Second Opinion

by Alexander, Hannah

  “He was already acting all loopy and odd when I found him,” Brisco said. “Not that it was too noticeable. He’s always loopy and odd.”

  “Wait a minute, Mr. Scroggs.” The farmer’s previous statement had registered with Grant at last. “Could you describe him to the police?”

  “Guess I could. I saw him but not for long.”

  Grant excused himself and stepped out of the exam room. He walked over to the secretary. “Barbara, call the police,” he said softly. “We have a crime victim who needs to make a statement.”

  Lauren joined him at the central desk. “The police? Again? What is it with you, Dr. Sheldon? Maybe you should start parking your car someplace else so they won’t know you’re here.”

  Grant looked up at Lauren and smiled. “Maybe I should.” He took a closer look at her then frowned. She looked looked pale with dark circles beneath her eyes. “I thought your shift was over. What are you still doing here?”

  “Probably the same thing you are—trying to help our replacements get caught up. But two more patients just checked in and we’ve had three calls. Care to guess the most common complaint?”

  “Nausea, vomiting, dizziness, headache.”

  “You got it. I’ll hang around a little longer or they’ll have to call in reinforcements.”

  “You don’t look like you’re feeling much better than the patients.”

  “How kind of you to notice.” Lauren’s voice held just the right inflection of amused offense. Grant chuckled at her. Over the past two weeks they had grown comfortable enough with each other to tease. He liked her sense of humor. He had learned to trust her judgment. The last time Grant had felt this comfortable with someone he had eventually married her.

  The thought disturbed him. He glanced again at her as she stepped to the automated drug dispenser and punched in her code number on a keypad.

  He continued to watch her. He would show this much concern for any member of his staff. Right?

  A motor whined and a drawer popped open. She reached for an ampule of the antiemetic he’d prescribed. “It comes and goes.”

  “You need to go home and get some rest. You’re back on duty in the morning.”

  “So are you.” Lauren gave him a tired smile. “I don’t see you checking out yet.”

  “Don’t push yourself too hard. You know how many return patients we’ve had with this stuff.”

  On his way back to the room Grant realized Lauren was right about the police. He’d been calling them a lot since he arrived. It wasn’t a good thought but maybe things would settle down. Even the quietest of towns had their share of trouble. At least he didn’t know all the officers by their first names yet.

  To Grant’s surprise, he found Dr. Caine at Scroggs’s bedside asking questions, listening to his heart and breathing, issuing orders to the night shift nurse and asking questions about the attack. Brisco was gone.

  “Dr. Caine, I can finish up here,” Grant said.

  “I’ve already taken over.” Caine held up his own chart. “You’re off duty, you can go on home.”

  But how long would it take one physician to get to the remainder of the patients with the waiting room filling up so quickly? Perhaps tonight would be a good one to test the double-coverage waters, at least for a little while. He’d been on duty for twelve hours but he could hang around for a little while and leave before he got too tired. As Lauren had said, he was also scheduled to be back on duty in the morning.

  At the desk Grant picked up the chart on the next patient to be seen and walked to exam room three, thinking about Caine’s Ferrari-driving wife. He could almost hear Annette saying, “Why, honey, we couldn’t fit the whole family in a car like that.” When he closed his eyes, all he could see was a hazy outline of her face.

  Maybe it really was time to go home and get some rest.

  But when he saw his next patient, an older lady who was miserable with the same flu symptoms that it seemed half the town was enduring, he knew it wasn’t time to leave yet. Mrs. Henson looked at Grant with obvious relief when he introduced himself. She’d been waiting more than an hour and a half. She was gracious but her two younger sisters complained about the long wait.

  Grant apologized in spite of the fact that it would have been impossible for him to get to her more quickly. He’d had two patients with chest pain come in by ambulance only a few moments before she arrived. Two auto accident victims had followed. This was most often the time of night when everything hit at once.

