Sin & Bone: A Medical Thriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 2)

by Bette Golden Lamb

  But he did need a place to stay. Maybe he could hang out at his brother’s place for a while.

  Harry looked out at the ocean, watched ten-foot waves crash against an outcrop of offshore rocks, spray high into the air.

  On a stormy day like this, the two of them should have been tucked away in the cabin, warmed by a roaring fire, making love.

  “Shit!”

  ₪CHAPTER 8

  The Ridgewood nurses loved the Swiss chocolate, personalized notepads, and expensive pens that Eddie St. George dropped off on Mondays. Best of all, Oncology’s Mike Cliffords had gone ballistic over the free Warriors tickets – floor level, right behind the home bench. In fact, the doc was in such an up mood, he signed off on one of the largest drug orders ever written for Ridgewood’s Oncology Department.

  Eddie hadn’t lost his touch and couldn’t wait to see the transaction posted back at CHEMwest so the others knew it, too. Merz would make some kind of phony congratulatory display, then try to grab some of the fame and glory. Eddie was still pissed at Merz for sandbagging him into doing the ridiculous marketing ploy to introduce the designer alteration of Pneucanex. All it would do is eat up time he could be devoting to sales calls.

  He entered the elevator, reached for the “G” button, paused a moment, and punched “C” instead – that would let him off at the overpass to Ridgewood’s clinic wing. It wasn’t a part of the facility he visited very often, but that was where he might find Gina, the OB/Gyn advice nurse who had taken his call Friday evening.

  A wave of weariness swept across his shoulders. The physical and mental stress, plus the accelerated pace of Milty Hiller’s demands for more packages was exhausting.

  And the dilemma of Father’s brain tumor. Was it only four months ago he’d learned about it? The shock had worn off as the guilty relief grew. Soon Father would be dead. Yet despite the tumor, nothing seemed to change. Father was the same physically. In fact, he seemed stronger than ever, and even more vicious.

  Eddie couldn’t face it anymore; it had to end now, and he needed to find Mother as soon as possible, or he might never find her.

  Why did she leave? Was it really as Father said? Does it matter? I need to see her again, to hear her voice.

  His briefcase became heavier and heavier with every step even though it was actually some ten pounds lighter than when he’d started that morning.

  He tried to distract himself by looking out the windows that lined the bridge to the clinic wing, but the height caused an unexpected sense of vertigo. The dizziness passed as he pushed through the swinging doors.

  A tall, long-legged woman walked up to him; her name was stitched across the breast pocket of her white coat: Lexie Alexandros, Manager. She gave him a brief up-and-down evaluation, pausing at his red, gel-spiked hair before carefully reading his visitor’s identification tag.

  “Are you lost, Mr. St. George? We usually don’t see CHEMwest reps in the clinic.”

  Perspiration trickled down the small of his back. He made a quick evaluation as to whether this woman represented a danger to him.

  “I know.” He smiled, looking deep into her eyes. “Mike Cliffords has been hounding me for months to check out the clinic wing. Said he would appreciate my input with respect to future renovation plans.”

  He waited a moment for Alexandros’ reaction. When none came, he added, “Guess that’s because I walk the halls of just about every medical facility in the Bay Area.” He waited again. “Anyway, he thought I might have a fresh idea or two.”

  Her features relaxed; she flipped a lock of hair out of her eyes. “We’re pretty low down on that totem pole. No money, no new clinic.” She laughed out loud. “But that’s Clifford’s pet committee. He plagues everyone for ideas.” She ambled away. “Have a look around. It won’t take long to see the obvious.” She tossed a goodbye wave over her shoulder.

  Eddie set his case on the floor, pulled a notebook from his pocket, and scribbled a bunch of nonsense, waiting for the pounding in his head to stop.

  He peered down the clinic’s two corridors: one with offices that alternated on either side of the hallway, the other with a continuous stream of patient examination rooms.

