"I'll call her when they get there."
"You know where they are going?" I asked.
He nodded. "I checked with Dr. Taylor while you were in talking to Amy. Unofficially, he's giving him a good chance. He won't be putting much on the chart just in case."
Confession time. "I went to see him a couple of days ago." I waited for the explosion.
"I know," Huntington said. "Dan called me yesterday evening, all in an uproar about us young people running things. I told him the same thing that you apparently told him--stay out of it and let us take care of it. He said he thought he could be more help to us if he did a little poking around himself."
I stopped pretending to study my shoelaces. "And did he? Poke around?"
Huntington paced. On his way back around, he shrugged. "Why else would he have been attacked? He's in a jogging suit for crissakes and was out in the middle of nowhere. It isn't likely anyone thought he'd have a wallet stuffed with cash to go walk his dogs. His neighbors are ranchers or retired. The place isn't full of hoodlums, nor is it a ritzy enough neighborhood to draw thieves in droves in broad daylight."
"He didn't say who he planned on talking to? He mentioned something to me about checking with the radiologist."
Huntington shook his head. "I have no way of knowing who he talked to or if he even talked to anyone at all. Someone is serious about this though. Let's hope he didn't mention any of our names if he talked to anyone."
"He seemed to understand my concern about the wrong people finding out. What made him change his mind?"
"Who knows?" Huntington exploded. "You ignore my advice all the time! Why do you do it?"
I almost grinned, despite the situation. "Because you're not always right," I said.
Radar rolled his eyes and offered, "I'll do some checking on the radiologist's records. See what I can find."
"I've got to get back upstairs." It wouldn't be good if anyone besides Brenda noticed I had gone missing. There was no sense in calling more attention to myself.
"Keys?" Huntington put his hand out.
"Oh, yeah." I dug into my jeans pocket for the Jag keys.
"I think the Mercedes should be more than enough for you."
I had no clever reply so I ignored the comment and hurried back upstairs, just in time to spend a half hour helping Mr. Parks take his afternoon stroll around the hallways. Afterward, I helped Crissa with a sponge bath and delivered two patients to x-ray before heading home.
Mark was waiting for me when I arrived. I pulled into the garage and tried to compose myself. For some reason seeing him made me feel worse than I had before.
He very carefully kept his distance. "Do you see what I mean about working with someone on this stuff?" His voice sounded like he had a cold, but my dad's voice got that way whenever he was trying very hard not to yell at me.
"This situation calls for some food," I mumbled.
"What?"
"I'm hungry."
The worry in his eyes eased the tiniest bit. "Do you really think that food solves everything?"
I nodded emphatically. "Just about."
He contemplated that for a while. Finally he took a deep breath. Some of the tension went out of his shoulders. "Okay, what do you have to eat?"
"Cookies?" I offered.
He laughed. "For a start." He followed me inside, but then he had to, because I had reached out and captured his hand. It was warm and alive…and not bleeding.
"How did you get in this business anyway?" I asked. "Seems to me you're in at least as much danger as I am." Maybe more considering his late-night activities.
"How do you think?" He grinned, but there was a seriousness behind the question that let me know the answer mattered.
I put some cookies in the toaster oven and started some hot chocolate. "I can't begin to imagine how anyone would get into these investigations. Maybe you were caught burglarizing some fantastic art out of the Smithsonian and as penance, the government forced you to apply your skills protecting stockholders or something."
He chuckled. "That's a good one." He laughed harder. When he finally stopped he asked, "Do you have anything besides hot chocolate? Like maybe a beer?"
I stared at my refrigerator. "I doubt it."
"You don't know?"
I sighed. "You've met Sean, remember him?" After he nodded, I explained, "He eventually takes almost every scrap of food or drink I own out of my fridge. So, although I purchase beer or wine occasionally, it is doubtful there is any left." I checked. There should have been a bottle of wine that Suzy gave me for Thanksgiving, but it was already missing. "Sorry. How about hot chocolate?"
