Code Blue

by Janet Lane-Walters

  Susan stood with her back against the pale green curtains. Her fear for Julie held her frozen. She inhaled deeply several times and then edged out of the room. At the desk, she slumped on a chair.

  Julie's nurse rushed from the cubicle and reached for the phone. "Glad you were here. She'll be fine."

  How glib those words sounded and how often she had used them. The words brought memories of the previous night. Her thoughts filled with the knowledge of all that could go wrong. She looked at the clock and knew she had to return to Five Ortho.

  She paused beside Julie's nurse. "Here's my phone number. If she goes to surgery, call me."

  * * *

  The young nurse nodded. "I will and thanks."

  Critical, her condition was critical. At least that was what the operator had said. Mommy had been critical, too. Then Mommy had left him.

  He stood in Mommy's room surrounded by the scent of roses. "Susan knows. Mommy, I know she does. Are you ready for her to come to you?"

  He cocked his head. A scowl appeared on his face. "She didn't tell, but she will. I know she will."

  With slow steps, he approached the bed. He crawled beneath the satin comforter. The soft fabric caressed his skin. Just like Mommy had when he was a child. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  * * *

  An exhausted Patrick questioned his sanity. He dropped four present-filled shopping bags on the couch. His jacket landed between them. This year, he'd decided to do his Christmas shopping early rather than wait until Christmas Eve. He wondered if everyone in the county had made the same decision. The long lines at the mall had allowed him too much time to think about the deaths at Bradley Memorial Hospital and Susan.

  No matter what arguments to the contrary he found, he remained convinced she was on the killer's list. Her refusal to accept her danger frustrated him. Four deaths and Julie's aborted one. Though he admired Susan's desire to remain strong and in control of her life, couldn't she see she needed his help?

  He walked to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. The mantle clock struck eleven times. While he waited for the coffee to brew, he sat at the counter and doodled.

  What was the connection between the deaths? Unlike the police, he wasn't convinced the doctors had died in accidents. Though Susan suspected De Witt had attacked Julie, had the man killed the others? He printed De Witt's name in the center of a circle and added the other names around the perimeter.

  The Denton woman had been a gossip and a blackmailer. How did Mendoza fit the picture? The rhythmic beat of the pencil stopped. Dr. Barclay had been De Witt's uncle and employer. Leila Vernon had been Barclay's mistress and confidant.

  Susan Randall. Patrick's hand slipped and the pencil slashed a line across the paper. She knew too much and not enough.

  He picked up the pencil. Would De Witt jeopardize the chance to take over his uncle's practice? What would Julie say about her attacker?

  Would she remember? He recalled the time he'd been beaned by a baseball. Several hours had permanently vanished from his memories. The pencil snapped in two. If she never remembered, Susan's suspicions would remain unreported. Wrong! He reached for the phone.

  "Davies residence."

  "Laura, it's Pat Macleith. Is Greg around?"

  "He is... While I have you on the phone, we're having a party next Saturday. Please come. I have several friends I think you'd like."

  He laughed. "I hope to be taken by then."

  "Bring her. It's been ages since I've seen you."

  "I'll see if she's off. She's a nurse and works evenings." He poured a cup of coffee.

  "If she works at Bradley Memorial, tell her to be careful. Here's Greg."

  "What's up?" Greg's deep voice boomed in Patrick's ear.

  "The muggings."

  Greg groaned. "Not you, too."

  "Have you considered De Witt? He's Barclay's nephew."

  "He's clear."

  "Do you know about his involvement with the latest victim?"

  "We know about De Witt and the Gilbert girl. She's his alibi for his uncle's death. As I told you, we have a line on the mugger."

  "Who?"

  "He worked at Bradley Memorial five years ago. He and the Denton woman had a burglary ring going. Ms. Vernon testified against him, but there was no proof of the Denton woman's involvement. He vowed he'd teach her a lesson. Vernon, too. A week before the first attempt, he was released from prison."

  "What about Julie Gilbert? Five years ago, she was a teenager."

