Ericka squared her bony shoulders, resigned to what was ahead of her. “So, when do we do it?” she asked, looking from Goodfellow to Nika. “When do we cut into me?”
“I’d like the opportunity to get your blood pressure down a little more first,” he told her. “I’m going to authorize keeping you here for observation for a few days while I put you on this blood pressure medication.” The cardiologist quickly scribbled the name and dosage instructions on the prescription pad he took out of his breast pocket. Tearing off the sheet, he tucked the pad back into his pocket. “I’ll drop it off at the hospital pharmacy for you. We’ll see if that doesn’t solve the problem.”
“The first problem,” Mrs. Baker emphasized. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at the cardiologist. “And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we’ll try something else until we find something that works. There’re lots of different medications out there,” he assured her.
“And meanwhile,” she countered grimly, “the cancer’s spreading.”
“If it’s cancer,” Nika interjected. “Remember, we don’t know that it is,” she insisted firmly.
But Nika’s newest patient looked far from ready to hang on to the life preserver that was being tossed her way.
“Where did you find her, anyway?” she asked Dr. Goodfellow with visible annoyance. “On a cheerleading squad?”
“Might do you a little good to buy into that cheer, Ericka,” the doctor pointed out gently. “The mind’s a powerful weapon. Don’t underestimate it.”
“So maybe I’ll just wish away the cancer,” Ericka proposed sarcastically. It was obvious that she wasn’t just angry about this news—she was tired of being under siege.
“There’s no proof it’s cancer yet,” Nika quietly pointed out again.
Ericka sighed deeply and rolled her eyes, but even so, Nika thought she detected a glimmer of hope—and gratitude. She was getting through to the woman, she thought, relieved.
The doctor looked at his watch. “I’ve got to be going, Mrs. Baker. I’ll be by tonight to see how you’re doing,” he promised.
And with that, he left the room.
Mrs. Baker’s eyes shifted to Nika, who was still in the room and gave every indication that she was not about to go anywhere just yet.
“Don’t you have to be somewhere else, too?” the woman asked impatiently.
Nika drew the chair closer to Mrs. Baker’s bed and sat down. “Actually, no.”
Mrs. Baker eyed her suspiciously, clearly not buying what was just said. “They let everyone else in the old bones unit go home?”
“No, everyone in the Geriatrics Unit who was here yesterday is still here today,” Nika replied patiently. “I’m off today.”
Mrs. Baker looked at her as if she thought the young resident had lost her mind. “Then what the hell are you doing here, breathing in all this stale air?”
“I wanted to find out what your test results were,” Nika told her simply.
Mrs. Baker shifted in her bed, moving her thin frame closer to where Nika was sitting. “Why?”
Nika answered her as if it was really self-evident. “Because you’re my patient and I’m interested.”
Mrs. Baker was silent for a moment as her sharp blue eyes scrutinized her. “How old are you, girl?”
“Thirty.” She expected the woman to challenge her, wanting to know how she could be a resident at that age, and Nika was prepared to tell her all about her accelerated course of studies.
But that wasn’t what the woman latched on to. “Thirty? And this is the best you can do with your day off?” she shook her head in disbelief and disgust. “Girl, you’ve got to learn how to live a little.”
Nika leaned forward and patted her. “Well, once we get you all better, Mrs. Baker, you can teach me,” she told the woman with a gentle smile.
Again the blue eyes seemed to delve right into her as Mrs Baker leaned forward. “You’re that sure I’m going to get better?”
“I’m that sure,” Nika told her.
Please, God, make me right.
Nika was a firm believer in the good effects of positive thinking, but it didn’t always come through a hundred percent of the time.
Ericka sighed and settled back in her bed. “Okay, but if you’re wrong, I’m coming back to haunt you.”
Nika laughed, delighted by the small display of humor. “It’s a deal.”
Nika remained in Mrs. Baker’s room, talking and doing her best to divert her, until the woman drifted off to sleep. Slipping out, Nika eased the door closed, then turned around and found herself smack up against Cole, who was about to walk in.
Because the door was at her back, Nika had nowhere to retreat to and, for a moment, the hard contours of the detective’s body hit against and registered with every part of hers. Reviving very vivid memories of her rescue the other day and summoning a distant, faint ache that pulsed through her body.
For a split second, her breath disappeared. When it returned, she had just enough to blurt out, “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Sorrow and regret were the very last emotions that occurred to him. Given a choice, he would have remained exactly where he was, allowing the fleeting, pleasing contact to penetrate further into his consciousness. But for the sake of decorum and because the contact had snaked through to a place he distinctly wanted to remain dormant, he stepped back.
“My fault,” he apologized a little stiffly. “I got an early start today,” he heard himself explaining, which annoyed him because he made it a point never to have to explain himself. “So I thought I’d look in on my grandmother during my lunch break.” He studied Nika closely, as if waiting to be lied to. “How is she?”
“She’s sleeping right now,” Nika told him, looking at the door.
He’d been a cop long enough to know an evasive answer when he heard one. His green eyes narrowed a little, still watching her intently. “And how is she when she’s not sleeping?”
