My flashlight found a doorway behind the mammogram machine. I edged over silently, peeking through. A file cabinet, desk and some shelves waited in the shadows. I scanned the books, mostly reference titles. A bright white clock ticked on the wall, keeping time with my heartbeat.
I sidled over to the desk. There were a few x-rays piled to one side in a plastic bin marked “File.” Three or four more x-rays were stacked in the center of the desk. I selected an x-ray from the bin and held it up. It looked like innards of some sort. Dr. Burns' name was written on the label, possibly in Holly's handwriting. Even if it was hers, she had told me she worked over here, so that wasn’t a red flag.
I picked up another x-ray and shone my flashlight through it. The picture looked very similar to the one I had just looked at. Both were fairly light, but maybe good enough to stuff a patient file.
I placed the shots on top of each other. They were close to the same picture, but not exact. One shot was more under-exposed than the other.
So how did the person expose two shots that were exactly the same? These had obviously been done twice to correct for the under-exposure of the first shot. They weren’t exact duplicates although they could be used to stuff a patient file.
I didn't hear Mark approach, because I was concentrating so hard on the x-rays. It didn't help that he wasn't using his flashlight and moved without a sound.
"Did you find something?" he asked from the doorway.
I jumped and stifled a screech. Unintentionally, I threw the x-rays at him. As weapons went, they were less than dangerous.
Mark leaned over to retrieve them from the floor.
I spent the time remembering to breathe.
He held them up. "Are these important?"
Deep breath. "Remember the ones we found in the folders?"
"Of course."
"These two are almost duplicate shots, but not exact. I am pretty sure that when Dr. Dan said the x-rays were duplicates, he meant exact ones, not shots that had been taken twice." I arranged one on top of the other and held the flashlight on them so he could see. They didn’t line up perfectly. "How did the technician get two shots exactly the same? The photocopies I saw wouldn’t cut it. They were much grainier and spottier. If someone takes the shot twice, they never line up perfectly."
Mark tilted his head. "Then the shots must have been taken at the same time. Can you expose two blank films at the same time?"
My mouth formed a silent "oh." I stared down at the sheets in my hand. "They take the shot with two pieces of film in the cassette! Take one out, label it with the correct patient name and later label the second with the fake one. Mark, you're brilliant!"
"What cassette?" he asked.
"Never mind." I grinned. "Did you find anything?"
"Lots of models and muscles and paperwork. Dr. Fox's name on the door; looks like he does Botox work for wrinkles and some sort of collagen enhancement. The rooms on the other side of the waiting area are storage and a lab of some kind. This office complex could easily house a couple more doctors. Check upstairs?"
I agreed. We might not find anything, but hey, the night wasn't a complete waste. Mark had helped me figure out a possible way to make duplicates. I could "stuff" a cassette during work tomorrow to see if the method was reliable. Holly wouldn't notice so long as I loaded the cassette and she put it back in the pass box after taking the shot. I could develop it and check the results. Excellent.
Upstairs, Mark let me have the office away from the street again. There were only two offices on the street side before the hallway opened up to look out over the atrium area.
I lucked out and got Dr. Evans' office, while Mark took Dr. Staples' office across the hall. Evans' office had lots of birthing pictures and calcium posters. A quick glance in the few files behind one of the desks yielded mostly paper ultrasound pictures and mammograms. There were two x-rays of small bones; kids or babies. No duplicates.
Dr. Evans' suite of rooms was very large. There was a private office, two bathrooms, two exam rooms, a lab and a break room. If I had to search them all, I might as well put the needle in the haystack myself. I checked her desk, because it wasn't locked. There were no x-rays, but she had plenty of ultrasound pictures.
I wondered whether I should hassle Mark into picking the locks on the file cabinets in her personal office, but it seemed invasive and hardly worth it.
I headed back out to find him, but before I reached the hallway, I heard...glass breaking? A box falling?
I froze. Belatedly, I turned off my flashlight.
The noise rippled through the dark again, a muffled crash, more than one object bouncing or sliding.
