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Secure Again

Page 23

by R L Dunn


  Krystal rolled her eyes. "You should write fairy tales."

  Martin ran his hand through his. hair. "Theory number two—cover your ass. You needed to stop Elizabeth because she was on to you and Randy. You moonlighted at the jail. When did you become involved with hiding prisoner abuse? They beg for your help? You send them back to be tortured again? When things got out of hand, or they knew too much, you made sure they didn't talk. When did you commit your first murder?"

  Her pupils dilated, and the tip of her nose flushed. She was about to lie. "What are you talking about?"

  Martin badgered her, "How many prisoners are in the ground because you wouldn't protect them? Poor men and women, some not tried yet, who got caught up in something they couldn't control. You are a physician. It was your job to end their abuse, to help them. You chose not to. Think about it, Krystal. You did this for Randy. What did he promise you?"

  She folded her arms across her chest.

  "By the way, when Randy got off the phone with you, he told me he was trying to keep you from knowing he was intimate with Elizabeth."

  Krystal's head snapped up like someone slapped her. "I knew it. I swore he had something going on with that bitch. He promised me after..."

  Martin zeroed in. "After?"

  "Viola's surgery."

  "Promised you what?"

  "To marry me when I was done with the program, and we’d move away. I want protection."

  "From whom?"

  "You can't let me go to Silverton Jail. They'll kill me," her voice hushed.

  "Who will kill you?" Martin's volume notched up.

  "The guards. The prisoners. If we worked the infirmary, we patched them up and sent them back, but sometimes they were too messed up, or if one of us wasn't working, they came here. Those times, Randy would receive a call that a premium prisoner was on the way. Depending on what they needed, he did what was necessary. Most of the time, he patched them up. But sometimes he was forced to find a humane solution.”

  The words caught in Patrick's throat, "Humane? What happened to ‘do no harm’?"

  "Randy's dead. Who told you to find a humane solution for Tonette?" Martin's voice toughened.

  Krystal shook her head. "I want protection. She's crazy."

  "Who, Krystal?" Martin's breath tickled the back of her neck.

  "Doctor Ullman. Hailey Ullman," she said the name like acid burned her tongue.

  Martin didn't need to ask; Ford and Mike left the room. "Who else is involved?"

  "I swear, I don't know. Hailey gives the orders." Martin stepped back. "What's happening?" Krystal cried.

  Tate lifted her out of the chair. “Krystal Slater, place your hands behind your back. I am Investigative Agent Tate Webster from the Department of Homeland Security. As per federal statute, there is probable cause based upon what was found on your person in addition to your direct statement that you committed a felony, allowing me to place you under arrest." He applied a pair of flex cuffs. She bowed her head as he and Kip led her past her colleagues.

  Patrick and Martin returned to the somber vigil beside Elizabeth. They could only support her and wait. When Martin's phone vibrated, he showed Patrick the message. Hailey Ullman disappeared from the hospital after Tonette's code.

  An agitated Henrietta Krump knocked on Elizabeth's door. "Mr. Bailey, may I speak with you? You can't do this," Krump said, red-faced.

  Martin narrowed his gaze at the administrator. "What can't I do?"

  She tapped her pointed shoe for emphasis. "You can't disrupt the hospital staff by searching them every time they enter a room."

  Martin flexed his neck. "Mrs. Krump, let me educate you. Please ask the hospital lawyers. Under the authority of the federal government's Department of Homeland Security, I am charged with, among other things, overseeing the possession, use, and transfer of biological agents and toxins that can pose a severe threat to the public. Under that mandate, if I deem searching staff necessary, I will do so. I would think you would be more concerned that at least one former and two current employees participated in harming multiple patients. Can I answer any more questions?"

  Tighe's heart tugged for the abused little girl nicknamed Victoria, and the Raggedy Ann story made him smile. A red wool-haired doll rested beside her. "The other dolls sat upon the shelf and looked straight before them, for it would never do to let grown-up men know that dolls were really alive."

  A little hand reached out. Tighe grasped her fingers with one hand and waved over Vanessa Rudolph, a Chase nurse from New York, with the other. "Hello, princess. Don't be afraid. You’re safe now." He was smitten when two bright brown almond-shaped eyes focused on him. When she bucked against the tube, Tighe took an exaggerated breath. "Shh, the tube is helping you breathe. Slow and easy."

