by R L Dunn
Tucker Hanlon read the charts. Smart woman. Each patient experienced blunt trauma, likely from hands or feet. They also had contact bruising where their body hit something, or something hit them. Tucker almost missed the tell, but Elizabeth had critical eyes. Every patient had contact bruises forming a perfect circle in areas that would make accidental contact unlikely. Flashlight or baton.
Another significant item caught his eye. The admissions all occurred at night well after lockdown. The infirmary nurse at the corrections center who called the ambulance every time was Trudy Saperstein, and the admitting physician was Dr. Randall Knox.
Kip Brenan, recently named Co-Executive Director of Infrastructure Security and an original founder of Chase Security, pulled up a chair opposite Paul Young. "Now can you tell me what this is all about?
"I was looking forward to getting some sleep," Young whined.
"Austin Bailey." Kyle Cooper, head of CSI licensing and also an original founder, sat beside Young.
"What about him?"
Kyle tossed him Austin's admission photo. "He was shot in his vest voids. Why? He was left to die in a ditch. He's a fellow cop. Where's the investigation at? What is the department covering up?"
Young shoved the table at Kip and stood. "Sons of bitches."
Kip roared, "Sit down!"
"I don't know. Riggs, Blake, Logan and Lamb have shut me out."
"What did Lamb say?" Kip asked.
"Nothing. I mean, nothing to me. At that point, I figured I could do more being at the hospital for Austin and his family."
"What did they do at the scene?" Kyle asked.
"Lamb ordered the scene cleaned up. Collected the trash. Got the garbage bag out of there," Paul Young said.
Kip's eyes widened. "What bag?"
"There was a heavy-duty black bag in the ditch." Young started to sweat.
Kyle moved from the corner, giving him a pen and pad. "Start writing."
Young shook his head. "At first I thought he didn't want to lose any time getting evidence to forensics. I was out of the office for the next couple days except to interrogate Elizabeth Reed. I realized something was up when I checked the evidence log. There was no bag listed. There was very little evidence collected. I overheard Lamb whispering to Mathias from SWAT and Danny Logan.”
Kip opened and closed his fists. "What did you hear?"
"Lamb said Austin was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I took it as he stumbled across the bad guys. I didn't want to believe they were covering something up."
Kyle asked the follow-up question, "The child found earlier?"
"I don't know. She wasn't my case. I swear."
"Do you have kids?" Kip wanted Young to be affected.
"Yeah. I do." Young closed his eyes.
Kip rapped his knuckles against the hardwood. "Tell me, when did you decide to frame her and, if that failed, kill Elizabeth Reed?"
"Wh...at? What are you talking about? I followed the evidence on Dr. Reed. She hated Knox, and she had words with Knox. After I interviewed her, I knew she didn't murder anyone. Read my report. Logan concluded otherwise. He was convinced when the forensics came back, and I'm not. Think, she remembers the exact time of day things happened, but she left evidence behind. The straws in both homes were the only ones in the places. What, she brought her own straws to the party? Too many questions."
"You were just going to keep quiet and let them arrest her?" Kyle said, "That was, if she didn't die."
Kip handed him the card and a picture of the basket. "Tell us about this?"
Young picked up the card. "I didn't send her anything. I wouldn't apologize for doing my job."
"Where have you been? The honey was poisoned. She's in critical condition at Horizon," Kyle told him.
"Hospital?" Young shook his head. "Logan must have found more evidence. He got the warrant. He was celebrating tonight. He knows she's sick?"
"He does," Kip said. "How did you miss this?
Young held his head in his hands. "I'm dying. Stage Four cancer. I'm trying to hang on three more months to hit my pension, so my family gets something.” He stared at the table. “Friday and Monday, I was at the cancer center for my radiation. It hit me hard. I crawled out of bed in time to go to the bar tonight for Locke. I learned about the warrant tonight. I didn't poison Elizabeth Reed.” He rubbed at his eyes.
"Damn, I'm telling you, she didn't commit any murder. She's too bright and organized. I can't believe you think I would try to kill her. Why? She's someone you want on your side. Consider what she did for Austin. The Locke family said she cried with them about Ralph. Here is the name and number of my doctor. I'll even void the stupid HIPAA thing if you want." He shook his head.
