Elena felt a lump the size of Kansas in her throat. She swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know."
Glenna dried her eyes, excused herself, and hurried off.
Elena was still at the table, her sandwich forgotten, when she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. She turned and saw Marcus Bell behind her. "I saw Glenna rush out. Did she tell you about her husband?"
Elena gestured for Marcus to sit. "Yes, I'm afraid I put my foot in my mouth. Poor lady dissolved in tears." She sipped her tea, then shoved it aside. She suspected her lunch would remain uneaten today.
"It's a sad story. And every patient who comes into the ER with a head injury seems to freshen the wound. I've asked Glenna if she wanted to transfer to another unit. Her answer's always the same. 'If I can keep another family from facing what I have to live with every day, my work will be worthwhile.'"
Elena wondered if she might have discontinued Mark's life support while in a fugue state to avoid the living death now experienced by Glenna's husband. Had she been fulfilling a subconscious wish? And could she have done the same thing with Chester Pulliam?
"Penny for your thoughts," Marcus said.
"Sorry. Glenna's story just brought back memories of my own husband's death."
"You know, I'd like to offer you that non-date I mentioned earlier. Why don't I buy you dinner on Saturday night? You can talk, we can commiserate, and I assure you I'll be a perfect gentleman."
Elena felt herself tugged in two directions. She'd love some companionship, especially that of someone who'd also lost a spouse. But she got the definite impression that Marcus wanted a relationship that could move beyond the "non-date" phase. Was she ready for that? And if so, was Marcus the one? No, she couldn't make that decision. Not yet. She looked him full in the face. "Marcus, I appreciate the offer, and someday I may be able to take you up on it. But not right now. I hope you'll understand."
The three people gathered in Will's office showed signs of a hard day. Will slouched in his office chair, his collar unbuttoned and his tie askew. Cathy had her feet propped on an extra chair and kept poking at her ankles, apparently trying to decide if the swelling was significant. Elena did her best to look cool, but she couldn't get away from the phone call that had come before she left the office.
"Elena, it's Frank Perrin."
The sound of his voice had made her feel like a schoolgirl again, thrilled that the captain of the football team had called her and a little nervous that she might say the wrong thing. "Frank, it's good of you to call. I'm sorry we had to cut our lunch short the other day. And I really appreciate your using your lights and siren to get me to the hospital quickly. That made a big difference to the patient."
"'Protect and serve,' that's us," Frank said lightly. "I was wondering if we could make up for that shortened lunch by having dinner together this evening."
Elena almost laughed. Two dinner invitations in one afternoon. Her social life was picking up, and she was nowhere near ready for it. She was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. And she still had the meeting with Will and Cathy.
"If you have to think about it that long, maybe I shouldn't have called." Frank's voice was even, but she sensed an unpleasant undercurrent there.
"No, I was just going over my schedule. Actually, I have a meeting tonight. After that, all I want to do is go home and crash." Keep it simple. Let him down easy. "Can I get a rain check?"
"Sure. We'll try again later. Have a good evening."
"Hey, are you with us?" Cathy's voice brought Elena back to the present. "You looked like you were a million miles away."
"Sorry. I can't get my mind off that pregnant girl I saw this morning. Think the OB assigned to her case would mind if I dropped by to check on her?"
"Not at all," Cathy said. "In the morning, call and see which doctor it is. If you go about the time he usually makes rounds, you can introduce yourself."
"If you two doctors are through talking shop, I'd like to get going. We've all had a hard day. Elena, I need your permission to have an investigator look into both the deaths of your husband and Mr. Pulliam. I'll employ him, and if you engage me as your counsel, anything he finds will be privileged and protected."
"You mean that if he discovers I actually did discontinue life support in both cases, that won't necessarily make me end up in court," Elena said. "Is that it?"
"Yes. The guy I want to use—Ramon Campos—is based out of Dallas. He's discreet, very trustworthy, and does a great job of staying under the radar. I can pretty much guarantee that no one will ever know he's investigating these matters."
Elena bit her lip. She hated to open what could be a Pandora's box. "What about the midnight phone calls?"
"That's part of the package. I want him to find out who's been calling you and why."
"How much would this cost?" Elena asked. "I haven't drawn a paycheck yet, and my financial situation isn't very good right now. Between my student loans and the expenses of Mark's death, I'm pretty far in the hole."
Will waved that away. "I'm going to take this on pro bono, and I'll handle the expenses of the investigation. You can pay me back after you're on your feet."
Elena felt like she was poised on the edge of the high board. She could jump or back down the ladder. The only sound in the room was a faint click followed by a low whoosh that signaled the air conditioner starting to combat the evening heat.
"Your choice," Cathy said. "But I think you're going to regret it if you don't confront this issue."
"I'm willing—no, I'm anxious to find out who's been calling me. But I don't know how your investigator can talk with the ICU nurses and staff and discover anything about the deaths of those two patients without making a lot of people suspicious. And if Dr. Matney gets wind of this, I can guarantee he'll reach out and do something to get back at me for stirring the pot again."