  Mrs. Henson’s fast heart rate and dizziness, with the absence of a fever, combined with several bouts of vomiting, indicated that she was dehydrated; Grant ordered further tests. After his experience with little Stacie Kimble, he didn’t want to take any flu-like complaint lightly.

  Two hours after he was scheduled to be off work, when he was fighting fatigue and Mrs. Henson was feeling better, he discharged her with orders to return if she got worse. He must have treated twenty other patients with the same symptoms and same test results in the last week.

  He wrote his final discharge sheet and was retrieving his medical bag from the call room when he heard the sound of male laughter from one of the exam rooms in back. And then he heard something he’d never heard before—Lauren McCaffrey’s voice, suddenly deep and strong with authority.

  “Keep your hands off me!”

  ***

  The fingers of Lauren’s right hand tensed into a fist and she felt a tingle race up her arm. She hadn’t wanted to punch anybody this badly since she was in fifth grade and Kevin Pulaski made her youngest brother cry. After she’d finished with Kevin that day, he’d apologized to her brother and never bothered him again. It didn’t matter that the patient to whom she now spoke was twice as big as she was with the body of an all-star wrestler and the brains, at this moment, of an inebriated microorganism.

  She shouldn’t have stayed this long, should have gone home when her shift was over. But even if she felt a hundred percent she would not have been gracious about being manhandled, pinched, or groped. Within the space of five minutes this bozo had managed to do all three under the guise of drunken awkwardness and then faked a look of wide-eyed innocence. To make matters worse, she had turned just in time to catch his friend reaching out to her with obscene intent. When she caught him he chuckled and lowered his arm, sitting back in his chair with a leer that promised that, given the opportunity, he would try again.

  “The two of you can keep your hands to yourself, or I can call the police and charge you with assault.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No you’re not.”

  Her patient’s face darkened to deep red and he finally looked into her eyes—a surprise, since up until now he’d barely lifted his stare above her rib cage. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  His inebriated buddy snickered again from his seat in the only chair in the room.

  Lauren wanted to walk out of the room and out of the hospital and leave this guy to wait until one of the male nurses got a chance to come in. But the new female grad would probably get stuck with him and something similar would happen to her. Any other time, Lauren would have been more alert. No matter how modestly she dressed, sometimes this kind of thing happened.

  She took a deep breath and reattached the blood pressure cuff, taking care to keep every vulnerable area of her anatomy away from his wandering touch. She hated dealing with the obnoxious drunks but it was part of the job in the emergency room. She had to remind herself that they, too, needed medical care.

  All the automatic blood pressure machines were in use, so she pumped the manual cuff by hand and placed her stethoscope on the man’s muscle-bound arm. She’d pumped it to maximum and was just getting ready to release the valve for a reading when Dr. Sheldon stepped into the room.

  “Lauren? Is everything okay in here?” His presence had never been more welcome.

  “Uh, nurse,” the patient grunted, “are you trying to squeeze my arm off?”

  Lauren released
the valve and checked the numbers. She turned gratefully to Dr. Sheldon. “Mr. Beneker fell off his backhoe today. He has lower back pain. A couple of hours ago he began to experience blurred vision.” The reek of alcohol suggested a good explanation for the blurred vision.

  Dr. Sheldon picked up the chart and stepped to the patient’s side. “So Mr. Beneker, you’re a heavy-equipment operator?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re from Springfield? What are you doing all the way out here in our neck of the woods?” Dr. Sheldon was a big man with a commanding presence. His voice of authority seemed to sober the men a little. He was professional in every way, yet he seemed to establish control with every word. Lauren noticed his characteristic smile was missing.

  While Grant gathered more information, she moved to the end of the bed as far away from Beneker and his buddy as she could get.

  “Got a job clearin’ a dump site a few miles out of town on Highway Z,” Beneker said. “They’re getting it all cleaned up for this big inspection some company is doing before they buy. Wantin’ to put in some kind of water-bottling plant at Honey Spring.”