  He out away the pad, picked up his briefcase, and edged past several empty offices. Checking his watch, he realized he might be out of luck. It was still the lunch hour.

  Then he heard her voice – Gina!

  She was in an office, explaining to someone why she didn’t get married over the weekend. He could tell from the timbre of her voice that she was close to tears.

  “…what do you want me to say?” Gina said. “We didn’t get married. That’s it.”

  He looked down the corridor, afraid someone would catch him standing there eavesdropping. But this room was at the far end of the hallway and he’d only passed three other offices directly before this one, all of them empty, at least for the time being.

  He pulled out a pad and pen again. If anyone showed up, he would pretend to be thinking, taking notes.

  “... something happened here Friday. It scared the bejesus out of me. And Harry was anything but supportive.”

  She’s going to tell them about my phone call. Who else has she told besides her boyfriend?

  “…why didn’t you call someone? … “like who? … don’t think there was a living soul … not even Security? … couldn’t get through … Administration? … didn’t want to risk having to talk to … with our history … I wouldn’t even try … there’s always la policia … spoke to a Detective Yee, but she didn’t seem terribly interested; brushed it off as a crank call.”

  The jumble of voices convinced him that the other nurses didn’t believe her.

  “I’m really fond of you, Gina Mazzio, but I gotta say, you confuse the hell out of me. Have you and Harry Lucke really broken up?”

  Eddie’s hopes fell. No one had believed her. Yet, what had he expected, that some magical savior or non-existent exit would appear with one telephone call? That he could then find Mother and they would disappear together? Escape from Father?

  What a fool I am.

  Father was right: Eddie would continue to get away with everything. He’d be clever, look innocent, and most people will never see a thing, even if it’s right in front of their noses.

  He pressed against the wall, moved in closer to hear the rest of the conversation. He lost the thread of what they were saying. Remembered with little boy eyes when he hid in the butcher shop and watched Father:

  Peek around the corner, hide among the aprons on fat wooden pegs. They hang nice. The red stuf makes funny pictures on the cloth.

  Father left me in the office with my crayons.

  He would beat me if he knew I snuck out. Don’t matter. Father beats me anyway.

  Mommy used to save me.

  Mommy’s gone.

  Miss Mommy.

  Want to cry, to scream at Father. But hide so he can’t see me.

  Promised not to come into the shop. Promised to be good, stay in the office.

  Always tell Father I don’t want to come here. Brings me anyway. Brings me every day except Sunday. Here, with the bad smells.

  See a girl with no clothes on

  Blink, rub my face. She looks right at me. Tries to tell me something. The smell of the aprons makes me dizzy.

  Father walks up to her, calls her “Lola,” Mother’s name. But she’s not Mother.

  Her screams are loud, hurt my ears.

  “Let me go, you bastard!”

  Father laughs. Laughs the same mean way he laughs before he hurts me. Hurts me bad.

  The room spins. Don’t like Father hitting her.

  Squint, make everything turn blue to cover it all up. Blue is nice. A shiny blue like the broken crayon I left in Father’s office.

  More screams. Cover my ears, cover my face. Peek through my fingers. Have to see.

  Fingers spread wider.

  Father throws her on the table. Climbs on. Rides her like a cowboy. Want to yell b
ut must be quiet. Father will find me, beat me.

  Don’t want to look. Throat closing. Can’t breathe. Gulping. Choking. Need air.

  Try to make it go away.

  Make the blue darker.

  Darker.

  The girl screams louder.

  Louder.

  Her eyes burn me. Feel my tears dropping, spilling on the aprons.

  The cowboy gets up, roars like a lion, carves a dripping red smile on her neck.

  Father turns, looks right at me, points.

  He’s coming for me.

  * * *

  Gina raced from the office, a bundle of flailing arms as she rammed into Eddie outside the door.

  “Sorry!” she tossed over her shoulder as she spun away and hurried off down the corridor.

  He could still feel the place where her breasts had crushed against his chest; still sense her female pungency.

