“Do you...?” Were his eyes playing tricks on him? He could have sworn he saw someone above them. A shadow. A movement. Someone dressed in white.
“Yes,” Abby said. “I see little...”
Blake frowned at her words. She was seeing it, too. He wasn’t imagining them. A shadow passed over the wall beside them. “Lights? Shadows?”
She nodded. They continued a few more steps.
He tried to hurry her down to the ground floor. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I guess our eyes are not adjusting to the bad lighting.”
A loud clanging sounded overhead. Abby, startled by the sound, slipped on the next step. Blake helped straighten and steady her. He had to get her back to bed. She was about to collapse.
Clang. Metal against metal. Louder and louder. Something was falling. The sound echoed through the space, coming closer and closer.
He looked up, as did Abby, who was growing faint. He could feel her legs buckling. Blake wrapped himself around her and pushed them both under the cover of the second-floor landing. Something was coming down in a hurry and they had to move or get hit.
A magnificent crash sounded behind him.
A stainless-steel surgical tray landed in the very spot where they’d stood, complete with an assortment of sharp scalpels and other surgical instruments, which rattled down around them like a metal rainstorm.
Once the stairs were quiet, Blake lifted his hands to Abby’s shoulders. “You okay?”
“No. I’m not.” Her body trembled under his hands as she shook her head from side to side. “I think someone is trying to kill me.”
THREE
An hour later, Blake’s thoughts were swimming as he sat with Abby and two policemen in a special conference room of the hospital. The more time they spent going over the particulars of the assault and the incident in the stairwell, the more confused he felt.
He shook his head. Nothing seemed to make sense these days. His parents’ accident. The revelation of his adoption. His inheritance. His arrival in Lancaster to search for his birth parents. He couldn’t even decide if he wanted to find his birth parents or not...and he might not have a choice. The search, after all, could very well lead to nothing.
Then again, it could change his life.
Blake wasn’t sure which of those results he wanted. The future seemed so muddled. He wasn’t used to that.
In any case, working on his search wouldn’t be happening today. He wasn’t even sure if he would be able to leave the hospital anytime soon. The more he and Abby repeated their stories to the police, the crazier and crazier the whole thing sounded. If it hadn’t actually happened to him, he would not have believed it himself.
“And the name of the patient that died from cardiac arrest?” Chief McClendon scratched his thinning red hair. He was tall and lean and looked like a man you did not want to cross.
“Hancock. Nicolas Hancock.” Blake shook his head. “I had an extra copy of his transfer chart, but I left it on the wheelchair when we went to the stairwell, and—”
“Someone swiped it,” Abby said. “That was right before the tray of scalpels came down on us.”
“Right. By the time I got back up to the third floor to make another copy, the original chart was gone, too. And the bag containing the IV and tubing that I’d left with the wheelchair, as well.” Blake felt his phone buzz yet again. A friend, a colleague, a lawyer from New York, no doubt. He silenced the phone.
“So no chart? And now it seems there’s no body, either?” the chief repeated. “No evidence that the man was here at all, except for the testimony from you and the crash team, and the bruising and wounds inflicted on Miss Miller after the alleged injection took place.”
“I did go to the morgue,” Blake continued. “And no...there’s no Nicolas Hancock. The autopsist said he’d never gotten the body. And now if you check in the hospital’s electronic files, you cannot even find the name Nicolas Hancock in the system.”
“But his name was there earlier?”
“Yes, I checked it this afternoon. Before Miss Miller woke up in the E.R. I couldn’t figure out how I was assigned to this patient I’d never seen. I thought I might see another doctor’s name in there.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Sorry, I’m late to the meeting.” A small-framed, middle-aged doctor hurried into the room. He moved with sharp gestures as he made his way around the room and shook hands with everyone. “I’m Dr. Dodd. I’m the head administrator of Fairview Hospital and I’m just flabbergasted at the events that have happened here today. Has anyone called the media?”
“No,” said Chief McClendon. “And that better not happen, either.”
“Don’t worry.” Dr. Dodd pressed his dark-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’ll see to it that it doesn’t. Hancock’s body is in autopsy. I’ll make sure the findings are not released to the public. Dr. Jamison, in the interim, your actions today will be under review. I understand both of you will be taking a few days off. I’ve already made arrangements for that. Now, if you don’t have anything else for me, I have another meeting to attend. Please let my custodial staff know when they can reopen the stairwell. Keeping it shut off is a safety violation, you know.”
“You have the body?” Blake asked.
“Of course. It’s in autopsy. But naturally, you won’t see the report until it gets to me and the authorities.”
“I guess I don’t understand why I’m under review.” Blake frowned. He really wished he’d been able to save that IV tubing and possibly prove that someone had caused Hancock’s death. “Hancock was dead when I arrived to his room. I’d never seen him before that. The nurses can confirm this. Whatever happened to him—” he looked at Abby “—it happened before I saw him.”
“No worries, Dr. Jamison.” Dr. Dodd smiled. “It’s just a formality. All part of the paperwork.”
“You have his chart?”
