Second Opinion

by Alexander, Hannah

  “Please humor me for a moment,” Grant said. “It could be important.”

  “We fish at Honey Creek up close to the source.”

  Grant’s hunch, which had been foggy at best when he’d spoken with Beau, now began to take a more concrete form. “Do you know a young woman by the name of Lauren McCaffrey?”

  The man’s features lightened a fraction. “Sure do. She’s the one who sat down there in my barbershop and pestered me until I finally gave in and told her about my fishing spot. I’ve seen her at the creek quite a few times since then.” His brows lowered a fraction. “We try to beat her there. She gets all the good ones if she gets her line in the water first.”

  The possibilities frightened Grant. It looked like Beau might be onto something with those x-ray films. Maybe the flecks weren’t artifact at all.

  Lauren had been sick with a bad taste in her mouth.

  “Mr. Rosewitz, have you felt ill in the past few weeks, suffered nausea, any of the symptoms your friend had?”

  “Can’t say that I have.”

  “Do you eat the fish you catch?”

  “I don’t like fish. I give ‘em all to Ernest. He loves ‘em and he doesn’t have much income.”

  Frustration surged through Grant. Until today he’d been so sure the illness was a virus or bacteria. Something more ominous could be the cause of those bright white flecks Beau had mentioned.

  “He’s pinking up nicely,” Muriel said. “Looks like he’ll make it.”

  Grant nodded and gave more orders then said, “Let me know immediately if his condition worsens. I’ll be in Trauma One for a few minutes and then at my desk.” He excused himself and rushed from the room.

  He checked on an angry Mr. Smith and declined to release him from the backboard, not because of spinal damage but because the man’s continued combativeness not only endangered him, but others. Smith refused to give a urine sample and shouted his frustration at the straps that restrained him. After being assured by Eugene that the police were on their way, Grant left the room.

  He didn’t go far before Dr. Mitchell Caine came striding through the side door to take over for his shift. The elegant doctor’s steel gaze swept the central area of the emergency department with its busy staff and crowded work areas. His features darkened.

  Grant gave a quick report on the patients most in need of attention and then left Caine staring after him as he rushed to his office.

  As he reached for the phone Grant was reminded of Archer’s frantic phone call. Gina was having seizures. His suspicion, after some of the clues he’d received lately, was heavy metal poisoning. But how could that be causing Gina’s symptoms, her seizures?

  It could be affecting her central nervous system. How widespread was this problem? He dialed home and let the phone ring four times before Beau picked up.

  “Beau, what have you—”

  “I need a little more time. I’m making calls now.”

  Grant’s hand tightened on the receiver. “Find what you can and call me back ASAP. Also do a Web search for symptoms of mercury poisoning.”

  Beau caught his breath. “You think that’s what these patients have?”

  “I don’t know, just check.”

  Grant hung up and jumped back into the patient race. He had a lot of faith in his son’s deductive reasoning but what if they were already too late to save these people?

  Chapter 27

  After placing another generous pinch of sugar at the edge of Gina’s tongue, Archer repositioned the pillow behind her head and gently straightened her arms and legs. While he watched her face, her lids fluttered once again. They didn’t open. She obviously didn’t have the strength to open her eyes.

  “Gina, you’re not alone. I’m right here and I’m not going to leave you until the ambulance comes.”

  She winced. Her shoulders moved slowly as if she was fighting her way out of a subterranean pit in her mind.

  “Who’s there?”

  A gush of relief escaped his lips. “Archer. Lie still for a few minutes. I know the floor is hard but we don’t want to set off more seizures.”

  “Seizures?” She winced again and lifted her arm a few inches from her stomach, though she still didn’t open her eyes.

  “You’ve been having some seizures. How do you feel right now?”

  Her soft breathing deepened. “Head hurts bad.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish—”

  “My boys?” Her eyes came open then, slowly, with effort. “Levi? Cody?”

  “They went to your neighbor’s after I got here.”

  In slow motion she reached up and grasped Archer’s arm. “What happened? Did I hurt—”

  “You didn’t hurt anyone. Levi called me. When I got here they were frightened but safe. As soon as the ambulance gets here I’ll go to the Walker’s house and reassure them before I follow you to the hospital.”

  At this promise, she released him. Tears filmed her eyes. “I’ve messed up everything.”

  “How can you blame yourself for an illness you didn’t create?”

  “I thought I could control the attacks.”

  “This is something you would never have been able to control and I believe it’s physical, not psychiatric.”

  There was a slight nod of her head. “Lauren… she’ll keep my children. If anything… happens to me.”

  “What’s going to happen is you’re going to the hospital.”

  “Will you call her?”

  “Of course.”

  The color in her face deepened to a healthier shade of pink. “I have to give it up. I can’t go on like this.”

  “Gina, you can’t—”

  “Shh. Listen.” Her voice grew stronger though still soft. “Lauren told me to give it up.”

  Archer waited. Gina was certainly not talking about the obvious, because Lauren would never tell anyone to give up her children or her hope for a future.

  “I tried to control my life for too long.” She stopped and swallowed, and her tongue worked across her lips in a grimace. “Sugar?”

