"I am off."
He smiled. "If you switch to days, life would be less complex for us."
"With the holes in the evening staff, a change could take months." She walked to the counter and poured the remains of yesterday's coffee down the drain. "Did I tell you Trish is entering a drug rehab program? That leaves her spot open."
He shook his head. "How long will Julie be out?" He opened the refrigerator and took out the omelet ingredients.
"If all goes well, at least eight weeks. Could be longer."
While Patrick shredded cheese and diced ham, he noticed Susan writing on a list she had taken from the bulletin board. "What are you up to? Shopping for a month?"
"Christmas baking. I plan to go to the store after we eat and pray I get back in time to get ready for work."
"That's it." Patrick laughed. "The perfect way to entertain Robin and Adam tomorrow."
"I didn't know they were coming."
"Neither did I until this morning. The European trip has been moved up. They leave Wednesday and Lisa has so much to do. Apparently so does Rob." Patrick whisked the eggs.
"Are you sure you want to bake cookies with the twins?"
"I've run out of ideas. The mall will be mobbed. All day at the movies--ugh."
Susan moved to his side. "We'll make it a group project. I can help until two."
"I was hoping you'd volunteer." He grinned. "Can you handle the energy level?"
She nodded. "They'll help me forget. Besides, what we don't finish before I leave for work, the three of you can do." She looked at the clock. "Let's eat. I want to leave for the hospital in time to see Julie."
He poured the omelet mixture into the skillet. "I'll do the shopping."
"Bless you."
"I'll be back in time to drive you to work."
"Back up a step. I can drive myself."
He dropped the ham and cheese into the omelet. "When I talked to Greg, he suggested I play chauffeur until the mugger is caught."
Susan frowned. "I'm not into taking chances. I'll be fine."
"The suspect once worked on your unit. Leila testified against him and the Denton woman was somehow involved." He divided the omelet in half.
She shook her head. "I don't remember-- Oh, the orderly. He barely knew me." She dug into the omelet. "How many dozen cookies do you want?"
"Enough to stuff the kids for six weeks or so."
The discussion about the kinds of cookies carried them through lunch. While Susan added the last item to the list, she pushed her chair back. "Let me get the money for my share."
"And let me get my own list." His fingers massaged her shoulders. "See you in a few."
As Susan came downstairs with her purse slung over her shoulder, Patrick opened the front door. They met in the middle of the living room. When she handed him the money, he caught her hand and tugged her toward him. Their lips met. He caressed her back. Susan raised her head. "Thought you were going shopping."
"I am." His hands moved along her spine creating delicious sensations.
"And still be back in time to drive me to work? Good luck."
"Call in sick."
"On a weekend, are you crazy?" Susan stiffened. Hadn't Leila said those words the day Joe Barclay had died?
"What's wrong?"
"Just a thought about Leila. I offered to call in sick when she came to me after Joe's death and she reminded me of the rule. If I don't go in today, I'll have to work next Saturday." She chuckled. "Now that's an idea. Where's the phone?"
He kissed her cheek. "I'm on my way. Promise you'll be here when I get back."
"I'll stay until quarter to two. I want to check Julie."
"Can't you call her?"
Susan laughed. "I can see your experience with hospitals is limited. There are no patient phones in ICU." She ran a finger along his jaw line.
"Keep doing things like that and you'll be making up a week." He kissed her again. "See you soon."
Susan watched him bound down the steps. She closed the door and leaned against it. His reluctance to leave her was sweet, but she wished he would control his tendency to smother. Even though his friend had suggested Patrick drive her to work, there was no reason for his escort. Her danger of being mugged was less than that of most of the evening nurses. Since Barbara's death, the night of Julie's attack was the first time she'd gone to the parking lot alone.
The police had a suspect. She frowned. Though she could see their reasoning, she knew they were wrong. If the mugger wasn't De Witt, he had to be someone familiar with the nurses' routine. How could a man just released from prison know that?