Silence.
The sound of my breathing was too loud. Should I run? Or hide? What had happened? Where was Mark?
Had someone come up behind him and bopped him on the head? OhmyGod.
I dithered for half a second and then ran, full-tilt, grabbing my pocketknife out of my jeans pocket as I went. In the dark, I smacked into the door leading from Dr. Evans' office to the hallway.
Cursing soundlessly, I yanked open the door. The hallway was still dark and empty. Scant light came through the atrium windows down the hall, showing...nothing.
Where was Mark?
We hadn't been separated very long.
I tried the door directly across from Dr. Evans' office, but it was locked. Dammit. I hadn't thought of the fact that all the doors would be locked. Before I could make any decisions, I heard another noise, a scraping of some sort, from within.
Was someone...moving a body?
No way would Mark make that much noise on his own. He was too careful.
Could I possibly pry the lock open with my pocketknife without making too much noise? Then again, making noise, lots of it, might scare whoever had attacked Mark. I could hide and lie in wait…
There was nowhere to hide unless I climbed over the rail and dangled above the first floor. I hadn't propped open the door to Dr. Evans' office so I couldn't get back in there if I wanted to.
Panicked, I jiggled the doorknob and kicked it. Heart pounding, I moved to the side. I couldn't hear footsteps coming, because every noise I heard seemed to be coming from every direction.
I scrunched down, ready to spring.
The door opened. I hit it with everything I had.
Whoosh. My shoulder hurt from the contact, but that didn't stop me. The door flew backwards, accompanied by another crash. I moved into the office, spinning and weaving. "Mark?" I raised my flashlight as a weapon. I couldn't see the enemy without light, but I was afraid to turn the flashlight on.
The person who had opened the door breathed hard, bent double. I had no choice. If Mark was hurt, I had to disable this guy quickly.
I jerked forward, my flashlight high and ready to strike.
"You," the bent form gasped, "have this thing about tackling people, don't you?"
"Mark?" My arm paused. In the scant light, I could barely discern the figure at the door.
Mark's voice came from the form. "What in the hell did you do that for?"
I peered back into the office area. "Aren't you under attack?"
"Yes!"
I raised my flashlight again. "Did you get him already?" I couldn't see anyone back there, but it was pretty dark.
There was a lot of silence from behind me. I turned around.
"Sedona, the only person attacking me is you."
I thought about this momentarily. "But what was all the noise I heard?"
Mark rubbed his ribs. He searched the floor until he found his flashlight. He turned it on. A filter over the top kept it dim. "Come on," he sighed. "You're crazy, you know that?"
Feeling more than a little sheepish, I followed him. We went through the small waiting area into the doctor's main office. The windows started high as part of the ceiling and then curved down to form one whole wall. "Wow. Guess he doesn't do too many naked exams in here."
"They're dark glass, but yeah, I doubt it."
/>
On the right side, long cabinets graced the wall, but the doors stood open. Mark kept his light low, but it was enough to see packets of medications in hundreds of colors and sizes spilled onto the floor. There were envelopes and packaged inserts and vials and long cards with pills waiting to be punched out the other side. "Oh wow."
"The man has more drugs than a pharmacy. I unlocked the first cabinet, but had to pull hard and next thing I knew, the whole shelf fell out."
"That must be what I heard."
He grunted. "I was trying to get it all put back when I heard someone at the door."
He might have been glaring at me, but in the dim light, I was glad to miss that part. "We better get it stuffed back in there."
"Why would he need all this?" Mark asked. "It can't all be legal."
"There are a lot of drugs here, aren't there?"
"He could sell this on the street, I bet."
"Do you think he's greedy enough to do that?" Dr. Staple certainly acted like he needed an ethics class. Or at least a "how to be human" one.
Mark swept his arm at the mess. "Looks more like he's hoarding every damn sample in the world to me."
"But he does have nice digs here doesn't he?" I surveyed the office again. "Maybe he has a lifestyle that he wants upgraded. Maybe he needs the money from a few extra procedures."
