Night Shift

by Annelise Ryan

  “The doctor’s note said that they found her with severe tetany, and I’ve been told that means her muscles were in a state of spasm and rigidity.”

  “Isn’t that what happens if you have a seizure?”

  “It is, but remember that the time of death on Mr. Fletcher had to be amended because of—”

  “Because of the muscle rigidity caused by strychnine poisoning,” Bob finishes for me, his tone suggesting that a light bulb just turned on in his brain. “But there was an officer outside her room the entire time she was in the hospital. He said she never had any visitors, not even her husband. Only hospital staffers entered the room.”

  “Did that guard outside her room ever leave his station, like to go to the bathroom?” I hear him take a breath in and continue before he can get defensive. “I’m not implying that he or she did anything wrong, but I’ve seen other patients who were on police holds and had a guard, and they were rarely there every minute. And since Marla was heavily sedated, they might have felt it was okay to step away for a brief break. They were there to make sure she didn’t leave, right? Not to make sure no one else went in the room.”

  “True,” Bob says.

  “And maybe I’m being paranoid, but with Danny missing and Marla dead, it’s sure starting to feel like someone is trying to clean house.”

  Bob sighs wearily. “I’ll call the ME’s office and have them check for the strychnine.”

  “I already did. I spoke to Doc Morton. He said he’d test for it.”

  Bob chuckles. “Why am I not surprised? Good work, Hildy. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Before I can utter another word, I realize he has disconnected the call. Just like that my floating balloon of euphoria crashes to earth. “Okay then,” I say to myself with a shrug. “Back to work.”

  My next call is to Dr. Maggie Baldwin. Since there was no official consult request for her to see Marla Riley, no one from the hospital would have known to call her about Marla’s death. I’m hoping she’ll answer my call because I wouldn’t mind bouncing some thoughts off her, but I get her voice mail. I leave a message stating only the facts and letting her know she doesn’t need to come and see Marla. I debate sharing my thoughts on the matter but, in the end, I decide to stick to the basic facts for now and update her later if necessary.

  I tend to some routine paperwork and then give Stewart Riley another call. I plan to leave a message this time if he doesn’t answer and if I don’t hear back from him in a timely manner, I’ll send someone out to his place to do a welfare check. Stewart’s situation, personality, and history with Marla make him a high risk for suicide. But my worries are for naught because this time he answers my call.

  “Stewart, it’s Hildy Schneider.”

  “Hildy.” He sounds exhausted, drained.

  “I’m so sorry to hear about Marla,” I say. “It must be quite a shock for you. Do you have family with you? Or friends?”

  Stewart sighs. “Most of our friends disappeared around the time Marla started drinking heavily. And our families are out of state. My parents are coming up from Florida, but they won’t get here until the day after tomorrow.”

  “So, you’re alone?”

  “I am, but that’s okay. I’m fine. Really. And I need to stay here at the house to make sure no one else tries to break in.”

  It takes a few seconds for what he said to sink in. “Break in? Someone tried to break into your house?”

  “They did. It must have happened yesterday. I was out running errands, grocery shopping, poking my head in at work to let them know I’d be out on Monday, picking up the dry cleaning... that kind of stuff. It was probably some neighborhood kids high on pot or something.”

  “You said they tried to get in. Does that mean they were unsuccessful?”

  “No. They broke out a windowpane in the back door and I’m fairly certain they got in because the door was left wide open.”

  “Did you report it to the police?”

  “Why bother? I’ve already boarded up the broken window and as far as I can tell there isn’t anything missing other than what the police already took.”

  I hesitate with my response because I’m trying to decide how much to tell him, or even how much to hint at, but apparently Stewart’s patience has reached its limits.

  “Look, Hildy, I have to go. Thanks for calling.”

  Before I can utter so much as a syllable, he is gone. I frown at the phone a moment before placing another call to Bob Richmond.

  “Hi, Hildy,” he answers. “What have you thought of this time?”

  There is no rancor or sarcasm I can detect in his tone even though his wording strikes me as a tad rude. I decide to treat like with like. “Stewart Riley’s house was broken into sometime yesterday. Add that to your list of coincidences and tell me what you get.”

  After a brief pause, he says, “What did they take?”

  “According to Stewart, nothing was missing. But perhaps that’s because we got to it first.”

  “Did Stewart report it?”

  “He did not.” I hear Bob sigh again, the weariness evident. “I’m really worried about Danny,” I tell him.

  “I hear you. I’ll have a chat with the feds and see if they can put some pressure on this militia group they know about. Maybe they’ll know something about Danny.”

  “Can you put out a BOLO for him, both here and with the county guys?”

  “What, you’re no longer worried that we’ll be too eager to hurt him?”

  “I’m more worried about what someone else might do to him.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” And then, just like Stewart, he abruptly ends the call.

  All this rejection is starting to give me a complex.

  Chapter 26

  After giving recent events some thought, I make a call to Allie.

  She answers with, “Have you found Danny?” She is breathless with hope and it makes my heart squeeze painfully.

  “No, sorry. I guess that means you haven’t either?”

  “No, and I’m really worried, Hildy. He’s never been gone this long before. What if something terrible has happened to him?”