She hugged herself. Slowly, she moved from the door. How easily she could fall into the dependency trap again. Would it be so bad this time? She thought of her married years. There had been comfort, ease and -- boredom. She wanted Patrick in her life but until she felt sure of her strength, she couldn't commit herself.
The phone rang and she answered. "Mrs. Gilbert, how are you? Has something gone wrong with Julie?"
"She's wonderful. Even her hoarseness is gone." Joy filled the other woman's voice.
Susan laughed. "I'm glad."
"How can we ever thank you? This makes twice you've saved her life."
"Don't try. Both times I was on automatic pilot. Ask Julie about running on instincts and adrenaline during an emergency. Does she remember anything about the attack?"
"Not yet. The police are pushing for an interview. They have pictures they want her to see."
"Are you going to let them in?"
"We'll have to, but not yet. Dr. Boyleston said to wait until she's out of ICU. He said she might never regain those memories. That didn't please the police. They insist they need a statement."
Susan straightened. Police. Statement. She needed to read and amend the one she had given after Barbara's death. "Let me go. I have a dozen things to do and I want to leave in time to see Julie."
After Susan loaded the dishwasher, she went to the basement for the laundry she had done the day before. Since she had to stop at the police station, she needed to leave by one thirty. Patrick might not make it home in time to take her. She imagined his reaction and shrugged. Got to do my duty, she thought.
At one fifteen, she taped a note to the door and ran to her car. Fifteen minutes later, she parked in front of a rambling Victorian house that bore little resemblance to a police station. She hurried past the first floor town offices, dashed up the stairs to the second floor and opened the door marked "Police."
A plump woman with blonde hair teased into a pouf rose from the chair behind the counter that blocked entrance to the main area of the room. "Can I help you?"
"I was told to come in and read my statement."
"Which case?" The woman cracked her gum.
"Actually, it's two."
"Busy, aren't you? Which cases?"
"Julie Gilbert and Barbara Denton."
The blonde searched through a stack of folders. "Do you make a habit of finding bodies?" She giggled. When she handed a folder across the desk, a gold bracelet glittered on her arm.
Susan thought of the one that Barbara had worn the evening she had been killed. The bracelet had been missing from the practical's arm. Something about the bracelet seemed familiar. She read the typed statement regarding the attack on Julie.
"Can't find the Denton file."
Susan looked up. "There's something I need to add. Is there a chance I could talk to Detective Davies?"
"Is it important?"
"I'm not sure."
"Why don't you write a note and if he stops in, I'll see he gets it."
Susan felt reluctant to commit her information to paper. The blonde reminded her of Barbara and she feared the story might reach the News before Greg Davies. Tonight, she'd ask Patrick for his friend's number. "I'll call him. Is there a good time?"
"Monday between eight and nine. What do you think this is all about?" The woman licked her lips in a manner that made Susan think o
f a gourmand contemplating a feast. "Three nurses. Two dead. Aren't you afraid you'll be next?"
Fear walked Susan's spine. She laughed and the sound rang false. "I'm the cautious one. I don't go to the parking lot alone." Or to the storage room either. She walked to the door and hurried downstairs.
The only place she went alone was to work and home. Fear solved nothing, so why was there a giant lump in her stomach?
As she stepped into the cold air, she glanced at the sky. During the short time she'd been inside, the color had changed from blue to pewter. Snow had been predicted for early morning, but the dullness made her hope the storm would wait until she finished work and returned home. Being stuck at the hospital for a double shift after the trauma of the past two nights would be more than she could handle.
Susan paused at the desk in ICU. The petite black nurse looked up. "I know. You're not a float. You're here to see Julie. Congratulations on your quick actions last night. Are you sure you don't want to work here?"
"I don't think so. Thirteen hour shifts are too long. How's Julie?"
