A commanding middle-aged man in a custom-tailored suit hurried toward us, surrounded by bodyguards and assistants. Thomas, who had gone to the airport, followed close behind.
Principal Johnson of St. Jude High School and the director of Dulles Memorial Hospital, one of the finest hospitals in the nation, hurried behind him, both visibly nervous.
The man at the center of them all was my father, Edward Dulles, chairman of Dulles Group.
"Cheryl!"
When Dad saw me lying in bed, covered in blood with my right leg in a gruesome state, rage contorted his face.
"Dear God! What happened?" The hospital director went white and began barking orders at the doctors behind him. "Take care of Miss Dulles! Prepare our finest private sterile suite at once!"
Meanwhile, the police arrived in response to