  "I think your friend overreacted. Some nurse called the station this morning and reported a quarrel between De Witt and Gilbert. What we figure is she ran and he chased her. When she fell and hit her head, he panicked. Once the girl's able to talk, that's how it will turn out. Why the heavy concern?"

  "Susan."

  "Aha! Tell her to follow the rules. Our suspect was an orderly on her unit." Greg chuckled. "You could always play chauffeur."

  "If she'll let me."

  "I want to meet her outside of official business. Bring her to the party so Laura and I can warn her about your overactive imagination. Have you set the date?"

  "Don't rush me. See you." Patrick hung up. Greg's news should have erased his fears but the uneasiness remained strong.

  The doorbell rang. He answered. The look on Susan's face warned him of a new tragedy. "All right, what's wrong?"

  She buried her face against his chest. "Julie."

  "Is she..."

  "When I was on break, she went sour. The doctors are considering surgery as soon as they get the results of the CAT Scan." She ran her hands over his sweater. "Do I smell coffee? Is it hot? I don't think I'll ever get warm."

  Patrick guided her to the counter and handed her the cup he'd poured for himself. "What went wrong?"

  "I'm not sure. A bleed. A fatty emboli. A missed skull fracture." She put the cup on the counter. "I have to go home. If she goes to surgery, they'll call me."

  "I'll come with you." He reached for his jacket.

  She shook her head. "I'm sorry. It's always some tragedy. That's not fair to you."

  He opened the door. "I love you for better or worse." As they crossed the porch, he kept his hand at her waist.

  A frustrated dream woke Susan. In the dream, Julie screamed a name that Susan couldn't hear. For several minutes, she stared at the window. The dream had reflected her feelings. She turned on her side and snuggled against Patrick. The steady rise and fall of his chest lulled her into a dreamy state.

  With an abrupt jerk of her body, her descent into sleep ended. Julie. Was the younger nurse all right? Susan rolled onto her side and looked at the clock. Three A.M. Why hadn't the ICU nurse called? In hopes of slipping from the bed without waking Patrick, she eased from the covers.

  The instant her feet hit the carpet, the phone rang. She pulled a blanket around her shoulders and reached for the receiver.

  "Mrs. Randall, this is Gail, Julie's nurse. Sorry I didn't call before. She went to surgery at two fifteen. Things were hectic and I got rattled."

  "What happened?"

  "Dr. Boyleston saw the CAT and decided to operate. There was a bleed."

  "Where? How bad?"

  "I don't know."

  "Are her parents there?"

  "I think so. Dr. Boyleston called them for a phone consent."

  "Let them know I'm on the way." For several seconds, she stared at the wall while the dial tone wailed in her ear. A hand touched her arm. She jumped.

  "Is everything all right?" Patrick asked.

  "Julie went to surgery." Her voice trembled.

  He embraced her. "She'll be fine."

  The tremor spread from her lips through her body. Patrick didn't know how serious the surgery was. If the bleed had affected a vital area of the brain, Julie could suffer permanent damage. "She could die."

  "She'll be all right. Get dressed. I'll make coffee."

  Susan kissed his cheek. "Julie was a good nurse. I saw that when I was her precepto
r. What if--"

  His mouth cut off her speculations. She clung to him. "She'll be a good nurse again."

  She stood at the side of the bed. "I hate him. How could he have done this to her, to Leila and even to Barbara?"

  "Who?"

  "De Witt."

  "He's clear. The police have a suspect under investigation."

  She shook her head. "I can't believe that."

  "Greg told me about him last night. Shower. Dress." He pushed her toward the bathroom. "Meet you in the kitchen."

  Ten minutes later, Susan took a steaming cup from him. She inhaled and sighed. "Thanks."

  "Should hold you ‘til you get to the cafeteria and grab a cup."

  She looked up. "I'd sooner die of coffee underdose than drink a cup from there."

  "That bad?" He leaned against the counter. "How long will the surgery take?"

  "Hours."

  He caressed her with his eyes. "Call if you need me and I'll be there. Do you want me to drive you?"

  She kissed his cheek. "I should be home before seven."

  Susan paused in the doorway of the surgical waiting room. Julie's parents sat on the dark green couch facing the door. She went to them.

