by R L Dunn
Ian and Julian let Martin release his pent-up emotion, cycling between love, anger, and fear. The supportive faces of his closest friends reassured him. "We will stand by you through this. One rule, any of us see emotion cloud your judgment, you're grounded. When you were in Elizabeth's house, did you find any business paperwork, a health proxy, power of attorney or will?" Ian centered him.
Martin swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. "She keeps an office in her house. I didn't go through anything."
"Can you handle going back to the house and looking for anything that states her wishes? Our legal team is looking to file an injunction to prevent Reed from controlling her care. Her employment records named Talbot as next of kin. No proxy is listed. Even so, unless we can show she wanted a specific someone, it will be a difficult path. This will all be moot when she wakes up. But just in case."
"We’ll check out her office too. Maybe we can find something that will give us a direction. This leaves me uneasy in light of her letter writing." Julian brought Ian up to speed.
Warren attempted to remove the breathing tube. "Beth, deep breath." He ran his middle knuckle against her sternum. She didn’t react. "C'mon sweetie." With no response, the anesthesiologist replaced the ventilator connection. "We can try again in a few hours."
"I’ll cover her, Steve. You’re carrying Knox's load and now Beth's." Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Thank you. She’s in talented hands. If you need me, I'm here until 1800 and will be back at 0600. She cares so much for her patients. Sometimes too much. I hope I can do her justice." Steven worried his lip.
Patrick rested his foot on the bottom bedrail. "What do you mean?"
"We were all stunned when she showed up from Hopkins. We found out she moved here to tend to her dying mom. She would work three sixteen-hour shifts and every other weekend to get time off to be with her. When she's here, she's devoted to her work and the people she works with. She goes to every celebration and remembers everyone's birthdays and anniversaries. She shares her off time with a small group of friends she trusts with more than superficial information. I'm honored she includes me. After her mom passed, she came back, and for the longest time, focused on her work. Her father destroyed her foundation. It was a long time before she smiled for real again.
"On a professional level, she’s an egoless superstar. She possesses this keen intuition. Take Bailey. He came in dead. No one would have batted an eye if she pronounced him. Not Elizabeth. She had them squeeze blood in, opened his chest and pumped his heart by hand, willing it to beat. His brain appears intact."
Steven took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth's face. "She's spent many a night at my place, despondent about a patient loss, exploring every possible misstep. Her analytical mind won't let her act any different. Sometimes, I think she gets too involved."
"How so?" Patrick's own analytical mind turned on.
"Just this week. Patient Ashbrook, an inmate from Silverton. He said his cellmate beat him up. Beth was sure the guards did it."
"She say why? You didn't believe her?"
"It was why she didn't believe the story about the cellmate. I told her to take things as they were. She insisted she had proof and was sending it to Corrections. She wouldn't say what she saw.”
Steven took a deep breath. "I hate to give her over to her father, but he’s the name on the paperwork. Her feelings toward him changed after her mother's death.” He interlaced his fingers with hers and lifted her hand to his lips. “Beth, please, I need you."
Henrietta Krump swept into the waiting area in full public relations mode. "Governor, please let me show you to a conference room. It will be more comfortable and private."
"Henrietta, I need to be clear: I do not want Mr. Martin Bailey near Elizabeth," Talbot's tone was arctic.
"I will advise security, Governor."
Talbot Reed huffed at the sight of Ian Chase alone in the conference room. They met years earlier when Ian spoke at the U.S. governors’ meeting about homegrown terrorism. "Commander Chase, I didn’t expect to see you." Talbot's posture was stiff. "I’m afraid this is not a good time."
"Governor Reed, I'm here because of Elizabeth's relationship with Martin Bailey."
"How do you know the Bailey boy?" the governor's tone sharpened. Henrietta's head turned like she was watching a tennis match.
Ian's brow arched. "Martin Bailey is not a boy, Governor. He is the Chief Executive Officer of Chase Security International. More importantly, he loves your daughter. Before we turn this into a legal battle, why don't we do what Elizabeth wants before you try to shut him out of her life again?"
"You have no say in this matter," Talbot held his ground.