  Her voice borders on hysteria and I have no answer for her, so I ask a question designed to detour the conversation instead. “Allie, have there been any unusual happenings at your house lately?”

  “Like what?”

  “Any strange visitors, or any reason to think anyone has tried to break in?”

  “No, not that I’m aware of. I’m at work now and I can call Joel at home and ask him, but I’m sure he would have told me if he’d noticed anything wonky. The only odd happenings have been Danny’s behavior. Why?”

  “You said his laptop was gone, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, it disappeared when he did this last time.”

  “Is the laptop something he takes with him to work?”

  There is a pause, and I assume she’s thinking back to past days and Danny’s routines. “No, not that I’ve ever seen, now that you mention it. Why?”

  “Just wondering. Sometimes the most innocuous things can have meaning. I’m just trying to look at all the pieces and see if there’s any way to put them together that makes sense. Do you know of any special places Danny likes to go to? Does he have a park, or a particular walking route he likes to take?”

  “If he does, he hasn’t shared them with me,” she says. “And if he had, I would have checked them out already.”

  My boss, Crystal Hoffheimer, appears in my doorway and gives me a smile that tells me she has something she wants to discuss.

  “Listen, Allie, I have to go but if I hear anything at all about Danny, I’ll let you know. You do the same, okay?”

  “I will.”

  I disconnect the call and wave Crystal into the room. “What’s up?” I say with a smile.

  “We need to talk.” I feel my smile falter at the edges. Her tone tells me this isn’t likely to be a friendly chat. She settles into the chair across the
desk from me, her posture rigid.

  “I heard about what happened with Marla Riley,” she says. “A very sad ending to that story for her and her husband.”

  She has no idea just how sad yet, and I’m not about to tell her. I simply nod and look appropriately saddened.

  “You’ve worked with the two of them a lot over the past few years,” she goes on.

  “Yes, I have. Definitely not the outcome I would have hoped for.”

  “No, I suppose not.” She looks away from me then over toward the wall and I know from my past dealings with her that it’s time to brace myself. I have no idea where this conversation is going, but I sense that it isn’t going to make me happy.

  “I heard that the police searched the Riley’s house the other night, the same night that Marla was admitted through the ER. Is that right?”

  “It is.”

  She starts picking at a cuticle, giving it an undue amount of attention. “Why did they do that?” she asks. “It seems over the top for a domestic abuse case. Were they hoping to find some weapons?” She looks at me now, pinning me with her eyes, watching me closely. I’m a decent liar, but I know Crystal will see right through any attempts I might make to pull the proverbial wool over her eyes.

  “I can’t talk about that,” I say, thinking this is my safest reply. “Confidentiality, you know. I have to comply with it at the new job just like I do here.”

  “What about this job?” Crystal counters, eyebrows raised. “Don’t you still have a professional obligation to maintain patient, and sometimes family, confidentiality?”

  “Of course.”

  “And yet you participated in this search of the Riley house, didn’t you?”

  “I was with the police when it happened,” I tell her. “But I don’t see how that breached my duty of confidentiality. Stewart consented to the search. And the police are as familiar with the Rileys as we are. They already know their history. In fact, they’ve likely had more contact with them than we have since they’ve been called to the house on numerous occasions that didn’t result in a trip to the hospital for anyone.”

  “And yet, they’ve never tried to get a search warrant for their house before.”

  I stare at her, wondering how she knows about the attempt to get a search warrant. “How do you know that?” I ask, figuring I might as well try to get everything out on the table.

  “I have my ways and my sources,” she says with a cryptic smile. “And I know that the search of their house had nothing to do with their usual domestic abuse situation.”

  I’m stymied and my mind races, trying to figure out how she knows all this. But my brain is running slow from a lack of sleep.

  “I have some concerns about how these two jobs are going to mesh for you,” she says. “I think you’re going to run into some conflicts of interest that will impact one or both of these jobs.”

  “I think I can manage it,” I say, angry with how feeble this response is.

  “Can you?” Crystal counters, eyebrows raised in question. “What would you do if a patient here at the hospital told you something in confidence and you later encounter a situation with that patient when you are with the police, and the information that patient shared with you can impact what the police do, how they’ll respond?”

  “Simple,” I say, realizing even as I utter the word that it will be anything but. “I wouldn’t tell the cops anything. I’m under no obligation to do so.”

  “What if by not telling them you’d be risking the cops’ safety? Or the patient’s?”

  My tiredness is making me cranky and I roll my eyes at Crystal and huff out a breath of irritation. “We can sit here all day and make up outlandish hypotheticals that may or may not ever happen. I will deal with each case individually as they occur and use my best professional judgment.”

  “Well, I have concerns about that,” Crystal says. “And I intend to discuss them with Chief Hanson. I think you crossed a line with this Riley case and that may jeopardize the chief’s trial of this new program, putting his grant at risk. I’m going to recommend that he replace you immediately.”

  I’m so stunned by what she has just said that I’m rendered momentarily speechless. And my sluggish brain is starting to comprehend Crystal’s motive here. I stare at her in disbelief as she rises from her chair and turns to leave.