"Any ideas who would want to put the blame on you?" Kip turned the discussion back to the poisoned honey.
"Half of the people I put away. I'm a busy cop. I've made enemies. My guess is whoever killed those men hates Dr. Reed. I need to review my interview notes. My name was used to win her trust. It won't be difficult to prove I didn't harm her. Even if I was charged, any decent lawyer could postpone a trial until after I died." His breaths increased. Dark circles underlined his eyes, and his face was pale.
"I'm inclined to believe you, Young. Please stay here until we can view your notes. We’ll put you up in a room," Kip tried to make it sound like an offer.
"You're holding me. Fine. I got my meds." He pulled a bottle from his pocket. "I need a few more bottles of water and a place to lay my head."
Kyle stood. "Let's settle you into a room."
Chapter Nineteen
Pete relieved Jamie at 06:30, while Eric remained to care for Elizabeth. Joyce and Ruth rushed in on Pete's heels. "We heard about the bombing. How's Martin?" Joyce asked.
"Concussion. Broken ribs. Stitches. We admitted him." Pete hung another bag of blood pressure support for Elizabeth.
Ruth opened the chart. "Her heart rate should be picking up. What does Cardiology say?" She took a bracing breath.
"Eric, don't you need some sleep? You were here all last night too." Joyce put her purse down on a chair.
"I'm all right. Tuck is with Martin. Elizabeth needs four hands."
"Ruth and I can help. You go to sleep. I need a pair of scrubs. Beth's not much bigger than some of the kids I operate on. We won't tell the hospital. I’m well-schooled in advanced administrator handling," Joyce said in her rapid staccato speech.
After ushering Elizabeth's new guardians inside, Bruce Steele took a protective stance between Austin's and Elizabeth's rooms. "Eric, you better sleep in the on-call room. Mike snarled the traffic in smashing style."
Eric handed Joyce his stethoscope. "Thank you, Dr. Bey. I need four hours unless you need me sooner."
Joyce Bey might have appeared scattered, but Pete was impressed with how she helped care for her friend.
Joyce smiled at the man entering Elizabeth's room, her gaze devouring Patrick. He seemed impressed with the blonde surgeon too. "Good morning. Ruth and Joyce, I presume. I got a call from Nebraska. They found a high concentration of grayanotoxin, likely from azaleas and nicotine, in her fluids and the samples from her home and office. Those levels decreased in the later samples as we anticipated.
“What's more concerning, the mass spectrometer also picked up fluorine in her blood samples. The level after admission is three times higher than the samples taken from her on arrival. I double-checked. With the layers of the poisoning and the aneurysm, symptoms overlapped. I researched every med she is on—no fluorine. I did a search for all drugs that cause similar symptoms. Flecainide is an anti-dysrhythmic with fluorine that can produce what we are seeing. The lab confirmed it is present in a high concentration. We need to neutralize it and find out why the levels went up since her admission. Pete, I'll put in an order for a lipid emulsion; keep fighting the acidosis. I need to check Martin and Austin. I want Austin out of bed today. I want Martin in bed. I'll be back."
Pete typed in orders for some additional
medications. Joyce was quiet as her eyes followed Patrick. "He's single."
"I didn't ask," Joyce said, blushing.
"I know, excuse me. Bruce, I need you to send someone downstairs to the pharmacy for me. I ordered more meds for Elizabeth. I also need you to alert the day supervisor. We got some of the tox results back," Pete kept his voice muted.
Bruce tapped his ear, "Bean requesting Tiger to the ICU.”
"You are all so stoic. Secret agent stuff." Joyce pulled a ball of wool and a crochet needle from her oversized bag. "Keeps me settled."
Martin groaned. He needed the mechanics of the bed to sit up. "What's the number of the bus that hit me? What time is it?"
"Almost noon." Tuck took his vital signs. "Headache?"
"Not bad. How's Elizabeth?" His voice was scratchy. "Fine. Hurts like hell."
Tucker poured him some water after noting his vitals. "The situation is complicated. Nebraska confirmed two poisons: azaleas and nicotine. Each can be fatal."
