“Time to lock up, Chief. Everything all right?” he asked as I kept walking.
“Everything is fine, carry on,” I said over my shoulder. Barney came in early when he didn’t have to, and that said a lot to me about the man. But as soon as the other three temps arrive tomorrow, I was going to switch Barney to dayshift to see if the jolt to his system would get him up and moving more.
I walked the halls, stopping at every nurses’ station and introducing myself again. I dressed out in scrubs and went into the surgery suite, familiarizing myself with the staff and them with me while I surveyed the area and checked the security system. People were nervous about the murder, which was understandable, and they had questions. I answered the ones that I could. I certainly wasn’t going to tell them there was a serial killer running loose on campus.
Once again, I ended up on the pediatric ward, forcing myself to walk the halls and listen to the children sleeping or talking to their parents. Then I went down to the pediatric ICU on the first floor and talked briefly with the charge nurse. She seemed very pleased not only to meet me, but to learn that the security department was undergoing major revisions. She told me of her concerns, voiced by every woman under her charge, that they didn’t feel safe, even inside the hospital. I assured her that was going to change.
I was about to leave the ICU when I saw a young woman quietly reading to her child. My heart compressed into a tight ball, and I could feel the panic surging in the pit of my stomach. I can’t take this. I pulled out the bullet and frantically rubbed my thumb over it, rolling it across my fingers. She looked up at me and smiled. Earmarking the page in the Harry Potter book she had been reading, she put it down and stood up. She slid the glass door open on the small patient room and walked out. I stopped, even though my cowardice told me to run.
She walked over and looked up at me through thick-rimmed glasses that made her amber eyes look humongous. She pulled them off and folded the legs before slipping them into her pocket. Her eyes were still large. I could see they were bloodshot and puffy and she had dark shadows under them.
“Are you the chaplain?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. I’m the security director.” She looked so disappointed that I thought she was going to cry. “Would you like me to call one for you?”
“No, thanks. I’ve already called,” she said dejectedly. She turned and looked at the boy, then back at me. “Would you… could you pray with me? He’s all I have in the world.”
She obviously believed in the power of prayer, and although I believed, I was still really pissed at God. Even if I weren’t, I preferred to pray alone and only in my head. Fear of sounding stupid, I guess. “I, uh, you, uh…”
She lowered her head. “That’s all right.”
I looked over at the boy who obviously loved football because he wore pajamas with footballs on them and there was a football helmet hanging from the bedpost. “No, wait. I would be honored to pray for your son, it’s just that, uh, would you, uh…”
Listening to my stammering for a moment, a smile played across her lips. “I’ll do all the talking,” she said with a glint in her eye, and my stress was relieved. How did she know? She took my cold hand in hers and led me to the side of the bed. Continuing to hold my hand, she lifted her son’s small hand, caressing it with her thumb. I bowed my head, peeking over at the boy with a thousand tubes sticking out of his frail little body, as his mother prayed out loud, quietly. I gripped the bullet still in my hand, pressing it deep into my palm.
From the prayer, I learned that the boy had a bad case of pneumonia and was teetering on the brink. Even as I prayed that God give this child the fighting chance that he hadn’t given the other, my eyes welled up at the sweet, innocent freckle-faced little boy. Like his mother, he had blonde hair and pale skin. He looked to be about five years old, and I found myself praying that I would be watching him walk out of the ICU on his own two little feet.
“Thank you,” she said after the final Amen. “I think I needed to pray as much for myself as my son.”
“I pray all the time, just not out loud,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“I guessed that about you,” she chuckled. “My name is Scottie Thomas, and again, thank you for praying with me.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Scottie. I’m Chief of Security Casey Dennis and I’m glad that I could help.”
“That’s a pretty impressive title, Chief of Security Dennis,” she stated lightly.
“Please, call me Casey,” I countered. “It’s late, shall I escort you to your car?” If that was my son lying in that bed, there was no way that would I leave, and I had a feeling she would feel the same, I just wasn’t ready to leave her alone yet.
“Thank you, but no. I can’t leave his side, in case…”
“In case he wakes up and needs his mother,” I offered.
“Yes, exactly,” she said, exhaling.
I looked at her liquid amber eyes and my heart skipped a beat. “Uh, can I get you anything? Food, water, maybe a blanket?”
“You’re very kind, thank you. But I’m not hungry and I already have a blanket, I’m fine.”
“Very good. Well, I’ll return to my duties then.” Hesitating, I reached into my jacket and pulled out one of the new business cards Michele had given me. Then I pulled out an ink pen and wrote my cellphone number on the back of the card. “If you need anything. Even if it’s someone to pray with again, call me, night or day.”
Her eyes opened wide and her tears flowed freely. She took the card without a word and, standing on her tiptoes, she kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said, and walked back to her chair beside her son’s bed.
On my way out, I stopped at the nurses’ desk and asked one of the nurses about Scottie and the boy. They told me that the boy was brought in last night and except for bathroom breaks, the mother had not left his side. The nurse also told me that they had not seen anyone else visit her or the child. That just made me feel sad.
