by Sykes, V. K.
“Bye.” He clicked off.
Holly had never wanted to play hooky as badly in her life. It almost drove her crazy that Nate was only yards away, and would soon be in the hospital, just a floor below her. She craved being with him, but if she met him now or maybe even saw him, her focus might be shot for the rest of the day. She couldn’t afford that. Not with the Lance Arnold problem hanging over her head like an executioner’s blade.
She resisted the silly temptation to look down again at the street and follow the Aston Martin’s path to the hospital parking garage. Instead, she ignored the window and strode out her door and down the hall to the chief of surgery’s office suite.
Rosen’s secretary looked up as Holly pushed open the door. “Hi, Marilyn,” she said. “Is he in?”
“Hello, Dr. Bell,” the secretary said with a kind smile. “He’s on the phone, but he said to send you in as soon as you got here.”
“Thanks.” Holly knocked and poked her head inside. Rosen waved her in and pointed to one of the chairs in front of his heavy oak desk.
In addition to the massive desk and the two comfortable chairs in front, Rosen had a three-seat sofa and a circular meeting table that seated six. Fourteen framed degrees, diplomas and certificates on his ego wall, all pristinely-preserved in expensive-looking frames, testified to Charles Rosen’s standing as one of the foremost surgeons in the United States.
Rosen clasped his left hand on the top of his shaved head as he held the phone in his right. He was dressed in his usual designer golf shirt and crisply-pressed dress pants. The only time Charles Rosen donned a white lab coat was when he met patients.
“Just get it done,” the chief growled, then hung up the phone.
From his tone and his scowl, it didn’t take much insight to figure out the chief was pissed off.
“What’s up, Holly?” he said, forsaking any pleasantries. “You said you’re having problems with one of the parents?”
“With a fellow named Lance Arnold,” Holly said. “He’s the sole parent of Tyler Arnold, the five-year-old boy who was a patient of Dr. McMillan’s for several years.”
Rosen nodded. “I’m familiar with the case. Never met the father, though.”
Holly gave him a grim smile. “I’d say that was your good fortune, Charles.” She’d called him Dr. Rosen the first time they’d met, but he’d asked that she call him by his given name. It still seemed strange to her, as she’d always had a more formal relationship with her immediate superiors, but he had insisted.
“What’s the guy’s problem?”
She quickly recounted the events of the past week, including her conversation with Mrs. Crump, and gave Rosen a full update on Tyler’s condition. She concluded by saying, “I’d like to set up a meeting right away with Arnold that would include you and Richard Morris, as well as the boy’s grandmother. Perhaps with all of us singing from the same songbook, we’ll be able to convince Mr. Arnold that surgery is the best option. The only option, realistically.”
Not that she held out more than the faintest glimmer of hope.
Rosen snorted. “Why? I get from your tone that you’re not optimistic that it’ll do any good.”
Holly felt a little jolt of dismay, but she kept her gaze steady. “That would be a fair conclusion. But surely we have to give it our best shot, don’t we?”
Rosen shook his head. “Come on, Holly. A judge won’t give a damn whether you talk to the man once or a dozen times. If you think we’re going to have to get a court order to force the surgery, then get on with it. Tell Arnold that he either signs the consent form or our lawyer will be filing for the order immediately. We don’t need to mollycoddle parents who won’t do what’s in their child’s best interests. Not in a clear-cut case like this.” His thick, gray eyebrows almost met in the center as he frowned. “You’re not intimidated by him, are you?”
Of course she was, at least a little, but she’d die before admitting that. Not to her boss, especially not this early in her job.
“No, of course not,” she said. She hated lying to the chief, but she didn’t see much choice. A perceived lack of confidence had killed or stunted the careers of several doctors she’d known. She wouldn’t let that happen to her. “I figured we had to go the extra mile. For the court, in particular.”
“I don’t agree. Just take care of it,” Rosen said brusquely. “Don’t expect some kind of committee to do your job for you. That’s not the way it works around here.”
