Code Blue

by Janet Lane-Walters

  "And that led to innuendoes and accusations until I lost my cool." She put her fork on the plate. "I fear the sniping is behind the odd things that are happening to me." The fear she had felt on finding the third gift resurfaced. Once again, she was almost sure one of her coworkers was responsible for the gifts and Barbara's death.

  Patrick looked up. "Tell me."

  "Maybe it started as a joke, but it's not funny anymore. When I came back from vacation, Julie teased me about hiding something from them. Some kind of relationship." She told him about the candy, books and perfume and where she had found them. "The giver knows my schedule. That's why I think it's someone I work with."

  "What about one of the doctors?"

  She laughed. "I'm not the kind of woman to attract one of them. Most of the doctors are married. They wouldn't choose me for a fling."

  He nodded. Susan brought thoughts of home and family. "Any other men around?"

  "Patients, visitors, security, maintenance. To them, I'm just a nurse."

  Patrick reached for a piece of bread. "You're probably right about your coworkers being the culprit." As he spoke, an uneasy feeling arose, one he refused to voice. Was she being stalked? "Who left the hospital before you did the night you found the perfume?"

  "All of them. I was late."

  "What about a group prank?"

  "Before Barbara's death, maybe, but I can't imagine them cooperating on anything these days. All they do is bicker."

  "As long as the gifts are benign, I wouldn't worry." He speared the last bite of salad.

  "It's just...the gifts..." She shrugged. "I wish I could discover why I've been chosen."

  What had she been about to say? Was there something sinister about the gifts that made her think of them as a threat?

  "What were you going to say?"

  "It's nothing."

  The waitress brought their steaks. Patrick cut a piece. "Lisa called this morning to inform me of the current holiday schedule. The twins will arrive Christmas Eve and stay for a month."

  "Will Lisa and Rob be in Europe that long?"

  He nodded. "She's fighting for her marriage. That's more than--" He cut off a bitter remark. "She's lucky I can keep the twins."

  Susan looked up. "There are some things I need to tell you." She toyed with her food. "When the twins were here, they talked to me about their stepfather. I guess he doesn't hide his resentment of them when Lisa's not around."

  "Damn. Lisa insists he loves and wants the twins. What do you think I should do?"

  "Take them as often as you can. I'm sure Lisa won't believe you if you say anything."

  Patrick groaned. If he petitioned for custody, the twins would be forced to choose. He didn't want to put them in the middle of a custody fight. He looked up. "I'll take your advice for now, but I'm going to talk to Lisa when they come back."

  "You'll find the answer." She pointed to their steaks. "Let's eat before these get cold."

  Patrick nodded. The problem of the twins was his. His relationship with Susan hadn't progressed to where he could ask her how she felt about becoming part of a family.

  * * *

  He sat in the kitchen of the house he shared with Mommy. Her presence lurked at the edge of his awareness. He felt her disappointment as strongly as he had the night he'd crouched above the Thruway and waited for her white car. As he ate a solitary supper, he muttered to himself.

  "Her life is charmed. Mommy, I don't understand why you don't want her with you." He looked up. "That's not fair. She has to be with you. I don't want her to tell." He scowled. "You can't protect her forever." He struck the tines of the fork against the plate. His plans were made. Since Mommy protected Susan, he had to choose another. He rose. The fork clattered on the floor.

  At ten o'clock, he sat in the Emergency Room waiting area and stared at the clock. Each sweep of the second hand cut into his well-timed plan. The self-inflicted wound was deeper and had bled more than he had expected. Finally, a nurse called his name. He followed her to the examining room screened from others by green curtains.

  After describing the accident and moaning about his clumsiness, he waited for the doctor.

  At ten minutes to eleven, the nurse bandaged his thumb. She handed him a printed instruction sheet. He jammed the paper in his pocket and hurried outside to look for a pay phone. He located one outside the Emergency Room doors. He put in the money and dialed.

  "Ms. Vernon, please."