Nika had wanted to be there for Ericka Baker when the doctor had informed the woman about the mass that had shown up on her X-ray. But breaking that information to Mrs. Baker’s only living relative was somehow a great deal harder. Harder than she’d imagined.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to just palm him off on Dr. Goodfellow. After all, the man had rescued her. That meant that she owed Detective Baker something more than just giving him the runaround.
Mentally crossing her fingers, hoping for the best, she said, “They found a mass in your grandmother’s right breast.”
His voice took on a deadly edge. “What kind of mass?”
She took a deep breath. “Hopefully, the benign kind.”
He refused to allow himself to dwell on the possibilities if she was wrong. “So what’s being done about this ‘mass’?” he demanded.
As succinctly as possible, Nika explained what the cardiologist proposed to do—and then went on to tell him why it wasn’t being done immediately and hoped that he would understand.
“How long is he going to wait?” Cole’s voice was cold, as emotionless as his expression.
About to answer, she quickly stepped to one side as the orderly moved by with a bucket and mop. The stocky man was heading to another room and flashed a sheepish smile at her by way of an apology. He’d all but crashed the bucket into her.
“Not too long,” she assured the detective. “Dr. Goodfellow thinks the medicine he’s prescribed for her should take care of the problem in a day or so. It’s pretty new on the market but it’s had some stunning results—”
He dealt in facts. He needed to have facts in front of him to be prepared. “What happens if my grandmother doesn’t respond? If her blood pressure stays high? Then what?”
Something told her that even though he’d asked, he really didn’t want to hear the answer to that question. Because then he would have to face the possibility. “Why don’t we wait and see first? My father used to say there was no point in buying trouble since you could get it for free, anyw
ay.”
He looked at her as if she’d just lapsed into a strange language. “What?”
“It loses a little in the translation,” she admitted with a laugh. Since he continued to look unenlightened, she explained, “It’s an old Polish saying.”
Her last name was stitched over the breast pocket of her lab coat. He’d forgotten it. Reading it now, Cole nodded. “Right.”
Digging into her pocket, she came up with one card, slightly bent. She held it out to him. “If you have any more questions about your grandmother’s condition, or just want to talk, that’s my cell number,” she told him. She smiled up at him, still holding out the card. “Two ears, no waiting.”
With an absent nod, he took the card and pocketed it. “Thanks.”
The single word hung in the air as Cole went into his grandmother’s room and shut the door behind him.
It was time, she thought, for her to get going. After all, she wasn’t really supposed to be here today and since it was her day off, she should try to catch up on a few things she’d been letting go lately. Who knew, the way things were going, when her next day off was going to be?
But before she left, she had one more place to go. She wanted to pay a quick visit to the hospital’s morgue to see if anyone had claimed the late Sergeant Kelly’s remains.
Making her way through the basement, as she drew near the morgue, she was utterly surprised to catch sight of her uncle.
“Uncle Josef!” she called. When he stopped walking, she quickened her pace to catch up to him. “What are you doing here? Are you lost? You couldn’t be here for the food,” she teased since the cafeteria was also located in the basement. “Aunt Magda would never forgive you.”
“No, I have come here for a more sad reason than eating,” he told her. “I come to see if what I am hearing is true.” He paused for a moment before saying heavily,
“It is.”
“What’s wrong?” Instantly, she thought of her cousins—and in the next moment, her sisters. Had he come here, looking for her to tell her something? “Has it something to do with the family?” she asked him, almost afraid of the answer because of the expression on his face.
“Yes,” he answered. Then, seeing the concern on her face, he added, “But only mine.”
“Is it Sasha?” she asked, then, in the next breath, she went through the list of her other cousins’ names. “Natalya? Tanya? Kady? Marja?”
He shook his head, his slightly longish gray hair moving back and forth. “No, no, not that family. My blue family.”
She stared at him, confused. It took her a moment to understand, only after she remembered that her uncle was a retired police sergeant who’d served proudly with the NYPD.
Her mind leaped to the only conclusion she could. “You’re here about Sergeant Kelly?”
The look on her uncle’s face told her she’d guessed right before he ever said a word. “Yes, I am here because of him. I am hearing he had nobody. That he is being to lie inside of a drawer of metal. That is not being right,” he said with feeling.
It was a small, small world after all. “You were a friend of his?”
“He was teaching me,” Josef told her. For a moment, he was back in the past, when his girls were small and he made his living by risking his life every day on the street. “He was my boss. If I am not knowing him, I would not be being here now, talking to you. He was saving my life when I was a rockie,” he told her.
“A rookie?” she suggested tactfully.
It was clear that he was frustrated as well as saddened. The former came from having lost touch with the late sergeant after the man had retired from the force. But there was always something to do, jobs to juggle. He was proud of the fact that he had helped all five of his girls through medical school, but it had been at the cost of more than one former friendship.
“Yes, that word. Rookie. I am forgetting the words, but not the feelings. He was being a good man, John was. Good mens should not be being forgotten.”
And that was when Nika suddenly realized what her uncle was doing here. “You’re claiming his body?” she asked.