“Of course we have his chart.” Dodd looked annoyed.
“I’ll need a copy of that,” McClendon said. “Thank you.”
“Is that all?”
McClendon nodded. Dr. Dodd scrambled out of the room as quickly as he’d come in.
“I guess you didn’t look in the right places, Dr. Jamison,” said McClendon. “Then again, you are new here.”
Blake shook his head. He was new—he wasn’t stupid. He knew how to look up files and find a body in a morgue. He’d even spoken to the autopsist. He didn’t like the idea of this review. And he definitely didn’t like Dr. Dodd. Something was fishy about this whole mess, and in situations like this, the administration usually looked for a scapegoat to blame. Blake had a sinking feeling Dodd meant for that scapegoat to be him.
McClendon tapped more notes into his tablet, then looked to his younger colleague. “Langer, head to the morgue. See what you can find out. Get that file. Then question the crash team and every nurse who came in contact with Nicolas Hancock. Even talk to the person who added his data to the hospital patient files. Somebody has to know something. Do not mention the word murder or either the doctor’s or Abigail’s names. I don’t want any of this leaking out.”
“Yes, sir.” Langer, who was built like a pit bull and was probably just as feisty, spun away from the hospital conference room and headed to the elevators.
McClendon stowed his tablet inside his front jacket pocket. “This is a delicate situation. While we want to cover all of our bases, the person we are looking for could very well work in the hospital. This isn’t the kind of person we want to cause to panic. That could make the situation more dangerous.
“Now, we know that Miss Miller was assaulted and drugged. If your Hancock and her Hancock are one and the same, then it sounds like you both could be in a lot of danger.”
“We witnessed a murder, righ
t?”
Abby’s blunt assessment of the day’s events hit Blake like a ton of bricks. Murder? Unbelievable—Abby had witnessed a murder. And to some extent so had he. Blake could hardly wrap his head around it all.
“Right,” McClendon agreed. “From what Dr. Dodd said, it sounds like the two of you will have the next few days off. My advice is for you both to keep your distance from the hospital until we see what kind of information we can pull together.”
He moved toward Blake and placed a card in his hand. “I’ll be in touch. Make sure Miss Miller gets safely home.” The chief tipped his head to Abigail, then left them alone in the conference room.
Blake stared after the chief for a long moment. What a day. He could barely take it all in. He was exhausted. And he could only imagine that Abby must be even more so, considering all the abuse her body had taken. Of course, if she’d just stayed in her bed in the E.R., some of the trouble could have been avoided.
He turned back to Miss Abigail Miller. Looked as if he was to give her a ride home. Frankly, he was glad to have the excuse to keep an eye on her a bit longer. She’d pushed herself too hard today and needed someone to make sure she went straight home and got some rest. Although as tough and stubborn as she was, she probably already had her own ideas about that.
He wouldn’t admit to himself that he found the woman’s ridiculous determination rather intriguing. Or that he found her pretty, too. Naturally pretty, not like many of the women he knew back in New York who spent a lot of money in order to look a certain way. Abby had smooth, creamy skin, huge blue eyes and a healthy glow, despite the lump on her head. And her energy—it was amazing. It drew everyone in—or at least, it drew him in.
Blake made a note to himself to be on his guard with Abby. Not only was she a patient, he had not come to Lancaster for romance. In fact, that was the last thing he needed in his life.
“I’m disappointed,” she said. “I’d hoped there would be more they could do. And it all sounded so crazy as I was retelling what happened, you know?”
“Crazy but real. As real as whoever put those nasty bruises on you. Now that the body is in the morgue, I’m sure the investigation will move right along.” Blake rubbed his hand through his hair. He didn’t want to think about it anymore. He wanted dinner and a long, hot shower. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Am I allowed out of here?” She stood, too, a hopeful and wide-eyed expression on her face.
Blake smiled. “I already signed the release. But as I’m sure you already know, after a concussion you shouldn’t spend the night alone. Someone has to be with you and wake you up at certain intervals during the night.”
“Right.” She let out a long sigh. “I guess I’ll go to Eli’s.”
Was Eli a boyfriend? Abby definitely wasn’t married. Everyone had been calling her Miss Miller. Blake shook his head. Why was he even thinking about that? “You shouldn’t drive, either. You’ve had a lot of medication today.”
She checked her watch and frowned. “Hmm...that’s a problem. Janice has already gone home and most of my other friends and family drive buggies.”
“I’m staying at the Willow Trace Bed-and-Breakfast. Are you headed in that direction?”
“Actually, that’s not far from where my brother lives,” she said. “Would you mind terribly?”
“Eli is your brother?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“Yes, and he drives a buggy, or I’d ask him to pick me up himself.” She smiled. She had a fabulous smile. “He used to drive a Mustang, but now he’s back to a buggy.... So, do I get a ride or what?”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” Blake felt his face flood with heat. “I thought I already said that.”
* * *
Abby collected her things from her nurse’s locker and followed the new doctor to his car—one very expensive SUV.
