THE MAVERICK DOCTOR AND MISS PRIM/ABOUT THAT NIGHT...

by Scarlet Wilson

  But this? Asking her to investigate her own brother?

  It was totally out of left field. A complete bolt from the blue.

  Anyone else might have been intimidated by his stance, leaning over her. But Violet wasn’t. She’d been this close to Evan before. About six months ago after a work night out.

  The medic and her boss. Never a good idea.

  Too bad she couldn’t shift the inappropriate memories out of her head, which came up at the most inopportune moments.

  “Violet? Did you hear me?”

  She snapped back to attention. Back to reality. Sawyer and Evan Hunter had never got on. She’d no idea why and she didn’t really care. Just as well she’d never told her boss that Sawyer was her brother.

  She stared at him, unfazed by his annoyed face. Violet didn’t do well on lack of sleep. It was the standing family joke that everyone should stay out of her way if she’d had a bad night on call as a resident. Her patience had just flown out of the window.

  “Why on earth do you want me to check up on Sawyer? Shouldn’t we be focusing on the real issue—the potential smallpox outbreak? I thought you wanted a complete rundown on the potential spread? That’s what I’ve been working on for the last few hours and I’m not finished yet.”

  Evan leaned closer. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do right now. I’m the team leader around here. I decide what happens. Sawyer is irresponsible and reckless. He’s the last person we can trust. And a few hours ago he phoned in the biggest threat to this country’s health in years. Am I suspicious? Absolutely I am! Now...” he pointed at the computer “...find out where he’s been and what he’s been doing. I want to know now!”

  He swept into the office next to her, slamming the door behind him as if he could knock it from its hinges.

  Violet sagged back down into her seat. She didn’t need to do what he asked. She’d been doing it for the last six years and had found nothing. Nada.

  Apart from a few cursory texts since his wife’s funeral and his departure from the DPA, she knew nothing.

  His texts had only ever told her that he was safe. Nothing else. Not where he was or what he was doing.

  The hard fact was that if she wanted to know where Sawyer had been she would have to ask him. And right now she had a distribution model to finish.

  She stared at the slammed door. Violet was used to prioritizing her own workload.

  She set her jaw.

  Evan Hunter could wait.

  * * *

  He watched the walls shake around the door he had just slammed. What on earth was wrong with him?

  Evan felt sick. He had potentially one of the most well-publicized outbreaks in the DPA’s history to handle and at the heart of it all was a man he hated. A man he didn’t trust.

  And he was taking it out on the people around him—he was taking it out on Violet.

  The last thing he should be doing.

  The press was all over this. The media room at the DPA was currently packed out, with the phones ringing constantly. He could handle stress. It wasn’t the first time he’d handled a major outbreak.

  What he couldn’t handle were his reactions to Violet.

  Those were the things he couldn’t control.

  He was going to have to do something about it—and fast.

  * * *

  “Callie, phone.”

  Callie looked up from where she was standing, talking to Sawyer. The plans for the containment facility were almost complete. The nurse dangled the phone from her hand. “It’s the lab.”

  Callie and Sawyer moved in unison, diving for the phone at the same time.

  Their hands clashed and Callie shot him a dirty look and shoved him out of her way. “Callie Turner.”

  “It’s Evan.”

  She really couldn’t face any niceties. Her brain could only fix on one thing—and from the expression on Sawyer’s face he felt the same way.

  “What is it? What has Frank found?” Sawyer flinched next to her at the sound of Frank’s name. What was that all about? Frank had worked at the DPA forever. They must know each other.

  She could hear the deep intake of breath at the end of the phone. “Electron microscopy revealed a brick-shaped virus. It’s definitely an orthopox.”

  Callie felt her insides twist. She knew better than to say the next words. But she couldn’t help it—it was automatic. “He’s sure?”

  Beside her she saw Sawyer drop his head into his hands. He knew exactly what was being said.

  “He’s sure.”

  She touched his arm and met his pale green eyes, giving him a silent nod. Sawyer let loose a string of expletives. The lab was only confirming what they’d all suspected. It was the first step in trying to classify the disease. It just made it all seem a little too real.

  It was time to get down to business. “How long before he can be more specific?”

  “He’s still running the PCR. You know how this is—we could have something for you in twenty-four hours or it could take up to seven days. Direct fluorescent antigen testing has ruled out varicella. Tell Sawyer he was right—it’s definitely not chicken pox.” She heard Evan sigh. Those words must have been painful for him. “Your next stage is the move to the containment type C facility. Are you ready for that?”

  Callie looked at the whiteboard on the wall next to her. Every detail was clearly displayed. Her team was good. “The power company’s just been in touch to let us know the power has been reconnected. We’re just waiting to hear back from the chief of police about closing the highway and getting the police escort. Once that’s in order we’ll be ready to move.”

  “Keep me posted. I’ll be in touch if we have any more news.”

  Callie stood in a daze for a few seconds, the phone dangling from her hand. She was trying to assimilate the information she’d just been given. A warm hand closed over hers and replaced the receiver.