I knew what if felt like to be so isolated and alone in a hospital where people came and jabbed needles in your arms without warning. After I was shot and in the hospital, at least I had my mother by my side for the worst of it. This woman, Scottie, apparently had no one.
Wanting to get as far away from the pediatric ward as I could, I took the elevator up to the fifth floor. The psych ward in the women’s unit where I tested the door before buzzing the nurse to let me in. Even as I walked around, talking with the staff, I couldn’t get my mind off that little boy and his mother. I could only imagine the hell Scottie must have been going through and I found myself wondering how I could make it better. I knew that nothing would really make it better until her son was well, but there had to be something.
“Hey, handsome. Fancy meeting you here this late at night.”
I recognized the sultry voice and turned to see Celine walking toward me. “I could say the same for you, too, gorgeous.” Damn it. Why the hell am I flirting?
“I was checking on a patient who was having a bad night. You?”
“I’m still trying to get my feet wet. It’s a very large hospital.”
“I’ve worked here for three years, and I still can’t find my way around,” Celine said with a laugh.
“I had that problem in Houston, and I grew up there.” I thought about asking if she wanted to grab a cup of coffee, but the soft shadow under her otherwise perfect eyes told me that she was tired. “Well, I’d better get back to my office. I’ve got a ton of reading to do.”
“Wouldn’t you rather join me in my office for a cup of coffee?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure. As long as it’s a quick one.”
She smiled and curled her index finger, beckoning me to follow her. We walked past the nurses’ station and out the security door where she made sure it locked before she walked over to the only other door in the foyer and unlocked it. Her office was located outside the unit, tucked away on the opposite end of the hall by the elevators. From a s
trategic standpoint, it was very secluded and the elevators would alert her to anyone coming up.
“Just make yourself to home,” she said as she held the door open for me, then locked it behind me.
The office was twice the size of mine, and like her, it was immaculate. There was a large mahogany desk and leather desk chair taking up one corner, and a mahogany-framed, long sofa taking up the wall by the window. I wonder if her patients lie on that thing. There was a large panel monitor hanging on one wall, and a colorful oil painting of a rainy sidewalk hanging on the other. Behind her desk were shelves full of books, mostly educational in nature, with one shelf dedicated to Sigmund Freud. Her desk was completely organized with a leather desk pad, matching letter tray with a few papers in it, a pencil cup holding expensive ink pens, and a business card holder with the hospital’s printed cards in it, which surprised me. I was expecting a more expensive version.
“Wow, I think I could live here if I had to,” I said.
“And sometimes I do,” she said whimsically.
She walked over to the bookcase and tilted a book and suddenly the lower three shelves slid out as a unit, with a coffee maker sitting on a shelf beside a small refrigerator. I stared in amazement as I watched her prepare the coffee and then bend over, reaching for something in the refrigerator.
“How do I get one of these in my office?” I wondered.
“You sleep with the carpenter in Maintenance,” she replied as she stood up holding a small carton of half-and-half.
“Seriously?”
She looked at me and started laughing. “No, not seriously. I paid the carpenter to build it for me on his off-duty time. He’s an excellent carpenter, if you want to have one made.”
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, knowing that there was no way I could afford it.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Neither, thanks.”
She continued to look at the coffee brewing, but she had a subtle smile on her lips and a slightly raised eyebrow, as if I had revealed something secretive about myself. In the months I had spent with the rehab shrink, I learned how to read their faces. Different from a crook’s subtle look of guilt, but just as revealing. On top of that, I had already been made aware of my coffee preference symbolism. I was told that I switched to the bitter taste of black as a way to remind myself of the bitter loss of that little boy. That pissed me off. Whether I did or not doesn’t matter, it’s that I’m trying to cope and they’re trying to pull the chair out from under me by revealing its symbolism.
“I used to put lots of sugar and cream in my coffee, but now I like the bitter taste of straight, black coffee. That doesn’t mean that I have malevolent personality traits though.”
“What?” She dropped the spoon she was holding and looked at me. “How did… I didn’t say you did.”
“No, you didn’t, but your body language did.”
“Well, don’t listen to my body language because it’s damn annoying and intrusive,” she huffed, picking up the pot of coffee.
“Fine,” I barked, crossing my arms over my chest. “Don’t assume that you know who I am based on my coffee preference. It’s pretentious and conceited.” Her mouth gaped open and her eyes grew wide. I got the feeling no one had ever pointed out that trait to her. “I think I’d better get back to work. I’ll take a raincheck on that coffee.”
“Fine,” she sneered, and sat the coffeepot down.
I hesitated for a moment, trying to will myself to apologize, but couldn’t. And apparently, neither could she.
Not even here a week and I’ve already made an enemy. A gorgeous, voluptuous, tantalizing enemy who had me wet with anticipation, even as we argued. Damn it!
