Chapter 3
Throughout that day, Adrian could not rid himself of that nagging feeling that something ominous was coming in regards to his Trudy, and he called her on her cell phone at least once an hour.
"Honey, you're being silly! I'm stuck here at the office all day in boring staff meetings, and then I have an appointment at 3:00. I'm fine! Now let me get back to work so you can go catch more bad guys!"
"I love you, Trudy."
"I love you more, cutie pie."
At 2:45, Monk and Stottlemeyer got a call about a domestic dispute that resulted in a man shooting his girlfriend and her young son, so they drove to the other side of town to investigate. When they arrived right around three o'clock, Adrian happened to be paying close attention to the police radio in their car.
"All units, an explosion has occurred at the San Francisco Tribune offices. Possibility of a vehicle bomb, high. All available units please arrive on the scene."
Adrian felt as though a cold hand had grabbed his throat and was slowly squeezing the life out of him. He didn't have to say a word. Stottlemeyer picked up the radio. "McKenzie? Rogan? Can you go see about that shooting on Rome Street?"
Detective Rogan already sounded worried. His wife Joanne and Trudy were good friends. "You bet... And I'm sure she's fine, Adrian." He didn't sound so sure, though.
When Stottlemeyer put the radio back in its place, he looked at his partner, saw how terrified he looked, and without a word raced toward the Tribune office building.
When they arrived, a small army of ambulances, police cars and fire trucks were on the scene. He still hadn't said a word, but as soon as the car stopped Adrian ran towards the crowd so he could get some answers. But all the answers he needed were soon right before him. He fell to his knees when he saw the charred remains of the tan Ford Explorer he had been driving for the past two years. "Trudy..." was the only word he could squeak out of his throat which was completely dry and so scorched that he could have sworn he hadn't had a drink of water in a year.
Stottlemeyer found his partner and knelt on the ground next to him. "Monk, Trudy was in the car when the bomb went off." Adrian immediately sunk to the ground in tears with his head resting against the cement. Jesus Christ, no...God, no...
Stottlemeyer put his hand on his partner's back. "She's in bad shape, but she's still alive..."
Adrian looked up at him and said quietly through his tears. "Let's go."
It only took three minutes for them to drive to the hospital with their siren on, but it was the longest three minutes of Adrian's life. He remembered how her lips felt against his when he kissed her goodbye this morning, he remembered how she called him "cutie pie" on the phone, and he remembered how he felt when he watched her drive away. It was as if the Grim Reaper was tapping on her shoulder...
NO! He couldn't think like that. He had to think positive and keep the attitude that Trudy was going to be okay. She may be badly hurt and it may take a long time for her to recover, but she was going to be okay...
He and Stottlemeyer ran into the emergency room where they were quickly directed toward the burn trauma unit. Dr. Margaret Gordon, the chief of the unit, met them in the hallway.
"Detective Monk, I'm so glad you got here so quickly!"
"Where's Trudy?"
"Sir, your wife is being cared for by the best members of my staff..."
"WHERE IS SHE???"
The doctor took a step backward and placed a hand nervously on her forehead, and Stottlemeyer looked at his partner in a way he never had before. He had known Adrian Monk since he was a fresh faced twenty three year old rookie, and he had never seen him look this frightened.
"Detective, I'm afraid you can't see her right now. She's not exactly in a condition where she should be receiving visitors."
"Godammit..." He started to sway... The world was spinning around him and he was having trouble keeping his feet firmly on the ground.
"Monk! Sit down! Sit down and let the doctor talk!" He finally did so with the doctor and his partner standing before him. He could barely see them through the tears that were streaming down his cheeks, but he knew he had to hear this...He had to focus.
"Detective, I know that you are scared right now but your wife was badly injured in the explosion. She has third degree burns on eighty percent of her body and there is massive internal bleeding. She's in surgery right now to stop the bleeding, and I will come and get you as soon as we're finished."
Adrian didn't even notice when the doctor left them.
He and Stottlemeyer sat next to each other in silence for the next two hours. Stottlemeyer had never been good with words, and though he desperately wanted to say something to his partner...wanted more than anything to try to ease the obvious torment that was etched across his face just a little bit...he couldn't find the words.
While Adrian just stared into space, he got up a few times to ask any random doctor or nurse who passed by how Trudy was doing and nobody knew what was going on. Finally, Dr. Gordon returned and when Adrian scrambled onto his feet and looked into her eyes, he knew exactly what she was going to say.
"Detective, I'm afraid...I'm afraid Trudy's injuries were just too severe. She's still alive, but...but I'm afraid she doesn't have much time left..."
Adrian immediately started to walk to down the hall. "Trudy? Trudy???" He was crying her name, but for the first time in nearly eight years nobody answered him. The doctor caught up with him, and put her hands on his shoulders. "I've been working with burn victims for ten years, and if there's one thing I've learned it's this: I know you want to see her, but I highly suggest that you don't. Remember her the way she was before. If you see her like this, it will haunt you and it will make things far more difficult."
Adrian shook his head vehemently. The doctor thought he was going to faint.
"But I CAN let you talk to her. There is an intercom in her room that connects to another one behind the nurse's station. Say anything you want to her. I can't guarantee that she'll be able to speak back to you, but she WILL hear your voice!"