Ian ran a hand through his hair. “I'm going to explain something to Mrs.," Ian ducked his head to bring the woman's nametag into his view, "Krump. Governor Reed and his daughter have no relationship anymore."
"Enough! If Elizabeth doesn’t want me here, she can tell me. Until then, I oversee her care, and part of that is no Martin Bailey."
Henrietta hurried out of the conference room as she rushed to Elizabeth's side. "Dr. Hedges and Dr. Keys, there is a situation. Her father, the former governor, maintains authority over her care. I want to remind you both you are to respect his wishes concerning Beth's care as well as maintaining her privacy."
Steven Keys saw the political side of the nurse administrator. She and the hospital were afraid of Talbot Reed. "We are aware of the situation. Dr. Hedges and I are well aware of the legalities dictating patient privacy too. As for Beth, she's in grave condition."
"Are you sure, Dr. Keys?" Henrietta huffed.
"Which part? Elizabeth's condition or the legalities?" Steven hissed.
Chapter Fifteen
Julian opened Elizabeth's office with her keys. He and Martin were greeted by an odd musty odor. Martin stopped himself before he lifted a travel cup sitting on her desk. "Do you have gloves?"
Julian donned a pair from his pocket and opened the cup. Small brown particles floated on top of what appeared to be coffee. "Uck." He tipped the container enough for Martin to see.
"That must be the toxin. Those dots don't look like coffee grounds."
Julian scanned her office, then pulled a sheet of white paper off her printer, rolled it into a cone, and poured a tablespoon or so of the cup's contents into it. He tilted the funnel, allowing the mixture to separate. Small flakes stuck to the paper. Julian waved his hand over the concoction to take a whiff. "Familiar?"
Martin's nose turned up. "It stinks like the Tactical Operations Center. Coffee, sweat, and cigarettes. Oh, God, nicotine. Call the lab. I'll call Viper."
Martin spoke to Patrick and continued rifling through her drawers. He found a stack of files rubber-banded with her notes and the name and number for a Trudy Saperstein. The note said, “prisoner abuse.”
"We need to take these,” he said, scanning the note.
Her computer was password-protected. Martin checked under the keyboard and blotter before calling their tech department. It took them about ten minutes to break in. A file labeled Prisoner Abuse contained four letters addressed to the Silverton Department of Corrections. He opened the most recent one. "Jule, read this."
"Mon frère, she doesn't mince words." Julian hit print, then forwarded copies of each to his secure email.
Martin and Julian arrived at Elizabeth’s home to search for anything to stop Talbot Reed. The pair headed into her office. Opening the first file drawer, Julian checked every tab. The files were in perfect alignment and by alphabetical order—Acorn Landscaping, Bakery, Barclay Card. He kept going. Health Care Proxy. He opened the drawer and grinned; the file contained copies of her parents’ and a year’s worth of her own proxies. He read the most recent one.
I hereby designate Dr. Ruth Weiss, of 1208 Flanigan Oaks Drive, Rockville, MD 20852, 301-291-8493, as my attorney-in-fact (my "agent") and give to my agent the power to make healthcare decisions for me
.
In the event the person I designate above is unable, unwilling, or unavailable to act as my agent, I hereby appoint Dr. Joyce A. Bey of 3944 Harrison Street, San Francisco, CA 94112, 415-582-2769, as my agent.
Julian reviewed the other forms. The names dated back since she was enrolled in medical school. All were signed, witnessed, and notarized. "Martin!"
"What?" Martin walked in holding her current diary.
"I found her proxy—not Reed." Julian searched through the files for any other important documents. "Mon frère, she left a letter with her final wishes as a codicil to her will. She wants to be buried beside Grace."
Martin's knees weakened, taking him to the floor. "I'm not doing that. No."
Julian sat on the floor beside him and wrapped a consoling arm around him. Five years earlier, Martin found him sitting in his wife's closet, an empty bottle of bourbon at his side and a full one in his hand. “She needs you now, Martin."
Nodding, Martin handed Julian her diary. "I couldn't find her mom's letter. She died January eighth."
Julian read to himself.