Hochmut—that was what her father would say if he saw her in that fancy vehicle. Bishop Miller would shake his head and disapprove, just as he seemed to do of everything she decided these days. Her father didn’t know how much his condemnation hurt—she wouldn’t let it show. She couldn’t.
Anyway, it would be silly not to take the ride from the doctor. He was headed in the same direction. And hopefully, her father would not be visiting when she arrived at her brother’s.
Blake drove slowly out of the hospital parking lot. Almost immediately, they came up behind an Amish buggy. Abby sighed. Looked as if it might be a long, slow drive to Eli’s.
“This highway is not a good one for passing,” Abby said.
Blake was just about to reply when his phone rang. Again. It was almost nonstop—buzzing, ringing, vibrating. What could be so important?
“Sounds like someone needs to get in touch with you very badly,” she said.
“Excuse me,” he said to her, then answered the phone. “Hello...No, I can’t...I’m not in the city....I don’t know....You’ll just have to figure it out....Not anytime soon.... Okay...Bye.”
He put the device away.
“I’m sorry. People back home keep forgetting I’m not in town. It’s crazy. It’s ringing all the time.” He looked embarrassed or flustered or both. “In a few days it will slow down...I hope.”
“So, getting away from all of that—is that one of your reasons for coming to Lancaster?” she asked. “Or are you interested in the countryside? The Amish? Horses and buggies? Avoiding a nightmare family you left behind?”
He laughed at her teasing. He was quite handsome when he smiled. Abby turned away as a strange rush of emotions shot through her.
“All of those things.” He looked at his phone. “I guess some things are harder to get away from than others. But I don’t have any family.”
“Everyone has family.”
“I don’t.”
She glanced over at him, waiting for an explanation.
“Only child. And my parents died recently.”
Abby dropped her head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something so—”
“No, no. It’s fine. The accident was months ago,” he said.
“I’m still very sorry.” Abby turned and looked out the window. “Can I ask what kind of accident?”
“A plane crash.” Blake relaxed his hands on the beautiful mahogany steering wheel. “You know, one of those little island-hopper planes. The computer inside malfunctioned. They hit a storm. It just happened. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”
“You must miss them terribly.”
He smiled, but it was a sad, regretful sort of smile that touched Abby’s heart at its core.
“So what else? You said you came to Lancaster for lots of reasons. So tell me a few. To get away from your phone and what else?”
“Well, the rest of it is a long story.” He smiled at her again. “But you, you are doing remarkably well after all you’ve been through today.”
“Thanks, but I feel like a wreck. A train wreck, actually. I can’t wait to get to my brother’s and collapse.”
There was a moment of silence.
“So, another reason you came to Fairview?” she prodded him, not liking the silence. “Come on. It takes my mind off the assault.”
“Okay, another reason... Actually, I was going to tell you earlier but then we started talking about... Never mind.” He shook his head. “So another reason I came to Lancaster is to find something. I might have a family connection here I plan to look up.”
“But I thought you didn’t have any family.”
“Well, I don’t. I don’t know these people. And it may be nothing. Really, forget I mentioned it.” He changed the subject. “Did you need to stop by your own place? You must need to get some things? Some clothes? A toothbrush?”
“Oh, no. That’s okay. I can borrow things from my sister-in-law.” She hadn’t thought about goi
ng by her place, but he was right. She really did need to at some point. Still, she didn’t want to impose, nor did she want to take any longer than necessary to get to Eli’s. She was still quite unsettled after the day’s events.
“I really don’t mind,” he said.
He seemed sincere, so Abby decided to infringe on his kindness a bit further. The more she thought about it, if she didn’t go by her house, then Eli would have to, and that would upset Hannah and get the night off to a bad start. “Actually, if you really wouldn’t mind, it would give me a chance to check on Zoe, Chloe and Blue-jeans.”
“Zoe, Chloe and Blue-jeans?” He shot her a furtive look.
“My two cats and my horse.”
“You have a horse?”
“Yes, and a buggy, too. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to sell it or not.” Abby glanced at Blake. His big, chocolate eyes were soft and smiling. The rest of him was stiff and businesslike. At the hospital he’d been like that, too—two-sided. One very kind. The other standoffish. She wondered which message was the true Blake.
“I would love to ride in a horse and buggy,” he said.
“Well, when I’m feeling better, I’d be happy to take you out in mine.” Abby stopped as the words sank in. To an Amish man, an invitation like that would sound as if she was inviting him on a courting date. Fortunately, the doctor wasn’t Amish and would take the invitation in the spirit it was given—as a friendly gesture and nothing more.
“Sounds like a plan,” he said. “Thank you. And of course, you should check on your animals. You should have said so. You live on a farm? You must have some land if you have a horse, right? This is all new to me. I’ve lived my whole life in an apartment on the Upper East Side.”
The upper east side of what? Am I supposed to know what he’s talking about? “It’s not a farm,” she said. “I mean it is. But I don’t farm anything. I run a clinic. I lease the land out to a real farmer.... Sorry. I’m rambling.”
Lancaster County Target Page 3