"Look for x-rays while I try to get this back in here," Mark said. He was either losing patience for this task, or he didn't like cleaning up messes. Or he might still be peeved at me for smacking him in the ribs with the doorknob.
I dug through the desk drawers. "He could be the one to order x-rays for the type of procedure that we saw, you know." I wasn't sure how he obtained the money for the x-rays, but there had to be a way because someone was stuffing patient files with x-rays and scans.
In the bottom drawer, I did find pictures, but not x-rays. "Ugh. Don't doctors get to see enough naked women?" Okay, so these weren't naked. They were provocative swimsuit poses--a whole book of them along with a book of paintings. They were more tasteful than say, Playboy, but still. The second book looked like one of those that a guy could shop from; a catalog of pricey artwork with women barely covered by flowing scarves.
The other bottom drawer held packets from what looked like vacation pictures.
Well, well, well. At least she was clothed. Little Miss Crissa had on a very cute skiing outfit. I could see a sign behind her that said something about Vail. The next shot was of Dr. Staple and Crissa together. He looked positively wolfish. If Crissa was so happy with Dr. Staple, why had she been flirting with Mark? And going to lunch with Dr. Fox?
Then again, knowing Dr. Staple's cold personality, I could imagine why she wasn't completely thrilled with her catch.
The second packet was a bunch of Christmas pictures, more skiing antics and a happy hot chocolate picture in some lodge. "These doctors do get around, don't they?" Dr. Fox was posed with Crissa near a Christmas tree, and Dr. Staple showed up at the dinner table shot sitting next to her. Were they all buddies and hung out for Christmas? Or...She couldn't be dating both of them at the same time. I mean...no way, right?
The rest of the shots were of a new car, probably belonging to Dr. Staple, since we were in his office.
Pictures of innards weren't like mixed in with the personal stuff, so I redirected my search.
The patient files weren't in his office, but I found them in an interior room. Dr. Staple didn't have a break area, but he probably didn't let his employees take breaks. Some of the patient files had x-rays, but there wasn't time to look through every single one for duplicates. I checked as many as possible while Mark finished straightening the mess in the office.
"Can we take a peek in Dr. Burns' office?" I asked. "He's another internist and could order the type of x-rays we left with Dr. Dan."
"We're here; we may as well."
We found Dr. Burns' office on the other side of the building in the back. I was able to use my flashlight, but other than finding a lot of food, there was nothing suspicious. Dr. Burns' wife must have stocked the place because the break room fridge contained little packets of carrots and single servings of jello, celery sticks, and fruit. The cabinets had granola bars, rice cakes, popcorn and a host of other goodies. The cleaning crew did a good job though. I only found one stray Snickers wrapper under his desk. His file cabinets, which I assumed he supplied himself, had a Halloween feast; Snickers, Butterfingers, chocolate chip cookies, you name it. It was amazing the guy wasn't a candidate for gastric bypass. If I had all this stuff around, I wouldn't fit through the door.
Instead of pictures of women, he did have x-rays, along with diagrams, patient charts, pictures of something that might have been an ultrasound, and printouts of either brainwaves or an EKG. There were no duplicates of anything except the food.
"Front office?" I suggested.
Mark led the way, but the fourth office facing the street was empty. I stared out the front windows and nearly jumped out of my shoes when firecrackers went off with a vengeance. Ambulance sirens bleeped for a few seconds too and celebratory shouts made it through the thick windows.
"Happy New Year," Mark said. "This is exactly how I pictured spending it with you."
I faced him. He smiled down at me, looking either confused or resigned.
Giggles overtook me. If anyone came in the building now, it would be filled with maniacal chuckling from the empty office.
Mark laughed too, but he was quieter about it. "You are completely crazy."
"I know. But we did learn something."
"I learned that you still like to tackle."
"Not that!" I said. "I meant about the x-rays."
"Uh-huh."
We stared at each other. "I wonder what the New Year will bring?" he asked.
