Shortly after that humiliation, a male nurse showed up to give him a bed bath. He bent Shaw like a pretzel, causing him to swear viciously. “Where’d you get your training? Guantanamo?”
The next guy who breezed in was dressed in blue scrubs. “Remember me?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think you would.” Skinny and spry, he introduced himself as the surgeon who’d worked on him the day before. “We did several X-rays and scans, didn’t find any organ damage. Your large intestine was missed by this much.” He left a half inch between his thumb and index finger. “You also got by without a major blood vessel being cut. The wound was nasty, getting infected. I cleaned it out. Could have been a lot worse.”
Shaw said, “What’s the bad news?”
“Your oblique was sliced through like a steak. Using a dull knife. Had to take lots of stitches, layers of them, starting deep inside and working out. So it’s gonna be sore for a while. Take it easy. No heavy lifting. No strenuous exercise.”
He seemed to remember the restraints keeping Shaw secured to the bed, and looked like he wished he could take back that last bit. He continued briskly. “You were given a tetanus shot. If you start running a fever, get checked for infection. We’re giving you IV antibiotics, and you’ll leave here with a butt-load of them plus capsules to last several weeks. Take them till they run out. Any questions?”
“When will the staples be removed?”
“Tomorrow if all is looking good. They’re only a safety net. A physical therapist will get you up today, start you moving around.”
Shaw rattled the handcuffs.
“They’ve stationed a deputy outside the room,” the surgeon said. “He’ll be on hand to…assist.”
“When can we pull that thing out of my dick?”
The surgeon gave a lopsided grin. “I’ll send somebody in. But if you can’t pee on your own, back in it goes.”
“Then I’ll make damn sure I pee on my own.”
“Good luck to you.”
He breezed out. Fifteen seconds later, a uniformed man stalked in.
Shaw rested his head on his pillow and closed his eyes.
“Morning.”
Shaw didn’t return the greeting, but the officer didn’t take the hint. Shaw sensed him advancing into the room, stopping at the foot of the bed, looking down on him.“I rode in the ambulance with you yesterday, but you were pretty out of it. Clint Morrow, Terrebonne Parish—”
“I remember you,” Shaw said. “The man who tracked me down.”
“Wasn’t much of my doing. I got a good lead.”
“What was a fisherman doing in a swamp during a thunderstorm? Let me guess. Some crazy Cajun.”
“Takes all kinds.”
“My luck,” Shaw muttered.
After a brief pause, Morrow asked how he was feeling.
“How do I look?”
“Like shit.”
“That pretty much covers it.”
The deputy waited a beat, then got down to business. “I need you to answer some questions.”
Shaw raised his head, opened one eye, and took a look around the room. “I don’t see a lawyer.” He closed his eye and returned his head to the pillow.