  They didn’t speak. For once it seemed that their minds were working in unison.

  Callie looked around at her bustling colleagues. Someone was going to have to tell them. Someone was going to have to confirm that this was a real and credible threat. It wasn’t just a suspicion any more. They’d moved a stage beyond that now.

  And it was her job.

  Her job to ensure the safety of her team under these confirmed conditions.

  Her job to keep the staff informed.

  Her job to be responsible for the patients who were—most likely—infected with smallpox.

  Her job to help prevent the spread of the disease.

  It was almost overwhelming. Could she really do all this?

  * * *

  Sawyer was watching her. He could see the tiny flare of panic in her eyes. And as much as this was the worst possible news, he knew it was time to step up.

  They were close together, low enough for their voices not to be heard.

  “What exactly did Evan say?”

  “It’s definitely an orthopox.” The anxiety in her voice was palpable. But a little smile appeared on her face. “And Evan said to tell you that you were right—it’s definitely not chicken pox. They’ve ruled it out.”

  He pulled back a little. “Evan Hunter said that?”

  She nodded. “I think he was more or less pushed into a corner on that one.” Her eyes swept the room, trepidation returning to them. “I need to tell the team. We have to move to the containment facility.”

  If only she could see what he did. At times she had a little-girl look about her, as if she was about to be swept away by a tidal wave. As if the situation and events were totally out of her control. But these were tiny, fleeting glimmers that disappeared in an instant.

  Then she would tilt her chin and act exactly the way she should. Just like she was doing now
.

  She was pushing aside her own fears and focusing on the details of the job. Just like a good doctor should.

  They were close together again. Hiding away from the rest of the world. Her eyes were much bluer this close up. Last time they’d been like this had been in a darkened room and he hadn’t really had a chance to appreciate her finer features.

  She was lucky. No lines marring her complexion, only some dark circles under her eyes. Her gaze met his and her brow wrinkled. “Can I do this, Matt?”

  * * *

  Matt. Hardly anyone called him that. Just the way she said the word took him by surprise. He was so used to being called by his surname that it actually made him stop for a moment. He reached out and took her hand. She didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. She just inched a little closer.

  He saw the glimmer of fear register in her eyes. Her tongue peeked out and ran along her dry lips, moistening them and leaving them glistening.

  He was fixated. He couldn’t look away.

  He bent down, his lips brushing the side of her cheek. “Of course you can do this, Callie. This is what you trained for.”

  If he turned his head just slightly his lips would be on hers. It was the most inappropriate, most inopportune moment. But Sawyer didn’t care.

  For the first time in a long time he was finally starting to feel again.

  And everything else just paled in comparison.

  He was getting another waft of that raspberry shampoo.

  But then she moved, lowering her face beneath his and resting her hands on his shoulders. There was something else in her expression. It was almost as if she was taking a minute—as if she wanted to tell him something. And it was clear she had no idea about the thoughts currently circulating in his head.

  He tried to focus. To take his gaze off her pink lips. She was close enough that he could smell the mints she’d been eating.

  They couldn’t stay like this. Any minute now someone in the E.R. would notice they were closer than normal.

  He had to get some perspective before he did something he might regret.

  He jerked back. “How long until we find out the diagnosis?”

  If she noticed him pulling away she didn’t react. “Evan wasn’t sure. Anything from between another twenty-four hours up to seven days. But at the moment we still need to tell everyone the quarantine will last for seventeen days.”

  “Seven days is a long time to wait for a diagnosis.”

  She nodded and turned away from him. Focusing on work, getting back to the job. Staring up at the whiteboard. “I guess we’d better start vaccinating again. Everyone going to the type C unit needs to be vaccinated beforehand.”

  She was right. She was being professional. Her mind was focused on the job. Just where his should be.

  He nodded and said the words he was supposed to. “Let’s get to work.”

  How on earth was he going to manage in an enclosed space with her for the next seventeen days?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “WOW! HOW DID they manage this in such a short space of time?”

  Callie peered out of the transport-vehicle window as they approached the containment facility. It was more than impressive. A bright white building sitting in the middle of an industrial site.

  It was almost the regulations personified.

  A single building located at least one hundred yards from any other occupied facility. Non-shared air-conditioning, heating and adequate ventilation systems. Single rooms with negative air pressure. Advanced medical and laboratory systems. Dependable communication systems and controllable access.

  Then, more than the obligatory one hundred yards away, another type R facility to host everyone who’d been exposed, vaccinated and hadn’t developed any symptoms. All the patients who’d been exposed in the E.R. could now be safely housed and monitored for the next two weeks.

  Sawyer pressed his face up against the window next to her. The slow-moving convoy had taken nearly forty minutes to get here. It had been a surreal experience. But, then again, it had been years since anything like this had happened. The fact that the ambulance transport crews were kitted out in masks, gloves, gowns and shoe covers probably hadn’t helped. Particularly with the amount of news crews that surrounded the hospital.