I would have wondered too, but it was hard to talk. He kissed me gently. "Happy New Year," he said again.
"Okay," I sighed. I hugged him tight. "Happy New Year."
He grunted and pulled back slightly.
"Oh dear. Sorry! How are your ribs?" I eased my arm back, touching his side with only my fingertips.
He stared down at me. I stopped moving. We stayed like that, watching the fireworks, but only because they were all around us. His hand pulled me in from my waist. My own fingers wanted to do some exploring, but this was neither the time nor the place.
He kissed me again, this time letting loose some of the pent up hunger. I didn't complain. I ceased caring about the fact that we were in an office building where we didn't belong.
Mark held me very close. I hugged him back, carefully. "I better get you home." His voice was husky; his breathing uneven. My heart beat as quickly as it had when we first came in, but the reasons were entirely different now. I nodded against his chest. I barely kept from reaching up to kiss his neck.
Getting out of the building was faster and easier than getting in.
Mark took me home.
The biggest disappointment was that he left right away. I had a sneaky feeling it was because he still wasn't entirely comfortable with me working on the case, and I had made it very obvious that I was involved.
He hadn't given up on me though or he wouldn't have come over in the first place. That was excellent news because I was far from ready to give up on him.
Chapter 27
Friday I was anxious to try Mark's theory on duplicating the x-rays. Unfortunately, Holly had already loaded films for the first x-ray by the time I arrived. It would be too obvious if I ran out of the dark room and jiggled the patient so that we'd have to do the x-rays over. Luckily, there were plenty of patients on the schedule. Even better, a guy who had shot a nail into his thigh with a nail gun came into the ER.
No one paid any attention to me. It was easy to slip two blank films into the cassette instead of one. Holly wouldn't discover the film because the cassettes were only opened in the dark room. Still, I nervously counted the seconds until I heard the telltale sounds of the cassette back in the
pass box.
I counted to three before snatching the box out. I removed one of the films and quickly stuffed it in the back of the drawer that held the unexposed films. Later, when I had time, I would put an arbitrary name on it and process it.
I flashed the patient name onto the remaining film and developed it.
There was only one thing wrong with my plan. I hadn't paid any attention to which x-ray I developed and which one I stashed. After developing the film, it was obvious that the x-ray was too light. Was it because I had put two pieces of film in the cassette or because I should have grabbed the x-ray in front?
I dithered back and forth and finally yanked the other one out of the drawer. Crap.
I flashed it with the correct patient name and developed it, hoping she wouldn't notice the delay.
I processed it and held it up to the light. "OhmyGod." I stared at it. It was not a picture of a thigh with a nail in it. It was a chest x-ray with ribs. I looked down at the first one I had done. Yup, it was definitely a leg.
Not only was I out of time, I had just stamped and developed a chest x-ray that I knew nothing about. I had also put the wrong patient name on it. "Ohshitshit." Someone had put an undeveloped x-ray in the back of the drawer just as I had, and I had grabbed the wrong one!
There was an impatient knock on the door. "Ohboy." I shut the white light off, turned on the red and stuffed the chest x-ray back into the drawer. I had no idea what else to do with it. I grabbed the not-very-dark thigh x-ray and took it out to Holly.
"There's something wrong with the thigh shot," I whispered.
"Of course there is," she snapped. "The idiot fired a nail into it."
"No, I mean with the development. It came out really light."
She grabbed the x-ray and put it on the light rack. "Let's do it again. I need to adjust the exposure. I thought I checked it."
"Oh." If the reason for the x-ray being light was because I had put two pieces of film in the cassette, we would now end up with one that was too dark. I was in way too deep here.
Should I confess?
I had already processed a hidden file in the back of the drawer. Whoever had stuck it in there was going to be mighty suspicious when they saw it already developed and stamped. It was also going to be pretty obvious that I was the one who did it because of the time/date stamp. All a person had to do was look to see who was working that shift. Then again, since I was a volunteer, maybe they would suspect Holly.
Executive Sick Days Page 19