  Mrs. Gilbert half-rose. "Susan, we should have called but I didn't think. When Dr. Boyleston reached us, we dressed and flew over. We didn't even wake her sisters." Hysteria hemmed her voice. "She looked awful, almost like she was...was--"

  "I know," Susan said. "I was there when she got worse. I'm frightened for her, too." She sat beside the woman who looked like she could be Julie's older sister.

  Mrs. Gilbert grasped Susan's hand. "She admires you so much. Last year, for months, all we heard was Susan says this and Susan thinks that."

  Susan smiled. "And it was boring. Julie tends to have enthusiasms."

  Mr. Gilbert nodded. "I think you're an excellent role model. I feel more optimistic now and I can see why Julie wants to be your kind of nurse. The young woman in ICU told us how you helped her last evening."

  Susan didn't know how to respond. She had done very little.

  "How long does this kind of surgery last?" Mrs. Gilbert asked. "She's been there for nearly two hours."

  "I'm not sure. Part of the time was spent prepping her for the operation. They may have shaved her head."

  "Why?"

  "So they'd have a clean surgical field. If they did, one day next week, we'll go wig shopping."

  "What happens--" Mrs. Gilbert pressed her hand to her mouth. "I can't think that way...I wonder where Larry is? It would mean so much to her if he came."

  Susan studied her hands. Didn't they know Julie had broken off with him? How could she tell the Gilberts that De Witt could be the one who attacked Julie? "Does he know?"

  "I left a message with his answering service." Mr. Gilbert scowled. "We're not pleased by what she was doing, but she's old enough to make her own decisions."

  Mrs. Gilbert walked to the door. She stared into the hall. "I thought I heard his voice." She returned to the couch. "It's hard being a parent these days. There are so many temptations for kids."

  "Julie's a good person and she's an excellent nurse."

  Mrs. Gilbert held the remnants of a shredded tissue. "We were so pleased about her decision to go to grad school. Do you think she'll ever work again?"

  "She'll be fine." Susan remembered what little comfort those words had for her. She searched for others. "It may take months for her recovery, but we have to think that way." She rose. "I'll be back with coffee."

  "I'll pass," said Mr. Gilbert.

  "Even if I can find fresh brewed? There's always a pot on Five Ortho." She took their smiles for acceptance.

  When she returned to the waiting room with three cups of coffee, milk and sugar, she halted just inside the door. De Witt stood in front of the couch. The sight of his blond hair and black jacket sparked her anger.

  As she listened to the words of concern she knew he didn't mean, chills walked her spine. How did he have the nerve to come and act this way? Was he convinced Julie would protect him? When she handed the tray to the Gilberts, De Witt met her glance with a dismissive glare.

  At four forty-five, Dr. Boyleston arrived. In an attempt to guess the results of the surgery, Susan studied his face,

  As a unit, the Gilberts rose. "How is she?"

  "So far it's good news. We found the bleed. Small and not affecting a vital area of the brain. She tolerated the procedure well."

  "Thank God," said Mr. Gilbert. "When can we take her home?"

  "Don't rush things. She'll be in ICU for about seventy-two hours. Then she'll be transferred to a regular unit. She'll need physical therapy." He turned to leave.

  The Gilberts embraced.

  Susan felt like laughing and crying. She followed Dr. Boyleston and De Witt into the hall. "Is the news as favorable as you told her parents?" she asked.

  Dr. Boyleston turned. "Mrs. Randall, what are you doing here?"

  "Julie's my friend."

  "Just what did you do?" De Witt asked.

  Dr. Boyleston gave a detailed description of the surgery. "Since she was under anesthesia, Dr. Phillips set the fracture. I'm pleased with her response." He opened the Recovery Room door.

  De Witt attempted to push past Susan. "Excuse me."

  Susan moved to block him. "Just a minute. I'd like to talk to you." The anger she had contained earlier rang in her voice.

  "Make it quick. I want to get home and grab some sleep before office hours."

  His attitude and her exhaustion made her snap. "Leave Julie alone. She doesn't need you hanging around. You've done enough already."