  “You think they’ll give the job to you, don’t you?” I say.

  Crystal pauses and turns back to me. “They’ll need someone to step up quickly, and I’m more than qualified,” she says.

  “Yet they didn’t offer the job to you when you interviewed for it.”

  Crystal’s eyes narrow. “Yes, because I wasn’t sleeping with a detective who had Hanson’s ear,” she says with a snide tone.

  “Neither was I,” I snap. “Nor am I now.”

  “Really?” She looks thoughtful for a moment and then smiles at me. It’s a mean, predatory smile. “That’s too bad for you, I imagine.” And before I can get another word out, she’s gone.

  I sit there, still in shock, replaying what just happened in my mind, and trying to decide what to do. I’m surprised by Crystal’s behavior. In the three years I’ve been working with her, we’ve always got on well and there has never been any real friction between us. This is a side of her I’ve never seen.

  I decide to call Bob and run the whole thing by him. I punch in his number and he answers by stating my name in a wary, questioning tone.

  “Hildy?”

  I intend to explain the situation in a calm, professional manner, but my tiredness has removed the shackles I normally keep on my emotions and I blurt it all out in a frantic and rushed mess.

  Bob listens, and then tries to calm me. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much, Hildy. You have the job and, so far, you’ve performed in a stellar manner.”

  “I’ve only had three shifts,” I say. “And Crystal has me over a barrel here. She’s my boss at this job, so it’s not like I can push her very far. She could fire me.”

  “Would that be the end of the world?” Bob asks. “It seems to me that you’ve got a lot on your plate trying to balance both jobs and maybe you should let go of your hospital position and just work for us.”

  “That’s not a very economically secure suggestion,” I say. “The job with you guys is a trial. There’s no way to know how long it will last, or if it will continue. There isn’t a lot of job security there.” I sigh, feeling my frustration grow. “I don’t know what’s gotten into Crystal. This is so unlike her, or at least the her I’ve come to know. She’s always been a rational, reasonable person, easy to work with and for.”

  “Well, I might have an idea about that,” Bob says. “But if I share it with you, I need you to promise to keep it to yourself.”

  “You know you can trust me,” I say without hesitation. Then I ruin it by adding, “Don’t you?”

  To my relief, Bob chuckles. “Yes, actually I do trust you. So here it is. The judge that I called about the search warrant on the Riley place? There’s a rumor going around that he’s having an affair with someone, and that someone happens to be Crystal. I’m pretty sure she was with him when I called about the warrant because I heard a female voice in the background while I was on the phone with him.”

  “Really?” I say, genuinely surprised. “I wonder if that means she’s finally moving on from her fixation with Tom Reese.”

  “Who is Tom Reese?” Bob asks.

  “He’s Crystal’s high school boyfriend. She’s been carrying a torch for the guy for twenty-five years. Tom joined the military out of high school and Crystal saw him off thinking that the two of them would be engaged and married within the year. But while Tom was stationed in Germany, he met the true love of his life, married, and stayed there. Crystal didn’t take it well and she’s been fixated on the guy ever since. She stalks him on social media and knows everything about his life: where he lives, where he works, the name of his wife, the names of his three kids, the names of most o
f his in-laws, and who some of his best friends are. Crystal has always been convinced that she and Tom are meant to be together, and that it’s only a matter of time before he comes to his senses, ditches the “frumpy Frau,” and returns home to her.”

  “This has gone on for twenty-five years?” Bob says in disbelief.

  “Yep.”

  “Sounds like she has a screw loose.”

  “To be honest, it’s the only one. Or so I thought before today. In all other respects, Crystal is a reasonable, normal person. But her fixation with Tom Reese has led to her eschewing any other men in her life, up until now. Maybe she’s finally seen the light, though if she’s having an affair with a married man, it doesn’t sound like she’s made a smart choice for moving on.”

  “Look,” Bob says, “I’ll have a talk with the chief and see what I can find out. He’s out of town right now, and I need to go home and take a nap. I’ve been up too long. I imagine you have, too.”

  “I am rather rummy,” I admit. “But I’ve got to finish out my shift here. The last thing I want to do is give Crystal any ammunition.”

  “Don’t let her get to you,” Bob says. “Between you and me, Chief Hanson thought she was too bossy when he interviewed her for the position, so I don’t think she’ll have much of an in there.”

  “She can be pushy,” I admit. “But you know, she has a point. I realized myself over the past four nights that there are going to be some delicate ethical situations that come up if I’m working both jobs. Maybe when you talk to Hanson you can mention to him that I think we need to iron out some guidelines for how to handle things when I run into situations that cause a conflict of interest.”

  “Will do. He’s due back tomorrow, so I’ll try to tackle it all with him then. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  I thank him and then disconnect the call, feeling mildly better about the situation. Then I head down to the ER, determined to hide out there for the rest of my shift in hopes of avoiding Crystal for the rest of the day.

  Chapter 27

  Fortunately, the rest of the day is busy. It keeps me moving and distracted, which helps me stay awake and keep my mind off the situation with Crystal. When the end of my shift rolls around, I can’t leave fast enough. The thought of my bed is an irresistible lure.