Secure Again

by R L Dunn

  "Very early this morning, Detective Young was at the hospital posing questions about Knox and if anyone had an issue with him. One name kept coming up. Residents said she argued with him the day Austin was shot. Someone in the OR went as far as saying the fight continued during Austin's operation, escalating when she threatened Knox. I'm trying to find out more.

  “Staff also said she accused Knox of killing Viola Dufour. Her secretary heard a screaming match in her office. They also obtained statements from patrons at a bar where he drank quite a bit in the hours before he died. Knox told a packed taproom Wonder Doc was ruining his career. Hospital personnel confirmed he used that nickname for Dr. Reed. Martin, they’re moving fast—too fast. They act like they have a list of evidence to seize. Tell me, do you want me to assign a tandem investigation?"

  There was no other answer. "Yes. Jule, send me a picture of Knox. I overheard a conversation when Austin was in surgery. It might connect to this. I'll explain after I see it."

  "All right, we’ll start. You’re sure you want the answers?"

  "No, but that would be a foolish route to choose. Also, run a background check on Lewis James—Elizabeth’s ex-husband. I'm heading to the Silverton police department now. From what you told me, I don't think SPD has enough for a search warrant—unless she confesses."

  Martin opened her purse. Inside he found a tube of red lipstick. On impulse, he put it in his pocket. There was no way he was going to let the cops prowl through Elizabeth's personal life. The diaries and letters fit into his trunk.

  Chapter Eight

  Patrick "Viper" Hedges, thirty-nine years old, former Air Force combat controller, six-feet-two, two hundred pounds, stood at the foot of Austin's bed. With vibrant green eyes and tousled hair the color of caramel, he resembled a GQ model more than a critical care MD. The facility director from Chase Medical's Health Center in Denver, PA Seth Brady, stood beside him. "You just missed Martin."

  He nodded. "This morning, I spoke with Beth Reed. The strategy is to wean him off ECMO tomorrow. I don't think I would take the chances she did. In fact, I can give you fifty justifications not to. I also think she's the only reason he's alive. Hey, Austin, my name is Pat. I'm going to examine you."

  Completing the exam, Patrick stripped off his gloves. "Keep your eye on the bleeding, tweak what you need to keep him tolerating ECMO. I'll call physical therapy to start passive exercise, but otherwise, we will hold to Beth Reed's plan. I want to start ingratiating myself to the other staff."

  "Don't worry, Austin is under control. Our other PA took the flight after yours, and the others should arrive after one. The unit's head nurse, Tommy Kline, is helpful." His eyes turned back to Austin.

  Forrester and Pellegrino accompanied Elizabeth to a small room in the station where two men in shirtsleeves and slacks stood waiting for her arrival. "Dr. Reed, thank you for coming in this morning. I'm Detective Sergeant Paul Young, and this is Detective Sergeant Danny Logan."

  Elizabeth sat in the wobbling chair Young pulled out for her. "I wasn’t given a choice. They didn’t even give me a chance to grab my shoes or belongings. Why do you want to speak with me?"

  "We're sorry; I'll speak with the officers. You are not being detained." Danny Logan blocked the door with his intimidating frame. "Elizabeth, may I call you Elizabeth?" She gave him a curt nod. "Elizabeth, we would like to speak with you about Austin Bailey."

  "I can't speak about his condition. Medical history is a privacy issue. You both should know that."

  "We don't want details, but we need you to tell us what happened the day Austin was shot," Young directed.

  "I came in around five-thirty. As I finished closing a liver laceration, the ER paged me for Austin. He was moved to the OR at three-thirty-five. I got him to the unit ten hours later, and by two-thirty, I made it home."

  "You are very sure." Young rested against a wall.

  "I'm a surgeon. I need to be precise. It rolls over to other parts of my life."

  "What about yesterday?” Logan's head tilted.

  "What is this about?" Elizabeth showed annoyance.

  Young put a bottle of water in front of her. "Please, Dr. Reed, answer the question."

  "Fine. I was back at the hospital by seven. I checked in with my office. Then, I hit the ICU and took report. I lost a patient. Spent time on the surgical floor. Did some work in my office, held a resident discussion, saw clinic patients, spoke with my covering doctor, went to a pediatric mortality conference and got home around eleven."