"Terrific. PT was in this morning and got her out of bed. Your nurse manager stopped by. On her vacation yet. She's holding a bed on your unit."
"That's good news." Susan hurried across the hall to Julie's cubicle.
Julie waved. "Susan I really owe you. Mom told me you saved me again."
"I'm glad I was here."
"Me, too. The box on the stand is yours. I was saving it for Christmas, but I want you to have it now."
Susan opened the box and found one of the teapots that had eased her sorrow for a short time on the day of Leila's funeral. "I thought you bought this for your mother."
"I bought two and you never guessed. This is the first installment. When I get back to work, I'll bring you a present every day."
Her comments triggered a shrouded memory and reminded Susan of the presents she had received. She grasped the side rail. "No need."
"Then how can I thank you?"
"By coming back to work as soon as possible. We're working with a patchwork crew."
"Meg told me. She wasn't too happy that I'm here." Julie stared at her hands. "She told me about Trish going into rehab. Do you think she'll make it?"
"The choice is hers. I told her to keep in touch."
Julie touched her turban. "Mom said you're going wig shopping with her. A complete selection, please. How about auburn or ebony?"
"With luck, we'll find one the shade of your hair."
"No way. Maybe platinum. How can I miss a chance to be glamorous?" Julie sighed. "Speaking of glamour, Larry was in this morning. Why is he so darned attractive?"
"He practices."
Julie giggled. "I'll remember that. He wants to start again when I'm out of here. What am I going to do? He's more tempting that a hot fudge sundae."
Susan sat on the chair beside the bed and stared at the box on her lap. Didn't Julie realize De Witt was responsible for her injuries? "I can't decide for you."
"I know." Julie made a face. "When he's not around, I can dust my hands and say no more. Then he arrives and smiles and my resistance vanishes."
"What did you tell him?"
"Who tells him anything? He was so full of plans for us. What I want doesn't matter. I mentioned grad school and he pouted. After awhile, I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. He left."
Susan shifted the box. She had been part of a similar duo, but she had little knowledge of how to escape. "Keep telling yourself you don't need him in your life until you believe." If Patrick turned into another Jim, could she follow her own advice?
"Maybe by the time the doctor springs me, he'll have found someone new." Julie touched her cast. "It's going to be forever. When PT got me up today, I lasted ten minutes. I don't like being a patient. You have no control."
"Who wants to be sick?" Susan smiled. "Think of this as a learning experience."
Julie laughed. "It's a lesson I'd rather not have, but I'll try to remember how I feel about being helpless when I get back to work."
Susan leaned forward. "Do you remember anything about your attacker?"
"He...he..." Julie closed her eyes. "I can see him. I can hear his voice. He...he... Why can't I say his name?" Frustration made her voice shrill.
Susan grasped Julie's hand. "Try to think around him. Maybe the name will slip out."
"Maybe I don't want to remember."
Susan glanced away. Was the younger nurse's amnesia selective? Was she protecting De Witt? Susan looked at her watch. "I'd better get upstairs and see what's in store. I'll see you tomorrow."
"And Monday on Five Ortho."
"Nice of Meg to arrange that."
Julie chuckled. "Self-protection. She'd never see her staff if I was on another unit. I think everyone on days has been down. And of course, Dr. Boyleston demanded I be transferred there."
"That explains her generosity." Susan waved from the doorway. "Thanks for the teapot."
With a sigh, Trish packed the last of her white uniforms and sealed the box. She looked around the bedroom, now bare of the touches that made it a home. Eight boxes waited in the living room to be taken to the basement storage room. She stood with her hands on her hips.
Since her discharge from the hospital this morning, she'd been too busy and too wired to think. Though one of the nosy hens from the Nursing Office had discovered most of the stashes of amphetamines, she had missed several. Trish sat on the couch and popped another pill.