"Azalea and nicotine?"
Tucker warmed his stethoscope in between his palms. "The honey, her coffee, and tea. Tighe instituted a trace. Deep breath—we’ll need to repeat the scan for that bruising."
Martin gasped. "Complicated?"
"A third substance was found. Problem is its concentration increased after admission."
He squinted from the bright sunlight. "How? Please, I need to be near her."
"You're a patient too. Let me finish my exam, send labs, and manage your pain. That rib pain will stop you from taking adequate breaths. You can't afford to contract pneumonia. Then I'll help you clean up, and if you promise you’ll rest in the recliner, you can rest in her room."
His hand flopped up and down; he didn't have the strength to argue. "Did you figure anything out from the records?"
"Yeah. Beth's brilliant. I read the charts a few times." Tucker opened one chart to show Martin what she found.
Martin flinched more from the pain. "I need a phone."
"I'll lend you mine. First," Tucker gave Martin a urinal, "Tighe will be here soon. I'm warning you: your injuries are no laughing matter. You need to listen to us. Hedges needs to examine you."
After his exam was completed, Martin requested a conference call with Ian and Kieran. "You’re supposed to be resting," Kieran's voice boomed over the line.
Martin dangled his legs off the side of the bed. "I am. Elizabeth is caught up in Brynn's matter. She found proof of prisoner abuse."
"Damn. This confirms what we were thinking," Ian said.
"Can you have Pete clear me for duty? I need to run logistics, and I don't want to stop each time to run it through you." Martin wouldn't stay down.
"Logistics only. You go operational, and we’ll take the clearance away. We'll notify Pete. Martin, be careful. This is becoming complicated," Kieran said.
"Tuck said that about Elizabeth's condition. I'll put him on to explain.”
Bathed with Tuck's help, dressed in scrubs and medicated, Martin refused the wheelchair and used crutches to hobble into Elizabeth's room. She lay like Sleeping Beauty.
Joyce smiled. "Let's get you close to her."
Martin placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "Hi, Sunshine."
Pete reinstated Martin to duty and handed him his phone. "I'm warning you."
Martin requested two more Eagle’s Talon teams to Iowa, then dialed again. "Raptor, sitrep." His tone was firm.
"Damn, knew you wouldn't stay down long. How are you? Tiger is with Austin. He’ll be with you ASAP with a full report."
"Fine. I need you to expand the check of Elizabeth's phone logs. Screen for anyone related to corrections employees. She's caught up in the other situation."
Mike whistled. "It's escalating. Greece took another beating and cavity search last night. He's placed in the hole again."
"Shit, how bad?" Martin groaned as he let out a breath.
"Bad enough. Our eyes say he's refusing to use the duress word."
"Mike, his lawyer needs to visit him. Does Tiger have a phone and my weapon?"
"Roger that. New phone and your cleaned HK MK23, one additional clip."
"Austin, we need you to stay calm. I'm going to assign a liaison to you, so you don't have to wait for information,” Tighe said.
"The Reverend's visit triggered a memory. Two men in black. One said, ‘You did a lousy job taking care of that’ before another man shot me."
“Did you recognize anyone? You never drew your weapon," Tighe said.
Austin's heart rate soared. He started to hyperventilate. Jonathan shoved Tighe away while Judson drew up a sedative.
"No, please, don't knock me out. Friendlies, their car...it was Corrections." With his heart rate soaring and his struggle to breathe, Judson pushed the medication.
Tighe looked shaken. "Is he all right?"
Judson wiped Austin's brow with a dry washcloth. "No, his system cannot rally. Did he say what I thought he did? He was shot by another cop?"
"Yeah. Remember to keep that quiet." Tighe's next stop was Martin.
Martin sat in a recliner with his leg elevated, holding on to his composure after his conversation with Tighe and a follow-up with Mike. His laptop open on his lap, he read and typed.
Joyce kept an eye on Martin while she and Ruth chatted with Tucker and Pete. "Is he always that focused?"
"He's very competent at his job," was all Pete would say.
"Joyce, I can hear you." His gaze rose above his computer with a smile.