  His knees weakened as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Are you hurting? I'm here. Squeeze my hand if you hurt.” He felt her hand squeeze.

  "Hello, my name is Vanessa; your eyes are so beautiful." She hit the call bell. "Tighe, I need an order for pain meds."

  When Tighe moved to give Vanessa space to work, the child held on as hard as she could. "I'm not leaving you."

  Bruce rushed Joyce inside, then blocked the residents and only allowed Kat Archer in after he searched her. Joyce and Kat examined the little girl. "Hi, I'm Dr. Joyce. We’re going to take that tube out and make that hurt go away." The doctors removed the tube, and once the little girl was settled, Kat departed.

  Tighe knelt at her bedside to be at her eye level. "Princess, can you tell us your name? My name is Tighe, and this is Vanessa, and this is Dr. Joyce."

  "Lis...sa." Her arm wrapped around the doll with the red wool hair.

  "What a pretty name. How old are you, Lissa?" Joyce spoke. Lissa held up four fingers. "Wow, four."

  "Lissa, what's your big person name? My name is Tighe Cummings."

  Lissa scrunched up her face. "I not s'post to tell."

  "Who told you that, Lissa?" Tighe's tone was gentle in spite of the anger burning inside him.

  "You don't have to keep secrets," Joyce said. "No one will hurt you. Do you want to whisper to me?"

  Lissa shook her head and pointed to Tighe.

  Tighe leaned in closer. "Okay, Princess. You whisper it to me."

  "Lissa Satanta."

  He forced himself to smile. "Thank you, Lissa. What is your mommy's name?”

  "Mommy. Daddy calls her Ho." The little girl's reply was so innocent. The three caregivers turned their eyes from her sweet face. "Mommy went to sleep and never woke up. Daddy said she was Sleeping Beauty, and he took her to the castle. The next day he brought me to stay with Uncle Boyd." Lissa's monitor alarmed at her increased heart rate.

  "Lissa, look at me. No. One. Will. Hurt. You." Lissa's eyes grew glassy from the pain medication. "Go sleepy. I'll be here when you wake up." Tighe held her hand until she was asleep. "Joyce, Vanessa, if anyone asks, she only told us her first name."

  "Is she in danger?" Joyce asked.

  "Her mom may be dead. Her dad is dead. My guess is Uncle Boyd is responsible for hurting her or is aware who did. What else is locked up in that beautiful head?"

  Joyce put her hand to her mouth. "We need to protect her."

  "Don't worry about that." Lissa Satanta was his newest mission. "I'll be right back." Tighe called Martin from the corridor. "I have urgent information."

  A few minutes later Martin stood leaning against the wall outside Lissa's room. "I'll run Boyd through the names of cops, prisoners, and guards. I'm not sure why that little girl trusts you. I can't order you to do this, but we need some answers. Work with Joyce and our nurses and find a way to ask questions without doing more damage."

  "I'm in new territory here.”

  "She trusts you. Trust your gut."

  Fresh from the news about Lissa Satanta, Martin walked into Lola's room. Kenny was massaging Lola's little back with one gloved finger through the porthole. Trask was hovering over the pediatric resident. "What's going on? Wher
e's Dana?"

  Kenny gritted his teeth. "The doctor here won't take our word that Lola's uncomfortable. Dana went to call Dr. Bey."

  Martin roared. "Why is that, Doctor?" Their boss's unusual strong tone provoked both men to cringe.

  "She received medication two hours ago. She shouldn't need anything yet," the doctor stuck with his reasoning.

  "Hmm, Doc?" Trask spun the resident to face him. The resident was cornered. "Doc, you pee every few hours? Do you sometimes need to go more than that?"

  "Yeah."

  "And you breathe about twelve times a minute. But now, your pulse is fast, and you’re breathing faster because you’re afraid of me?" Trask moved a bit closer.

  "Fine, let me examine her," the doctor said. Trask threw up his hands.

  Kenny's left hand remained in the porthole. "I'll order something," the resident said, ducking under Trask's muscular arm.

  "See, Doc? Not hard at all." Trask laughed, watching the resident's back. "Bet it is one of those moments he pees more often. Hey, Daddy, wash your hands. Maybe she'll relax for you."