  He took off after her but the distance widened as she sprinted across the bridge connecting the clinic to the hospital. His heavy leather sample case cut down his speed, banged hard against his leg, making it awkward to close in before she ducked into the elevator.

  ”Hold it!” he yelled.

  When he entered, he was sweaty and breathing hard. She released the hold button and the door clamped shut; she dabbed at her eyes with a soggy tissue, barely looked at him.

  “Thanks.” Eddie eyed her nametag to make sure it was the right nurse: Gina Mazzio, RN.

  Could this really be the same person who took his call on Friday? He’d visualized a short, stocky, blonde nurse with a fat marshmallow face, although he couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d thought that. This woman, with her black, cropped hair, was tall and athletic. Her eyes were sad but fiery.

  How could his impressions have been so far off?

  Father would have been unimpressed with such a question; he would have demanded that Eddie stick to the facts:

  – Gina Mazzio’s fiancé had walked out on her;

  – no one believed her about his “crank” call, thought it was just another crazy person of some kind; and

  – some misstep in the past made her vulnerable to losing her job, made her reluctant to go to the Administrator.

  Hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

  He wanted to jab a finger into the nurse’s chest, tell her what had been drummed into him ever since he could stand: Depend on no one. Not a single soul.

  He watched her continue to dab at the tears running down her cheeks.

  The clunk of the elevator brought him back to the moment; thoughts vanished as the door opened at the entryway to Ridgewood’s large cafeteria. They both stood looking for places to sit.

  “Kind of crowded,” Eddie said. “Would you mind sharing a table?”

  The nurse’s eyes burned into his; he felt naked, exposed, as if she knew he was the one who had called Advice.

  He forced himself to look directly at her without blinking. Her answer was cool, to the point: “No, thank you. I’d rather be alone.”

  “Problems?”

  Tears welled again as she glanced at his visitor’s pass: “Mr. St. George,” she said, her voice quavering, “you obviously can’t take a hint. I don’t want to talk to you. Or anyone. If that hurts your feelings, I’m sorry.”

  Without another word, she stepped away to join the cafeteria line, dismissing him.

  * * *

  Gina grabbed two servings of raspberry Jell-O and ordered a double shot of espresso before staking out a table that had emptied near the garden window. As she sat, she stared blindly at the view, then back at the red quavering blobs in the dessert dishes.

  Why on earth did I take Jell-O?

  She pushed the gelatin away, sipped her espresso.

  “Hi, Gina!” said a voice from behind her. “Mind if I share the table with you?”

  She turned to see who it was – Megan Ann Hendricks from Oncology.

  Was she up to a conversation with the nurse who had her former job? But there she stood, enviably petite, with gorgeous flaming red hair, waiting politely for Gina to answer.

  Gina waved a hand. “Sure! Sure!” She’d wanted to talk to her friend Helen in Oncology, to catch up with all the gossip, but it hadn’t happened. Maybe Megan Ann could fill her in; take her mind off her disastrous morning.

  “Thanks!” Megan Ann sat down, spread her napkin on her lap, and immediately started in on her tray full of the day’s special – tortilla soup and tacos. She seemed preoccupied as her gaze drifted around the cafeteria.

  Gina studied the deep lines in Megan Ann’s forehead, the smudges of darkness under her eyes, and a mouth that drooped at the corners. She knew a troubled face when she saw one.

  The first time Gina met Megan Ann, she’d wondered why her shoulders seem to slide down into a sadness that was open and raw. Not much different than the way Gina felt today.

  She followed Megan Ann’s gaze and watched her stop to stare at the CHEMwest rep, who was still looking around for a place to sit.

  For no apparent reason, St. George made her think of her fiancé, even though this man was tall and extremely handsome. And Harry? Harry was Harry.

  “Look at him,” Megan Ann said. “Isn’t he the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen?”

