow interjected. “And the guys we suspect are behind this, Johnny Lee Grover and crew, will damn sure be armed, and believe me, they are as crazy as car-struck dogs-really dangerous.”

“That’s right, so nobody try to be a hero. Get on the radio and get some backup, OK?” Ollie said, looked at each of them, then took a sip of coffee. “We have a helicopter that will be here at daylight. That’ll be a big help covering the area. Keep that in mind.”