Critical Judgment (1996)

by Michael Palmer

  Bricker ... Golden ... Gentry ... Forrester.

  BrickerGoldenGentryForresterBrickergoldengentryforrester

  Abby stared at the names. She knew them all. Steve Bricker was Josh's immediate supervisor at Seradyne and had once been his friend. Nancy Golden was a colleague in Josh's lab. When the personnel cuts were made, Josh had been convinced that Nancy was kept, even though her work was inferior to his, because of an extracurricular relationship she had with Pete Gentry, the head of the research-and-development section. Alan Forrester was the president of the company.

  For the year after his termination from Seradyne, Josh had handled the whole business philosophically, with his typical wry humor. But now his insanity-fueled hatred, almost certainly a manifestation of cadmium toxicity, had marked these four Seradyne employees for death.

  Abby had no idea where Josh was. But now, at least, she knew where he was headed. Suddenly her fatigue was gone. She printed out a copy of the letter, hurried from the house, and sped to Lew's farm, praying all the way that Josh had not yet acted on his plan.

  The short drive seemed interminable. Lew's Blazer was parked by the split-rail fence. As she skidded to a stop on the dirt-and-gravel drive, Abby honked the horn to give him some warning she was there. There was no need. He was approaching the Mazda's door as she was opening it.

  "I heard you spin into the driveway down at the bottom of the hill," he said. "I'm so attuned to the quiet up here, sometimes I can tell when one of the cows isn't breathing right. What's happening?"

  Abby jumped out, kissed him lightly on the lips, and handed him the letter.

  "I got this out of Josh's computer," she said, heading toward the house. "Those four people all worked with him at the lab in Fremont. I've got to call and warn them."

  Fremont was located on the Oakland side of the bay, about two-thirds of the way to San Jose. Abby had no problem reaching the Seradyne operator.

  "Steve Bricker, please," she said.

  She held her breath, half expecting a pregnant pause as the operator debated whether and how to tell her that Steve Bricker was dead.

  "This is Steve Bricker."

  "Thank God," Abby whispered. "Steve, this is Dr. Abby Dolan. Do you remember me?"

  "Josh Wyler's Abby?"

  "That's right."

  "Is he okay?"

  "Well, actually, he's not."

  Abby imagined the man, sitting in stunned disbelief, as she reviewed the evidence that Josh was psychotic from heavy-metal poisoning and was headed toward Seradyne, intent on exacting vengeance.

  "Abby, I find this all a little hard to accept. Josh was always such an easygoing guy. I know he was upset about the cutbacks and reorganization here, but, hey, I thought the severance package he got was pretty fair."

  Abby had met Steve Bricker only once and remembered him as being very much taken with himself. Now, after just a brief conversation, she knew why she hadn't much liked him. The man had all the sensitivity of a football.

  "Josh didn't want a severance package, Steve. He wanted his job. Things haven't worked out too well up here, and right or wrong, he blames you."

  "That's crazy."

  "That's exactly the point, Steve. Josh needs help badly. If we can find him, there's a decent treatment to remove the cadmium from his system."

  "Well, for his sake he'd better not try anything. I have a permit and a gun, and I damn well know how to use it."

  Abby groaned. This was precisely what she didn't want to have happen--a macho man ready to defend his turf. Shoot first, ask questions later.

  "Steve, I'll call the others. I don't want Josh to get hurt."

  "As long as he doesn't try anything, he won't be. Alan Forrester's on vacation. Nancy Golden's right down the hall. So's Gentry. I can talk with them. I'll talk with security also. Maybe they'll put someone extra on. Not that we need it. Place is tight as a drum."

  "Steve, whatever happens, please try not to let him get hurt. That's the least you can do."

  Bricker refused to back down.

  "If it looks like he's going to hurt me or any of the others, I can tell you this--he'll be the one to get hurt first. That's the way it is. You know, back when they were making the cuts, I actually tried to talk Forrester into keeping him. Now look what I get for it."