January 9th:
It's so cold. I am an orphan. My mother is dead and buried, and my father is dead to me. How dare he? I lost my love. I murdered our baby girl. Talbot Reed: position, power, profit and my pain. I want him to feel as empty as I do. Who do I pray to now? No one answered then.
Julian leafed forward.
July 10th:
Austin Bailey was shot today. I held his heart in my hands. All I could think about was the heart I crushed twenty years ago. Austin must prevail. I won't break another Bailey heart. I saw Marty. I wanted to crawl on my hands and knees to beg him to forgive me. Wishes are overrated. But Austin is alive. I can give Marty that gift.
"Call Ian. I'll call the proxies." Julian sat in Elizabeth's desk chair and dialed the first.
A pleasant woman answered on the third ring. "Dr. Weiss."
"My name is Julian Dupart from Chase Security. Do you know a Dr. Elizabeth Reed?"
"Beth, of course. Why are you calling me?" the older woman's voice wavered. "What's happened?"
"Dr. Weiss, Elizabeth is a patient at Horizon Medical Center. Are you aware she named you her healthcare proxy?"
"Mr. Dupart, I do not have personal discussions with strangers. Give me the name of the treating physician. I will dial the Horizon switchboard myself."
"Yes, ma'am. You need to ask for Dr. Patrick Hedges or Dr. Steven Keys."
Julian was calling the other proxy when Martin ended his call to Ian. "Hi, this is Joyce," a chipper voice answered.
"Good morning, Dr. Bey. My name is Julian Dupart from Chase Security."
"Well, Julian Dupart from Chase Security and Louisiana, if I'm not wrong, what can I do for you today?"
Julian broke the bad news, "Dr. Bey, do you know a Dr. Elizabeth Reed?"
"Yes, I do. Now, why would you be calling me and not Beth?"
"Beth is a patient at Horizon Medical Center."
"Did you call Professor Weiss?" her chipper voice became stressed.
"If you mean, Dr. Ruth Weiss, then yes."
"You said she's at Horizon. What's her attending's name? I'm in San Francisco. I need to find coverage."
"Dr. Patrick Hedges and Dr. Steven Keys are her physicians."
"Tell my girl I'm coming, and, Julian Dupart from Chase Security, don't let her bastard father near her." Joyce hung up.
Martin and Julian readied to leave the house, but Julian reversed his path of entry and slipped out the back. Two Silverton police officers stood on the porch, and Zach sat on the rail. With all the seriousness he could muster, Zach warned Martin nothing could be removed. Martin nodded. Elizabeth's recent diary, the proxies, and her will stayed safe in his pocket.
Patrick sat researching neurotoxins and nicotine. The unit secretary leaned over, handing him a fax. "Dr. Hedges, there is a Dr. Weiss from Johns Hopkins on line four."
"Dr. Hedges, may I help you?"
"Dr. Hedges, my name is Ruth Weiss. I understand Dr. Elizabeth Reed is your patient?"
"Yes, ma'am, I received your fax. We have a conflict here."
"Talbot Reed, the bastard. I am aware of Beth's feelings. I called the hospital legal department. Talbot Reed is not permitted to make any decisions for her, and I want him out. I'll be there on the first flight in the morning. You keep her alive. She is NOT a DNR."
Patrick picked up the other call on hold. "Dr. Hedges, this is Dr. Joyce Bey. What's going on with my girl Beth?" He couldn't help but smile at the voice on the phone before explaining the situation.
"You tell her I'm coming and keep her father away from her. He’s an evil man." Drawers opened and closed in the background. "I'm coming. Don't let her die."
"I don't plan on it." The line went dead.
"Don't plan on what?" a man with a Texas accent asked. "You put a call out for some additional medical support?"
"Tucker Hanlon, I’m glad you’re here.” He shared a one-armed hug with the "Friar," medical facility director for the DC branch.
"Pete called. I'm up on the politics. Where is she?" Tucker, dressed in Horizon scrubs, including an ID badge, looked down the dim hallway filled with nurses and residents.
"Two. Right next to Austin Bailey. The roof is about to blow. I got two calls—her proxy and alternate. He's sitting by her bedside. I’m putting in a page to the administration—and she is not a DNR.”
"Well, if he stays out of my way, there shouldn't be a problem. Otherwise, I'll toss him out on his ass. Pete's with her?"
