He stifled a morning yawn as he pulled his car into the reserved lot and parked in his usual space. He shut off the ignition and removed his cell from the car’s phone system. He grabbed his case, his coffee and the pastries from the passenger seat and paused a second, feeling the last remnants of cool air-conditioning before opening the car door. As soon as he did, the morning’s swell of mugginess hit him. It was barely dawn and the weather was already miserable.
He sighed heavily knowing there was no preparing for the busy day ahead. He locked the car and headed across the empty lot. He looked up at the familiar illuminated sign as he approached the E.R. entrance—Key West Medical Center. This was his home away from home. Pride filled his heart. He’d done good work here and he had saved many lives within these walls and intended to save many more. Just as he passed the sign, it twitched and blinked. He shook his head, making a mental note to call maintenance as soon as he got to his office.
Granted, the hospital wasn’t much to look at. The building had problems. It was old and close to falling down around them. Conservatively, it needed a five-million-dollar infusion of cash to get it anywhere near updated. But there was nothing he could do about that. All he could do was help his patients as best he could with optimum care and make sure the numbers balanced at the end of the quarter. Of course, both had become increasingly difficult with everything that had gone on in the past few months.
The previous E.R. director, Harris Bowman, had resigned and then retired amid allegations pertaining to a number of malpractice suits leveled against him. Dominik had taken over as acting director. His new position was a thankless title that afforded him all the perks and gratitude usually reserved for beggars on the street. But feeling sorry for himself wasn’t his style. He chose this. He could have refused the post, but doing that would have certainly closed the E.R. and eventually the medical center. He wasn’t about to let that happen. The community needed Key West Medical and he intended to keep it open as long as possible.
This morning he needed to take it one step at a time, which meant focusing on the day ahead. His job entailed maintaining a clean working environment and to ensure high-quality patient care. He also reviewed scheduling of his primary-care directors; checked the supply room to make sure the stock was adequately shelved, organized and up-to-date. These were his responsibilities between meetings.
He walked into the E.R. There was a confrontation going on between a man taking pictures and two security guards. It was getting out of hand. “What’s going on?” he asked.
Everyone stopped and looked at him. The man with the camera pushed away from the security guard and stepped up to Dominik. “Dr. Coles, I have a few questions for you. Is it true that you knew Dr. Bowman was too old and making sometimes fatal medical mistakes? Were you covering for him, and if so, how long has this been going on?”
“Sir, do you require medical attention?” Dominik asked.
“What? No. I want to know...”
“Then you have no business here. You’re gonna have to leave.”
“Hey, you can’t throw me out. Haven’t you ever heard of freedom of the press? I’m within my rights to be here.”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I have heard of the First Amendment. Have you ever heard of trespassing, loitering and illegal entry? Have a nice day,” he said, nodding to the guards to continue. The man shouted the whole time. Dominik waited a few seconds as the man continued yelling and then angrily walked across the parking lot.
When the guards returned, he asked if everything was okay. He got a quick report from the nurse at the check-in desk. Satisfied that everything was back to normal, he turned to go to his office. He stopped when he heard his name called.
Dominik turned, recognizing the voice and, of course, the shortened pronunciation of his name. Few called him Dom, usually just his family. But there was also Lindy.
“Dr. Dom, good morning.”
He turned, smiling. “Good morning, Lindy. How are you today?”
“Not so good. I’ve had this pain in my side all night. I came in a few hours ago, but they couldn’t find anything, so I thought I had better wait around here and see if it comes back. Also, there’s a woman over there writing about you.”
“Excuse me?”
“I think she’s a reporter,” she whispered.
Dominik looked around the waiting room and instantly spotted a woman sitting alone in the back of the large open area. She was focused on writing something on her computer tab. He took a deep breath, then exhaled in exasperation. Her head was down, focused on what she was doing. She wore jeans, T-shirt and a cap pulled low to obscure her face. “Excuse me, Lindy.”
He walked over to the woman. She didn’t look up. She was still too engrossed in what she was writing on the tablet. She hit one last key, then seemed startled to see him standing there in front of her. She looked up quickly and gasped as her jaw dropped.
He half smiled. He certainly didn’t expect to find this stunning beauty beneath the ridiculous disguise. She had no makeup on and still her honey-toasted face shone with brilliant radiance. Her almond-shaped eyes and high cheekbones gave her a decidedly exotic look that always attracted him. Her hair was long and pulled back in a thick ponytail and shoved beneath a cap that had three letters imprinted on the front—CMG. But it was her mouth and full lips that drew his immediate attention. Open in the perfect O shape, instantly giving him all kinds of ideas. His body twitched and his pants pulled tight across the front. His physical attraction to her was strong, immediate and unprecedented.
He’d known a few reporters—his sister, Tatiana, was a reporter—and they were a tenacious group whose only focus was the story they were currently chasing. It was a shame because he certainly would like to get to know this one better. But if she was a reporter, he didn’t have a choice. She had to go. “Can I help you with something?” he asked, already knowing what she wanted.