  "Just what do you mean?"

  "Why did you attack her?"

  "You're crazy. I'd never hurt Julie."

  Susan put her hands on her hips. "Even if she refused to supply you with an alibi?"

  His eyes narrowed. "I remember you. You're the nurse who was spouting off about my shooting ability. Last night, you overheard Julie and I having a disagreement. She ran off. I didn't chase her."

  "So you say."

  "I went to see a patient on Four. Check it out."

  "Don't worry. I will."

  Chapter 12

  Patrick stood beside the bed and looked at Susan. Her lips curved in a smile that matched his and he wondered if she dreamed of him. He nearly laughed at the touch of egotism. More likely her dreams were of Julie's surgery and the happy results. He reached out to touch her and stopped. She had returned from the hospital around five thirty, mumbled a few words about Julie and nestled against him. He couldn't wake her. She needed her sleep as much as he wanted her.

  As he backed away from the bed, he thought about the day he'd met Julie. She'd been bouncy and quite concerned about Susan's spirits. Would she wake, remember the attack and name her assailant? When that happened, Susan would be safe. In the meantime, how could he keep her out of danger?

  "You could always play chauffeur." Though Greg's suggestion had been a joke, Patrick decided the idea had merit. Convincing Susan was the problem. She resented any attempt to curb her independence. While he understood her fear of returning to old habits, couldn't she relax her hold just this once? He gripped the banister. Nothing would happen to her. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her. He had to try and persuade her to accept his help, at least until the killer was caught. He crossed the living room and opened the front door.

  At home, he showered and changed clothes. Then he did some cleaning.

  The phone rang and he caught it on the second ring. His ex-wife's hysterical voice shrilled in his ear. Once he realized the twins were fine, he let her continue the excited stream of chatter while he made toast and poured a glass of juice.

  "What do you want me to do?" he asked when Lisa, paused to take a breath. His question evoked another rain of complaints and exclamations. "Lisa, calm down. So you have to leave for Europe on Wednesday instead of next Sunday night. I'm sure you have a lot to do. No, I can't take them today. I'm covering a conc
ert... She's working. Let Rob watch them while you finish shopping...Why not...Tomorrow morning. That's the best I can do."

  After he hung up, Patrick stared at the phone. How dare she call him selfish and uncaring? He shook his head. Perhaps life would be less complicated if the twins lived with him. During the time they were here, he would ask them how they felt about that.

  He gulped the glass of juice and ate the toast. His plans for a leisurely morning and brunch with Susan had to be changed. Another thought occurred. How was he going to entertain the twins tomorrow? Maybe Susan would have a suggestion.

  As soon as he finished the Saturday chores, he returned to her side of the house. He let himself in. She stood at the head of the stairs. "Hi," he said.

  "Good morning." She started down the steps. "Did I tell you about Julie's surgery when I came in? I barely remember undressing and getting into bed."

  He walked to the foot of the stairs. "Through a yawn. I'm glad things went well for her. How long before she's awake?"

  "The doctor said today."

  "Will she remember the attack?"

  "She may never remember." Susan stopped on the second step.

  "What would you like me to make for breakfast?" he asked.

  She laughed. "Shouldn't that be my line? You didn't have to wait for me."

  "I had toast and juice at home. How about a ham and cheese omelet?"

  "Sounds delicious."

  Patrick lifted her from the step and held her close. As he lowered her to the floor, his lips captured hers.

  She caught his hands. "Breakfast first. For the first time in weeks, I'm hungry."

  "That's good." She brought her hand to his lips. "We've been invited to a party next Saturday."

  "By whom?"

  "Greg Davies and his wife."

  Susan moved ahead of him. "I'm not sure I want to go."

  Patrick turned her to face him. "Why not?"

  "When I call him about the things I've been sitting on, he might want to arrest me."

  "What?"

  "Nothing. I thought I'd seen the bracelet before but I never got a close look."

  "It's not like you're a suspect. You'll like Greg and Jane. He's not your typical cop. She's a photographer. The best thing is they're not friends we shared with Jim and Lisa."