Around here. Okay, that stung.
Holly might think of herself as a hot-shot recruit to PCH, but in reality she was still a newbie, and Rosen had just sharply reminded her of her status. Part of her wanted to slink out of his office, but she gave him a calm little nod instead. “I understand, Charles. I’ll take care of it right away.”
“Good,” Rosen said, finally allowing her a small smile. He stood up in dismissal, and she followed his lead.
“Good luck, Holly. Let me know if you have any more problems with the guy.”
“Thanks for your time and advice, Charles.”
She gave Marilyn a casual wave as she passed, and hurried out of the suite and back to her office. For some reason, she glanced out the window down Walnut, at the spot where Nate had been parked a few minutes ago. She silently castigated herself for being such a coward. After all, she would never be alone with Arnold, or see him away from the hospital. She really didn’t face any kind of threat from him. Just verbal abuse, and she had to get used to that.
Pull yourself together, Holly. Do it for Tyler.
She took a deep breath, shrugged her shoulders, and called Canizaro on her cell phone. “Katie, I want to see Lance Arnold this afternoon. Could you track him down and get him in here, please? Tell him whatever you have to in order to get him here, okay?”
Canizaro hesitated a moment. “Will do, Dr. Bell. But are you all right? You sound upset.”
“I’m fine,” Holly said, more sharply than she’d intended. “I’m going to go head-to-head with Arnold, and I’d just as soon get it over with. It’s not going to be pretty.”
“Dr. Bell, you know I’m willing to be there with you. Just say the word.”
Canizaro was a tenacious and brave young woman. “Don’t worry. I’ll ask a couple of the security guards to hang close by. But this is something I need to do myself.”
She had to, or she would have already let Lance Arnold beat her.
* * *
Canizaro poked her head into the conference room, holding the door open with her shoulder. “He’s here, Dr. Bell.”
Holly looked at her watch. Five o’clock. She pushed back her chair and stood up. She’d chosen the chair at the head of the table—the one Rosen always sat in. The authority chair. She figured she needed any little edge she could get. “Send him in, please.”
Lance Arnold ambled through the door with his peculiar, bowlegged swagger, like he had a stick up his ass. His face was already contorted with an ugly sneer.
Great, he’s already pissed off.
“Thank you for coming, Mr. Arnold.” She offered her hand, but he ignored it.
“Something gone wrong with Tyler?” he growled. “Your errand girl said it was urgent, but she wouldn’t tell me why. And I don’t fucking appreciate that.”
Holly flinched at his language as she sat back down. “Tyler’s doing quite well. Have you seen him today?”
Arnold shook his head and remained standing. “I’ll go down for a minute after this. But I have to be at work in an hour and I’ve got fifteen miles to drive. So, this better be quick.”
“Please sit down, Mr. Arnold.” She invested her voice with a great deal more confidence than she felt.
He pulled a chair out from the table and flopped down in it.
Holly clasped her hands together on the table in front of her, making sure she didn’t clench them too tightly. “I’ll get right to the point. As you know, Tyler is getting stronger every day. So, I don’t see any advantage in delaying
surgery beyond next week. In fact, I’ve managed to secure an operating room for Monday.”
“You what?” Arnold hunched his shoulders and glared at her. “After what I told you yesterday? You’re kidding, right?” His voice was cold and disbelieving.
Holly gave him a stern look. Best to push back hard and fast and hope he caved.
Fat chance that was going to happen.
“I heard what you said yesterday, Mr. Arnold. Loud and clear. You don’t want to give your permission. But surely you realize that your position can`t be the end of the matter. I can and will move forward, with or without your permission if I deem it medically necessary. And—”
“You’ll go to court.” His face had turned an alarming shade of red. The guy looked ready to stroke out.