  Callie found that incredible. Who, in their right mind, news crews or not, would want to be that close to a possible smallpox outbreak? If she’d been any other kind of doctor she would have headed to the city limits as quickly as she could.

  Callie shuddered at the thought of the news headlines that evening. The pictures of the crew transporting the ‘infected’ patients could be terrifying to the general public. She could only hope that Evan Hunter would be in charge of damage control.

  “I guess it must have been something else. A school? Some kind of lab? A warehouse?” Sawyer wrinkled his nose, as if he was aware that none of those things really fitted. “Did Callum leave you any notes?”

  Callie rummaged through the pile of papers on her lap. “I’ve been so busy sorting out the problems—getting the electricity and water turned on, medical supplies delivered—that I didn’t really think about it. He just told me he’d identified ‘suitable premises.’ Ah, here it is.” She dragged a pale cream piece of paper from the bottom of the pile.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes were still scanning the page and what she was reading was obviously translating straight to her face. “It’s just a little odd.” She lifted her head and stared at the building again, “It was a research facility.”

  “What’s odd about that?”

  “It’s apparently been here for the last hundred years.” A strange sensation swept over her. “Do you think they used it for the last smallpox outbreak?”

  “Now, there’s a creepy thought.”

  They pulled up outside the buildings and both heads turned to look again. Sawyer opened the door and jumped down, holding out his hand to help Callie. She left her papers on her seat and jumped out with him.

  They stood next to each other, hands on their hips, trying to work out what was going on. “It looks brand-new,” Callie muttered.

  “It certainly does. Maybe it’s just had a coat of paint?”

  He stepped forward and touched the exterior wall. “It’s certainly had new windows and doors.”

  Callie nodded. “And a new ventilation system.” She gave a nod to the system that was clearly venting all its air outside through the designated HEPA filters. “They couldn’t possibly have had that last time round. It must have been used recently.”

  She turned around as the rest of the transport started to pull up behind them. “Let’s take a look inside.”

  Sawyer matched her step for step as they strode through the building. Everything about it was perfect. A laboratory, newly refurbished patient rooms and clinical treatment rooms. Then a whole separate building that fitted with type R requirements, with single bedrooms and bathrooms where all the people under the containment could be housed, with extra facilities available for them all. Kitchens, sitting rooms, children’s playrooms, even a cinema room, it was extraordinary.

  All with the proper ventilation systems to prevent the spread of infection.

  Callie ran her fingers along the wall in the one of the corridors. She didn’t feel uneasy. This place didn’t have a bad feeling attached to it, but there was a certain air of mystery. “If these walls could talk, what would they tell us?”

  Sawyer turned to face her, “What do you mean?”

  She pointed to the nearest room. “This almost seems too good to be true. This place has obviously been in use recently—though we did have to get the water and electricity switched back on. They haven’t managed to do all this in twenty-four hours. I wonder what kind of research they did here?”

&
nbsp; Sawyer pushed open the nearest room—full of state-of-the-art monitoring and ventilation equipment. “Does it really matter? We’ve got good facilities here.” He nodded as Dan, the pediatrician, appeared at his back, entering the room to make sure it had everything he needed for the children.

  A smile appeared across Dan’s face. “These are the latest ventilators. I’ve been trying to get Chicago General to buy some. They cost serious money. They’ll be perfect for the kids. But here’s hoping I only need one.” He gave a nod to Callie. “I don’t know how you managed it but this is perfect.”

  That strange feeling spread again. “I don’t know how I managed it either,” she said quietly. Everything seemed to have miraculously fallen into place. Maybe her rant at Evan Hunter had worked. Someone in the DPA had excelled themselves here.

  Sawyer placed a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “How do you want to set things up? Do you want to have Jack and Ben in separate rooms? We’ve got the negative air pressure facilities here, we can use them.”

  He was obviously just trying to give Dan his place. As the only pediatrician, the care and responsibility of the two boys fell to him. It didn’t make sense to bring in any other doctors. And although he wasn’t a pediatrician Sawyer had already volunteered to assist with the care of Jack and Ben. Since he’d done the initial diagnosis he seemed reluctant to let them go. But he was quite happy to take instructions from Dan.

  Dan shook his head. “Actually, no, I want to keep them together. They’ve been equally exposed anyway. Separating them at this time isn’t going to benefit either of them. Unless you can tell me something different?”

  Callie shook her head.

  Sawyer cut in. “I’m with you, Dan. In that case, for the sake of the two of them, it’s better they stay together. This place would be terrifying for a six-or seven-year-old on their own. There is no viable clinical or psychological reason to keep them apart. They’re brothers. They’re meant to be together. Let’s not add to the stress.”

  Callie could feel her heart flutter in her chest. He couldn’t possibly know or understand what those words would mean to her. It was just the fact that somebody, somewhere had even the slightest inkling about the connection between siblings. The reassurance of being together, no matter how unscientific. And the possible benefits for the boys.