  “Doctor’s orders. I called the hospital for advice and Grant told me to try sugar under your tongue in case your seizures were a reaction to hypoglycemia.”

  Gina’s eyelids drooped, her lips parted, and some of the firmness left her expression. Archer waited.

  “Second opinion,” she said a few seconds later.

  He frowned at her. “Gina?”

  “I need a second opinion like Lauren said.” Her voice had an ethereal quality, half whisper, half rasp, but there was an assurance in it that hadn’t been there before. “I asked Him for one. Do you think I’ll get it?”

  “Yes.” He remembered now. That was the phrase Lauren used the day they visited Gina’s house. “God is the Great Physician.”

  “I give up on myself because I can’t do it. He needs to take over for me. He’ll help me.”

  “Yes Gina, He will. He made you; He loves you. Turn it all over to Him.”

  “I need a new father.”

  “Trust Him to take over for you. He always does.”

  “Why would He want to?”

  “You know how much you love your children? Multiply that by a billion and He loves you more.”

  She was silent for a long moment then she said, “You sound like Lauren.”

  “She’s right.”

  Another long thoughtful silence then, “Yes.” She said no more but something changed in her face. Her expression went blank.

  “Gina?”

  With a violent thrust the dreaded grimace returned to her face and she jerked. At the same moment Archer heard the sweet welcome sound of an ambulance siren.

  “Please Lord, take care of her.”

  ***

  Grant was racing through the ER proper when Eugene intercepted him.

  “Dr. Sheldon, Bob Smith’s gone! I stepped out to help Muriel lift a patient. When I went back into the room I found the backboard empty. One of the straps was broken.”
<
br />   “What’s going on here, Sheldon?” The chill of Dr. Mitchell Caine’s voice came from behind Grant. “Are we now releasing dangerous criminals before the police can reach them?”

  Grant turned to find Caine bearing down on him trailed by two black-uniformed police officers looking less than happy. “No one released him.”

  One of the police officers stepped forward. “Dr. Sheldon, according to reports we received from the witnesses on the scene, that patient matched the description of a man we’ve been after for weeks. He uses the street name Peregrine.”

  Eugene groaned aloud. “The pusher? Dr. Sheldon, I’m sorry. I was only gone for a minute. Muriel needed me and I couldn’t—”

  “You’re not employed as a security officer.” Grant cast a cool glance at Caine. “If that man was strong enough to break one of the straps on that spine board and escape, I don’t want to think what he might have done if Eugene had tried to stop him. Dr. Caine, there are plenty of patients to be seen and you’re the physician on duty now. I suggest you get to work. I’ll take care of this.” He gestured for the police to follow him into his office.

  Before Grant could reach the door the night secretary turned and motioned to him. “Your son’s on line two, Dr. Sheldon. He says it’s—”

  “Important. Thanks, Becky.” Grant rushed into his office and grabbed the phone without checking caller ID with the officers still trailing behind him. “What have you found?”

  “I made those calls.” There was an edge of excitement in Beau’s voice tonight that Grant hadn’t heard in many months.

  “Hold it a moment. I have police officers with me. I’m putting the phone on the speaker so they can hear this.” He pushed the button. “Go ahead.”

  “I called the mayor.” Beau’s voice was clear and steady. “Honey Spring is the water source for the patients named in the charts you gave me. Honey Creek just happens to supply the water for a mostly middle-class neighborhood and that’s why this mystery flu appeared to limit itself to the middle class.”

  “Good job.” Grant glanced at the police to see if they were listening. They were, with rapt attention.

  “What about the excavation at the dump site above the spring?”

  “That’s when the mayor got really interested. She said she’s going to check it all out but she was preoccupied with a family emergency. She said you saw her uncle in the ER tonight.”

  Ernest Mourglia, who was now on his way to Springfield. “That’s right. Jade Myers might be a little overwhelmed for a while.”

  “I offered to help. She gave me the number for the ditching service out of Springfield and I called them. Get this, Dad, they started work on that project six weeks ago. They ran into all kinds of snags—had some complaints from the locals and then they dug up a bunch of crushed plastic containers that weren’t part of the bargain. Some of their guys got sick.”

  “Containers of what?”

  “He said there were all kinds of them but he was upset because he’d been told it was harmless construction material. He wouldn’t admit his own earthmovers might have been the ones to crush the containers but he did admit some of his guys got sick for no reason. Dad, I think you’re right. That stuff’s poison.”

  “Did he describe the sickness?”

  “Like the flu.”

  That was probably good. The vomiting and diarrhea were the body’s natural defense against a poison in the system. As long as that poison was ejected from the body it would be less likely to cause lasting effects.

  “I did that Web search you wanted,” Beau said. “The symptoms in most of these patient charts match the symptoms of mercury salt poisoning. What made you think about that?”

  “That dump site above Honey Springs wasn’t on private land. Anyone could have dumped waste there. Archer has warned me several times that methamphetamine production is a big problem in this part of the state. One of the by-products of meth production is mercury salt.”

  “Meth?” Beau said in a hushed whisper. “You think it could be that bad here in Dogwood Springs?”