"So we put that on the back burner. But you will let Ramon check out the calls?" Will asked.
"Okay," Elena said. She reached for her purse. "Do I pay you a dollar or something?"
Will smiled. "No, that's not necessary. There's a Texas case or two upholding the concept that the attorney-client relationship can be implied without the payment of a fee. I can show you the reference if you're worried. I think it's Perez v.—"
"I think she gets it, Will." Cathy turned to Elena. "If you won't let the investigator try to discover what happened in the ICU when Mark and Mr. Pulliam were taken off life support, there's another way to get information without Matney finding out."
What else? All Elena wanted to do was go home. Well, not home, but the room in the back of the Kennedy home that was her temporary quarters.
"Remember at our first interview I mentioned a therapist who'd helped me?"
Elena wasn't sure where this was headed. She nodded but kept silent.
"How would you feel about letting him hypnotize you?" Cathy asked. "He might be able to regress you to the times when the respirators were turned off. We could find out if you were the one who did it."
Elena's stomach started churning. "I don't want . . . I can't even think about going through the experience of Mark's death again. Why don't we let the investigator do his work first? I guess I'd try the hypnosis if it's a last resort, but it still won't answer the questions about the phone calls. And if I'm in any danger, I think it must be from the woman who's making those calls."
Will leaned across the desk, his fingertips steepled. "Have you considered that the two situations might be unrelated? The phone calls and the patient deaths?"
"I don't know. I just don't know." Elena pushed back her chair and rose. "Listen, I appreciate everything you're doing, both of you. But I've had all I can take for one day. Will, thanks for your help. I assume you'll let me know what the investigator finds out. And if there's any information he needs from me, give him my cell phone number."
The night air was warm, but Elena shivered as she hurried to her car. Halfway to the Kennedy home, she remembered she ha
dn't eaten. The Dairy Queen was only a few blocks out of her way, but she'd have to make a quick right turn. She braked hard and almost skidded around the corner. She was blinded a few seconds later by a set of headlights in her rearview mirror. The car dropped back, and the glare disappeared.
She pulled to the drive-up window and ordered a hamburger and a Diet Coke. A few minutes later she was on her way home, sipping on the drink and wondering how and when her troubles would ever end.
As she climbed out of her car, Elena decided she felt too dirty to eat. First, she'd luxuriate in a hot tub. After that, she could think about eating. She'd eaten enough cold burgers in recent years, so one more wouldn't matter.
In her bedroom, Elena dropped her clothes on the closet floor, intending to stuff them in the hamper later, and wrapped herself in a robe. She padded across the room in her bare feet, anxious to feel the hot water relax her taut muscles.
Maybe reading in the tub would help. She'd brought a few books with her. She pulled one from the bookcase, but it slipped through her fingers. As she bent to retrieve it, her head turned toward the window.
Her scream seemed to go on forever.
13
Will yawned and looked around his parents' kitchen table. His mother and father sat across from Elena, two bulwarks of safety and comfort. Cathy was in the chair beside Elena, struggling to find a comfortable position for her gravid bulk, yet obviously unwilling to leave the side of her frightened associate. Will decided he was expected to take charge of the session.
"Exactly what did you see tonight?" Will held his coffee cup in both hands and looked through the steam at Elena.
"I was about to step into the tub when I glanced toward the window and saw a face. I screamed and ran out of the room."
"Did you recognize him?" Will asked.
Elena shook her head. "I only got the impression of a face, almost like it was floating there at the level of the window. No details."
Cathy patted Elena's arm. "Weren't the blinds closed?"
Elena ducked her head. "This morning while I was putting on my makeup I raised the blinds in the guest room for more light. Tonight, I was so tired I didn't bother to lower them. I mean, there are gauze curtains across the window, and there are thick bushes outside screening it. I guess this is my fault."
"It's no one's fault," Will said. "Did you call the police?"
Elena huddled deep into her robe. "Your parents insisted."
"And?"
"A patrolman showed up about half an hour later."
Will decided he'd had uncooperative witnesses who were more forthcoming than this. Then again, the witnesses hadn't recently been scared half out of their wits. Gently. "What did the patrolman find?"
Elena remained silent. Will looked at his father. "Dad?"
"Norm Thompson came by. Nice young lad. You probably know him."
"I do." Patience, patience. "What did he say?"
"Norm found some footprints in the flower bed outside the guest bathroom window. He called them 'partials.' Said there wasn't enough there to identify the prowler even if they caught him. He asked the dispatcher to have a car swing by here every hour or so for the rest of the night. Said they'd keep an eye out for strangers in the neighborhood."
Will was pretty sure the matter would die right there unless there was a repeat performance.
Cathy apparently had the same thoughts. The look she gave him carried a simple message: do something.
"Elena, do you have any idea who might have done this?" No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Will realized how foolish the question was. "Never mind. You're stressed. Why don't you get some rest? We can talk about this tomorrow."
"No!" Elena snapped. "There's no chance that I'll sleep tonight. Can we talk about who it might be? And, more important, what we can do to put an end to it?"