  Lauren stifled her curiosity. Honey Spring was her favorite fishing spot. She hoped a new bottling plant wouldn’t disrupt the creek.

  Dr. Sheldon took out his penlight and did a neurological test on Beneker, checked his reflexes and asked a few more questions. “I’ll request an x-ray of your lower back just to be safe. We’re going to run a few tests, including blood alcohol and drug screen. Did you lose consciousness?”

  The patient frowned. “What’s this about a blood screen?”

  “It’s policy for workers’ comp claims. Were you unconscious at any time?”

  “No. Hold it. That’s not fair. I’ve been off work for a while. I’ve had a couple of beers since quitting time and the test’ll show that.”

  “We’ll take that into consideration and allow for it.”

  “I’ll run the orders.” Lauren turned to leave.

  “No need,” Dr. Sheldon took the man’s chart and turned to her. “Eugene’s on duty tonight. He’ll take care of this one. Why don’t you go home and get some rest.”

  She didn’t argue. She also took her time leaving the room, intrigued by the sudden grim set of his jawline.

  “Mr. Beneker,” she heard him say as she reached the hallway, “this hospital doesn’t allow its staff to be mistreated.”

  “What?” Beneker exclaimed.

  “We don’t tolerate sexual harassment. What we do is call the police and file charges.” The doctor’s voice was steady and calm.

  Lauren squeezed the tip of her tongue between her teeth to keep from smiling but she couldn’t bring herself to walk away.

  “What d’you mean sexual harassment?” Beneker’s voice had gotten mean. “She was touching me all over the place.”

  Lauren walked away then but she overheard Beneker threaten to file a complaint. Once again, Dr. Sheldon’s voice was calm when he replied. Lauren could have hugged him.

  Chapter 12

  At six-forty-five Thursday morning, Grant Sheldon couldn’t help noticing the magnificent beauty of summer as he maneuvered his car along the curving street toward the hospital at the crest of the steep hill. Flower boxes burgeoned with color. The gingerbread trim on brightly colored Victorian houses sparkled after the rain from last night’s storm. Sodden limbs littered the picket-fenced yards.

  He hoped Mrs. Piedmont wouldn’t try to clear her yard this morning. He’d received word from her family physician that she would be fine as long as she took her medication and didn’t overstress her heart.

  He pulled into the employee parking lot just as an ambulance eased out of the bay. Here came the familiar tightening in his gut.

  Inside he found two tearful middle-aged women with familiar faces, clinging to each other beside the reception window. When one of them spoke, he remembered his flu patient from last night, Mrs. Henson. These were her younger sisters who’d complained about the wait.

  Mitchell Caine came through the doorway that connected the waiting room with the emergency department. His broad shoulders drooped beneath the stained lab coat. His bloodshot eyes held that familiar, dull look of frustration that every physician experienced when a patient case had not gone well. It was obvious that he had gotten no sleep last night. He looked past Grant as if he didn’t see him and turned his attention to the two women.

  “I’m sorry. We did all we could.” His voice was rough with fatigue. “She went into cardiac arrest and we tried to resuscitate her.” He shook his head. “She died five minutes ago.”

  The impact of the words hit Grant with an almost physical force, just as it did the sisters. He had been working in emergency medicine too long to be surprised by this kind of occurrence but it shouldn’t have happened. Last night there were no signs that their sister was experiencing anything more than a simple case of the same virus attacking the rest of the town.

  Instead of attempting to comfort the women through the onslaught of grief that followed the announcement, Dr. Caine turned his stiletto glare on Grant. “I’m not the one who needs his hours cut. The patient you saw last night just died of heart failure.”

  Grant bit back a flare of temper and remained calm. “I don’t think this is the time or the place for a discussion about work schedules. Let’s limit our attention to those who are grieving.”