When she thought about her interview with the President for Nursing, anger arose. Someone had been found to sublet her apartment. She would be paid for her sick and vacation time. Her job would be waiting when she completed the program. She should have felt relief but the woman's promises had burned like drops of acid. By now, everyone at the hospital knew about her addiction. How could she come back and face petty and condescending sneers?
She leaned back and waited for the familiar rush. What would they do if she didn't enter the treatment program?
De Witt. He owed her. Anger and the amphetamine rush rose like twin geysers. This was his fault. He had introduced her to speed as a way of releasing her inhibitions. Had he ever shown Julie the joy of drug- induced sex?
As the memory of what Susan had said about the pair surfaced, Trish laughed. "How does it feel to be discarded?" Had any woman broken off with him before? His pride must have been battered.
She reached for the phone and dialed his service. "This is Miss Fallon, Five Ortho. I need to speak to Dr. De Witt."
"Page him. He should still be there."
"Thanks." Page him. She laughed. Better than a call, she would intercept him. She grabbed a jacket.
When she reached the street, she realized her car keys were in her coat pocket. She shrugged. Walking was good exercise.
Six blocks later, she stood in the doctor's parking lot beside De Witt's black Jaguar. Unfortunately, the doors were locked. As she headed for the hospital, a few snowflakes landed on her jacked. She entered the ER waiting room, walked to the hall and stationed herself near the doors to wait for De Witt.
* * *
He stood outside the Emergency Room entrance and shoved his hands in his black jacket pockets. Earlier, he had tried to enter ICU through the stairwell door only to find it locked. Critical. That had been the report. Critical meant near death. Mommy had been critical. Had she died? Had she remembered?
The door opened. De Witt strode outside. A thin nurse followed him. She grabbed the doctor's arm. De Witt wheeled. "I said no."
She stabbed a finger at his face. "You owe me." She swung her fist.
The blonde man caught her hand. "The past is done...gone...ended."
"Bastard. I'm not asking for much. A job in your office."
"Reserved for Julie."
"She doesn't want it and she doesn't want you." She laughed. "How does it feel to be rejected?"
"Aren't you scheduled to enter a treatment center?"
"You can't afford t
o turn me down. I know too much."
"Don't threaten me," De Witt said. "You sound like the Denton woman and look what happened to her."
"You don't scare me." Trish stood with her hands on her hips. "You gave Barbara money but you're too much of a coward to kill anyone."
He laughed. "Don't be so sure."
"Larry, please. I don't want to go to that place." She reached for him.
De Witt pushed her hard enough to knock her down. He strode away.
The watcher emerged from the shadows and helped her to her feet. "Thanks," she said. "What are you doing here?"
He shrugged. "Dr. De Witt isn't a very nice man."
"You are so right." She brushed snow from her jacket.
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Drive me to his apartment. I'm not finished with him."
He smiled. "I can do that." He walked with her to his car. Excitement made him fumble with the lock.
Trish settled in the passenger seat and rattled off directions. She spoke at high speed, detailing how De Witt had supplied her with drugs. "I never thought I'd become addicted, but nothing beats the rush that comes from speed."
Nothing? He could show her something better but he didn't want so share the feelings of power with anyone.
She gulped a breath. "Barbara found me out. She was going to report me to the Nursing Office unless I told her the name of my supplier." She rubbed her hands together. "I told her but they found out any way. Make a right."
He turned the car into a street where tall apartment buildings edged the river.
"Let me out here," she said. "I have to use the terrace entrance. He doesn't like his guests to sign in. Besides, he'd have the guard send me away."
He stopped at the curb. "Do you want me to wait?"
"I'll call a cab."
He watched her walk down the path beside the building. Mommy, what should I do? She wasn't one of the ones who was there on that dreadful night but the doctor was.
He left the car and scanned the street. After removing his rifle from the trunk, he stood beneath a street light and loaded the gun. His hands stroked the smooth wood stock and his fingers caressed the cold metal barrel. Guns had been good to him. They never let him down the way people did.
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