"It will do." He must have been thinking about our trip up the mountain because he caught my eyes for a moment. Suddenly, I couldn't breathe. We stared at each other until I was forced to let out a pent up breath. "You still didn't tell me how you became involved in this."
"Don't you assume I work for Steve, like you do? Swept along by my older brother's lead?"
I shook my head. "I doubt it."
"You doubt I've been swept along?"
"I doubt you work for Steve," I corrected.
This seemed to amuse him. "Really? It's what most people assume."
"I don't think you work for anyone. Not even your brother."
I served the hot chocolate, which was almost as good as the stuff he had taken on the picnic. The cookies were very hot, but I slid them onto small plates anyway. We sat down at the table. My place wasn't big enough for a real dining room; the little white-washed oak table off the kitchen served instead. We could see out the window into my small backyard, but there wasn't anything to look at, especially in the winter.
He sipped his drink and gave it his approval. "Steve was CEO for a small company that was doing quite well. One of his directors skimmed quite a bit of money when Steve wasn't paying attention. The director then skipped town leaving behind an absolute mess."
My eyebrows about left my face.
He nodded soberly. "It was quite a blow for Steve. No one had managed to make him look that bad in all his thirty years. He had clawed his way to the top in record time and then was summarily fired. Worse, he was blamed, even though no one could publicly tie him to any crime because there was no tie. He had been truly duped."
"Oh my," I said. "That couldn't have gone over well."
He grinned at my understatement. "You could say that. This was in Pennsylvania. I was already in Colorado, but Steve hired me to find the guy. I was running my own private investigating firm."
That was almost a disappointment. I thought of Mark as a secret agent, possibly CIA, working through people who didn't even know he existed. "What happened after you found the guy?"
"We evened the score. And my brother decided on a new career."
"So you're a private eye?" I was a little skeptical. He didn't obey laws very well, and I was pretty sure that private investigators could get in a slew of trouble if they didn't.
"Not anymore. Steve and I opened our own company. We do exactly what you see us doing. We hire out as a security operation to investigate internal issues."
"And it's lucrative."
It wasn't a question, but he laughed at me and answered anyway. "Extremely so, but then my brother knows the environment. Despite the fact that he got ripped off by his own employee, he actually understands the bottom line very well and knows how much these guys can afford to pay."
"He seems to do okay in that arena," I agreed. "So Steve has set out to prove to the world and his old buddies in the CEO chain that it can happen to anyone--and he won't be fooled twice."
Mark's eyes twinkled. "Pretty much. Now he's earned a different reputation, and his old friends come calling."
"Does he want back in?"
Mark lost his sense of humor. "Would it matter to you?"
"What," I asked in exasperation, "is your hang-up with Steve?"
He drank his hot chocolate.
I waited.
He finally r
esponded, "Nothing."
"Uh-huh." I took his cup and rinsed it out with mine. He stood up and put his jacket back on. The atmosphere was suddenly awkward. Nervous, I noticed that the message light on my answering machine was blinking. Since I was stalling, I pressed the button.
To my surprise, Dr. Dan's voice came out of the machine. "Sedona, I've been looking through those x-rays again trying to sort through the things that didn't make sense. I found something." His voice cracked, he was so excited. "Since the patient notes were missing, I took a close look at the x-rays to see what treatment was indicated. You aren't going to believe this. The x-rays from two of the patients are exact duplicates! The patient name is the only difference. I laid the x-rays out and noticed that the lightest set of x-rays for patient Brown is exactly the same as the set for patient Olsen. The whole set isn't in both folders, but it leads me to believe that perhaps one or two real patients were run through, duplicates were made, and the duplicates were stuffed into these folders to make it look like real x-rays were done for these patients. You were right. It's quite possible that the patients listed on these folders were never in the hospital. Look, I know someone I can ask about this." I held my breath. Mark and I stared at the machine, willing it to provide the name.