  Martin scrubbed his hands and gloved as Dana came rushing back in. She and Kenny checked the sealed vial of pain medication and dose before she gave it. When Lola's stiff body relaxed, Martin ran a finger through her ringlets. "Daddy is here."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Thursday, July 17th

  Tango team's executive officer, Gwen "Witch" North, sporting a tactical rifle, called the breach. Two other operators used a ram and took out the apartment door, SECURITY marking the backs of their tactical gear. Three more team members rushed forward, searching each room. She scowled more with each "CLEAR."

  "Ullman hasn't been gone for long. Coffee is still warm." A fourth team member held up a cup.

  "Take the place apart," Rene "Gator" Mirouette, Tango team's leader, said.

  The narrow hallway ended at a closed door. With a check of her hip, Gwen stood just over the threshold, frozen in place. Hundreds of Post-it notes in multiple colors aligned in a flow chart on the room's walls. "Take pictures." Using a pair of gloves, she opened a giant binder sitting on a desk. "Gator, come in here; you need to see this." She pulled a second one from a bookshelf. "This has been going on for a long time. They predate Elizabeth." Tango Team logged three thick volumes into evidence.

  "We found a paper bag filled with empty coffee cups, spoons, energy bar wrappers, straws and a pair of panties. I'll bet they all belong to Elizabeth Reed," another Tango team operator said, entering the room. His head tilted at the sight of the walls as he approached, an evidence bag in his hands.

  "XO.” The seventh team operator joined the crowded room and handed Gwen a framed picture of a sizable man holding Hailey in a suggestive position. The man in the photo wore a corrections uniform, his face hidden in shadow. "Consider these." In another photo, Hailey sat laughing around a fire pit with Krystal Slater, Pietra Hahn, and Randy Knox. In a third photo, Hailey stood in a lab coat with an unidentifiable woman. "Her hands are wrinkled with age."

  "Great, we need a manicurist to help figure it out. Scan those photos. We need an ID on all the adults," Rene said before he called Martin.

  A loud voice heralded Danny Logan's arrival. "Who’s taking responsibility for this fiasco? You people can't kick in a door without a warrant."

  Mike Johnson ran up the stairs on the heels of Logan's roars. "Hi, Mike Johnson, Homeland Security. Here's a copy of our search warrant." He directed his brightest smile toward Logan and his fellow detectives, Riggs and Blake.

  "Detective Logan, I have something to show you." Gwen, wearing her tactical uniform, exuded power and control as she walked the enamored cop to the Post-it room.

  "Sweet Jesus." Danny Logan's shoulders rose as he turned 360 degrees, taking in the swirls of Post-its.

  "Detective, look at this." The most current notebook sat open on the table. Logan pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket and turned the pages. A picture of Elizabeth Reed stared up at him. Underneath, someone detailed how they murdered Knox and Whelan. The outline also described how they framed her.

  "I need to make a call." In the corridor, he whispered to Blake and Riggs, "Put out a BOLO for Dr. Hailey Ullman. Armed and dangerous. Suspicion of multiple homicides. Find her."

  The team awaited the arrival of District Attorney Loren Ragan. Assistant District Attorney Jacob Krebs walked in on Ragan's shirttails. Terry Newsome and Cleo Nolan arrived minutes before.

  "Logan, show me this convincing evidence," Ragan's voice tried to demonstrate leadership. Instead, it betrayed he was about to be force-fed crow.

  The four attorneys breathed a collective horrified breath. A tight-lipped Ragan leafed through the album. “I'll remedy the situation the minute I return to the office, Terry."

  "You will also call a press conference. After this morning's defamatory speech by her father, Dr. Reed deserves that."

  A perfect politician wave later, Ragan grumbled—within earshot of the attorneys and the Chase personnel—to the three detectives and Krebs, "This is a mess. Who in your division is responsible for this? The Chase brothers will eat us alive."

  The text message vibrated his phone. Martin's smile filled the room with light as he read, ELIZABETH IS CLEARED.

  Elizabeth's room became a de facto command center. Martin viewed photographs from Hailey Ullman's house. They found canning jars, honey, and cigarettes soaking in a watery solution.