“I’ve consulted with my chief of surgery, as well as with Dr. Morris, Tyler’s cardiologist.” She’d tracked down Morris after the M&M meeting, and had been surprised when he’d agreed to back her on her decision. But it did make this a bit easier. “We’re in agreement that Tyler should have the valve replacement, and that it should be done as soon as his condition permits. As I said, we’re confident that we can go ahead next week.”
She pushed a sheet of paper across the space between them. “This is the parental consent form. I would very much like you to sign it, as it will save us all a great deal of trouble. But if you choose not to, the hospital’s legal counsel will file a motion in court tomorrow. The legal test in these matters is to show the judge that by refusing consent, you are not demonstrably acting in the best interests of your child. We believe we have a very strong case in these circumstances.” She stressed the we.
Arnold snatched up the paper, glanced at it, then with eerie precision proceeded to rip it lengthwise, then crosswise. He pushed the pile of four pieces back at Holly. “How`s that for a signature?”
“I’m truly sorry,” Holly said, fighting to keep her composure. Something about the almost dispassionate way Arnold had ripped the paper threatened to unnerve her. “I wish there was something I could say to change your mind.”
Arnold got up and leaned against the table, the palms of his massive hands flat on the surface. He looked like he wanted to wrap those hands around her throat. “No, you’re the one who’s going to be changing her mind. If you don’t, you’re going to wish you had. Trust me on that.”
Holly’s stomach clenched tight and a flush of heat swept over her. Fight or flight?
Fight.
By the time she got to her feet, Arnold had turned his back on her, heading to the door. She raised her voice. “Are you man enough to repeat that threat in front of a witness?”
He stopped abruptly, but didn’t turn around.
“Intimidation doesn’t work on me, Arnold.” She forced the words out, suddenly more determined than ever that she wouldn’t wimp out to the bully.
He turned and smiled at her. “You tell your boss that you’ve thought it over some more and changed your mind. No court order. No surgery. So, no problems for you, Doctor.”
Arnold made the word doctor sound like a curse. Both his smile and his eyes were so full of cold malice that Holly suddenly believed Mrs. Crump’s startling story with absolute certainty.
Lance Arnold had killed before, and those eyes told her he could happily kill again.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Parked in the off-loading zone, Nate spotted Holly rushing through the sliding glass doors of the Cardiac Center’s front entrance. She’d called him ten minutes earlier and asked him if he was feeling good enough to pick her up. Her voice had sounded thin and strained. When he asked what was wrong, she’d said she’d explain when she saw him. Painful shoulder aside, he’d jumped into his car and raced to PCH. He didn’t want her hanging around and waiting for him if something was bothering her.
As she got in and grabbed for the seat belt, she shot him a little frown. “Nate Carter, do you ever park this car legally?”
He gave her a quick inspection, noting the pale complexion and the weary look around her eyes. “Only under extreme duress,” he replied, trying to lighten her up. He gunned the car out of the driveway and into the traffic.
She squinted and pulled the sun visor down. The sun was low in the sky and slanting directly into her face. “You can be such a brat sometimes.”
He grinned at her. “I like it when you insult me. Kind of turns me on. Weird isn’t it?”
She gave a half-hearted chuckle. “You said it, not me.” But then she sighed. “Sorry, big guy. I’m not capable of witty repartee tonight. At least not right now.” She turned her head away and stared out the side window.
Now he really started to worry. Holly always laughed at his dumb jokes, but now she was wound up drum-tight, every muscle in her body rigid. “What’s wrong, babe? The way you came through those doors, I didn’t know whether you were ready to cry or kick some ass.”
“Maybe both. Actually, I’m pretty much a complete mess. Do you mind if we wait a few minutes before I fill you in? Let’s go somewhere and grab a stiff drink. I need one.”
“Sure,” he said, even though he hated having to wait to hear what the hell was going on. But she obviously needed some time to chill out, so he’d just have to be patient. “Angelo’s?”
She shook her head. “I know you love that joint, but a sports bar isn’t exactly what I had in mind. I need somewhere quiet and relaxing. How about the Four Seasons?”