Shauna hadn’t recovered yet. Her jaw was still dropped and her heart jumped, skipping a few beats. Her stomach lurched and crumbled as if she’d been tossed off the Empire State Building in free fall. She stared up at his half smirking, half stoic expression as the air around her seemed to evaporate. It was him. She knew him from a long time ago—Dominik Coles. He repeated his question. “Huh?” was the best she could muster at that moment as gathering coherent words was apparently impossible.
His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t smiling now. “My name is Dr. Coles. Do you need emergency medical attention?” he asked her.
She swallowed hard, finding it difficult to speak. She shook her head, then finally answered, “Um, no.”
“Are you waiting for someone who’s being seen in the back?”
“No.”
“Then may I ask why you’re here?”
She considered telling him and then changed her mind. She wasn’t ready to end her observations. “I’m just here looking around,” she said simply.
“Why?” he asked.
“It’s my job.”
Dominik took a deep breath and shook his head. Ever since Harris Bowman’s lawsuit and the ensuing scandal, the hospital had been crawling with reporters. “Well, you’re gonna have to do your job someplace else. This isn’t a library, a social club or a coffeehouse media center. You can’t just walk in, have a seat and chill out. So, come on, get your things. It’s time to go.”
“Wait, are you kidding me?” she said. “You’re throwing me out of the E.R.? You can’t do that.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding? You don’t need emergency service, so you can’t just come in here off the street and have a seat. This waiting room is for our patients and their families. Government regulations do not stipulate reporters are allowed to harass patients in my E.R.”
“Reporter, no, you don’t understand...”
“As a matter of fact, I do understand,” he interrupted. “You’re here staked out to try to get a story, just like your photographer friend we just escorted out. Put your tablet away, get
your things and leave here before I ask security to escort you out, too.” He glanced down at her computer tablet, the hospital’s name typed prominently across the screen. “And whatever it is you want to know, I have no comment and neither does anyone else.”
She hastily covered her tablet and grabbed her briefcase. As she picked it up, her wallet and keys fell out. She grabbed her wallet. He picked up her keys and handed them to her. She took them and, along with her tablet, secured them in the briefcase. The last thing she needed was for him to see what she was writing or ask for identification. “I’m not here to...”
“Come on, your photographer friend’s waiting for you.”
“But I’m not with him and I’m not a reporter,” she said.
He turned and motioned for the two security guards standing by to come over. “Yeah, that’s what the last guy just said. He was trying to get into the back to take pictures,” Dominik stated to Shauna,
“You’re making a mistake,” she protested.
“Lady, I don’t make mistakes,” he said just as security arrived at his side. “Gentlemen, please escort this reporter off the premises.”
“I’m telling you, I’m not a reporter,” Shauna repeated as she put her briefcase on her shoulder and stood. The security guards moved behind her. “Fine, I’m leaving.”
“Thank you. Have a nice day.”
Dominik watched as the security guards followed her through the automatic doors. His gaze followed her across the parking lot to her car.
At his desk, he turned on his computer and opened his schedule. His first meeting, with a new pharmaceutical representative, was in thirty-five minutes. That gave him just enough time to quickly review and assess the last few patients who were admitted to the E.R. Just as he opened the computer file, there was a knock on his door.
“Yeah, come in,” he said without looking up. The door opened and his assistant, Nora Rembrandt, smiled and then shook her head in sympathy.
“Good morning,” Nora said, “I hope you’re ready for a crazy one, ’cause it’s gonna be one of those days already. You’re wanted out in the pit—in exam room snake-eyes two, sexy-legs six and lucky number thirteen. And heads-up, security is on full alert. Someone jimmied the lock on the hospital records room sometime early this morning and also someone tried to break into a third-floor drug cabinet again.”
Dominik nodded and stood to leave. He was surprised he was getting better at Nora’s bingo-calling jargon. He understood her perfectly. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s going to be one of those days.”
His desk phone rang. Nora answered, agreed, then hung up. “It’s already starting. It’s Dr. Gilman and she wants you in her office at you earliest convenience.”
He nodded, stood and walked out, going to the E.R. to visit the patients she’d told him about. Afterward he headed up to the administrative office. He pushed open the glass door and strolled into the reception area. No was there, so he headed to the main offices. Dr. Gilman’s door was open. He knocked and walked in. The sweltering heat hit him immediately. The office was stifling. Gilman was at her desk with her glasses on and a large portable fan turned off behind her. Her desk was piled high with files and paperwork.
“Good morning, Margaret,” Dominik said, frowning. “That’s a lot of paperwork.”
“Good morning, Dominik,” she said, then glanced up at the two huge stacks piled high on the side of her desk. She nodded and sighed heavily. “Yeah, these are some of the files requested by the Cura Group. The first and second auditors finished up and now they’re sending their consultant in next week to do the final. I don’t know who this person is, but they pull a lot of weight in getting this through. Come in and have a seat.”