Chapter Nine
Michele Michaels
The office was dark when I walked in. It usually was. I reached over to flip the switch and saw light shining through the chief’s office door window. She must have forgotten to turn it off last night. Setting my purse and a reusable grocery bag filled with supplies down on my desk, my immediate priority was to fix the coffee. I pulled a box of fresh baked bagels from the bag and walked over to the counter that served as a kitchen in our small office. We had a sink with running water and a full-sized refrigerator, so we were luckier than a lot of departments. Setting the bagels down, I picked up the carafe. It was only a fourth full, which told me that the night crew had made it some time ago. Dumping the thick liquid down the sink, I washed it out and set it back on the heating plate, then I tossed out the used filter pack and put a new one in its place. Pushing the button to percolate, I walked back to my desk and put my purse away and turned on my computer. I reached into my grocery bag again and pulled out a new coffee cup and then I put the bag away also.
I heard a noise, like a cough, coming from the chief’s office, so I eased the door open and peeked in. I thought maybe Barney was sleeping in there again and I wanted to shoo him out before she got here. It wasn’t Barney sleeping on the chief’s desk. It was the chief herself. Her head was resting on her arm, the reports I had run yesterday evening still in her hand. Manuals about the emergency disaster, rules and regulations and the hospital codes were spread out across her desk. She was mumbling something in her sleep and my heart melted. The poor thing. She must have spent the night going over all those manuals.
My first thought was to let her keep sleeping, but then I knew that in forty-five minutes it would be shift change and everyone would gather to give report. Better to wake her now and let her get a cup of coffee in her before the ruckus started up. I picked up the new coffee cup I had gotten for the chief and walked back over to the coffeepot. The cup had the hospital logo on it, but I had her name and title printed on it. Something I have done for each new boss so that there would be no mistaking whose cup it was. Washing it out, I poured the black coffee into it up to the brim and carried it into her office.
“Chief, are you awake?” I asked, placing the steaming hot coffee cup on her desk close to her face and a bagel beside the cup.
She jerked up and looked around in confusion. Then she rubbed her face with both hands as if to scrub the sleep away. Smelling the coffee, she picked up the cup and took a tentative sip. She must have approved of the taste because she gulped back another mouthful and sighed. “What time is it?”
“Fifteen after six,” I replied.
“In the morning?” she asked, yawning.
I smiled at how cute her sleepy face looked. Her usually pinched lips were open and her eyelids were drooping. “Yes, its morning and because it’s October, the sun won’t be up for another hour.”
Another sip of coffee and her eyes became brighter. “Thanks for this,” she said, as she set the cup on the desk and stood up, stretching out the kinks from her enticingly broad shoulders. Her sinewy muscles bounced like rubber bands as she lifted her arms over her head. Her shirt raised up, and I glimpsed a peek at her flat, hard stomach. She was an innie. “Did you get any sleep last night?” I asked, trying to distract myself.
“Not much. I made rounds, talking with the nightshift, trying to assuage their fears about the murder. Then I went over these reports after Josh and the two temps left to make their rounds. I learned a lot from these reports and have some major changes I plan to implement. Would you have time to type this up for me before seven?” she asked, sitting her cup down and handing me a notepad with a handwritten list on it.
“Sure,” I replied.
“I’m going to go take a shower and change clothes. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“All right, Chief. I’ll have it ready for you, and I assume I should make copies for everyone?”
“Yes, that would be great. Thanks,” she said as she picked her cup up again, grabbed the bagel off the paper plate and staggered out the door.
As I watched her leave, I looked down at the list. Well, it’s about damn time.
Twenty-five minutes later, both dayshift and nightshift converged in the conference room, drinking their coffe
e and munching on bagels. All except Josh and Noel, the temp recruit, who were still out on patrol. I was just about to take a bite of my bagel with a generous helping of cream cheese, when the chief stuck her head in the room.
“Ms. Michaels, can I see you a moment?”
“Of course, Chief,” I replied, setting my bagel down on the paper plate and wiping my fingers on a napkin.
I noticed that her curly brown hair was still wet as I followed behind her, and she had changed into a red tank top under a dark blue blazer with pressed black slacks. Red could mean so many things; power, anger, intimidation. As she shut the door behind me, I wondered if the shirt was worn to intimidate me, because it sure the hell was.
“Have a seat; we need to talk,” she stated so matter of factly that my job flashed before my eyes.
Was I about to get canned? Did I do something wrong? I thought we were hitting it off. I bought her a damn cup, for Pete’s sake.
She sat down and put her elbows on her desk, interlacing her fingers. “Michele…”
She used my first name. This is it, unemployment line, here I come. And I had almost worked up the nerve to ask Lulu out, too.
“Do I have your confidence?” she asked.
“My what?” My head was spinning. “My confidence? Of course, Chief.”
“Good. Now, if you typed up the list I gave you then you know—”
“Here it is,” I picked the copies up off her desk and shoved them at her a little to eagerly.
“Thanks,” she said, and set them back down on the desk. “I need to ask a difficult favor of you, and I will not hold it against you if you say no.”
My mind became muddled with uncertainty. It’s going to be hard at my age to find another job.
Better the Devil You Don't Know Page 7