He’d taken her to that hotel’s Swann Lounge on their third date. “You got it.”
Even with a bit of traffic, the trip took barely more than five minutes. Holly didn’t say a word. Instead, she gazed out the window, her back mostly turned to him. The sight of her in such distress—and shutting him out—drove him nuts, but he let her be.
They pulled up under the Four Seasons portico. He got out and flipped the keys to a valet, then put his arm around Holly’s waist as he ushered her inside. She still didn’t speak, and her body felt stiff to his touch.
The Swann Lounge was on the upstairs lobby level. A dozen or so men and women in expensive suits gathered around the bar, probably lawyers relaxing after a long day of over-billing clients. One of the guys nodded in his direction and whispered something to the woman next to him. She twisted around and looked at Nate, then gave him an overtly seductive smile. He returned the come-on with a terse nod as she raked her eyes over him, letting her gaze linger.
He glanced down at his faded jeans and rugby shirt. Seriously underdressed for the Four Seasons. Not that he cared. His gold card was as good as anybody’s, and better than most.
With a gentle touch at her waist, he steered Holly toward the fireplace. Miraculously, no one had taken the seating in front of it. A gas fire blazed, warming the overly air-conditioned room. A server came right away, and they ordered Knob Creek on the rocks.
Holly settled into her seat, tugging at her skirt. It had ridden up as she sat, and he’d given her shapely, tanned thighs his full attention. Normally, she liked that kind of thing from him—even teased him about it—but today she shifted in her seat and quickly crossed her legs. Nate had never seen her look more ill-at-ease.
“How’s the shoulder?” she said.
Not ready to talk about what’s on her mind.
He’d let her settle down a bit longer. “Still hurts like hell every time I move it. But nothing I can’t handle. Nothing physically, anyway.”
She gave a sympathetic grimace. “It’s the mental side that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
He nodded. “I know I’m going to have to be patient, but I can already tell that I’ll want to hang myself if I don’t get back into a uniform soon.”
A crooked smile shaped her pretty mouth. “A little dramatic, perhaps, but I get your point.”
Nate bit back the retort that sprang to his lips. Did she really get it? How could she have any idea of what it meant to be sidelined for a month, sitting on your ass, completely useless to the team that was counting on you to win games for the
m? To the fans that paid to see the stars, not the subs, play? The pressure on injured players to get back in the game was enormous.
He tried to mentally avoid the issue, but he couldn’t help worrying about whether the shoulder would ever be the same. Morehouse had assured him he’d make a full recovery, but he’d seen too many pitchers fall into a steady, downhill slide after a serious injury. Pitchers’ arms were damn tricky things. It took almost nothing to transform a twenty-game winner into a mediocrity, or even a bum.
He decided to change the subject before he took his frustration out on her. Holly didn’t know enough about baseball to get it, so it wasn’t her fault. “Enough about me. What’s going on with you? I’ve never seen you like this.”
Before Holly could respond, the server brought over their drinks. Holly grasped hers like a lifeline. She took a sip, and then another. Nate savored the bourbon, letting the silence play out.
“Okay, here goes,” Holly said. “I decided to have it out with Lance Arnold today. One on one.”
That gave him a jolt he didn’t expect. “I thought you were going to meet him with your boss and some other doctors?” he asked sharply. “Why would you take that on by yourself?”
She winced. “I know, I know. I wanted to arrange a full meeting, but the chief didn’t see it the same way. Basically, he told me to get a grip and deal with it on my own.”
Nate’s anger flared. “What’s his problem? He should be supporting you.”
“He’s supportive of my position on the surgery,” Holly said. “Charles just thought I was making too big a deal out of the whole thing. To him, it was just a matter of shoving the consent papers in front of Arnold, then filing for a court order if he said no.”
Her boss sounded like a tool. “So you met Arnold after that?”
Holly sighed. “Oh, I certainly did. It was a disaster from the moment he walked into the room. He categorically refused to give his consent.”