  "Any other appointments?" Young sat beside her.

  "I conferred with PA Pete Walter about Austin."

  "Hmm, no others?" Young challenged.

  "Nothing scheduled."

  "Any unscheduled?"

  "No."

  "Elizabeth, you are wearing a lovely shade of lipstick. What is it?" Danny Logan smirked.

  "You're kidding me, right? Fine. It’s Ruby Woo by MAC. What, are you seeing a redhead?" Sarcasm dripped from her lips.

  "Dr. Reed, how often do you lose patients?" Young countered his partner. They treated her like a Ping Pong ball.

  "Too often."

  "Two in two days is a regular occurrence?" Young continued.

  "Sometimes. What is this about?"

  "Which is your dominant hand?" Logan asked.

  "My left."

  "Tell us about your relationship with Randall Knox?" Logan's tone turned cold.

  Martin parked beside the municipal headquarters. He approached a young uniformed officer sitting at a high desk inside the front door. "Good morning, I'm Martin Bailey, Austin's brother. Could I speak to Chief Sharpe please?”

  "I'm so sorry; Sergeant Bailey is a great boss. How’s he doing?" The woman picked up the phone.

  A man wearing black trousers and a white shirt with five stars on each epaulet swaggered out a side door. "Martin, come in. How's our boy this morning?"

  "He made it through another night." Martin forced a smile.

  "Son, what brings you here today?" He led him into his cramped, paper-filled office.

  "To be honest, sir, Austin's physician, Elizabeth Reed, and I were talking this morning when two of your men asked her to come in." His tone was light and relaxed.

  Sharpe pushed back in his rolling chair and interlocked his fingers over his rotund belly. "That doesn't concern Austin. Dr. Reed had some harsh words with another doctor. That poor boy ended up dead. My detectives are just beginning their inquiry."

  "Did she ask for representation?"

  "Now why would she do that if she isn’t hiding anything?" His manner turned tougher.

  "I’m just curious. Didn't mean any offense, sir. I wonder if I may bring her her purse, house keys, and phone?"

  "That’s kind of you. I can take it to her.” He drummed his fingers.

  "May I? Your guys interrupted a moment." Martin waggled his eyebrows.

  Doug Sharpe laughed. "Hmm, she’s a looker. Is she as fiery as that hair?" Martin managed not to cringe. "You wait right here. I'll see where Young and Logan are at with their questioning."

  Martin texted Julian after Sharpe left the office. Send counsel for Elizabeth right away.

  Already done. Ice is twenty minutes out, Julian responded.

  Martin smiled. The men and women who now worked for him performed their jobs well. He needed to focus. Choices made by emotion were deadly in his career. Biding his time, he shot pictures of the paper strewn across the chief's desk before the man returned.

  "Son, the interview is in progress. Why don't you wait for her at Austin's desk? Young is aware you're here."

  His comment, by the omission, meant Elizabeth did not. The chief escorted him to a beat-up wooden desk. He smiled at the family photographs. The desk was a mess. Janey always teased Austin that he needed a secretary for work and home. Martin couldn't resist organizing its contents, chuckling at his brother's meticulous notation. They didn't appear to be in any logical order—it was, as he surmised, Austin's way.

 
A text vibrated, and Randall Knox's picture sneered up at him. Martin cursed under his breath with recognition.

  "Those scratches on your hands, where did they come from?" Logan grasped her hand in the way a lover would before he kissed it.

  She pulled her hand into her lap. "Randy Knox caused those."

  "Why?" Logan crossed his arms.

  "His patient died. It was his belief that I did not give him proper notification. He barged into my office and held my hands down. He scratched me as I pulled free."

  "When did this happen?" Young creased his forehead.

  "Before I saw Mr. Walter."

  "You just said you didn't keep any other meetings," Logan's voice rose.

  "I didn't consider it one. He wanted to pick a fight I had no interest in."

  "Why do you think he thought you didn't call him?" Logan closed space on her.