Dr. Dan continued, "Call me when you get home. By then I should have some very interesting answers."
There was a very, very loud click as the machine stopped.
In abject disappointment, I let out the breath I had been holding. "He didn't say who he was going to call."
"Damn."
Who had he called?
"Phone records," Mark muttered. "We're going to have to get them."
"What if he met with the person? Whoever bopped him didn't do it over the phone!"
Mark shrugged. "I have to start somewhere. I'll let Steve and Radar know about this message. Maybe one of them will have a better idea."
He drew me in for a long, thorough kiss. It was different from before, less of a rip-your-clothes-off and more…significant. It was as if he was reassuring himself that I was still alive and all in one piece. His right hand started at the back of my neck and worked down, his thumb grazing the side of my breast and then both hands spanning my waist and holding on.
When he pulled back and looked at me, I didn't know what to say. Intelligent conversation was out of the question.
"Be careful," he whispered. He touched my lips once more, gently.
I had a funny feeling in my heart. Like maybe I mattered to him. The real Mark, not the one who broke into buildings or flirted with hospital employees.
After he left, it was a long time before I fell asleep. My feet tingled. My lips tingled. I was exhilarated...and scared. I was pretty sure life would be less complicated if we stuck to raw passion and left feelings out of it.
Chapter 21
Volunteering was becoming a little too much like a real job. There were people at the hospital I did not want to see, the pay was lousy and there was no chance of a raise. I went in anyway, of course, but avoided the front entrance near the ER because I didn't want to run into Dr. Taylor or the ambulance drivers. The side entrance was closer to the stairs, so I used them instead of the elevator. All the way up, I regretted taking them. It was way too early to exercise.
When I got to the third floor, I found another reason I shouldn't have taken the stairs.
"Did you get your free bagel?" Brenda asked.
"My free bagel?"
"The sign was by the elevator inside the double doors when you came in. Free bagels and coffee this morning in the cafeteria. They'll even toast it for you, but you’d better hurry. There weren't too many left."
I took her advice seriously. I grabbed one of my lab specimen stickers and put my lunch in the fridge. Hurrying back out to the front of the nurses' station, I noticed three call lights blinking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Attila heading toward me with the tall, handsome Dr. Fox in tow.
The lights blinked. My stomach growled. Would she notice the lights while hanging onto Dr. Fox?
I sighed. The lights were like a hockey game, and unfortunately, there were a lot of goals being scored today. Grumbling, I slugged off to see what the patients needed.
By the time I finished answering call-lights, breakfast trays had arrived. Unless I stole food from the patient trays like Dr. Burns, I could forget freebies.
I started on the first load, right about the time Attila barreled out of the nurses' station, a lunch bag held high. "This is a violation! Who put this in here? Why hasn't this been taken directly to the lab?"
I stared in dismay. Admitting the lunch bag was mine would not only get me fired, it would alert the thief. My name wasn't on the bag, and now seemed like a good time to forget about the little food container and call it a loss. Worse, I wouldn't be able to use the lab specimen stickers again. Attila was bound to check every refrigerator in the place now that someone had committed a "violation."
"Rats." Geez, getting food and keeping it around here was a pain in the ass.
After staring up and down the corridor, Attila strode down the corridor, taking the offensive bag with her.
Brenda hung up the phone and said, "We've got a new admit in the ER. Crissa has her hands full and asked if you could bring the guy up. I told her you were standing right here and would be happy to help." She grinned.
"Okay." I left the breakfast trays and headed for the ER.
The new patient was waiting in a wheelchair with a duffel bag draped across his lap. He clutched it tightly. I picked up the paperwork from the nurses' station before approaching him. "Hi, Mr. Vin. I hear you're coming upstairs for a visit." Under all circumstances we were supposed to ignore the fact that entering the hospital was not generally considered a great thing by most people.
My happy greeting didn't fool him. Most of the whites of his eyes showed. "They can't do this to me! I don't need to be here, I tell you!"