Monitors beeped and pinged. Indistinct voices echoed throughout the unit. Sick was sick.
Pete and Governor Reed reacted to the slide of the glass door. "Governor, I'm PA Tucker Hanlon. I'm here to help Elizabeth." After shaking Pete's hand, he plopped his backpack on a chair.
"I'm sure Elizabeth will appreciate it. You boys don't like me much, do you?" He stood to stretch.
Pete Walter looked the man in the eye. "Don't know you well enough to form an opinion. I can tell you, she doesn't. I can also tell you she needs you to do right by her."
Governor Reed didn't have time to respond. Elizabeth's alarms blared as her heart beat in an erratic manner. Carts rolled down the corridor before the door flew open and medical staff flowed into the room.
"Atrial fibrillation overriding the pacer." A balding young doctor approached the bedside. Tucker hit a control on the bed to flatten it and make it hard, then started CPR. Pete injected the first round of medication.
Talbot yelled, “Let her be. She’s a DNR.”
"Check the pacemaker, Dr. Morton," Patrick told the cardiology fellow. "She's no longer a DNR."
Talbot took a step forward then stopped.
"Doc, she needs another lead." Tucker continued chest compressions.
"He's right. I need an atrial lead now," Dr. Morton, the cardiology fellow, said. Talbot Reed backed further into the corner.
"Bring in the portable fluoroscopy unit. Governor, we need you to step outside," Pete directed as he gloved and removed the dressing over the current pacing leads. Under Patrick's demanding gaze, Morton inserted the additional wire into the top of Elizabeth's heart.
Pete's gut tied in a knot. If this didn't work, there was nothing more to do. Elizabeth's condition was worsening despite all their attempts at intervention. The room seemed lost in a misty dream. Noises became muffled. The only thing in focus was the cardiac monitor.
Sweat dotted the cardiologist’s brow. "I'm there." After a long pause, her heart began to function again, re-establishing circulation.
Tucker broke the tension. "All right, darlin', you may be an attending, but it's not my first July. I don't need the testing." The young residents in the room laughed. "Folks, now vacate this area, so I can get this show under control." After the crowd left, he sighed at his old partner. "Why does a jump onto a frozen hostile mountain sound easier than this?"
"We were a lot younger then." Pete laughed.
T
ogether, the two PAs worked to change her gown and the bedding. "How many episodes of bloody diarrhea?" Tucker asked.
"Continuous. I replaced four units of red cells so far. Hedges is taking an entry from her playbook taking this chance. Rid her system of the toxin versus bleeding and electrolyte issues. Dupart found what appears to nicotine. The picture is cloudy—Nicotine shouldn't do this alone."
"What did she eat?" Tucker cocked his head.
"Tate saw her drink some chamomile tea. This morning, they found tea and honey she received as a gift in the kitchen and sent it off to the lab. Martin said she had a yogurt yesterday. What are you thinking?"
"Azaleas, rhododendron, jimson weed, mushrooms. You said some honey? What kind?" Tucker had an exceptional memory.
"Is there more than one type of honey?"
"You don't cook, do you?" Tucker laughed.
"I cook, but not with fancy jars of honey."
Patrick returned to the room. "No word from the Nebraska lab yet."
"Pete said she ingested honey that was a gift. What kind?" Patrick shrugged. "Mad honey. It can come from bees that pollinate azaleas. But it can come from some mushrooms too. We can't use temp as an indicator because we have her cold to protect the brain," Tucker said as if reading from an encyclopedia.
"Damn it, Tuck, she came in hot and dry. If you’re right, and it’s the honey, we’re looking at a cholinergic toxin or a grayanotoxin. They found her unresponsive, leaving her pre-loss of consciousness symptoms, including the possibility of hallucinations, a mystery. The aneurysm complicated things. Is she unresponsive from the poison or the bleed in her head or both? If it’s a plant toxin, we can’t do any more except what we’re doing. But explain why she is getting worse—we’re purging her system. Repeat the bloodwork. I'm going to call Nebraska and push them for results," Patrick sighed. “Her proxies are en route. No DNR. Pete, Tuck, thank you."