Lockdown

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

01/07/2019. 15:34 hours. Virginia Hospital, Arlington, Virginia.

Dr Stokes had never wanted to bang his forehead against a brick wall as much as he did at that moment. There was never a day that went by that he did not question the sheer incompetence of some people who claimed themselves to be professionals. He stole a glance over his shoulder at his sleeping patient. The restraints had been cut away from the young man’s bruised and bandaged wrists and ankles. Dr Stokes gently massaged his temples to rid himself of the headache blooming behind them. It was by some miracle that Dr. Spencer Reid had not developed any lasting neurological effects from the ECT or the prolonged seizure, for that matter. He had already prepared his harshly worded report to the board of directors at both Bethesda General Hospital and at North Virginia Psychiatric Facility for even remotely considering such a risky treatment in an individual with epilepsy. It was as clear as day in his medical notes that he had post-traumatic epilepsy originating from trauma to the temporal lobe. Difficulties managing emotions and behaviour were expected from such a trauma. Not a single person had had the presence of mind to recommence his anticonvulsant regime, and determined the best course of action was to trigger more seizures. And they inappropriately kept him in restraints when mechanical restraint should only be used as a last resort and for the shortest time possible. Dr Stokes had spent enough time on neurology and neuropsychiatry when completing his rotation during residency to know himself that it was highly inappropriate and unethical. It was embarrassing to the medical profession.

Satisfied that Spencer was comfortable and resting, Dr. Stokes crossed the short hallway to the nurses’ station and slumped down into the swivel chair with a sigh. He slipped the clear plastic folder labelled REID, S. out from the docket in front of him and peeled back the front page. The tip of his finger slid down the page to the contact number he was looking for. He grabbed the handset to his left and dialled the number, reciting it back twice to be sure.  The phone rang three times before a female voice answered.

“BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss speaking.”

“Ah, Agent Prentiss. My name’s Dr. Adam Stokes, and I’m an ER physician at Virginia Hospital in Arlington. I understand you’re the medical contact for Dr. Spencer Reid. Is that correct?”

“That’s right. What’s going on?”

“Has anyone been in contact with you from the North Virginia Psychiatric Facility?”

“Not since this morning to say that Dr Reid had received his treatment and was settled in his room. Why? What’s this about?”

“Dr Reid was admitted into our care two hours ago following a prolonged seizure. He’s resting comfortably at the moment. This is something that would be better discussed face to face, agent, as I have some very grave concerns that I must address as a matter of urgency.”

“I can be there in the next hour.”

“Thank you, Agent Prentiss. We’ll talk more when you get here. Dr Reid could use a change of clothing and some toiletries as we plan to keep him in for a couple of days for observation.”

“Of course. I’ll be there soon.” Dr. Stokes set the phone down and craned his neck over the top of the desk to see Spencer sleeping soundly, chest gently rising, and falling, and his head tilted to the side. He quickly jotted down a note into the folder and signed it with a flourish of his wrist before closing the folder and carrying it back to his patient.

01/07/2019. 15:40 hours. FBI Offices, Quantico, Virginia.

Emily chewed her lip and furrowed her brow at her cell phone. To say that she was concerned was an understatement. It made her blood run cold. Spencer had barely been in the psychiatric unit before he had to be readmitted. But the fact that the doctor had concerns that had to be addressed immediately and couldn’t be discussed over the phone was frankly terrifying. Trying to slip her stoic mask into place, Emily pocketed her cell phone and made her way down the few steps into the bullpen.  She glanced around at her team, burrowing through piles of reports. David and Penelope were returning from the break room with steaming mugs of coffee. Penelope clasped her oversized unicorn mug between colourfully manicured hands.