Will wished he had a legal pad. He always thought better when he could make notes. "Okay. We have to start with the possibility this was a random thing. Peeping Toms aren't unheard of, although frankly I haven't heard reports of any in the city lately. That doesn't mean one couldn't have wandered here tonight, though."
"Calling it random doesn't make me feel any more comfortable," Elena said. "He might have . . . might have liked what he saw. He could come back again."
"In that case, let's see if we have any suspects. Are there men you've met since you've been in town who might have done this?" Cathy asked.
"I've been in town for, what, less than a week? And no one I've met has acted creepy. Except maybe that EMT. He seemed antagonistic toward me from the moment we met. And when we ran into each other later, he was pretty surly."
"That would be Eric Burson," Cathy said. "I know what you mean about acting surly. But I don't think you should take that personally. Eric's wife died several years ago of ovarian cancer. They lived in another town then, and the doctor who first saw her missed the diagnosis. After she died, Eric moved here, mainly to get away from his memories, I think. He told people he decided to train as an EMT 'so he could help others.' Really, I think it was so he would come in contact with doctors frequently enough to criticize them."
"Would he do something like this?" Elena asked.
Will shook his head. "Hard to say. But we can keep him in mind. Who else?"
"Nobody jumps out at me," Elena said. "Other than Eric, the men I've met have been very nice."
"Seeming nice doesn't mean they don't have human frailties." The group turned toward Matthew Kennedy, who spread his hands. "I've known some people who were to all appearances 'nice,' but their sins would make your hair curl. None of us is exempt from the human condition, you know."
Will cringed. Oh, Dad. Don't start a sermon. But the elder Kennedy leaned back in his chair, his point made.
"What about Frank?" Will asked.
Elena screwed up her face. "I know everybody tells me to watch out for Frank Perrin. It's been sort of like parents who warn their daughter about who she should and shouldn't date. But so far he's probably been nicer to me than a lot of people. I refuse to consider him a suspect."
"So we've struck out in the suspect department," Will said. "The bottom line is we have no idea who could have spied on you."
Elena seemed to shrink a bit. If the expression in her eyes had been a mystery to Will when they first met, there was no mystery about it now. It was fear.
Will hurried on, trying to reassure her. "For now, be cautious. Keep an eye out for people following you, especially at night."
"I thought someone might have followed me when I left the meeting at your office," Elena said. "But I dismissed that as being paranoid."
"There's something we haven't considered," Cathy said.
"What?"
"We've talked about the stalker being a man, but that's not necessarily true. We haven't mentioned your midnight caller. Could the face at the window have been a woman? Maybe it wasn't the work of a Peeping Tom. Maybe it was one more thing meant to frighten you."
True to her prediction, there was no sleep for Elena that night. She lay in bed, tossing and turning, the light on to dispel the shadows that mocked her as they turned into her stalker. The few times she drifted into a fitful slumber her dreams were of the tribunal, this time sitting in judgment of her for not lowering her blinds.
Cathy had told her not to come to work on Friday morning, but some mixture of pride and stubbornness brought Elena awake at the usual hour. She dressed (with the blinds carefully and tightly closed), armed herself with one of Dora's biscuits and a cup of coffee, and drove to the office.
Elena worked hard to keep her mind on her patients, skipped lunch in favor of reading journals at her desk, and managed to put one foot in front of the other until the work day was over. At last, she heaved a sigh and dropped into the chair behind her desk. Her desk. Her office. Nice sound to the words. It was just now soaking in. If things ever settled down, she felt as though she could enjoy it here.
She folded her white coat and laid it on to
p of her backpack. She'd need to take the coat home and wash it this weekend. Elena hadn't asked her landlady about using their washer, but as nice as the Kennedys had been, there shouldn't be any problem.
"Hey, don't bother taking that coat home." Cathy's voice made Elena jump.
"Sorry. You startled me. What was that?"
"Toss your coat in the hamper in the work room. We have a laundry service. Get a clean one Monday morning. And in a week or so we'll have some with your name embroidered on the pocket. Maybe that will help you feel more at home."
"Sorry," Elena said. "I guess all those years of laundering my own coat sort of ingrained the practice." She gestured to Cathy to come in and sit down. "Remember all the symbolism of these coats?"
Cathy eased into the visitor's chair across the desk from Elena. "Yeah. Short white coats for the medical students, mid-length ones for the residents, long coats for faculty and attendings."
"My . . . Mark gave me this one. He didn't know it was too long to wear while I was in residency. I kept it in the back of the closet. I could hardly wait for the day when I finished my training, and he could see me wear it. Then . . ." Elena swallowed hard and stared down at the desk.
"Well, he'd be proud of you now," Cathy said. When there was no response, she added, "Want to talk about it? About Mark?"
Mention of Mark made Elena think of the note. The time she'd shared with Mark, no matter how short, seemed so perfect. Now she wondered when he'd begun to drift away from her. Or had he been unfaithful from the start? She'd determined to put it out of her mind, and she strengthened that resolve. "No, I think I'd better move on. But thanks."
Prescription for Trouble - 03 - Diagnosis Death Page 15