  "I didn't. Dr. Miles Gerba did the moment the patient took a turn for the worse. During the resuscitation attempt, the clerk tried numerous times. Afterward, Dr. Gerba made several more attempts. Not my fault he didn't answer." She pounded her fist against the table.

  "Do you always get angry when someone annoys you? What else did you argue about?" Young rolled up his sleeves. The temperature in the room was oppressive.

  "Why are you asking me these questions about Randy?" She grimaced when neither man answered.

  Nineteen minutes later, the air crackled with electricity as two men and a woman in suits walked in with confidence. Martin didn't recognize two of them. The first man stood about five-feet-eight with curly espresso-colored hair. The brunette woman wore a white blouse and black pencil skirt, augmenting her Rubenesque body. Zachary "Ice" Wentworth, at six-foot-two with white spiked hair and piercing blue eyes, dominated the room.

  Martin consumed himself with his brother's desk rather than giving in to the desire to pace or kick in the door like a caveman and rescue Elizabeth. A door thrown open jolted him to attention. "Dr. Reed is not at your beck and call. I will be happy to facilitate an appointment for you to speak with her if you wish. Today's questioning is over," a distinctive southern male voice boomed.

  "We’ll be in touch, I'm sure. Your client remains under investigation. Dr. Reed, do not leave Silverton," a well-dressed man in his forties warned.

  The voices grew nearer. Martin could see Zach with a helping hand at the center of Elizabeth's back. He jerked his head toward the door. Elizabeth's face was pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed. Zach supported her when she stumbled.

  Outside, the trio waited for Martin to join them. "Thank you." Elizabeth's shoulders drooped.

  "You’re welcome," Martin's voice cracked.

  "Martin, these are criminal defense attorneys, Terry Newsome and Cleo Nolan," Zach introduced them.

  Terrence Newsome was an old college friend of Kieran Chase's. The young woman, Cleo Nolan, was an up-and-coming defense lawyer in Iowa. The law allowed Newsome, from Chicago, to work in association with Cleo until he could file for his right to work.

  "Thank you for coming. I want to take Elizabeth home unless you need to discuss things further." Martin shook the lawyers' hands.

  "Yes, we need to talk. How about we follow you since my office is in Chicago? Cleo's is downtown," Newsome suggested.

  "Chicago?” Elizabeth asked.

  "Cleo is your attorney of record until my credentials come through, though we hope this is wrapped up before a courtroom is needed. I was with family in Des Moines and caught a ride in a friend's helicopter. Let's get you home." Newsome preferred working with his sister, a renowned Iowa attorney, but she alerted him that her firm represented Talbot Reed. He chose to avoid potential conflict.

  "Elizabeth, I have your things. Come with me?"

  She walked in a fog to the black Navigator. Guiding her to the passenger side, he lifted her into the seat. She didn't react when he pulled the seat belt across her and buckled her in. A quick run around and Martin climbed into the driver's seat.

  "Why are you doing this for me, Marty? I assume you called the attorneys." She stared down at her hands.

  It broke his heart. He didn't want her to fear him. He resisted reaching for her hand, putting the car in gear instead. "After you speak with Mr. Newsome, we can talk."

  "I didn't murder Randy Knox." The air from the open window rushed over her skin.

  "I believe you, Sunshine." When sympathy overrode reason, he reached across the console, clasping her cold hand before focusing on driving her home.

  Newsome and Nolan sat with Elizabeth in her dining room, away from Martin and Zach to preserve privilege. "Dr. Reed, I need to go over a few things about your personal relationship with Randall Knox."

  "You mean my professional relationship with Randy. There never was a personal one."

  "Tell me, why the hostility?" Newsome dissected her tone.

  "Because this is absolute insanity to think I would be interested in Randy, much less kill him."

  "You and Randy Knox ever have intimate contact?" He leaned back in his chair.

  "No, ew, never! What about the word ‘personal’ do you not understand?" Anger erupted.

  "Have you ever been in his apartment, or has he ever been to your home?" Newsome sought.

  "No…wait—yes, he held a holiday gathering last December, and he was here with the surgical department for a July fourth party."