  Abby sighed and set the receiver down. She could try to explain more about Josh's condition, but Steve Bricker would never understand. She would call the Fremont police and then, just in case, Josh's brother in LA. There was no sense in worrying his mother, who was already frantic from Abby's last call. After that there wasn't much she could think of to do.

  "How'd it go?"

  Lew sat down across the table from her, his eyes full of concern.

  "Bricker's cleaning out his revolver. Looking forward to the gunfight at the O.K. Corral," she said.

  "Just what you needed."

  Lew came around the table and massaged her shoulders and temples.

  "Oh, that feels wonderful."

  Abby allowed her eyes to close for just a minute. He buried his face in her hair and pressed his lips against her.

  "We'll find him," he whispered.

  "Thank you, Lew. I don't know what I'd do if you didn't understand about Josh. Were you able to reach the prison hospital?"

  "I did. The stupid doctor at Las Rosas wouldn't confirm or deny that Willie Cardoza was a patient there. I told him what he needed to do, and I think he understood me, but I'm not sure. Maybe you could get in touch with Willie's girlfriend. She has to know for certain where he was sent."

  "Good idea. What about Barbara Torres and the pharmacist--what's his name?"

  "Gil Brant. I'll call them and set up a meeting to bring them up to speed. But, frankly, Abby, I think they're both cardboard warriors. It's one thing to attend meetings. It's quite another to put your position in town on the line by bucking the establishment. That's why Dave Brooks was so valuable. He was absolutely relentless--fearless. You've got a lot of his qualities."

  "Nonsense. I'm thinking more and more about just pulling up stakes and getting out."

  "You can't do that, Abby! Not when we're so close to breaking this whole thing wide-open."

  "We're not that close, and you know it. We have a positive blood test, and after the O.J. trial, you know how much that means. Plus we have eye findings that suggest some people are cadmium toxic. But we still have no idea how it could have happened. And I don't think Colstar is just going to roll over and hand us evidence of what they did. In fact, I've been thinking that we may be putting Angela Cristoforo and Willie Cardoza in danger just by getting the word out that they're cadmium toxic. Besides, Lew, no matter how hard I try, I still don't feel as if this is my town or my fight. I've been staying involved because of Willie and Josh. Now one of them's going to be taken care of, and hopefully the other one will be, too. Colstar influences everything and everyone around here."

  "I know they're powerful, but--"

  "Lew, they've manufactured evidence that I'm responsible for Peggy Wheaton's death. If I don't resign, they're going to make it public."

  Lew listened in agonized silence as she filled him in on her meeting with Joe Henderson.

  "Damn them," was all he could say. "Damn them to hell." He knelt beside her. "I'm so sorry, Abby. I'm so sorry they've done this to you. But we still need you. I need you."

  He drew her lips close to his. His arms tightened about her as his lips parted. His tongue and his gentle hands became more searching. Abby found herself wondering what it would be like to lie naked next to him, to feel him on top of her, inside her.

  "Lew, please," she managed, pulling away. "I love having you touch me. I love being with you. But I'm just too distracted. Right now I've got to follow through with finding Josh."

  "Sorry. You're right. It's not the time."

  "Don't be sorry. When it happens between us, I want to be a hundred percent there."

  She kissed him again, quickly, then picked up the phone.

>   "Who now?"

  "The Fremont police, then maybe Josh's brother in LA. And then I thought I might call Kelly Franklin again."

  "Don't you think that's risky? I mean, you said yourself that Colstar might try to eliminate the toxic patients."

  "Colstar, maybe, but not Kelly. I just don't believe she has that in her."

  "That's where you and I differ," Lew said. "She's a snake, just like the rest of them."

  "You'll just have to call it my woman's intuition and bear with me."

  As she had expected, Abby got little encouragement from the Fremont police or from Josh's vapid, money-conscious sister-in-law. The conversation with Kelly Franklin didn't start out much better.