A knock on the door stopped all conversation. Tucker opened it after a nod from Martin. Lois Massey and a woman wearing duckling scrubs came in. "Mr. Bailey?"
Martin lifted his hand from his concealed weapon. "Dr. Massey, is something wrong with Janey?"
"Oh, no, I discharged her. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. I bumped into Colleen. Well, I'll let her explain. I told her how great you were with Janey. She told me about another patient."
"Can I help you?" He tilted his head to the side.
The IV lock above his wrist and the scrubs stalled Colleen. "I don't mean to bother you. We met in the emergency room—the explosion. I normally work in Pediatrics. I should go—you need to rest."
"Are they picking Lola up?"
"No. I'm here to ask your help. She goes from limp to shrill cries. The other nurses said you were able to soothe her. The doctors don't seem to hear what we’re saying. They think it's withdrawal. I shouldn't have bothered you. Beth, she always visits the babies," Colleen kept stammering.
Joyce Bey leaned forward. "Who's Lola?"
"She's an infant Mr. Bailey helped. She was injured in a fire," the young nurse told Joyce.
"I'll be back soon, Sunshine. Call me if her condition changes." He ran a finger down her cheek and reached for his crutches.
Joyce stopped working on her project. "I'm coming with you, Marty."
In Pediatrics, they found Lola crying in weak jags. Joyce frowned. "You let her cry like this? How long?"
"She cries; we clear her airway, and then she sleeps. She can't manage a feeding. She only manages a mouthful."
Martin dropped the crutches to lift Lola. Her knees pulled up against his chest, and her cries became sad yelps. He used two fingers to massage her back. At his touch, she became a little less frantic. "Angel, I'm here. Shh."
"Martin, I'll be right back. Colleen, I'm a pediatric surgeon. I want to see Lola's chart and speak to the physician in charge. In the meantime, Martin, keep doing whatever you're doing."
"Shh." He held her close.
Joyce, her face flushed and her lips flattened, returned to the room with the pediatric resident. "Martin, the resident needs to examine Lola." Joyce lifted the tiny girl from Martin's arms. Lola's face was red and swollen from crying, and her chest dipped with each breath. She rested the baby on her side and removed her clothes and diaper.
Her jaw was set, barely able to contain her fury. "Open your eyes. The history in this chart, after Dr. Hedges' note, is not lacking�
�it’s horrendous. Did anyone read the radiologist's note about the abdominal margins in her chest x-ray? Have you bothered to listen to your nurses? They are your eyes. Did you bother reading their notes? She had one minor bowel movement on admission. She manages a half-ounce of sugar water. She vomits any other feeding. The amount of urine is scant. She's dehydrated. Look at her chest; she's struggling to breathe. Who is your attending, and did you mention any of this? THIS IS NOT METH WITHDRAWAL! Listen!"
The resident turned white at the silence of Lola's bowel. "I'll call the fellow," he said.
Joyce redressed and diapered Lola. Her cries were weak. "Lola is sick. They need to run tests, but I think part of her intestine is dead." Joyce returned the baby to Martin.
He cradled Lola in his arms. "How did they miss it?" Sweat broke out on his brow, his own body straining.
"I wasn't here, but my guess is inexperience, Lola's age, and her history went in another direction," Joyce tried to sound neutral.
"Can you help her?"
"I don't have privileges."
"I didn't ask that. I asked, can you help her?" His voice rose.
"Yes, she needs a big surgery."
Martin flipped his phone on speaker. "Viper, can you come down to Pediatrics? Patient Lola Wyatt. It's an emergency."
"I'm with Austin...Lola? I'll be right there. You know I'm not a pediatrician."
"It didn't stop you when she came in. Joyce is here. I need you to talk to her, and then we need to call Carpenter." Martin hung up.
"Another codename?" Joyce asked.
"Carpenter, no. I mean, it could be a call name. Brock Carpenter is our chief legal counsel."
The resident returned with the pediatric fellow, Dr. Fred Lee. "Dr. Bey, my resident says you think Lola has necrotizing enterocolitis."
"I do. She needs a full work-up. STAT. She is fatiguing from pain and excessive respiratory effort. She would benefit from a secured airway and pain management."