  ***

  Lauren watched in shocked silence from the waiting room door while Dr. Sheldon pushed past Dr. Caine and approached the weeping women. He spoke a few soft words and ushered them into a private alcove. As they went, Lauren heard him offer assistance with calls and arrangements.

  Dr. Caine passed Lauren on his way through the door into the emergency department. When the telephone rang for him a few moments later, she overheard the secretary, Vivian, explain that he had already left for the day. Thank goodness.

  The man had issues.

  After the hearse had left with the body of Mrs. Henson, and her sisters had left with other family members, Lauren caught sight of Dr. Sheldon walking toward the work desk at the rear of the department. She picked up the file she’d pulled and carried it to him as he sat down.

  “I thought you would want this.” She laid Mrs. Henson’s chart in front of him. “I didn’t find a thing out of place. None of her tests last night showed a heart problem.” Without waiting for an invitation, she pulled another chair over and sat down. “Of course, you’re the doctor and you might find a lot of things I wouldn’t know to look for.”

  Grant studied the pages for a few moments then shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “I would make the same call again. That’s what scares me. She was feeling much better before I sent her home. And she had no history of heart problems, no chest pain, nothing on the monitor when I saw her. I could have done an EKG but I saw no reason for it last night.”

  “Dr. Sheldon, you—”

  “Would you mind calling me Grant?” He asked. “I like to be a little more casual around the office if it isn’t against some kind of company policy I haven’t yet read.”

  “Of course I wouldn’t mind.” She felt a pang of compassion for this man who always seemed to have everything under control. “Stop second-guessing yourself just because of a doctor who never bothered to read this chart last night.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I had to search all over the department for it. He doesn’t know what went on between you and this patient.” Dr. Caine was using this poor woman’s death to further his own agenda but it wouldn’t be professional to mention that aloud.

  “Thank you.” Grant picked up the chart and sorted through the pages once again. Lauren had made copies of everything she could find. “Lauren, how long have you been an ER nurse?”

  “Ten years.”

  “Have you ever seen a viral epidemic in early June such as the one we seem to have here now?”

  “Nothing like we’ve seen here. Especially not in June.”

&n
bsp; “And you’ve experienced it yourself, even though you had a flu shot.”

  “Yes, and we’ve had several patients return with reoccurring bouts, though it only began around the end of May when you started working here. The severity is what concerns me.”

  His face relaxed with the first smile she had seen today. “Are you saying I make people sick?”

  With some other doctors she would begin to tread lightly about now. She grinned at him. “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we? Do you mind if I offer a suggestion?”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “I could call some friends of mine in Knolls and see if they’re having the same problem. Dr. Lukas Bower would have picked up on something like this quickly. He would definitely see it in the ER if it was anywhere in town. Dr. Mercy Bower, his wife, has her own clinic. This is her day off but I could try to catch her at home. Maybe some of the other hospitals in surrounding towns have experienced the same thing.”

  “Excellent idea. I’ll ask our secretaries if they’ll keep track of our viral patients for the next few days and make some calls to the local physicians. Meanwhile, I’ll have Medical Records pull some old files and I’ll make some phone calls myself. The patients might be able to tell me something.” He paused and thumped his fingers on Mrs. Henson’s chart. “Her sisters are requesting an autopsy.”

  “Because of what Dr. Caine said this morning?”

  “That could have something to do with it,” he said dryly. “The coroner doesn’t have to agree to it. If he doesn’t, they’ll have to pay for it themselves. I’m going to call and urge him to abide by their wishes.”

  Lauren really did like this man. “It could be risky for your career if they find something.”

  “It could be more risky for the citizens of Dogwood Springs if we don’t.”

  “I hope your attitude spreads out a little in this town. We could use it.” Unfortunately, if the pathologist found blocked arteries or other signs of previous heart problems in Mrs. Henson’s body, the family could decide to sue for malpractice, even though the records for last night showed nothing amiss. It didn’t mean they would win. Still, this was America, where people sued in search of hidden treasure.