  Gina pushed her Jell-O farther away and studied the “beautiful” man – expensively dressed, long and lean, with shoulders that went on forever. And there was something else. Even with his funky gelled hair, he exuded an innocence, a boyishness that made him look endearing and vulnerable. Against all reason, Gina felt protective toward him; she could see why Megan Ann was attracted.

  “He’s all right,” Gina finally said.

  Megan Ann’s arm shot up; she waved furiously at St. George. “Eddie! Over here!”

  The hunk‘s eyes lit up in recognition. He smiled at both of them as he strolled over to their table.

  Megan Ann seemed to be melting right before Gina’s eyes. Against her will, she felt a twinge of sexual heat herself.

  “Man, I’ve never seen it so crowded in here.” He set his tray down on the white Formica table and dropped his sample case next to the vacant chair. If he harbored any resentment over Gina’s earlier rejection, he hid it well. With a sigh, he eased his long frame into what became a tiny chair. He immediately used his fork to seriously dig into a large Caesar salad.

  All Gina could think about was Harry. Harry, who had disappeared, leaving only a note in their mailbox. She’d read the note over and over. The words still burned in her head:

  I can’t believe you would make up such a crazy story to get out of marrying me. All you had to do was tell me the truth, whatever it is. Anything is easier than living with this kind of uncertainty, never knowing from one moment to the next when it will be over between us. I need to be alone to think about things. Think about us. If there is an us.

  She pinched her arm. Maybe she’d cancelled their wedding one time too many, maybe he would never believe in her again.

  Why can’t he understand, have enough faith in me to know I love him, would never lie to him about anything?

  Gina stood, tears blinding her. She abandoned her tray and ran from the cafeteria.

  * * *

  “I hope my sitting here didn’t upset her,” Eddie said.

  Megan Ann looked up from her soup, her face a mask of bewilderment. She turned to watch Gina disappear through the exit.

  “That’s not like her.”

  “Well, she did seem very unhappy,” Eddie said.

  “I didn’t notice.”

  “Is she a friend of yours?”

  “Not really.” Megan Ann picked at the crisp edge of her taco; thin bits of half-melted cheese hung over the sides. “I used to work in the Ob/Gyn Advice Center, where she works. We sort of swapped jobs.” She left the spoon in her soup and took a small bite of the taco, chewed slowly. “She seems like a very nice person. I don’t think she blames me for what happened.”

  “Blame you? For what?”
>
  “The administrator tossed her out of Oncology. The word is he has a grudge against her, that he forced her out of the department – would love to find a good reason to get rid of her.”

  “What happened?”

  “Don’t know. Heard it had something to do with her not being cooperative.”

  “Hospitals usually try to hang on to their floor nurses.”

  “No one talks about it much anymore.”

  Eddie let his thoughts about Gina Mazzio drift away. He gave his full attention to Megan Ann.

  ₪ CHAPTER 9

  Most of the time Megan Ann Hendricks accepted the screams in her head; they were constant and shaped each and every one of her days.

  At her best, she could cope with the noise and seductive whispers begging her to forget about staying clean and sober. At her worst, she was overcome by a secret self that binged on alcohol, binged on drugs, binged on sex.

  And she never knew what would set her off: too much rain, a patient who looked at her in a desperate way, or memories of her lost husband and child.

  One moment she was in control, the next, voices would whisper:

  Where were you while your family was burning?

  Always the same question, and the answer was simple – she’d been enjoying herself at a movie, sitting with a friend, laughing at funny images on a screen, never knowing she’d lost everything.

  At work, she would bolt to her locker and dip into her cache of Valium and vodka. The combination obliterated the panic and the pain, made the rest of the day bearable.

  Often, she would call in sick and stay away from work, succumbing to her addictions until the screaming in her head was finally reduced to a murmur.

  She’d reluctantly agreed to take a position in the Oncology Unit a year earlier, hesitant to leave the safe haven of the Advice Center. She wasn’t sure she could handle bedside nursing again, particularly with cancer patients. But to her relief, she was getting great satisfaction from the personal interaction, receiving far more from them than she gave.