  When he heard her voice, he began a lengthy and convoluted complaint about how badly the nurses were treating his mother. His tirade continued until he saw the other evening supervisors leave the hospital. After promising to come in the next afternoon to make a formal complaint, he hung up and walked to the door.

  Several minutes later, the door opened and Leila Vernon strode outside. He moved to intercept her. "Good evening."

  She looked up. "What are you doing here tonight?"

  He displayed his bandaged thumb. "A dumb workshop accident." He frowned. "I thought there was a security guard assigned to escort the nurses on the evening shift to their cars."

  "He's not due until eleven thirty. I usually leave with the other supervisors, but tonight, a phone call delayed me."

  "Can I be your escort?"

  "Thank you."

  Her smile made her cheeks flush. Until they reached the steps, he walked beside her. Two cars left the parking lot. Had the drivers noticed him, and if they had, could they identify him? He had to take the chance. Mommy had blessed tonight's action.

  "I'm on the second tier," Ms. Vernon said. "You don't have to go with me."

  "I don't mind." He reached into his jacket pocket and grasped the weight.

  When she paused beside her car, he pulled the weight free. A rush of anticipation energized him. She bent to fit the key into the lock.

  He smashed the weight against the base of her skull. Her face hit the car window. He struck again. She toppled to the ground and nearly knocked him over. He knelt on the asphalt and smashed the weight again and again against the back of her head.

  His breath came in ragged gasps. The heat of accomplishment coursed through his veins. He stared at the way her coat sleeve had ridden up to expose her pale arm.

  The glitter of gold on her wrist entranced him. How did she get Mommy's bracelet? The bracelet had spanned a different arm. His fingers fumbled with the clasp.

  Moments later, he hurried down the steps. When he reached the safety of his car, he thought of Susan. Would she guess what he had done? Would she know he was the one? Mommy did. Would she tell?

  * * *

  The nearly full moon competed with the lights in the parking lot outside the community college auditorium. Susan slipped her hand into Patrick's. The chill of the night vanished. All evening, the music had formed a background to her awareness of the stirring chords he made her feel. Though the pressure of his fingers on hers was a sign the night was real, she felt as though she walked in a dream.

  His touch lingered and then disappeared. He unlocked the car. Their gazes met, Susan looked away. The need reflected in his eyes stirred a similar response in her. Was she ready to make a choice between fears generated by the past and her hopes for the future?

  By the time they reached the house, she had pushed her mixed feelings aside. She handed him the key to her front door. "Would you like to come in for coffee and dessert?"

  "Yes."

  His eyes held desire for something more. She felt heat streak through her body.

  Inside, he took her coat and pulled her into his arms for a quick and demanding kiss. She looked up. When he stepped back, she was sure he'd read the uncertainty in her expression.

  When she stood at the kitchen counter cutting thick slabs of gingerbread baked on a bed of peaches, her awareness of him grew. After carrying the cake to the table, she returned to the counter and filled two mugs with coffee.

  This time when she turned, his head was bent. He wrote in the notebook he had held during t
he concert. The mugs she held kept her from touching his skin, his hair, the rough texture of his tweed jacket. The moment of desire held her paralyzed.

  With deliberate movement, she set the mugs on the table and sat across from him. Her senses seemed enhanced. The pungent aroma of coffee and spices, the sweet and tangy taste of the gingerbread, the feel of the polished surface of the table, the frown on his face captured her attention. The change in their relationship had begun on Thanksgiving with her realization that he wanted more than friendship. Could she meet his needs?

  He put the pencil on the table and slipped the notebook in his pocket. "Had to make my notes while the music was still fresh." He tasted the cake. "Delicious. A new recipe?"

  She shook her head. "A childhood favorite that I'd forgotten until Mom made one while I was there."

  "I'd like the recipe. The kids would like this."

  "It's simple. Brown sugar, butter, a can of peaches and a box of gingerbread mix."

  "My kind of baking."

  They lingered over coffee, lifting mugs and forks with mirrored movements. Susan sought his eyes, but when their gazes met, unsure of her answer, she looked away.