  "How certain are you about this Cardoza's blood work?" Kelly asked.

  "Very certain. The woman who ran the test is one of the foremost toxicologists in the country."

  "I just don't believe it. I've been over every inch of this company and the way we handle toxic substances. Dozens of times. I just don't see any way this could have happened."

  "The exposure may be widespread," Abby added. "I have over a hundred fifty patients on a printout who've had strange, ill-defined symptoms that are quite consistent with cadmium toxicity."

  "Those are the ones you mentioned with the excess MRI tests?"

  "Exactly."

  "But I don't see the connection."

  "Neither do I. At least not yet. But I'm fairly certain there is one. The cadmium levels are no coincidence, and neither are all the MRIs."

  "What do you want me to do about it?"

  "Kelly, I don't know. It looks like Colstar is making people sick--very sick in some cases. What are you supposed to do about it?"

  "You know, this is crazy. You have one positive blood test in a man who once worked for us, and some sort of rings in the eyes of a lady who's probably on multiple powerful psychiatric medications, and you want me to close down the company! I'll look into things, Abby, but I need much more than what you've given me to take any action at all."

  "Just do me one favor, then."

  "What?"

  "If you're not going to take any action, please don't share this discussion yet with Lyle Quinn. I don't trust him."

  "Abby, I don't think I can promise that."

  "Please? Just for a day. Twenty-four hours."

  "I'll consider it. But no promises."

  "Thank you."

  "And Abby--"

  "Yes."

  "I really don't think Lyle is all that bad. If you look past the posing and the theatrics, he's not nearly as hard as he wants everyone to believe."

  "If that's true, he's sure got me fooled," Abby said.

  She set the receiver down.

  "What did she say?" Lew asked.

  "Just about what you'd expect. At least I've got her thinking. Lew, I'm going to take a rain check on lunch. I want to stop by the hospital and speak with the patient who had the bad reaction in the MRI tube. Then I want to shower off this all-nighter grunge and crash for a few hours."

  She could see his disappointment.

  "Listen, whatever you say. I'm better at dinner than lunch anyway. When you wake up, you're bound to be hungry."

  "Dinner sounds great. I'll call you as soon as I get up. If you don't hear from me by five, feel free to call."

  "Perfect. If our cause can't get you to stay around, maybe my salmon poached in brown ale can."

  "Lew, come on."

  "Just kidding. I know you'll do whatever you need to do."

  Abby pulled him to his feet and kissed him on the mouth.

  "I love that you understand that," she whispered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Abby had no desire to run into Joe Henderson at this point, but she did want to speak with Claire Buchanan again. And if Claire's allergic reaction continued to respond rapidly to treatment, she might be discharged as soon as tomorrow morning.

  Abby rationalized to herself that she wanted to check on the woman's condition and wish her well. Together they had faced death and won a reprieve. But she knew that was only part of the story. Something about the MRI tests was still gnawing at her--something that might become clear by going over Claire's story one more time. And Abby knew that with her own decision to leave Patience all but made, there would probably not be another chance.

  What she had told Lew was true. She had been willing to stay at the hospital and in the town until Willie Cardoza was properly diagnosed and treated. She owed the same to Josh. But now there was nothing for her to gain by staying, and much to lose. She had underestimated the resolve and resourcefulness of Colstar and, in particular, of Lyle Quinn. The struggle to expose the truth about Colstar might continue, but in the end, she suspected, the Alliance would lose. And if she chose to remain and fight beside them, she would almost certainly become a casualty. Joe Henderson held all the cards--evidence that her critical judgment was impaired, and a community that had already joined ranks against her. She was history at PRH. Nothing could change that now. But a malpractice suit holding her responsible for Peggy Wheaton's wrongful death could tie her up indefinitely and jeopardize her ability to find another ER job, maybe kill it altogether.