Adrian wanted more than anything to see her no matter what condition she was in, but he knew the doctor was right. With his head spinning and his chest tightening, he stepped behind the desk and sat before the small intercom. The doctor pressed a button and asked someone if they were ready... They responded with a somber "yes", then the doctor nodded that Adrian could start talking.
He couldn't believe this was happening. This had to be a nightmare. He just knew that it had to be. "Trudy? Baby? I...I...thought we'd be forever until we were 100 but...oh god...I guess fate had a different plan..." His lips started to quiver and his eyes watered, but he would not let her hear him cry. "Trudy, I never thought I'd ever fall in love with someone who loved me back, but you...you made every dream I've ever had come true. I love you. I love you so much..." He heard a faint voice. He found a volume button and immediately pressed it.
"Adrian?" The voice was quiet and pained, but it was undeniably Trudy.
"Oh god...Trudy..."
He heard her gasp for breath for a moment, and he had to balance himself to avoid collapsing. "Baby?"
"Yes, Trudy..."
There was a pause, and then faintly she said... "Bread...and butter..." He heard her take a deep breath, then the sound of her respirator going into a flat line blared through the speaker. That was the day that Adrian Monk's world died.
His friends knew that there was something wrong in those first few days, but they didn't know until later what exactly was going through Adrian's mind. Of course, nobody expected him to be the lively, charming person he always was but it was the total lack of emotion that he displayed that caused concern.
When Trudy's funeral was held that Saturday, Adrian simply sat on the front pew of the church with a blank stare on his face. He did nothing but stare at Trudy's closed casket, and when it was lowered into the ground he stood there even longer just gazing at his wife's final resting place.
The guys at the station, Trudy's relatives, their friends... everyone tried to call and visit any time they could but Adrian simply refused their visits or wouldn't answer their phone calls. He had taken a leave of absence from work, and Stottlemeyer especially worried about him constantly.
After not hearing from him for two weeks, he finally decided to go to his partner's house to see if he was okay. He knocked on the door, and was alarmed when he noticed that it was unlocked. He opened it slightly and called in to him, but he received no answer. He came inside and called for Adrian again and he still received no answer.
"Dammit Monk, I know you're in here. We're worried about you."
He went upstairs, and heard a strange noise coming from the bathroom. He opened the door to find his partner on the floor scrubbing the floor with a big bottle of chemical cleanser. The fumes were overpowering. "Jesus Christ, Monk... What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?" It was as if he didn't hear a word he said. He just continued his frenzied scrubbing, so Stottlemeyer leaned over and touched his arm. That was a huge mistake.
Adrian let out a tortured cry and flinched backwards as if he had bitten by a rattlesnake. He cowered in the corner next to the toilet, and looked up at his partner with a terrified gleam in his eyes when Stottlemeyer knelt before him. "Don't...t-touch me..." he sputtered out.
"I won't... I won't..." He didn't know what to say. His first instinct was that he needed to get Monk to the hospital, because he didn't see how he had been functioning in this condition. But would he go? "Monk... I know you're having a tough time with Trudy being gone.... How long have you been like this?"
"I...dunno..."
"How would you feel about going to see someone? Someone at the hospital? If you saw a doctor at the psychiatric ward-"
"I'm not crazy." He was shaking like a leaf, and the look Monk's eyes scared his partner. He looked suicidal. Stottlemeyer almost told him to look at himself, but he bit his tongue. They continued to talk for a few minutes, but the little bit of progress that Stottlemeyer was making with trying to get Monk to open up to him was halted when his eyes rolled back in his head and he started to shake uncontrollably.
"MONK!!!" Stottlemeyer shot to his feet and pulled out his cell phone to dial 911. "This is Detective Stottlemeyer, I need an ambulance at 2011 Corwell Street NOW!" He grabbed Monk by the arms and pulled him out into the hallway. His eyes had returned to normal, but he was still shaking and his pupils were huge. Was he going into shock?
Within two minutes the ambulance arrived to take Adrian to the hospital.... The same hospital where Trudy had died nearly three weeks earlier. He was rushed into the emergency room where it was quickly decided that he was certainly going in shock. He was transferred to the fifth floor psychiatric ward where Stottlemeyer arranged for him to be monitored for a few days. He went into Monk's room where he was lying in bed staring at the ceiling, wasn't sure what to say, and left.
That night the ward was incredibly quiet. At nine o'clock it was scheduled for Adrian to receive a mild sedative to avoid another episode like the one at his house, and if he hadn't been in shock sound coming near his door would have shocked him.
A stream of obscenities that would have rivaled the most vulgar sailor was becoming louder and louder, and as soon as the young nurse came into Adrian's room she sighed and knocked it off. "Oh, hey...Sorry if you heard that. My boss is being a dick." She picked up his chart and looked at his history.
"Oh, God, you're the cop who lost your wife in the explosion. I saw your story on the news." She stood next to him, leaned over him and said, "Well, my name's Sharona. Sharona Fleming. And I'm going to take good care of you."
She had no idea how true those words were when she gave him his medication, smiled down at him once more and slowly walked out the door.