  Martin swiped at his weary face. "Slater and Ullman are connected to Elizabeth's poisoning. By the photos, Pietra Hahn was involved as well. Technical analysis was attempting to identify the others in the photos. “We know McAllister is involved too. Troy has identified many of the guards, but too many holes remain. On the medical side, I don’t think Knox, Ullman, and Slater did this on their own—more staff has to be involved. With no sign of explosives, the bomber remains elusive too.”

  Eric drew blood from Elizabeth. "We should note a significant drop."

  "If it doesn't?" Martin’s voice cracked.

  Jamie crouched beside him. "Be patient and think about positive things. Tess notified us at shift change that Austin's kidneys are waking up."

  Martin smiled. "Sunshine, you gave me and my family such a gift. In high school, you cared about everyone and everything. Abandoned animals to Vietnam veterans. Some of the kids thought you were only like that because you were a Reed. You were the real deal. Who took care of you all these years?"

  Patrick's hand rested on the crest of Joyce's hip as they entered the room. "We took care of each other,” she answered. “Hey, Beth, you need to move it, girl. You’re making Marty crazy." She sat on the bed beside her friend and grabbed her latest knitting project. "This is for Lissa." She held up part of a hot pink sock.

  Joyce was an animated storyteller. "Beth and I both matched for Hopkins—a mammoth modern center attached to this ancient building plopped into the middle of Baltimore poverty. The surrounding neighborhood is, well, let's just say all you alpha men would freak.

  “We go through the normal orientation, all the usual BS. Then it was time for the first lecture of substance. We’re sitting as a group in a lecture hall, sixty of us, two women. Birds of a feather... Dr. Coolidge, Head of Orthopedics, stands at the podium. He quotes, of all people, Stephen Stills from Crosby, Stills, and Nash." She impersonated him. “‘Stephen Stills said, There are three things men can do with women: love them, suffer for them, or turn them into literature. Nowhere does it say women should be surgeons.’ I was ready to walk out that minute. Beth turns to me and says, 'Being a woman is a terribly difficult trade since it consists principally of dealings with men.’ She told me it was from Joseph Conrad's Chance. She is half the man's size and twice the human being he ever will be. He rode everyone hard, but Beth harder. Made her hold a retractor for hours until her arms went numb. Gave her the worst assignments.” She bent down toward Elizabeth. “How many bowels did you disimpact? And you never gave in. Not once. Even the day you had the flu. You aren’t
going to give in to this either. Do you understand me?" Joyce lay across Elizabeth, wrapping her arms around her, her composure dissolving into bitter tears.

  Patrick moved around the bed. "Joyce, come here. Don't cry." He brought her to sit with him in a lounge chair.

  "I'm sorry, Marty. I'm not making you feel better,” she sniffled.

  "Tell me more." Martin's eyes smiled.

  "We were on our oncology rotation. A young guy came in with advanced colon cancer, only twenty-eight years old. Bald from chemo, but his eyes were just like yours. At the time, I didn't understand why Beth reacted the way she did, but he became her cause. A tumor blocked his liver. He had little time. The attendings decided they wanted to free the blockage, make him comfortable. Beth spent every spare minute with him, but he never made it off the table. Nobody's fault—his disease won. I found her tucked into a ball, crying her eyes out. We all lost our first patient weeks before, but this was more. She confessed her love for a man back home whom she didn't keep her promise to. She told me it hurt like losing you again. Marty, she loves you. Don't ever doubt it."

  He stretched over the bed to kiss her. "I don't. I love you too. Right, Sunshine?"

  Eric let out a huge breath. "Doc, the level is down by a third."

  Patrick nodded, rising from the chair and letting Joyce rest while he washed his hands. He listened to Elizabeth's heart. "Eric, call cardiology and repeat the cardiac work-up. Page me when Norton gets here. I'll see everyone later."

  Trask and Lola's nurse, Laverne Waverly, sat with Dennis Bailey, who kept his large, weathered hand on Lola. Dressed in a crocheted purple hat and booties from her grandmother, she slept now in a radiant warmer. Indira joined him. "Oh, I thought you were her dad."

  "I'm her grandfather, Dennis Bailey. This is her Uncle Trask and her nurse, Laverne. How is my granddaughter doing?"

  "Slow progress. We’re weaning her from the sedation. I hoped to speak to her father."

 

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