  Clearly, the best thing she could do for Abby Dolan at this point was to admit that she was overmatched and get out. People were being harmed by Colstar. That was a given. But people all over the world were being harmed by corrupt corporations and governments. Those tragedies weren't her responsibility, and neither was this one. And, dammit, she had tried. She had stuck her neck out for Lew and the Alliance, and now the blade was about to fall.

  The arguments for leaving were perfectly sensible. And yet she remained on the fence. She had been working at the hospital for less than two months, but she had become part of a number of patients' lives in ways she never had at St. John's. Feeling as if she had deserted them--deserted herself--would hurt as much as knowing that she had been beaten so badly when she was in the right.

  Then there were her deepening feelings for Lew. Her choosing to stay in Patience and fight Henderson, Quinn, and Colstar might be the best thing for their embryonic relationship, or the worst. She had already sacrificed her academic appointment for one man. Was she ready to risk her entire career for another? If she abandoned the cause, though, would Lew ever forgive her?

  And, finally, there was Josh. If their situations were reversed, he would make any sacrifice to save her, she was certain of that. She stood a much better chance of locating him if she wasn't spending long hours at the hospital.

  No, she told herself. This time her head had to prevail over her emotions and her instincts. There was too much to lose by staying in Patience. She would bequeath her data sheets to Lew and be off for San Francisco as soon as possible. With any luck she would be somewhere not too far from Seradyne when Josh made his move.

  Feeling relieved at having closed in on a decision, she entered the hospital through the ER, and called the operator to check on Claire Buchanan's status. The one-time Rockette was out of the ICU and in a single just down the hall from it. Abby found her in a recliner in the bright, airy room, gazing out the picture window at the Colstar cliff. Claire lit up at the sight of her.

  "Boy, am I glad to see you again," she said, her hoarseness now much improved. "The nurses told me you saved my bacon by getting that breathing tube in. I remember you were there, but to tell you the truth, I didn't know what was going on. That's why I didn't thank you before."

  "There were a lot of people helping you. I'm just glad you're okay."

  "I would be if I could get rid of this itching."

  Claire pointed to some patches of the same skin lesions Abby had seen on her in the ER. They still looked like small-blood-vessel inflammation.

  "Claire, tell me something if you can. You've had two MRIs, right?"

  "Yes."

  "Any other X rays?"

  "Not really. They did a chest X ray just a little while ago."

  "But before that?"

&nbs
p; "None."

  "How about blood tests?"

  "Dr. Oleander's done some, and you did some. I don't think I had any before my first MRI, though. That was when I was having that stomach pain."

  Abby stared at the woman in disbelief.

  "Are you sure?"

  "I may be nothing much more than an old chorus girl, but I have a heck of a memory. He did some blood tests after the first MRI, but none before."

  Now it was Abby who was gazing out the window, past the meadow and the barbed-wire-topped fence. The Colstar cliff and the massive plant atop it looked somber and foreboding in the gray midday light. She closed her eyes. The pattern that had seemed so elusive to her, so nebulous, was coming into focus. Claire Buchanan had provided the lens. Not only were the MRI studies at Patience Regional Hospital ordered and performed in excess, but many of them were done before the actual problem that brought the subjects into the hospital. It was almost as if the studies themselves were causing illness. The confirmation of her theory lay in the KarMen record-keeping system of the hospital. But she thought she had enough data of her own in the loose-leaf notebook packed in the wall behind her furnace.

  "Claire, it's been a pleasure meeting you," she said, now suddenly impatient to get home. "I'm very glad you're doing so well."

  "Thank you. Tell me, Dr. Dolan, do you think I'll ever get rid of this rash and itch?"

  Abby took the woman's hand in hers.

  "You know, Claire, they teach us from day one in medical school never to make any promises to patients. But I'll tell you what--I'm going to promise you that before long you'll have some answers as to what's wrong. And with any luck those answers will point the way to the right treatment."

  Claire Buchanan stood and hugged her.

  "You take care, now, Doctor," she said. "And don't forget to leave yourself some time for fun."