  Finally, he rose. "I have to turn my notes into a column for Monday's paper."

  Susan followed him to the living room. He turned and put his arms around her waist. His lips met hers, his hands moved on her back. The caress of silk against her skin sent her thoughts toward the bedroom, toward love and commitment.

  "I'd stay longer," he said. "All you have to do is ask."

  The invitation wedged in her throat. She wasn't ready to test her fear or to explore her growing desire for this man.

  He cupped her face. Their lips met in a kiss that nearly made her forget her fears.

  "Susan." His breath flowed over her lips. "I'll call you in the morning. We'll go to brunch."

  "I can't. I promised Leila I'd meet her." She stood at the door and watched him cross the porch. If she called, she knew he would return. They could spend the night making love, this time without guilt. He entered his side of the house. She closed the door. While savoring the anticipation of what lay ahead, she regretted sending him away.

  Julie and Trish dashed past the security guard and raced across the street. Trish paused at the foot of the steps. "Do you think we should have waited for the guard?"

  "I never do." Before Julie plunged up the steps, she glanced over her shoulder. "With the mob behind us, any mugger would run. Imagine being pummeled by fifteen or more nurses and their oversized handbags."

  Trish chuckled. "You know, I always wondered if Barbara invented that story."

  "She sure took it seriously."

  "But she was the star of the piece. Her ability to inject herself into that tale is what convinced everyone this wasn't a fantasy."

  Julie left the steps at the landing of the second tier. "See you tomorrow." She had to hurry. Larry hated when she arrived late.

  As she ran to her car, she stumbled and quickly recovered her balance. A woman's handbag lay on the ground. Then she saw the body sprawled on the asphalt between two cars. Her scream continued like a siren out of control.

  "What's wrong?" Trish appeared at her side.

  Julie pointed. Her scream died to a whimper. "It's Ms. Vernon. She looks worse than Barbara."

  "Move," Trish said. "I want to see."

  "I'm going to be sick."

  "Move first."

  Julie edged away and stumbled to the steps. Several nurses halted just below her. "What's wrong?" they shouted.

  "There's been another attack." Julie swallowed several times.

  "Are you alone?"

  "Trish Fallon's with the body. We need help."

  Two of the nurses pushed through the cluster of women. "We'll get Security."

  Julie grasped the railing. Women shoved past her. Her heart pounded. She felt faint. After gulping deep breaths of cold air, she stared at the group of nurses who stood near the cars that partly concealed Leila's body.

  She had to leave or she would be late. Larry would be upset. His uncle's death, the lawyers, the attempt to cover the large medical practice alone had made him easily angered. Instead of joining the others, she ran to her car.

  The engine started instantly. She backed out of the space. A thought occurred. Susan will be devastated when she hears. She and Leila were good friends. What if Susan was alone when she heard?

  Julie's car shot between the gateposts. Her thoughts flipped from Larry to Susan. After deciding Susan shouldn't be alone when she learned about her friend's death, Julie sped to the Thruway. She could call Larry from Susan's house.

  When Trish heard a car engine, she turned. "What the--" she shouted. Why was Julie leaving? The police were on the way. They would want to talk to her.

  Trish moved closer to Leila and scanned the ground. The only reason Trish could figure for Julie's flight was that she had seen something to link De Witt to the death. The suspicion Trish had dismissed the night of Barbara's death returned. Trish studied the body without discovering a clue.

  "Move," a stern male voice ordered. "Let me through. Someone reported another mugging. Which one of you lost her purse?"

  "Leila Vernon," someone said.

  "She lost more than her purse." Trish joined the retreat.

  "Dear lord," the guard said. "All right, ladies, I want the lot of you to stay here until the police arrive." He spoke into his radio.

  Trish collapsed against a car. The effects of the last amphetamine she had taken several hours before had worn off. "If I don't get away, I'm going to be sick."

  "What's your name?"

  "Trish Fallon. Julie Gilbert and I found the body."

  "Where is she?"