  "If you didn't like him, why would you go to a party at his home?" Cleo scoffed.

  "I went with Steven Keys. It was work-related. The same reason he was here."

  "Are there any reasons others think you hated Dr. Knox or wanted him gone?" Terry slid his chair closer.

  "God! Because I did. His sexism and vulgarity had no bounds." She ran both hands through her hair. "He was lazy. He cut corners. He tried to undermine me anytime he could. Sad, he was competent, but only when he felt like it. I had words with him often. I wanted him to smarten up before someone died. Which just so happened on the eleventh."

  "He killed someone?" Cleo pursed her lips.

  "Viola Dufour."

  Newsome took her through why she believed that to be the case. "Let me confirm. You told him?"

  "I told Randy, Craig Hillinger, Miles Gerba and Virginia Harper that he caused her death, so, yeah."

  "It's not news, then, that Dr. Knox told people you killed Viola," Terry probed.

  "No."

  "You operated on a child. You lost a car accident victim. Dr. Knox complained to the VP that you exceeded your license and that you 'wasted' resources. Dr. Keller disagreed with you about your initial choices in Austin Bailey’s surgery.”

  "Mr. Newsome, this shouldn't be new to you; you're a lawyer. I'm a physician licensed in Iowa. Any licensed physician can operate on any human being. And wasting resources—I tried to give a young man a chance. Knox questioned my decision in front of residents. That question influenced Dr. Keller with Austin. What you seem not to know is Knox didn't question my use of similar procedures for Austin because saving a cop is a glory call to a guy like him."

  "A glory call?" Cleo tugged on her ear.

  "Save a cop, get your name in the paper. A Black teenage boy doesn't receive the same press."

  "Did it influence you?" Cleo's eyes squinted.

  "No. Everyone bleeds red," she huffed.

  "Did you have words with Dr. Knox during Austin Bailey's operation? You planned to take action?" Terry flattened his lips.

  "Yes, I was tense. Austin was dying, and Knox delayed coming to help to make a complaint. That was unprofessional. His obligation was to Austin." She shook her head. "Damn it, I needed Austin to live,” she yelled.

  "Knox told you that you needed to get laid. He said he would sleep with you out of mercy. How did that make you feel?" Cleo asked.

  "How do you think it did? Angry and hurt. I was holding Austin Bailey's heart in my hand. I needed to focus. Randy said something like that to me many times. He was a pig."

  Cleo's lips parted. Holding Austin's heart was not an ex
pression. "So, did it make you mad when he left the OR?"

  "At that point, I didn't give a crap. There is only so much room to work. Six surgeons were working with me. Once he attached the ECMO machine, Austin did not need him. He left to treat Viola Dufour."

  The lawyers went at her for another hour. She explained why she moved to Iowa, what happened at the fatality meeting, and that she had no alibi for the night Randall Knox was murdered. "Do you think they’re going to charge me?"

  "You had means and motive. You were home alone which gives you the opportunity. One more question. Are you left- or right-handed?" Newsome asked.

  "Left-handed. But I can use both. I used my right hand for part of Austin's surgery."

  "Practice?" Cleo speculated.

  "PRACTICE? Are you out of your mind?" Elizabeth's gaze narrowed. "I massaged his heart with my left hand and repaired a bronchial artery with my right. Do not ever question my ability to operate again."

  "Dr. Reed, I suggest you work on curtailing that temper." Cleo met Elizabeth's scowl with one of her own.

  Terry Newsome defused the tensions when he asked Cleo to get Elizabeth some water. "We have all we need now. Dr. Reed, you cannot leave Silverton. If they want to question you again, you remind them you won’t speak without Cleo or me present. Don't give them a DNA swab."

  Elizabeth turned away. "I already did. I didn't do this."

  "That's alright; we will deal with what happens. The judge refused their request for an arrest warrant based upon lack of evidence. They’re waiting for the DNA, prints, and fibers. I don’t know if they were cocky or stupid—they didn’t ask for a search warrant. They have ample grounds for that. Call me if they show up. They can wait until one of us gets here. Keep to your normal routine, and we’ll speak soon. Please remember showing your frustration won't help the situation."