Josef nodded his head solemnly. “I am doing what is needing to be done.”
“Can I chip in?” she asked. When he looked at her, a slight puzzled expression on his face, she rephrased her question. “Can I give you money toward Sergeant Kelly’s funeral?”
His first inclination was to refuse. There was pride involved and the knowledge that funds were tight for her at this stage, but Josef knew that there were some things that a person needed to do. It was a matter of conscience. This he understood.
“That would be being very nice of you,” he told her with a grateful smile.
Chapter 7
Nika accompanied her uncle when he went to view the former police sergeant’s body. She stood to one side, a silent support for Josef as he paid his last respects to a fellow brother in arms.
“I am sorry we losted touch, my friend. I am hoping you are happy now,” he murmured.
As she watched Josef, a thought suddenly occurred to her. And as it did, she felt excitement bubbling up inside of her. So much so that it was a struggle not to say anything while they were in this room, which demanded near silence as well as respect.
Because of her regard for her uncle, Nika let him have his moment and held her tongue until he was ready to leave the hospital morgue.
“Thank you,” Josef said to the attendant who’d initially allowed them into the room. “Someone from the funeral place will be coming for him.”
Once outside, Nika found herself searching for a way to broach the subject without stomping all over her uncle’s grief. It was obvious that he regretted losing touch with the man and she didn’t want to intrude on that. At the same time, she really needed to in order to ask him to agree to what she proposed.
How would he feel about her asking him to give his permission to carve up his dead friend so that she could lay her own suspicions to rest? Suspicions that no one else seemed to have?
Walking away from the morgue, Josef abruptly stopped and turned toward her. His eyes were kind as he studied her face. “What is it you are fighting with yourself about, Nika?”
His question caught her completely off guard. She stared at him, stunned. “Excuse me?”
“Something is being on your mind.” It wasn’t a question. “What is it?”
Mind reading was not a known family trait. To say Nika was flabbergasted was an understatement. “How did you—”
Josef laughed softly, as if the answer was obvious. “I am having five daughters and your aunt Magda. When a woman, she is not talking and it is not because she is sleeping, something is troubling her.” His kind eyes delved into hers. “So what is it?”
Okay, here went nothing.
She took a breath and then started. Nika watched her uncle’s face carefully as she asked, “Uncle Josef, since you’re claiming the sergeant’s body, would you request an autopsy?”
Rather than annoyed or upset by the request, her uncle looked confused. “Why would I want to be doing that?”
She knew how strange this had to sound to him. “Because I really need to know what your friend died from.”
“I was told it was heart attack,” he said, then asked, “It was not heart attack?”
She had to be honest. “I’m not sure.” Glancing around to make sure they weren’t going to be overheard, she explained her thinking: that there seemed to be just too many deaths occurring in the ward lately. That, although the sergeant’s health could ultimately be regarded as poor, he was being sent back to the nursing home because there was really nothing more to be done for him here at the hospital. This was as good as things were going to be for the former police sergeant.
“So, he was not being healthy,” Josef concluded.
She knew what he meant. That the hospital, unable to do anything further for the man, was sending Sergeant Kelly to the nursing home to await death. “No, he wasn’t. But it was
n’t his heart that was the problem. He had prostate cancer—”
“Your gut, it is talking to you?” Josef surmised knowingly.
She smiled at his phraseology. There was something endearing about it, now that she’d gotten the hang of unraveling its mysteries. “Yes, it is.”
Josef nodded, as if accepting the explanation. “Then this is being enough for me,” he told her. “You will be having your autopsy, Nika.”
Relieved, happy to finally be either confirming her suspicions or laying them to rest, she threw her arms around her uncle’s neck and brushed a quick kiss against his cheek.
“Thank you, Uncle Josef!” Slipping her arms from his neck, she said, “I’ll get the paperwork started.”
It was all just probably her imagination, she reasoned, but until she knew for certain, she wasn’t going to be able to have any peace.
And if it wasn’t just her imagination, she needed to stop whoever or whatever it was that was causing this senseless elimination of senior citizens at their most vulnerable.
Two mornings later, Nika had just begun making her rounds when Shelley, one of the nurses on duty that day, poked her head into the room she was in, simultaneously knocking on the doorjamb to get her attention.
“Dr. Pulaski, Mrs. Silverman just called the nurse’s station. She says she wants to see you in her office—her temp office,” the heavyset woman added to eliminate any confusion.
All this and heaven, too, Nika thought. But she nodded, saying, “All right, I’ll be there as soon as I finish my rounds.” Focusing back on her patient, she removed the blood pressure cuff off the man’s rail thin arm. Instead of high blood pressure, which was what she was accustomed to running into, this patient’s blood pressure was low. So low that there was a risk of the man having hypotension.
Shelley was still in the doorway. The nurse looked somewhat uncomfortable as she relayed the rest of the message. “She said to come now.”
Nika pressed her lips together. Why did she feel as if her chain was being yanked by the administrator? Was the woman still upset because of what she’d said the other day? “Did she say why?”
The Doctor's Guardian & Tempted By His Target Page 7