He walked over and sat down as she began rearranging the papers and folders further to the side of her desk. “Does not look like a fun job,” he said.
“Believe me, it’s not, but after reviewing what the last two teams did, they specifically wanted to examine and look these over. The majority are Bowman’s E.R. records. Something obviously stood out, but it completely eludes me.”
“So, what happened to the air-conditioning in here?” he asked.
“Maintenance has been working on it for the last two days. We need a new system, but that costs money and right now funds are scarce. Okay, busy day ahead. It looks like someone tried to break into the medical
records office this morning.”
“Yes, I heard. Has security checked the video yet?”
“Yes, they’re reviewing the video now.” She took off her glasses and tossed them on the desk. “I gotta tell you, Dominik, this is the last thing I need this morning. The Cura Group’s reviewer will be here next week and I can’t have this happening when they’re here. Do you have any idea what this would do to our chances of having this buyout go through?”
She stood and walked to the window anxiously, then came back to her desk and leaned on her chair. “This thing is out of control, not to mention it’s a public-relations nightmare. Who’s going to come here if their medical records are free to the public? The publicity is killing us. And now we have reporters sneaking in here every five minutes speaking with an unofficial source close to the situation. What the hell is that?” The rant continued for another few minutes before she stopped and looked at him. “I heard you had an unwanted visitor in the E.R. this morning.”
“Which time?”
“The reporter,” she said curiously. “Why, were there more?”
“Yes, we had a couple of reporters lurking around. One tried taking pictures of the E.R. and the other was interviewing people in the waiting area.”
“I hope you didn’t throw them out physically.”
“Not exactly, but the thought had crossed my mind.” She looked at him sternly. “No, of course we didn’t throw them out. They were asked to leave nicely. One decided to cause some trouble—make a scene. We handled it.”
“And the other?”
“She left quietly.”
“Good. Damn, I wish they’d leave us alone.”
Dominik shook his head. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon. The story is too juicy. The hospital’s chief E.R. director named in three medical malpractice suits is too scandalous to pass up.”
“Apparently,” she said, sitting back down. “My phone’s been ringing off the hook with reporters asking for interviews and comments. And the damn lawyers can’t do anything about it—freedom of speech, who needs it? But enough of that. I called you in this morning because we need your help.”
“Sure. What can I do?”
“As I mentioned, the Cura Medical Group will be sending their consultant in to review us for the next few weeks. They’re going to be observing the E.R. specifically.”
Dominik shook his head. This was the last thing he needed—an interfering bureaucrat nosing around asking questions all day. It was a waste of time. “Margaret...”
“I’m also going to need you to be very hands-on with them.”
This was so not what he wanted—to babysit some corporate hatchet. “Margaret...”
“Dominik, I know your feelings about this buyout. I understand your concerns and I even agree with some of them. I also know that I don’t have to tell you how important this is to the medical center. We need this to go well. As you know, according to an inside source at Cura, we haven’t fared too well so far. And this malpractice thing with Bowman is only making matters worse.”
“That’s ridiculous. This medical center is one of the best in the state. What we lack in funding we more than make up for in heart and dedication.”
“Heart and dedication don’t pay the bills, my friend. Anyway, be that as it may, we need to make a good impression and I need you on your top game. They’re going to be in your department. So, charm them, wow them, woo them. I don’t care what you do. Just make it happen.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were pimping me out.”
“If that works, fine. You
have my blessing.”
“I’ll tell you what—I’ll do my job as always. But you know my feelings about the Cura Group.” His cell phone beeped. He checked the message and stood up. “I gotta go. Are we done?”
“Yes,” she said, “and, Dominik, remember, we need this. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good one.” He walked out.
Chapter 3
Shauna walked into the hospital E.R. for the second time that day. Now she was there officially. Just as she’d done ten hours earlier, she stood in line and listened for a few minutes, then stepped aside and looked for a seat. But unlike before, this time she sat closer to the check-in desk, knowing she’d see and hear everything going on. After sitting, she looked around cautiously. Lindy wasn’t there and hopefully no one else would bother her as she watched, listened and did her job.
It wasn’t exactly voyeurism. It was just paying very close attention. She saw everything. It was her job to be observant. The waiting room’s wide-open space afforded her the perfect view as pain and suffering continued all around her. A small child wept in his mother’s arms. She rocked slowly, hoping to ease what anguish she could. An old man coughed and held a dirty, crumpled handkerchief to his mouth. Two other people sat anxiously waiting to be called, one nauseous and the other holding a bleeding nose.
As usual, Shauna steeled herself from the emotional trial of empathy. Instead, she remained completely objective and distant to those around her. She barely blinked an eye hearing a child crying or seeing a bleeding wound. She pulled out her computer tablet and began working. Names were called and people got up and disappeared behind a secured door accessed only by the nurse at check-in desk or a swipe of a key card. For the next hour and a half, she watched and wrote what she saw and didn’t see. She noted suggestions and remarked on various situations.
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