  Grant thought about their recent escapee. “Oh yes.”

  “So we’re talking about a ground and water contamination of mercury,” Beau said. “The x-rays, Dad, maybe those flecks on the film weren’t artifact. If mercury was in the water these people drank—”

  “I know.” Grant tried not to think of the long-range implications right now. He just needed to concentrate on his next step. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions but looking at all this evidence I think a heavy metal such as mercury would show up just that way on an x-ray.”

  “So far the symptoms haven’t been so bad,” Beau said. “The only thing that worries me is that things can get worse. When mercury gets into the groundwater it can undergo a chemical reaction and convert to methyl mercury. That can affect the central nervous system. But it doesn’t look like that’s happened yet.”

  “Yet.” Grant knew the facts but he let his son talk and looked up to make sure the officers were paying attention. They were.

  “Methyl mercury can cause all kinds of nasty permanent damage,” Beau continued. “Especially if it’s been in someone’s system for a few weeks. Do you know that it only takes a small amount of mercury to poison a whole lake?”

  “Excellent work.” Grant wanted to grab his family and take them as far away from this poisoned town as he could but he’d already done that. This was supposed to be a safe town. “Have you called anyone besides the mayor and the excavators?”

  “No. Jade Myers was going to try to get a HAZMAT team down here from Springfield. She said she’ll need to talk to you.”

  “Sounds like I’m in for a busy night.” Grant couldn’t stifle the fear that the mercury salt might be converting to methyl mercury.

  “What are you going to do now?” Beau asked.

  “I’ll call our administrator and he can call County Health.” Grant glanced again at the officers who hovered beside the desk, their expressions grim. They were definitely on full alert.

  Peregrine’s evil had spread.

  Grant remembered his most recent visit from Brisco and Scroggs. “We had a farmer in here the other day who was attacked in his own barn in the middle of the afternoon. Want to take a guess what the intruder was stealing?”

  “Farm supplies?” Beau asked.

  “Liquid fertilizer.”

  “That’s used to make meth.”

  “And they’re getting bold enough to try to steal it in the middle of the day.”

  One of the officers nodded at his partner.

  “You’d better start praying,” Beau said.

  “I already have been. I just hope He’s listening.”

  There was a silence filled with surprise then, “You’re back on speaking terms with God?” In spite of the situation, there was a trace of joy in Beau’s voice that filled Grant with bittersweet memories.

  “As I said, He might not listen to me.”

  “He will. He’s answering my prayers right now. Keep praying.” Beau disconnected.

  Something stirred deep inside Grant—a pain he’d ignored for so long that it seemed to be a part of him now. But mixed with the pain was a sense of relief and quiet hope engendered by his son’s excitement. The pain was uppermost. How much had he hurt his children by his damaged relationship with God over Annette’s death?

  Those thoughts remained with Grant as he spoke with the police, gave them all the information he could, and explained his fears about the mercury poisoning.

  They called the station from his office.

  “Dr. Sheldon?”

  He looked up to find the secretary standing at the doorway. “You wanted me to let you know when the ambulance made a call with the next patient. They’ll be here in about five minutes.”

  “I’ll be there.” He followed her out the door. He wanted to be the one to take care of Gina. Caine had his hands full. “Becky, I need a copy of Gina Drake’s medical records with any previous x-rays.”
<
br />   “How soon?”

  “Now.”

  She returned to her station while Grant dialed Mr. Butler’s home number. A recorder intercepted his call after the second ring. Grant left a message. No help there. He had the authority and the information. He definitely had a state of emergency, so there was no need to wait on the administrator to take action. The police were already on it.

  He dialed Lauren’s number and spoke to yet another machine. “Lauren, this is Grant. Please call me when you get in no matter the time. I’ll be at the hospital for at least another hour, maybe longer.” Maybe a lot longer. “Whatever you do, don’t drink any more of your spring water and don’t eat any more fish. It could be poisoned. Just call me.”

  Dissatisfied with the results of his efforts so far, he hung up. As he walked toward the front of the ER, he remembered eight-year-old Stacie Kimble who had suffered the effects of diabetic coma after an apparent virus that had affected other family members.

  Hindsight was so much more accurate than medical instinct. Her family lived in the affected section of town and the onset of diabetes would have caused a lot of thirst. The increased water intake would have exacerbated Stacie’s condition as the poison entered her system, just as the severity of the gastrointestinal illness could have affected Mr. Mourglia’s heart if it was already weak.

  How many other mystery cases would this discovery reveal to him? And how many might have been helped if he’d known sooner?

  The siren echoed through the office. He needed to stop wallowing in what-ifs. Right now he had a patient who needed help and he needed to contact Poison Control. The situation was out of hand and he wasn’t going to stop it alone. No human could do that.

  He found himself silently seeking the guidance of the only One who could give him the wisdom he needed.

  Grant picked up the telephone at the reception desk as the ambulance pulled into the bay. Methyl mercury poisoning was rare but it could very likely cause the symptoms Gina had been experiencing. Would Poison Control even know how to treat it?

  ***

  “Mr. Archer!” Levi came running toward him at full speed from across the Walkers’ large family room.