  "Gone. I don't know where." Trish closed her eyes. She had a good idea where Julie had gone.

  "Damn. Trust you women to panic." He pulled a pad of paper from his pocket. "Give me your name and phone number. Did you see anyone running away?"

  Trish shook her head. "The mugger's long gone. The supervisors leave at eleven." Her legs trembled. As she scrawled the information he'd requested, her hand shook. "I really have to go."

  "Me, too," chorused a group of women.

  "Okay, okay. The rest of you leave your names and phone numbers. The police will be in touch."

  "What about my car?" one of the women asked. "I can't move it without hitting her."

  The guard glanced at the body. "Then you'll have to stay or hitch a ride with someone. Can't be destroying evidence."

  Trish reached her car. She had to get away before she crashed. She drove to the gates. By the time the gate lifted, a surge of energy banished her exhaustion. What had Julie seen? Trish smiled. She planned to find out.

  As Susan turned out the kitchen light, she thought about Patrick. Why hadn't she invited him to stay? The doorbell rang. She smiled. Had he noticed her hesitation and returned? As she ran to the door, she remembered the prowler. "Who's there?"

  "Julie. Let me in."

  The panic in the younger nurse's voice startled Susan. Why had Julie come at this hour? Susan opened the door. Julie pushed past. Susan read fear and sorrow in the other nurse's expression.

  "What's wrong?" Susan asked.

  "I didn't want you to hear when you were alone. It was ghastly. I nearly vomited." Julie collapsed on the couch.

  "What are you talking about?" Susan closed the door and stood with her back against the firm surface.

  "She was mugged. Barbara didn't lie."

  "Who?"

  "Leila."

  A scream rose from Susan's toes but she choked it back. "What are you talking about? You're not making sense."

  Julie straightened. "Leila was mugged in the parking lot tonight. Trish and I found her. Whoever did this must be crazy. Her head was worse than Barbara's."

  Susan moved to the couch. Her legs buckled. She crossed her arms over her chest and rubbed the upper parts. She felt cold and though she didn't want to believe what Julie had said, th
e words had to be true. "Tell me what happened from the beginning."

  Julie touched Susan's hand. "I'm late. Could I call Larry? He'll be upset but I didn't want you to be alone."

  Susan stared at her hands. Who was doing this? First Barbara and now Leila. They both had known the same secret.

  The chance of a mugger being in the hospital parking lot, especially after the hospital had initiated precautions, seemed monumental. De Witt. She had to warn Julie.

  Susan covered her face. The sound of Julie's voice came from the kitchen. "I can't leave her now... Why are you being so rude...Well, if that's the way you feel, I'll see you tomorrow."

  When Julie appeared in the doorway, anger filled her eyes and tightened her mouth. "Are you all right?" she asked.

  "Not really," Susan said.

  "Men! Sometimes I think they're a different species."

  "You could be right." Susan shifted her position. "Tell me everything you can remember about Leila."

  Julie slowly repeated the story. "Her watch was gone."

  Susan bolted to her feet. A gold watch. A gold bracelet. That was what she hadn't been able to remember.

  "What's the matter?"

  "Barbara's bracelet was missing," Susan said. "I knew there was something wrong with her body."

  Julie nodded. "Then that proves the mugger killed Barbara."

  Susan shook her head. "How could a stranger know about the storage room or even be in the hospital?" She paced the room. "What did the police say?"

  Julie twisted a strand of hair around her finger. "I didn't wait for them. Trish did. I wonder what she told them?"

  "Ask her tomorrow." Susan returned to the couch. "You'd better call the police in the morning."

  "I promise. Is there any way I can help? I know you and Leila were close. I could stay if you want."

  Julie's words echoed Patrick's, but Susan knew she needed to be alone to release the tears that choked her. "Thanks for coming. I'll be all right."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Go home, please. I hate to cry in front of anyone. Even when Jim died, I couldn't." Instead, she had sought refuge in Patrick's arms. But not tonight. She needed to grieve alone--one more step toward her goal of strength.