The gym bag he held bulged on its own and almost fell to the floor. "Uh…" I glanced at his name again. "Mr. Vin. What's in the bag? Pets aren't allowed."
Why was he being admitted? Animal bite? Insanity?
"I am fine, I tell you. They gave me antidote, I want to go home!" He clutched the bag to his chest. The movement from within got worse.
The ambulance driver I had so hoped to avoid passed through the side hallway, headed back to his own area. I was too desperate to keep quiet. "Hey, John? Did you bring Mr. Vin in? What's with the bag?" I tried to keep my voice down, but Mr. Vin was now struggling up out of the chair.
John stopped and reversed course. He gently pushed on Mr. Vin's shoulders. "What's going on here? You need to go upstairs. Do you want a blanket?"
"No! I want out!" Mr. Vin did not calm down. He actively struggled against John, hitting and kicking. In the scuffle, Mr. Vin's bag fell on the floor.
I innocently pushed it out of the way with my foot.
It rattled.
That was not funny. It rattled and didn't stop.
John, holding one of Mr. Vin's arms, froze. He looked at me, and I looked at him. I knew that rattle. "Uh," I swallowed, "what did you say you were here for, Mr. Vin?"
John choked out in horror, "Snake bite."
I didn't have to ask what kind.
"I am collector," Mr. Vin shouted. "I demand to go!"
Dr. Taylor came out of the doctors' lounge. "We discussed having you in overnight." He had to raise his voice above Mr. Vin's shouting. Doctors were very focused people. He dealt only with Mr. Vin, completely ignoring the rattling sound. "We want to make sure that the snake bite…" the word "snake" must have penetrated his doctor brain. He blinked rapidly before switching his gaze to the duffel bag.
Dr. Taylor looked up, spotted me and frowned.
I ignored him. There was no way he could blame this incident on me. "Does anyone have a hoe? Or a large rock or a computer monitor? Something heavy?"
John turned on one heel and shot between partitions.
N
o one else moved. We all stood there listening to the hypnotic rattle.
John reappeared quickly with an apron-like garment. It was nothing more than a cleverly disguised strait jacket. Good. At least Mr. Vin wouldn't hurt himself or anyone else.
Sadly, it wasn't going to help with the snake. No arms to tie down and no way to tie down the fangs.
John managed to pin Mr. Vin to the wheelchair. In the meantime, the bag got testier. It came up off the ground as it pushed in one direction and then the other.
It either wasn't zipped well, or Mr. Snake created a hole. To my utter horror, Mr. Snake slithered out. "Ohboy." The thing was maybe twelve inches long, a baby really, but all twelve inches were angry and dangerous.
I decided against the computer monitor because it was still connected to the actual computer and too heavy for me to lift and get over the snake.
Crissa came out of a partition wheeling a patient on a gurney. She walked backwards, completely unaware of the danger.
The crash cart was the only other movable object nearby. I grabbed an end and started steering. "Quick," I shouted in a loud whisper, hoping any nearby patients wouldn't hear me. "Somebody help me with this!"
For some reason, the snake didn't coil; maybe because it was winter and should have been hibernating. Then again, maybe it was on the run because its owner was crazy, and the snake was interested in escaping.
I was interested in road kill.
It took two tries to actually run over the head. The first run slowed it down by squashing part of its body. At that point it decided to coil. Luckily, we were able to drag the wheels back over the head before it got going. The term "we" was relative; Dr. Taylor was the only one who actually tried to help, and he almost knocked me over.
Once John saw what I was doing, he jumped away, dragging the wheelchair with Mr. Vin. He plastered himself against the wall and looked like he might climb up onto the chair with Mr. Vin.
Crissa had no idea what was going on until I almost hit her with the crash cart. She turned. Her mouth opened, ready to blast me for being careless, but then her green eyes widened as she spotted the writhing snake tail under the wheel of the cart. She let out a little scream. The patient bed she had been pulling careened into the wall.
3 Executive Sick Days Page 15